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Cw: Gore - Blog Posts
Tongues & Teeth
Song by The Crane Wives
Mary and Son
I really liked Mouthwashing’s whole story arc between Anya and Curly with the whole [redacted] debacle, so I decided to take a piece from my childhood religion and doodle a little thing with them!
Reference under the cut!
i cant believe they managed to kill several gods together
guys pls give me art requests
uhh spearmaster artstyle experiment kinda inspired by yaloellie (god i hope i spelled their name right)
might replace one of my main artstyles with this one since theyre similar enough and i like this more
dont know if i should put one but slight gore warning
pyro is my favorite mercenary because i SUCK at drawing human faces
shoutout to oomf for telling me to draw scout as the guy in the background btw
Tiny gore (?) warning *it's pretty tame*
yay
Got some new art work so eat f@gs
DBUDUBUDVUVDUVDUVD
Also uh this guy
Art dump cuz I need to post stuff
GORE WARNING
Scroll fast to not see it
⚠️Blood and gore warning
Isn't that bad but eh, still warning
Art dump
⚠️⚠️BLOOD WARNING⚠️⚠️
Childhood memories...
Daisuke from Mouthwashing
Tw: blood/gore under the cut
He is my favorite character. I was so sad when he died. He deserves so much better. Tho, so did most of the characters
I tried something different with the hair. Idk if I like it or not. I think it looks good but idk if it fits the rest of the rendering
Do you ever feel like a starving carnivore?
What do you mean?
Well, sometimes, very rarely mind you, but once in a blue moon I get into this mood where I like, feel like I wanna eat organs or some shit. Not a random person though, I'm not Jeffery Dahmer! It's like I wanna eat myself? Like I get a rage and my head gets filled with violent gore and screaming and I wanna tear flesh from bone like I'm a wild animal or a monster or something, but in a weird way at the same time I always wanna be torn apart myself, feel the pain, I desire it. I tend to eat gas station meats when I feel like that, viciously rip it with my teeth, sometimes I get cheetos or takis too and it's like I'm breaking through bones, and in a weird way, I'm not me anymore. I'm a monster tearing myself apart. I'm a ravenous creature feasting on fresh meat and chewing through bones and drinking in the viscous blood. I'm me and I'm the monster I run from, I'm the monster and the meat.
When it ends it helps, I feel better, I'm not mad anymore, the monster is fed and it can go back to it's cage for a long time before it inevitably begins to starve again.
I don't know how to get rid of the monster that desires so desperately sometimes to eat me and begs for a visceral mess of carnage. I don't think I could deny it forever no matter how hard I tried. I can delay it, I don't open that cage until I am home, but the monster won't let me rest if I don't feed it eventually, fake meat, fake blood, fake bones, for the imaginary monster. I don't know how to get rid of the desire to be torn apart by it.
Like I said, it doesn't happen often, and I never hurt anyone in reality, I don't even hurt anyone in my head, the monster eats me, I am the monster, I only eat myself. I don't know what that means though.
The best way I can describe it is feeling like a starving carnivore.
CW: abuse, gore?, description of burning death
AO3
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Sunburn
“Ah… I wish you had found your new friend.” Sylris smiled and placed his crown on a pillow. “The imaginary intruder should be on the stacks too, don’t you think so? They were very disrespectful at us, my dear.”
Kenyan didn’t bother to answer, as she was busy trying to take off her rings, what at the moment seemed like an impossible task. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking and her body was burning inside out.
Burning almost as much as she had burned those people.
The difference between them and her was in their innocence. They were people who begged for food. People who ran from a slavish job. People who fought to protect their family. People who denounced an injustice.
And she was a murder wearing a lavish long gown. Pampered by all, adorned with jewelry; an elegant example of holiness and grace to Martra.
Her nail bent over and she hissed. Blood was simmering from there, dripping down on the white skirt, and all she could do was stare at it. Stare at the red blur, at least, as her trembling wouldn’t let her focus on anything.
It was deeply awful. Herself, she meant. She was awful. She should be dead with them. Or better saying, they should be alive, and she should suffer the worst death in this world. That was all she deserved.
“Hurting yourself already?”
Sylris came from behind when she noticed his hand holding hers. His other hand had fell on her waist, keeping her close to him on this embrace.
“You know this won’t change anything, right?” he whispered against her pointy ear. “Hurt yourself or no, they’re still dead. Unmoving, unchangeable, permanent: that’s what death is. That’s what you did, my love.” He took her hand to his lips, and kissed her fingers, one by one.
His voice was nauseating. His words made her skin crawl. His kisses were poison. And his hands? Treacherous, horrendous hands? Always knew where to touch, where to press, where to hold.
He had slid his arm around her belly, and her body faltered slightly over his. She shivered as her unsteady heart went out of control.
What kind of personal betrayal was it? How could her body lean upon the evil she despised the most? How could she feel anything other than hatred for this nasty creature?
But perhaps a monster called for a monster. Her other half would be like her half.
It was only fair.
Even so, she’d rather be alone forever than staying with him.
“Let me go, I’m tired,” she muttered. “I need to rest in my chambers.”
“Why not in mine? You’re shaking so much; it wouldn’t hurt to have someone to hold you, would it, love?” He turned her over, keeping them face to face. “Or are you thinking about staying with your pet at this time of night?” He smirked.
“He’s not my pet,” came the automatic answer. However, her throat tightened at the thought.
After their discussion, Hiélo came to say sorry a thousand times. His ears were flat, his tail dull, and hearing his voice cracking gnawed at her conscience; which led her to accept his apologies. But, honestly? She didn’t want to. For some reason, she only wanted to be mad at him a little longer. She only wanted to have time to organize her feelings and find a proper reason to forgive him.
But since when did she have a choice? How could she be mad at the person who was trying to love her despite her actions?
She swallowed dry. “Hiélo won’t be there, I promise. I won’t call him.” She slowly took his hands off her. “I want to rest alone; is there a problem with it?”
His eyes scrutinized her wholly. It felt like being under a predator gaze, waiting to be devoured at each minute, counting the last seconds of her life— but then he let go of her waist.
“No, there is not. You can go ahead.” His hand lifted her chin softly. “Ask a maid to help you with the rings, okay? I don’t want to see my wife fingerless.” He chuckled and his face approached hers.
The knot on her stomach increased as she knew what was happening. Knowing didn’t make it the slightest better, so she shut her eyes and counted to five for what seemed an eternity. A hot, burning eternity. Hell itself.
Curse her head for getting lighter.
When he broke the kiss with that grin of his, she didn’t stay a second to hear him. Nothing good could come of that mouth, and she kept repeating it for herself as she stormed on the empty halls.
The heat was unbearably clinging to her, suffocating her lungs and expeling the oxygen left on her. And the tricky part of it? She could stop it, if she wanted. Her spiky halo was lightening the environment, and it was the blatant proof that her powers were acting over something, over herself. Warming, heating, burning until her head was spinning, until her gut was churning, until her skin began swelling.
And they had it worse. They didn’t have time to dwell in a little dizziness.
It was pure torture. Flesh tearing apart, splitting, and shearing from the bones; fire crackling and screams breaking through the space; the stench of coal and smoke flying in the sky… until there was nothing left to see—not even their ashes.
That was the power she held. That was the sin she carried.
Her insides unraveled midway her room, throwing up the contents of her stomach on a corner. She gagged and cried as her body fell its temperature, taking advantage of the unease to finally turn her furnace off.
Really, how could someone live like this? How could someone like her still be alive? Just who allowed her existence in this world?!
She should be dead. She should be dead. She. Should. Be. Dead.
But as she wasn’t, she raised from her place and stumbled forward.
Let our love be a flame, not an ember Say it's me that you want to dismember
Day 2 of Goretober & Jashtober!!!
vv My lists! vv
Day 1 of Goretober & Jashtober!! I'm glad to be participating again this year. :)
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Hi! Here I am again with the silly silly roach indulging in harmful behaviours lolz :3c
Tw: blood, SH, Bad coping mechanism, escapism, hallucinations, a tad bit suggestive
I really like them they work as a cashier, they have masochistic tendencies and are an asshole/jerk (thought it's mostly because of trauma and because they're trying to overcompensate for their low self steem so yeah)
Hi! So I've been wanting to draw some psychopomp fanart since I've played it, GOD!! I LOVE THE VISUALS and it's so abstract and terrifying <3
Completed the autopsy in the ice-bear fridge, which was the first piece of detective work i felt accomplished from in this game
DAY 14: BURNED
(im very late)
COTLtober made by @/stychu-stych
commissions open
drawtober board below cut
DAY 2: HEART
COTLtober made by @/stychu-stych
commissions open
drawtober board below cut
