Mild Blood - Tumblr Posts
I got a wave of nostalgia after coming across and hearing the song INsaNiTY and then watching Tf2 freak videos on YouTube again,and it got me wanting to draw the Tf2 Freaks :)
In picture order: Painis Cupcake,Ass Pancakes,Mediwizard,Christian Brutal Sniper,Christian Pure Spy,and Vagineer
Recycled Ragdoll
The Ragdoll, an Iterator who had become so fully consumed by his Rot that it had invaded and overtaken his puppet, tearing him from his superstructure and forcing him to wander the land. With the help of one of his group members, the cyst controlling him was "neutralized", meaning it could no longer grow larger, and couldn't infect other Iterators.... Unfortunately, this came at the cost of his bites being infectious, spreading Rot to animals and making horrible, long legged abominations.
He finally found a way out, an Iterator named Frayed Roots helping him fall into void fluid... though she was dragged down with him.
Though no longer afflicted with Rot, the damage still lingers. Fate cannot fix everything....
little piece of fanart i did for @windy-trickster 's latest drabble because it has been itching at my brain . this poor guy
by sirenreef (Tumblr)
Reblogged 08/30/24
ᛝ 𝒴ami 𝒦awaii 𝒫ixels 𓏏 f2u w ｡ repost ᵒʳ like ◟-͜ ◞ ˖ ◟-͜ ◞ ˖ ◟-͜ ꔫ
Fallen Magic Snippet
(Snippet from a book I'm writing, "Fallen Magic". Please DO NOT steal/copy.)
–
“JOHN!” Blake cried, diving down to catch John before he ate dirt, grunting as the full weight of his friend crashed into him.
“John. John, can you hear me?” John sucked in a ragged breath, glazed eyes staring up dazedly.
“B-Blake? D’ we get ‘er?” Blake glance back at the Captain’s prone form.
“Yeah, buddy,” He said. “We did. Don’t worry about her. Focus on me.”
John coughed and groaned. “Ugh... Hurts...”
Blake pressed down harder on the stab wound. “I know, hang in there.” Nathan stepped warily around the Captain’s body and rooted through the saddlebag on the white and grey stallion, smoothing a hand along it’s hindquarters as it huffed uneasily. With a silent whoop he pulled out a small medical kit, and he brought it over to Blake, who was working to both apply pressure and keep John talking.
“Here,” Nathan said, handing over the kit. “Try this.” Blake nodded, accepting it with a trembling hand. He hesitated.
“Nathan, I–”
“Later,” The boy said sternly, shoving the kit into Blake’s palm. Blake set to work without another word, pouring disinfectant from a small glass vial over the wound, wiping at it with a gauze pad. John moaned miserably, pink eyes hooded and glossy. Nathan had never seen him look so weak, sweat beading along his brow and his normally tan skin pale.
“I know, hang in there. Almost done.” Blake murmured, wrapping bandages around and around until there was no bandaging left. A groan came from nearer to the lake, and Nathan shuffled anxiously. Some of the Royalists who’d only been knocked out were beginning to wake, and the boy had no interest in staying to see what they’d do when they did.
Just a spooky Victorian ghosty girl
—
I used a pose ref. from Mellon_Soup for this!
Matthew Lillard’s William Afton 🫶
OMG THIS IS AMAZING! Thanks so much for this fantastic art
Attack #10! @call-me-cosmic’s OC Amelia Hughes
My Bill-Sona! I shouldn’t have read that suspicious inscription off that cave wall 😔
Pinned
(Mild blood/injury description)
The hero had put up a good chase, but not good enough.
And so Villain sat, pinning them to the forest floor. The face of the hero beneath them was scrunched up and they were breathing heavy, both probably after effects of the pursuit and subsequent collision with the ground.
“That little chase certainly wore you out,” the villain taunted as they watched the rapid rise and fall of the hero’s chest.
The hero did not waste precious oxygen replying the villain, instead training their eyes on the lush canopy above them.
The villain opened their mouth to continue their mocking of the defeated hero, but something stopped them.
They felt a touch of dampness, and looked down to see blood seeping from under the hero’s clothes into the villain’s pant legs.
Well that was interesting.
“Where’d you get that?”
“It’s not a good fucking day for this,” the hero groaned, throwing their head back and disturbing a collection of dead pine needles in the process.
“Hm. Too bad.”
The villain focused their gaze on the blood-soaked waistband directly beneath them. Their calculating eyes scanned the stains to look for slashes that might indicate where exactly the blood was coming from. This was made difficult as the hero continued to struggle and wince beneath their weight.
“You’re gonna make it worse,” the villain pointed out in a neutral tone, their grip tightening in a silent warning.
The hero seemed to finally accept this, letting their head fall back into the dirt, resignation etched into their face as they pointedly avoided looking at the villain atop them.
Once the villain was convinced they had truly stopped struggling, they lifted their hips to sit a few inches further back towards the hero’s legs, taking pressure off the wound.
The hero let out a sigh of relief, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the move.
When reinforcements finally arrived, the villain took the time to properly inspect the hero’s wound. Held between two henchmen and hauled to their feet, the hero glared defiantly at the villain as they approached.
The villain paid the scowl no mind as they lifted up the fabric of the hero’s shirt to reveal a significant stab wound in their lower abdomen. The bleeding had already slowed, and it appeared from the layer of crust and dried crimson mixing with a fresher red that it had been at least a few hours since the injury was acquired.
The villain knew they certainly were not responsible, as you typically don’t sustain a clean stab wound from twigs and rocks in the forest.
They didn’t bother to question the hero about it again, knowing their response would be something along the lines of ‘go to hell.’
It didn’t matter, the villain would find out who had laid hands on their hero one way or another.
