rura 𓅄 🇵🇸

@flakwolves.su

1000 Followers 792 Following

mika, el, coyote, rura. has several horns. unfortunate NO TIGER author and multimedia artist. formerly surfaces.cx. i reblog NSFW 🔞.

Instead of focusing on the task assigned to her by Feudal and distributed by Fatsteel, that wretched rapist scum, dogshit crouched and cocked her head, like a loaded cannon raised in an angry arc, and felt the top of her skull beyond her pulled by the ends of her sooty locks into an unforeseen and trembling air. She was watching sand but she was seeing herself on the asphalt in the MidMid...Mid....Middle, the foyer to forgotten power and corruption sensatiaters, ahh.. I, see, sadokiss.. Im... I, she, I, she, she, whos taking over? The traitor fish, come on. A black hole opened up above the missy dog and something ink slithered and tarnoited sporting battleaxe perfumer radars came out and snatched her up just below the tits and snapped the rest off with a slap of empty bisection and she... She... !!! The foyer... Was she still there? She was dying, but. Mud-sifter on the dry. Beach with a carpet like Mars. Something yawned so it beckoned. So, so, so. She could feel it tapping on the underside of her flimsy paper carcass. An unspeakable offer, he would come back like always, but this is her underworld... What if she just kept going, and going, and going, and going, taking and taking and taking, innocents and all, killers and all, until they have to pry her fangs off with fatiron jaws???
The Norse had already begun to settle in the Hebrides and the Orkneys, though as yet it was more a rendezvous of pirates than the later colonization. And the lair of Rognor the Red was this isle, called by the Scots Ladbhan, the Picts Golmara and the Norse Valgaard. His word was law, the only law this wild horde recognized; his hand was heavy, his soul ruthless, his range the open world. The sea-king’s eyes ranged about the board, while he nodded slightly in satisfaction. No pirate that sailed the seas could boast a fiercer assortment of fighting men than he; a mixed horde they were, Norsemen and Jutes—big, yellow-bearded men with wild, light eyes. Even now as they feasted they were fully armed and girt in mail, though they had laid aside their horned helmets. A ferocious, wayward race they were, with a latent madness burning in their brains, ready to leap into terrible flame at an instant.
she, stalker slithering a dead world of exit and static biting and and and tonguing sense artifacts HIP, HIP! HIND, HIND! radar decoyed as rocket pods swish swivel for lips of tar NEXT TARGET, NEXT TARGET! CHAFF CHAFF! from a gate brimming so sang ashen wolves so yelp hunted, skinned at least, at least: blood kilokilokilokilo scaley payloads detonate criss cross her hide worthless creature darkness creature repelling all her surroundings chewing on tasteless corpses she doesnt give a fuck she'll swirl into a vanishing tail princess of her tomb
the text on the top left reads: THERE IS NOTHING ELSE. top right: YOUR DARKNESS. YOU WILL HEAR A WOLF'S HOWL SNATCHED AWAY; SNUFF OF MOONLIGHT. bottom: in my childhood i used to be told on the regular about a man that got run over by a tracked APC. i smiled in ignorant glee every time, imagining the growling bladeskin kneading out his organs and cock and legs. smearing them in the mud.
the text reads, left: full of vigor, my limbs tipped kinesthic mass, glide along the sonic plane, capture as i please, come! live in my horde, a formation of newborn tents with mouths that call for debaucheries of the beetle men (so savagery!) and the mistress dires (so hot!) bottom: i'm covered head to toe in reactive ceramics, your touch won't do a thing, no matter how much i wish i could have it. right: limbs splayed on the bed like stabilizing fins, body unlike missile but full of hidden capabilities, unfelt, neglect with ash, due to explode, with ordinance its always only a matter of time! you can't run away!
the text reads, left: I go to the next pedestal. There, your heart. There, my heart. There, so. Then the next pedestal, this one tungsten slat elevating an ear, sliced by serrator and missing the lower lobe. right: the One Who Touched Her and The One Who Sought Her were silent now, in the territory of the horned wolves. lost forever in a depth of 5 feet off the trail. Something shaped like a bandolier of cartridges and painted spotty silver emerged from the mass of a crow's cheek.
the text reads, left: When I see anyone die I think, wow, you are so much braver than me. right: i listen to men scream and i feel GREAT! i believe i'm sick in the head in a way that is good and DEFINITELY EVIL.
collage and digital painting of a gray coyote holding her own boobs and black detonating her lower half, streaks of yellow missile trails and red and orange cover the screen, with a dream bubble of fpv drones in charcoal
digital painting of an eye surrounded by a chaotic tapestry of dark and cherry reds, sun yellows and oranges. black script warps over the top of the image.
batteries of fork trees fertile so fat so fawned of charcoaled bodies bent like petty curses, victims of prostitute frames dolled up in voyeur tributes desecration footy, its standard operating practice, minimum 480p tandem angles of impact witness every warhead must be fed corpses are justified retaliation targets its whatever, separate the limbs one more time. evacuate that man's ribs, precision frag those palms, long relinquished of their disarms. leaves of multicam shred in the black smoke wormy fire eats the meatiest leftovers a vampire stirs, she weeps and grumbles her auras satiate from the earth's cheekbones, pleasure herself upon the offered playtimes foul of a brigade pledged allegiance to make believe gods of blood, of chaotics blood for the blood god! BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!!!! SHRAPNEL! SHRAPNEL, FOR THE SHRAPNEL WINDS! UNFORTUNATELY... SHE KIND OF LIKES IT WHEN MEN DIE! a vampire stiffens then becomes mist of shark frenzy, gorging on it all, drips of mad bloods through multiple axes all appropriate weapons giving her just what she needs, death, death just for her!
screenshot of a painting splayed through glass
poster for the film Nekromantik 2
digital painting with a black canvas, orange oil paints on the background. a smattering of crimson lays like a line of tank treads on the bottom, on top of it: burgundy acrylics smeared over the first half, and yellow oil streaks on the left border. on the right side, cherry red streaks that look like the contours of a cliffside. at the top right side, the sky is invaded by belts of plague-yellow, cyan, and greens, like the eye of Gunfighter/Seraphaxxia, shaping like an axe at their end. a distorted barbed wire of cherry clamps around the left corner. above all of that is Hrae, the pitch circus disc, cutting a thin crescent over the middle and forming into zigzag shapes near to his terminus, then fading into a small hook.
movie poster of Let The Corpses Tan (2017)
[inverted alternate version of the quote tweeted collage, edited description as follows] black & white collage with 4 elements. on the top and left-center, a sky of white clouds smearing into each other, ridges of ink forming in them. a black expanse separates the bottom element, forming the suggestion of a portrait outline, a collection of bleached oily vegetation. In the middle, superimposed on the right-side-to-border of the landscape is a frame outline of the Dark Magician Girl from Yu-Gi-Oh! casting a spell with her staff which is surrounded in a swirling of sinister magic energy. Her outlines and face are getting melted/pulled into the force of the magic spell.
black & white collage with 4 elements. on the top and left-center, a sky of black clouds smearing into each other, ridges of ink forming in them. a white expanse separates the bottom element, forming the suggestion of a portrait outline, a collection of oily vegetation. In the middle, superimposed on the right-side-to-border of the landscape is a frame outline of the Dark Magician Girl from Yu-Gi-Oh! casting a spell with her staff which is surrounded in a swirling of bleachy magic energy. Her outlines and face are getting melted/pulled into the force of the magic spell.
[spoilers] [spoilers] screenshot of a Chainsaw Man panel from chapter 225 of Yoru reaching into Denji's mouth
untitlted digital collage with a white background and 3 elements: two bands of warbled text across the top quarter of the image; below it, besides each other, a rectangular mass of chrome liquid with a single section of grey&white checkerboard texture near its top; another rectangle, this time of the grey&white checkerboard texture, shadowy hand appearing from its bottom left corner and extending outside of the box.
Missy and Gunfighter began their dance, kicking their left boots out to the tune of siren fire and the bellows of dying mortals, a hoard of nitrate swallows up five men, they pull back and replace with a slicing of boots on the right. Gunfighter guts the air with a twirl of her jacket / Missy hops backwards and flints her claws / ignition clack / somewhere in the cordon of daemon platoons encircling Museum’s outers another immolating man yelped as a cannonball divides him at the hip. The moves came so easily amongst the chaos of fresh killings. Once, when Missy had barely begun to bleed, they would do this dance together as a prank performance for each other and the girls, false-drawing armed shadows with oak-carved revolvers, kicking blood-clumped sand and ash, brandishing extremities from their recently slain, sometimes turning their toy guns on the audience and pouncing on the other girls together; Sabotoirra mauled by fraywire lips, the twins impaled and worn like troupe puppets / squeals beneath roused flocks of carrion crow; Gunfighter the General vorace collector of weapon and gal caring for no distinction between. She pumped her fist at the younger Hrae, slit him into a birthday cake with paw unfurling, took reins of the sadistic detachment Catafiends night after day after night after day after night slaughter slaughter slaughter and taught them and Missy most of all about PREY, TAKING WHAT’S RIGHTFULLY WOLVES, and HAVING PLENTY OF FUN ALONG THE WAY. Gunfighter passed the mouth of the fortress chapel its exposed dungeon skeletals and formed an arrow with her arms in the air, having a fucking blast already, THANKS HIM Missy is finally here, fuck, it was getting boring in this town without her. No one had the keen sense for theatrics in a little violence like the cowboy. Sweet Mesa and Americana were a fucking drag by comparison, prattling, too lethal too quick.
Missy made a gauntlet with her left paw around the belly of SOLDIER, two claws on the trigger-guard, one around the yoke, one around the protruding extractor rod and base of the chrome barrel with white bubbles of hunger throbbing down/up its length, and her final claw firmly supine in front of the rear sight. In front of her: a scaled man slack against a wooden wall behind the state bank, legs extended like two logs capped with cow leather, arms twitching in place near the rest, claws stabbing upward like an overturned robotic spider. Puddles of plague jelly, likely sourced of his bloated stomach, glowered with scimitar suspicions at Hrae’s gaze. She unbuckled her belt, let it all drop, and waddled; that silly virginal march to a girl’s first victim with her riding jeans down a little too early (it had been a long long long time since she’d gotten a chance like this). Stripping her lower armors fully, she got her legs braced on the dying man’s shoulders, cocked his skull, and saddled up her pussy on the curve of the noosewood grip Oooh yeah. I missed this so fucking much. She guided the flared brake-tip past his lips sent his eyes fluttering boyishly with the shaft rested atop an abraded iguana tongue and teasing the back of his throat, jewelry iron contra-distinguished its fair snout with the ashy concrete filth-coat of the man’s cheek. The noosewood with its body spiced in scarab wings grinding between her lips as she placed her right paw on the wall behind him.
album cover for Bastards Dance by Kristailer
digital painting/collage of the star Hrae, covered barbed wire, and the eye of Gunfighter/Seraphaxxia in the sky of the plateau of Daemotar, vase of the Daemosene Body. Below those is Gunfighter on her steed, in three different states of her liquid-esque alternetic body. On the bottom is a logo that says "GUNFIGHTER" being sucked into the central vortex (Gunfighter's dispersed form), her horns resolving out of the swirling.
album art of Serpent Column's album Mirror in Darkness
graphic from the game obenseuer that says "NEW SKILL DRINKING LEARNED" with little upward arrows