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#really like the blood on her
poorly-drawn-mdzs · 1 month
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This was home.
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pherredraws · 2 months
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from the homumiko mines
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sensitiveheartless · 9 months
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(the rest is under the cut!)
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ripplerain · 3 months
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why she ourple?
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fablegaze · 6 months
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so. canto 5, huh
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ryllen · 5 months
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Sebek & Yuu's teenage child . [insp] .
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mightyfoz · 1 year
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Unicorn wars but the unicorns swap places with the bears!! not sure if anyone has thought of this idea, but i just thought what if the bears were just as vicious as they were in the movie, but instead they weren't the ones to evolve, but the unicorns did instead.
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seaofdaydreams · 28 days
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I lied. It was 7 pages. 🙃
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bucephaly · 7 months
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It's kinda shocking to me how few people seem to know how prevalent the 'my great grandmother was cherokee' myth is and how it's almost never actually true, especially when it comes with things like 'never signed up' or 'fell off the trail' or 'courthouse burned down destorying the documentation' etc etc.
People just don't even seem to know the history like.. when the Trail happened. My great great great grandfather was 2 years old during Removal in 1838, so peoples 'my great grandmother hid in the mountains!' is so clearly wrong. And we have rolls. From before and after removal, rolls done by cherokee nation and others by the government, rolls that were not stored in one random flammable courthouse. It's not difficult to find the actual evidence of ancestry.
And just.. there are lots of ways those family stories get started. It was a practice during the confederacy to claim cherokee ancestry to show one's family had 'deep roots in the south' that they were there before the cherokee were removed. Many people pretended to be cherokee and applied for the Guion-Miller payout just to try to steal money meant for cherokees - 2/3rds of the applicants were denied for having 0 proof of actual cherokee ancestry. [We even see lawyers advertising signing up for the Miller roll just to try to get free money.] And the myth even started in some families in the cherokee land lotteries, where the land stolen from us was raffled off, including the house and everything that was left behind when the cherokees were removed. We have seen people whose families just take these things stolen from the cherokee family and adopt them into their own family story, saying that they were cherokee themselves.
If you had some family story about being cherokee and you wanna have proof one way or the other, check out this Facebook group run by expert cherokee genealogists that do research for free. Just please read the rules fully and respect the researchers. They run thousands of people's ancestries a year and their average is only around 0.7% of lines they run actually end up having true cherokee ancestry.
#and ive heard even dumber origins of the cherokee family myth#such as an ancestor having a silly sounding name so the descendents just go 'oh she mustve been an indian!!!'#i was one of the few people who had my ancestry done on the facebook and had genuine cherokee ancestry#[though i had found it before it was just really validating to get it double checked and i started finding cousins (:]#like. i was told once when i was a kid by my grandma that my dad had cherokee ancestry and i didnt believe her. its wild that so many peopl#will make it a Fixture of their identity [or even just smth they bring up ever] with Zero proof#at least for cherokees from what ive seen its usually considered really disrespectful to claim to have cherokee ancestry without#actually having the documentation [like ancestors on the rolls]#and no a dna test doesnt count. nor does 'my dad is Clearly not white!' or 'high cheekbones' or old family photos or anything#i had this discussion with someone recently whose dad had been calling himself 3/4 native but didnt know exactly what nation ???? hello?#and its like... sorry but ur dad is like. italian lol.#[and blood quantum is bullshit anyway im tired of the 'im 1/16 cherokee' comments its dumb#cherokee nation does not have a blood quantum requirement. its pointless bringing it up in the discussion of who is or isnt cherokee]#also mandatory disclaimer that im reconnecting. i didnt grow up connected to the culture of even knowing my ancestry#this is all from my looking into this stuff over the past year or so. i cant claim to be an authority over anything regarding this#this is p much all my repeating things ive heard said by people who know a lot more than i do haha#man. and this isnt even starting to get into the fake tribe stuff. the only legit cherokee groups are the 3 federally recognized bands#cherokee nation of oklahoma. united keetoowah band. and the eastern band of cherokee indians.#any others that are state recognized or not at all arent acknowledged as legitimate by any of the legit cherokee groups#anyway. my final message goodb.ye#cherokee#tsalagi
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lovl3igh · 1 month
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"according to the law aegon should be the king" according to the law aegon should have been castrated and sent to the wall
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crystalflygeo · 1 year
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Sinful voice pt.2 ft “Morax”/Prof!Zhongli + fem!reader (modern AU)
cw/tags: Voice kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, female masturbation, oral and fingering implied but like it's just fantasizing?? petnames (sweetheart, babygirl, dear) Reader is DOWN BAD LMAO and suffers second hand embarrasment.
notes: EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU @localplaguenurse!!They gave me a F A N T A S T I C idea that just inspired me to continue this wip and ended up not even being featured here yet but HEY... future p3!! //winkwink. That said I did NOT expect how much this would blow up and how ppl loved it and wanted more, y'all gonna make me giddy and/or cry pls (consider checking some of my other stuff too mayhaps? <3) Anyway I REALLY hope this delivers bc boi am I afraid of not meeting expectations vcgvhjbnjnmklal
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Weeks had passed since your ‘big discovery’ and you still weren’t quite sure what to do with this information.
At first you chalked it up to just your imagination because… there was no way, right? Your new professor could just have a… similar voice… yeah… that was it.
Except the more you listened to his long-winded explanations the more you picked up certain words and intonations here and there and you knew you were just fooling yourself.
A lot had happened in these last few weeks, from organizing your new living space, to meeting your roommates, to grocery shopping, classes, and you had even considered the idea of maybe getting a part time job somewhere close by. There were plenty of small shops and places around the college campus neighborhood that not only offered valuable services to poor college students but also the opportunity to make a bit of money to help them out.
It had all been rather exhausting and stressing, exams, essays and projects were already starting too…
Lying back in bed you sigh and roll over, feeling the familiar faint throb of desire pooling between your legs, one you’d never really managed to sate with a person so much as with fantasies. But tonight, as you lay awake in bed aching for your usual touch, you feel conflicted.
Ever since that very first day you just couldn’t bring yourself to open up Morax’s website again. Hell, a new month had rolled over and you’d dutifully paid the subscription along with your other usual bills.
Part of you was itching for it, curious, frustrated.
And very very horny.
Thing is, your fantasies had often featured a faceless man, strong, imposing and dominating, taking you like a blushing maiden and making you beg for the pleasure he’d give, allowing him to do anything he wanted with your heated body. Now that man had a face… your history professor Mr. Zhongli.
You used to get off to imaginings of Morax tying you up and having his way with you, teasing you, fucking you into the mattress and making you cum over and over. Now it was Mr. Zhongli. Polite and courteous Mr. Zhongli with his refined gestures and well-mannered demeanor.
You wanted to cum, to reach that high and come undone and let out all the pent-up stress and frustration until you melted into a puddle and didn’t have to think about classes or money or life anymore, but the second your fingers began to rub at your clit, Mr. Zhongli’s voice would hit you with that even tone he used when scolding someone for gossiping during his lecture.
“Disgraceful behavior…”
A hot flash of shame burned at your face but for whatever reason it just turned you on more. You wanted to get fucked so bad you felt like you were going insane. You wanted that man to pin you up against a wall and thrust inside you until you turned into an incoherent moaning mess. You wanted to get bent over at his desk and filled up with cum until you were left gaping and oozing and told what a good girl you are. You wanted to get fucked on your hands and knees squirming and crying from overstimulation.
Lying in bed, you squeezed a pillow against your face and screamed.
You wanted to fuck your handsome history professor Mr. Zhongli.
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It’s barely first period and you couldn’t concentrate.
You were sleepy, hungry and overall, in a bad mood. Standing in line at the cafeteria for a much-needed morning coffee and some snack you yawn and browse around your phone. Math. Gods you hated math.
At least you didn’t have history today. That was a whole other can of worms.
You figured you’d eventually have to get over it but it was just… so bizarre. Mr. Zhongli was quite the popular teacher, you’d learned. Extremely knowledgeable in various topics, a strict but kind and just teacher and good looking on top of all.
No wonder the upperclassmen flocked around him, probably half the campus lowkey had a crush on him, male and female students alike. It was genuinely a miracle he was not married or even had a significant other apparently.
And he was also Morax. Sensual dominating Morax who would just not leave your head-
“Good morning, how may I help you?” The cashier called out cheerfully and you pulled out of your thoughts.
“Morn-”
“Good morning.”
You gasp so sharply you almost launch into a coughing fit; your eyes widen and whole body tenses and oh shit-
Somehow you manage to trip and fall in the clumsiest, stupidest way possible.
“Woah-!”
“Miss?!”
Except you don’t actually fall, but someone manages to hold you, a hand grabbing your arm and the other pressed against your back steadying you as your poor brain goes into overdrive.
That voice!
It’s him!
Too close!
What is he doing here?!
Way too close!!
The seconds it takes for you to react feel like ages as you stare up at Mr. Zhongli like a deer caught in the headlights.
His hands are warm…
His cologne smells soooo good.
His eyes are gorgeous!
He’s so hot!!
“Are you alright Miss l/n?”
“I’M FINE! I-I’m fine!” You yelp, way louder than intended (or normal) and quickly scoot back to put some distance between yourself and the handsome professor. He picks up his dropped bag and dusts it a little, as well as his clothes, still pristine as ever. “I… think I got a little dizzy s-sorry I haven’t eaten yet and… yeah…” You chuckle nervously.
You see him frown slightly. “Going without food for long periods of time can be quite dangerous.” He states, obviously concerned. “Maybe you should head to the infirmary see Dr Baizhu, you look quite pale and the dizziness could be a symptom of low blood pressure. Do you have anything sugary to eat or drink?”
“I w-was about to buy something…”
“It might be best for you to sit down for the moment.” He nods, resolute. “Allow me.”
…And that’s how you end up sitting at one of the nearby small tables with a little glazed donut and a bottle of water, courtesy of your dear history professor.
You stare at the little treat in your hands, half eaten already as he insisted, at least your hands stopped shaking and some color returned to your face. Mr. Zhongli seemed content enough, sitting across from you.
“T-Thank you.” You mumble, refusing to meet his gaze. “How much was it? I’ll pay you back I have som-”
He sees you rummaging through you bag and raises a hand. “None of that, you needed it. I’m glad to see you’re looking a little better, please take care of yourself, health is very important.”
“Um, ok.”
Then he smiles, and it’s gentle, soft. “You’re Miss l/n, right? One of the new students from my history class?”
Huh?   
“You didn’t do very well on the essay assignment…”
Ack. You sigh and take another bite of the small donut. “History is just… not my strong suit. Too many dates and names to remember.”
He chuckles and oh God who gave him the right to make that sound? Your skin tingles.
“Fair enough. I know my classes can be a little daunting, I’m very particular about certain topics and tend to ramble sometimes. But I can tell you really put effort into classes and pay attention to my lectures.” He looks pensive for a moment. “Let me propose something. I usually impart some private tutoring sessions to students on more advanced levels, but I could make an exception for you. If you have time available it could help lift your grades.”
You stare up at him in surprise, grateful to not have a mouthful of donut or you would have probably choked again like an idiot. Did you hear that right? A private tutoring session after hours at his office?!
Now that sounded like a title for one of Morax’s audios: Hot professor bangs his stu-NOPE.    
“I-I’ll think about it! Sure.”
He nods and gets up, sparing a glance at his watch. “I have to leave now, please do consider it. And do try to eat at more regular intervals and take better care of yourself, you look quite tired.”
A polite way of saying you had marked eyebags, yep.
“I’ll try.” You mumble. Suddenly a little sad to see him go. “Professor… thank you.”
There’s that smile again, you could melt. “You’re welcome, my dear.”
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And yet that night, you’re once again rolling in bed unable to sleep.
My dear.
You couldn’t stop thinking on the whole incident, you’d certainly made a fool of yourself but the memory of his strong arms holding you, touch firm but gentle. The scent of his cologne that you wish had clung more on your clothes.
You really were down bad, this is ridiculous…
You bite your lip.
You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t.
Oh but you will, just one wouldn’t hurt.
Quite the opposite actually…
Unable to contain yourself (or your horniness) you take no time to pop in your earbuds and start scrolling. Hmm… there had been a couple new additions in these last weeks.
You can’t help but wonder why he does these. When. How. You never really considered or thought on it before, Morax has quite a lot of patrons (not a surprise) and thought you know nothing about sound and video recording or editing technically he’s making money just by using that honeyed velvet voice of his. That had to bring in some cash, right?
But then again, if you knew anything about these types of subscriptions it was that they required constancy and that meant hard work and dedication. Did he enjoy these? He really puts in the effort given the amazing quality…
You can’t help but picture your handsome professor unwinding a little after a long day, casual clothes, a cup of that tea he loves and setting up to record those dirty words and sinful moans.
Did he sometimes get worked up about these too? Did he also touch himself during or after recording a particular scenario? Sitting back slightly sprawled on the chair, brow slightly furrowed, stroking his co-   
Aaahhhh you needed to stop thinking on him.
Yeah right.
“Daddy eats you out and prepares you for his big cock.”
Well, this looks promising.   
The audio starts like many others, with some dialogue from him and setting the scene and oh… you had kind of missed the playful teasing tilt of Morax’s voice. You can’t help but chuckle lightly, this scene is so domestic. He calls you “sweetheart”, “babygirl” and there are the kissy noises.
You wish you could kiss him…
“Hmmm… daddy’s gonna get you nice and ready. Spread your legs for me.” Oh, you certainly do. “Daddy’s gonna get down here between them.”
You rub at your tights slowly, sensual, remembering his larger hands.
“Oh your little pussy is already so wet and swollen.” Morax coos, voice soft and airy. “You think it’s already ready I know.” He chuckles. “But you know daddy’s cock is big, yeah, your little pussy’s gonna need to stretch a little bit hm?” A kiss.
You whine.
“Shhh daddy’s gonna make you feel so good sweetheart.”
Lewd wet noises invade your ears and you waste no time starting to stroke yourself, slow and tender. He groans and sighs and you whimper, hips jolting from the bed.
Gods how was he so…
“Yeah… nice and gentle hmm, we’re gonna have so much fun.”
His words were a complete 180 from the long lectures about politics and wars, and yet, his voice…
“D-Daddy…” You sigh. “Please!”
“Oh I love how sensitive your little clit is… you like that babygirl?”
You rub and stroke at the little bundle of nerves and see stars already.
You were so pent up, so needy. Your orgasm was already building too quickly, mewling and whining at his words, his noises, trying to match the pace and follow his instructions.
“That’s a good girl.”
“F-Fuck-”
Your eyebrows furrow, your body trembles and you bit your lip to contain your noises. Morax warns you when he adds a finger, and after a few seconds another, chuckling low at how you clench, praising you, coaxing out your pleasure.
You can only picture him at the end of the bed, licking and sucking obscenely at your juices, pumping those slender fingers in and out, in and out…
That tantalizing voice teasing you, your fingers knotting that dark brown hair tipped amber, golden eyes staring up at you half-lidded but feral and fascinated. Focusing on you. Only you.
“A-Ah! Mhmm…”
“Now I want you to cum babygirl come on, in five… four…”
You stroke and pump faster, frantic, lost in that rapidly approaching high.
“Three… two…”   
You cry out, a spark cursing through your veins.
“One… hmmm that’s it my dear.”
“Z-Zhongli…!”
He ushers you out of your release with soft words before saying something else, but your mind is floating and hazy. Your take off the earbuds and place them away catching your breath for a moment, arm draped over your face, the audio still has a long way to go but you’re drowsy and sleepy so you decide to call it a night.
It is only a little later, once you’re done with a quick cleaning and putting everything away, curled up under the covers and dozing off that you realize…
Shit.
You’d called not for Morax but Zhongli.
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hylialeia · 10 months
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you don't get it. she loved him once. she didn't have a maester, she had a brother. he sold their mother's crown to keep them fed. he said Dany, please. she loved him, once.
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ibrithir-was-here · 4 months
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Little flip from putting Classical Lit characters into Monster High, here’s Monster High kids in their Classical Lit forms
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Draculaura would of course be one of the Weird Sister pack, voluptuously eating babies and terrifying solicitors. Frankie I could see coming to be in a canon divergence where instead of the Creature asking Victor to make him a wife as a companion he asks for his own child (with all the concerns about Autonomy and whatnot still very much there)
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lovesickeros · 3 months
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☆ love; heretical and divine
{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 0.8k
To love a God is heretical. It is an act of blasphemy– it is to drag them down from their throne of hollow gold, to topple the pedestal the worshipers uphold on their shoulders like lambs at the herders heel. It is the act of forcing them to their knees and ripping that beating heart of glorious gold and beautiful, cruel divinity from their chest, so pure it burns.
To love a God is to make them sin. To make them painfully, horribly human.
To love a God is to sin.
The love of a worshiper is no love at all, brilliant in its raw purity, untainted by sin. It is fear and obedience masked by adoration so overpowering it corrupts. It makes the lamb so unquestioning in it's faith it will never question the knife that cuts, the teeth that rip, the claws that tear. If the Creator deemed them unworthy of the very life crafted by their hands, then they must have committed a sin so grave there lay no salvation for their horrid soul.
But she is no worshiper– her lips speak of heresy as easily as she breathes, her words nothing but lies, cold and cruel like the ice that crawls along her skin like webs.
She loves a God like a lover should.
A damned sinner reaching longingly for the heavens.
She loves a God in the subtle brush of their lips, their muffled voices behind closed doors as they indulge in curiosity untamed. She is a sinner through and through, but she feels herself fall further with every brush of her hand across their cheeks, every touch she bestows upon them like a lover. She memorizes the imperfections of their body like memorizing a map– every scar, every mark, every line drawn on their body like a canvas, her touch the brush that stains the pristine white.
No devoted lamb shall ever see the painting they create in these stolen moments– it is for the eyes of a heretic so vile it makes them shudder, their body dirtied by the love of a woman so vile even their divinity is obscured by the ice.
The lambs may be satisfied with fleeting glimpses of gold and empty words from lips that guide them to the jaws of the wolves, but she is not. Her hands crave them like a starving hound, aching to touch that imperfect skin hidden by the veil of gold that obscures the painfully human body beneath. She longs to free them from the golden cage that binds them– to see their wings blot out the sky, their divinity tainted by sin and making them all the more beautiful for it.
It is a longing that leaves a festering wound that cannot heal, will not heal. Even if it could, she would not let it.
For as much as she tries, deny it as she may, she is no better then the blind lambs following the herder who holds a blade in their hand, glittering like gold in the sun, stained by dull red.
She is a fool, and what a fool they make of her with the touch of their hands against her skin– so cold it leaves frost on their fingertips. Yet they do not fear the cold, mapping out every inch of her imperfections, carved into her body by her own hands.
She has always been a heretic, cursing the divine until she could speak no more, but if divinity can be found in them – in this love that consumes, that burns her hands and her lips – then she is a Saint, praying at the altar until her throat bled.
But in the end, she has and will always be a cold woman with hands stained with blood. Until it is all she can taste, until it is all she can smell, until it is all she can feel. These hands of hers, heretical and divine, will bleed the God from their veins– she will become the wolf to their lamb until the rivers of Teyvat run gold with their ichor, until the gold bleeds into red, the taste of their divinity on her tongue.
Until she drags a God from their lofty throne and makes of them a monster.
There is no greater triumph to the heretic then to love a God into sin. To make a God sin to love.
To love is to be human, and they are no God.
Even if she must tear the gold from their very being until all that's left is something human. Even if Teyvat crumbles and decays, even if it begins over and over again..
She will do it again and again, until the gold can bleed no longer. Until her sins grow too great for Teyvat to contain.
To love a God is to devour, and be devoured. An endless cycle of sin that dulls the glow of gold into something new– something horrifying and divine, in it's own right. Something just as horrid as her, just as divinely corrupted by the sins she carries on her shoulders like a trophy, as gold as the sun and as cold as ice.
Divinity, carved into something human by love all consuming, until it all bleeds away and they begin their dance anew, for as many cycles as it takes.
An eternity, if she must, of dooming this world of theirs to fire and decay for a glimpse of the being snared by their golden shackles.
#sagau#genshin sagau#self aware genshin#genshin impact sagau#self aware genshin impact#genshin cult au#genshin impact cult au#fic tag#tsaritsa#tsaritsa x reader#rip 2 anyone who expected like. a normal fic lol. lmao.#im very normal abt the tsaritsa and love its so tasty#i left it very up to interpretation what like. actually happens but. yknow.#i just think tsaritsa being the god of love and not knowing how 2 love without being weird abt it is fun#also wanted to dig into the concept of reader being fundamentally changed by being the creator besides gold blood yknow#but the tsaritsa Knows its changed you and she hates it. she hates it but how does one destroy what is divine?#how do you destroy the very thing that has created you in its hands so cruel and kind?#ive really gone off the deep end huh#this is a warning 2 the normal ppl u might as well leave now. lol#lowkey going for her actually straight up eating u but decided that was too weird for my first fic in a while. had 2 tone it down#i also wanted to add a bit of a concept of the constant resets teyvat goes through and how it plays into the themes#the tsaritsa constantly stuck in a cycle of getting rid of your divinity to be with you as you actually are but teyvat “dies” shortly after#bc obvs ur not the creator afterward so it just croaks and then it all resets again and again#but its the tsaritsa we r talking abt do u think that stops her. NO#obvs still up 2 interpretation go wild this was just what i intended#can u tell i have a lot of feelings abt tsaritsa and concepts of love from her pov. haha. I PROMISE IM NORMAL#i am mentally well why do u ask#what warnings do i add here. dont open this fic ive lost it maybe. yeah#covid rewiring my brain or smth idk man
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medicalunprofessional · 3 months
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Its you
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lizardsarecute · 7 months
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Happy Halloween :D
A little bit of fun with newly undead Korsica for the spooky day. Since she's the only boss that can organically regain HP, I thought it would be cool to see that dialed up to 1000 and straight up have her revive herself from death out of sheer fury. Perhaps the ecological disaster she experienced before had idk, zombie juice LOL
I don't see her lasting very long though, but maybe the team can come up with something to keep that blood in before she drops dead permanently.
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