I am Chara.

S҉I̴͓̯̤̗̙̗͉N͈̹̪͓̣̬͙͝C̘̻̰̮̱E̷̝͍̞̜ ̴WH̼̣E̸̤̙N̠̯͖̱̜͘ ̯Ẃ̤̰̠͚̜̞̖E͍̳̗͉̦̜̦R̮͟E͜ ̧̗̘Y͘O̦̝̯͝U̷̹̜ ̼TH͕̣̖E͉̥̱̖ ̠̞̬̺͕̣́O̗̹̘̥͉͈̦Ṋ͙E̢̟͔̙͙ ́Į̫N̝̝̮̦͇ ͚͖͜C̸͕O̥̗͈̪̬̪N̯͉̱̮̮͍T̰̖͇R̹̰̼̭̞͉̺O͙͘L?̱̥͇̼̯̜͉͝

[infernalintrospect-blog]

                           Take me home where the restless go.

            R e c k l e s s ‘til the day I rest my bones.

                                        There’s no use trying to save my soul.

There’s no use trying to save my soul.

[musxng]

survive all you want –     I’m going to t h r i v e

[inbloomings-archive-blog]

                ❝ She bargains like a  

                                     lawyer

                                       SACRIFICE like a 

                                                           M A R T Y R  ❞

[sad-b0y-s]

[missladymeringue]

[ SPEED PAINT ] 

[irrelevanthiccup]

You made a bad decision and you can’t go back.

[goterinas-sketches]

oops, my hand slipped…..

[old-skoolarart-moved]

Even Dio said some nice stuff to Jonathan.

(i accidentally deleted the original post ;;;A;;;)

[cottoncandycruu]

doodles

[sunrayee]

The demon who comes when people call its name…

[shidogane]

about time.

[asexualmew]

I relate to Frisk.

Anyway, my friend showed me this song I hadn’t heard in so many years, and it fits Chara and Frisk so well that I’ve just been listening to it on repeat as I paint this.

…I need somebody to save Frisk.

[kewlbot-deactivated20181218]

rich temmie crime drama

[one-senseless-artblog]

Pass through Peacefully?

Or Have Fun?

[lana0933]

[insertdisc5]

i didnt mean to, im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry

[lackcf-deactivated20160117]

                           “ WHERE are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang                            And stood in brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?                            Alas! they all are in their GRAVES, the gentle race of flowers                            Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours.                            The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain                            Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again. ”

                                     - The Death of Flowers, William Cullen Bryant