#creeping death

[jimmorrisonfants]

(1984) Metallica - Creeping Death

Live at Middletown 1994

#metallica #live #video #AMAZING #james hetfield #jason newsted #jason newsted vocals #kirk hammett #lars ulrich #creeping death #ride the lightning #90’s #80’s #tumblr #metal #music #thrash metal #thrash #80’s metal #1994

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

🎛️

#Metallica #ride the lightning #creeping death #thrash metal #my things #im listening #vintage vinyl #80's #80s

[dreamofyouandi]

die by his hand

#you guys. you guys #i promise im working on other things i literally PROMISE ive drawn things recently besides this one guy #im working on an updated character sheet for deziege but i took a break from that and banged this out #and i like how it turned out #so. #metallica #cliff burton #creeping death #exodus

[ju1ian]

'the worst thing would be if dave didn't know he was dead and was still paying rent all this time'

the landlord has changed like 5 times and they all think its suspicious that dave doesn't age, but hey, he pays rent on time, so they ain't saying shit

Bro is fucked he's been going to work every day as a ghost and paying bills and shit. 💀💀💀

You miss one payment and they move a drunk idiot into your apartment 🙄🙄🙄

#creeping death

[crueclown22]

“Born I shall soon be there, deadly mass

I creep the steps and floor final darkness

Blood lambs blood painted door, I shall pass”

creeping death moodboard finished!! based off a fic that @ju1ian is writing, already so excited to see where it goes <3

#should’ve found a better pic of Dave but he looks so ghostly and dead and pretty in that pic <3333 #creeping death #:3 #hope this looks good and hope y’all like it :)

[storiadinessuno]

#Metallica #creeping death #rtd #playlist #Spotify

[stylistic-nightmare]

Metallica - Creeping Death

#metallica #creeping death #metal #thrash metal #music

[why-i-love-comics]

Daredevil & Echo #1 (2023)

written by Taboo & B. Earl art by Phil Noto

#soena'hane'e #creeping death #tommy murdock #marvel #wednesday spoilers #spoilers #comic spoilers

[bizarrobrain]

"Intestinal Wrap" (feat. George "Corpsegrinder" Fisher of Cannibal Corpse) by Creeping Death - From "Boundless Domain" (2023)

#Creeping Death #George Fisher #Corpsegrinder #Boundless Domain #Music #Death Metal #Bandcamp

[reality-inflicted]

The ferryman cometh.

#original photography #original photographers #photographers on tumblr #photography #fog #mist #creeping death #realityinflicted

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

𝔐𝔢𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔞 - ℭ𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔏𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔰𝔠𝔬𝔴 (յգգյ)

#Metallica #Creeping Death #Live Moscow #1991 #90s #90's #russia #moscow #metal #thrash metal #jason newsted #jason newsted era #james hetfield #kirk hammett #lars ulrich #my gif #gifs #my edit #gif #text #USA #heavy metal

[jarofalicesgrunge]

#Metallica #creeping death #heavy metal #Spotify

[ju1ian]

I see you could no longer resist the urge to kill Dave so you made a whole fic that starts with him dying

I couldn't resist. He just looks so killable.

Tell me this guy doesn't look one bad fall away from death. The wind could probably blow on him too hard and he'd pass on.

#creeping Death

[tomb-mold]

average runescape player

#creeping death

[damien-mlm]

𝓢𝓪𝓵𝓿𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

Inspired by the end of Dead Man Walking featuring @bluecoolr's OC Darrell

Taglist: @probably-a-plant-thing @rottent33th @slaasherslut @the-pinstriped-hood @texaschainsawslvt @angxlslasher @allthingsblood @ajarofpickledtears @mr-trick @goldrose-star @solmints-messyocdiary

#darrell todd #slasher oc #damon red herring #red herring #oc art #damien mlm draws #dead man walking #creeping death #sorry for the long silence and ghosting #had too much going on #tldr I almost pulled what Red did at the end of Dead Man Walking #but don't worry!!! #I have new medication #a psychiatrist #and a new therapist #i'll be okay

[bluecoolr]

Creeping Death

Fought a losing war on a foreign shore

To find his country didn't want him back…

He cried "forgive me for what I done there

'Cause I never meant the things I did"

- Poison, "Something To Believe In"

Episode 3: Seeing Red

Warnings: Angst, internalized homophobia(?)

A/N: Bold is our buddy Bright Eyes speaking

—

He tried to think as rationally as he could, though he was seeing red despite the sterile blue fluorescent light that filled the pharmacy. If he agreed to have a drink with Angel and answered all his questions, he would hopefully leave him alone.

"One drink," Darrell said.

Angel nodded enthusiastically. "No more."

Darrell's lip curled at Angel's puppy dog eyes and eagerness.

He raked his hair back and heaved an exasperated sigh. It was impossible to keep the damn thing out of his face. Germaine, who had been intently following their conversation, dutifully held out her wrist to him. There was a delicate looking scrunchie sitting there, embroidered with white daisies.

Darrell's stern expression softened at the gesture. He slipped the scrunchie off Germaine's wrist and tied his hair back. He grabbed the little paper bag from the counter and, bright-eyed, turned to Angel. "Well, come on then," he said, but not before thanking Germaine.

Darrell walked ahead of Angel. Back straight, shoulders squared. He put the pack of Reds in his breast pocket. The Tylenol, he tucked away in an inside pocket.

"Know any good watering holes?" asked Angel.

"Just the one." Darrell ripped his lip balm out of the pack. Angel watched, rapt as he dragged the tip of the tube across his lower lip.

They walked all the way over damp, frosty roads to Devil's Paradise, the only bar in town. There were about five patrons already deep in drink when they came in. The place smelled of smoke, sweat, and spirits.

"A Budweiser." Angel told the bartender as he straddled the stool. "Please."

Darrell sat next to him. "Whiskey straight," he said. The bartender nodded.

"That should keep ya warm," remarked Angel cheerfully as their drinks were served.

Darrell said nothing. He ripped the plastic cover from his cigarette pack and clamped his lips around one. He looked over the counter and reached for a book of matches on the bartender's side.

"So, the tough guy with the red hair," Angel began, "He your boyfriend? Where did that start, eh? The Marines?"

Darrell replied with an icy glare. The voice inside him snarled; You know damn well where "that" started.

He solemnly lit a match and held it to the end of his cigarette.

Angel's frivolous, mocking tone faltered at that, but he tried to salvage the joke. "I could imagine… cooped up on some boat for months at a time… all guys…"

"Ain't it th'same in the Police Academy?" Darrell asked pointedly, smoke seeping out of his mouth and nostrils.

Angel was struck dumb. He had hit a nerve.

"Your cigarettes taste like shit."

"How can you stand American Spirit, though?" Angel chuckled.

Darrell felt an ache where his heart should be.

"I haven't smoked those in ten years."

I've smoked them ever since you left. They were your cigarettes. You taught me how to smoke with them.

He looked down at the glass of whiskey and frowned. The ache in his chest wasn't going away. It was like an unpleasant tingling, like a thousand traveling pinpricks. It was spreading, running up his arms, down his thighs, to his toes and ears. The pain didn't anger him as much as the fact that Angel didn't remember or didn't care to acknowledge.

"Last career I would've pinned ya down for. Figured you'd be a preacher like your daddy," Angel stated and took a sip of beer.

Darrell's tone was acrid. "Coulda said the same for you, Texas City. Whassamatter? Got tired of being a delinquent so ya decided to put the others away?"

He took a mouthful of the whiskey and wordlessly asked the bartender for another. The bottom of the glass hit the bartop with a clap.

"Ok," said Angel, "I'm sorry. It's just been so long. I don't know what to say."

Darrell's fingers tightened around his glass.

Angel lowered his gaze. "It feels like I don't know ya anymore," he said softly.

On that, Darrell agreed. He turned in his seat, his glass raised in a half-hearted toast. They tapped their drinks together and took deep swigs, allowing the truth to permeate through them.

Then came the questions - "Strictly off the record," Angel swore: How many tours did he do for the Marines? How had he come to Louisiana? Did he like it there?

And Darrell obliged him, although he didn't disclose more than he should. He was unwilling to let Angel back into his life. But did he ever leave, really? Angel was in part, if not wholly, responsible for all Darrell ever was and became. All that ever happened. All that never did.

No, Angel never left. He was with him every step of the way. Down to the cigarettes he smoked and the music saved in his phone. Life was split before and after Angel, and yet what was Darrell? Some half-forgotten face, shaved to the bone by time, that Angel tried to brush of like a sad joke.

The jukebox, which was brough to life by a bored regular, derailed the unpleasant train of thought. The greasy-faced boozer fed coins to the slot and played a Poison song. "Something To Believe In". Darrell liked it but found it depressing. It hit a little too close to home.

He began to mouth the words through Angel's rambling, feeling more and more like shit the longer he listened.

"Hey!"

The boozer at the jukebox turned to him in surprise.

"Turn it up!"

"Turn it down?" asked the boozer, squinting to hear better.

"Up," Darrell mouthed. He gestured upwards, and the boozer understood.

The music drowned out most of what Angel was saying. However, Darrell clearly heard him mention "help people" and "like you who couldn't get justice" when he talked about why he pursued a career in the police force.

Darrell's legs were trembling. He had enough composure to get up and put space between him and Angel. He made it as far as the jukebox.

When Angel mentioned Vicker, the blood drained from his lips. His insides grew cold and he felt the urge to vomit.

"Surely, there could be a way to bring something so serious up to the Chief of Staff?"

Angel carried on, despite Darrell's pleas for him to stop. "We could reopen the case," he proposed.

Darrell's resolve finally snapped. It went off like a shot in his head and he flew into action. He placed both his palms on Angel's chest and shoved him back as hard as he could.

"Get the fuck away from me!" he said through gritted teeth.

Stunned, Angel teetered on his feet with his mouth agape.

"I've spent years trying to make peace with what happened to me, and you bring it up like it's the goddamn weather!"

"I-I'm sorry," stammered Angel. "Darrell, please."

"Please, what?!" Darrell snapped. "What? Y-you want me to sit here and… and validate your guilt? 'It's ok, Angel. It ain't your fault. I'm all better now.' You show up here after all these years and tell your sob story about wantin' to make the world a better place and bait me into saying things that'll make you feel better about yourself. D'you know how fuckin' unbearable you are?"

Several patrons had put themselves between Darrell and Angel.

"Ya got some fuckin' balls to put the weight o' your self-blame on my shoulders!" Darrell yelled. The tears he could not stop seared his cheeks. "I've carried enough to last me a lifetime!"

He roughly batted the patrons' arms out of the way, jabbing his finger in Angel's face. He wished he could fire a bullet right at him; Blast a hole the size of Texas through his brain. "Don't you ever fuckin' talk to me again," he snarled. "I don't ever want to see your fuckin' face again."

Pushing past him, Darrell stormed out into the cold. He dashed the tears from his face and strode off to nowhere in particular, long legs taking him quickly through town.

Don't cry. Don't do it.

Breathing hard, lungs burning, Darrell stood rigid. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

It ain't worth it. He ain't worth it.

He took handfuls of his hair and tugged, desperately trying to keep himself grounded. A choked sob forced its way out of his throat. No matter how hard the stubborn voice tried to keep him in check, he folded. He stood on the empty sidewalk, softly crying into the palm of his hand.

His free hand searched for something familiar, but his 8 ball wasn't dangling from the belt loop of his jeans. Desperately, his hand moved up and felt the smooth surface of his jacket. A welcome distraction.

The brown leather was in need of conditioning. He supposed he could pick up a bottle in town.

Gonna tag some moots who might be interested! @rottent33th @slaasherslut @the-pinstriped-hood @kalid-raven @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @allthingsblood

Can I offer you a meme after this very angsty update?

The Devil's Paradise after Darrell stormed out:

#darrell todd #slasher oc #original character #oc writing #oc fiction #bluecoolr.txt #angel #creeping death #slasher-verse