#cw gun to head

[stinkywormynoob]

Civitai PSA:

characters being hung are prohibited, which is not stated in the ToS.

Guess how I found out? Because of a picture where they're NOT EVEN ACTUALLY BEING HUNG. It got the automatic tag "hanging" for which I didn't find any results.

But at the same time stuff like this is perfectly fine because there are a few LoRAs with galleries showing it.

[3m0-b1tchhh]

[upplayingwithmyworms]

Edited cover in response to some funny comments I saw on r/worms

[socvincjpeg]

Some concepts for a comic I’m planning from an AU of mine called metal to flesh!

[monohvoid]

this is lowkey eyestrainy so ujhh yeah

I haven't finished my playthru of Psychopomp gold yet but I'm excited to yippeee

Lyrics in the bg are Вельзевул by Убей меня, Эйс! (Velzevul by ubey menya, eic)

[wild0moon]

something something we are getting this game

[starry-bi-sky]

What would a mother not do for her child What lengths would a mother not go There's a bond that exists between mother and child With no end to how strong it can grow It's a promise for life between mother and child It begins from the moment of birth.

================

She is six years old, and standing on the porch at her Auntie Alicia’s cabin. She is six years old, and holding an old rifle in her hands, standing at the railing and pointing the nozzle at a large target a couple feet away. There’s a pair of old ear muffs covering her ears. Behind her is her daddy and her sister, and Auntie Alicia. She can’t see them. 

Danielle Martha Fenton is six years old, and her momma has her arms wrapped warmly around her, keeping the gun steady for her. It’s heavy and the butt digs into her shoulder uncomfortably, and she feels nothing but determined. And nervous. 

Her momma was teaching her and Jazzy how to shoot, and they’re down in Arkansas to visit Auntie Alicia for her second “Divorce-iversary” as Auntie calls it. She keeps a hunting rifle in her gun safe for the rabbits that like to nibble on her garden. She mostly grows rhubarb, which goes untouched. But her carrots and greens and other veggies like to be tempting snacks for the game. 

Regardless, she is six years old and learning how to shoot. Her momma and her daddy (mostly her daddy) have been banned from every shooting range outside of Amity Park in a hundred mile radius. So Auntie is the best place to learn, or so momma says. 

Danny thinks it's just an excuse to see her sister, not that she's complaining. She loves visiting Auntie.  

She’s already seen Jazzy do this, her momma told her before the muffs went on to shoot when ready. No use trying to fire when you’re not; you can’t afford to miss when shooting ghosts. 

Danny breathes out steady, just like momma taught her, and quells her trembling little fingers. She focuses down the barrel, and pulls the trigger. 

Immediately, the recoil throws her off, the side of the gun that her cheek was resting on knocks against her skin, harsh enough to bruise if it weren’t for her momma’s steady hands holding onto her. The bang of the gun startles her more than she thought it would, and her heart leaps up and runs a jackrabbit through her chest. 

The gun is carefully slipped out of her hands, and Danny lets it go easily, her cheek smarting in pain and her eyes wide and following up to momma. Momma turns the safety on, and with a gentle hand, pushes against her chest. Danny takes a few steps back, and slips the ear muffs off her head. 

Mommy is smiling big at her, something that Danny can’t help but replicate on her own face as her heart swells. “Did I get it, momma?” She asks, watching as she passes the gun off to Auntie Alicia, who steps over to take it.

“I’m going to go see, sweetie, but I think you did.” Momma coos, before planting both her hands on the porch railing and, in a single leap, vaults over the side and onto the grass. She’s dressed all comfortable for the summer heat, with her hair all tied back and in shorts and a tank top and nice boots. Danny’s ribs swell hopefully, and she stands on her tiptoes to watch her walk over.

“I’ll be hard-pressed to believe if you didn’t, Martha Mae,” Auntie tells her, grinning like a cat, “that was a damn good shot.” 

‘Martha Mae Knight’ was Danny’s granny’s name. Auntie Alicia calls her that because of her middle name — and because, by her words, she has her momma’s weird-shaped eyebrows and piercing blue eyes. The kind that could scare a hawk into singing like a robin. It was Danny’s favorite nickname ever.

Daddy laughs brightly, the sound painful on her ears but twice as nice, and despite the distance, Momma whirls her head around to shoot Auntie a glare; “Language, Alicia. Not around my girls.” She warns. Her accent always comes through when they’re around Auntie. It’s Danny’s favorite thing to listen to. 

“Do you think so, auntie?” Danny says, bright-eyed and ever-optimistic. Auntie Alicia nods fiercely as Momma finally reaches the target and searches for the bullet hole. Daddy then comes up behind her, still laughing, and claps a hand onto her shoulder so hard that it makes her knees hurt.

“Of course she did!” Dad boasts, as bright as the sun and twice as warm. He shakes Danny affectionately, wobbling her on her feet and pulling her straight into his side. She goes so willingly with a burble of giggles. “She’s got the eyes of a Fenton! And our family are darn good shots.”

Auntie eyes him up and down, her smile immediately fading off into a pressed line. “I’m sure you mean she’s got the eyes of a Knight. You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn at twenty paces, Jack Fenton.” 

Jazzy holds back giggles from where she’s standing by the door, her ear muffs in hand, and Danny watches her Daddy’s dark eyes immediately narrow. Just like Auntie’s, his smile tapers off into a frown. 

Before he can say anything, there’s a cheer from the yard, and they all turn to Momma clapping her hands in delight. 

Danny immediately pricks her ears up, and would’ve darn near rushed over to the railing if it weren’t for her Daddy’s hand on her shoulder. She yells instead, excitement thrumming like a hummingbird against her ribs, “Did I hit it, momma?!” 

Momma beams at her with all the pride in the world, “You sure did, Danny!” And she turns to press her finger against the target, right on the inside red ring of the battered old bag. “Right here, sweet girl!” 

There are cheers from all around, and Danny’s heart bursts inside her lungs with shiny, sunshine glee. She puffs her chest out big, and smiles so wide it hurts the cheek where the gun smacked her. Her Daddy shakes again, squeezing her tight against his side in a hug that Danny happily reciprocates. 

“What’d I tell you, Martha Mae?” Auntie tells with a big wink and a wide grin, the gun still gripped tight in her hands as Momma makes her way back over. “You got a Knight’s eye.” 

When Momma makes it back over the railing, she hugs Danny tight and praises her shot. Danny looks her in the eyes and chases the feeling, and asks to shoot again.

[cheesed-14]

I hadn't draw her btas attire in soooo long I had to fix this

[hotch-girl]

THOMAS GIBSON as AARON “HOTCH” HOTCHNER | 6.08 “REFLECTION OF DESIRE”

CRIMINAL MINDS (2005 — PRESENT)

[jovieinramshackle]

"Nothing ever truly changes. As long as I'm close to you like this, I know nothing has changed."

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you decide who's talking <3 Idk man the idea that you begin to hate someone you used to love, but that hate only ends up expressing the love you still carry for that person, and now you're stuck in this vicious cycle of playing chase to hurt the other because it's the only form of twisted affection you cling onto until one of you dies. Yknow stuff like that, or something. This was supposed to be a revenge mission, so why does it feel so familiar...

tag list: @ramshacklerumble @thehollowwriter @summerspook @scint1llat3 @skriblee-ksk

@cyanide-latte @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @oya-oya-okay @viperbunnies @gimmeurmoneyagh

@twsted-void @lallopsyou (lmk/dm if you wanna be added)

[malapropismz]

BANG!

[3m0-b1tchhh]

[le-trash-prince]

You can choose, Kenta.

[fortress-substitution-team]

*peeks head through the TV like from horror move*

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

Can I borrow some cheese?

TW BLOOD and GUN VIOLENCE

an advice, don't scare a mercenary.

also, you're still out of cheese.

[moonpie016]

I have a doodle. And probably another one of those character idea rambles that I go on.

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Heart related. :] (I forgot his fingerless gloves on his THA design. Buuuuut that's probably optional. Just like his hair, long or short. And again, cannot fly. Just stuffed wings.)

---

Sooooo. I thought randomly about Heart's gun, and in a less physical sense than actually shooting Mind. Or anything.

But how I thought about the gun being his emotions coming full force. Like it's his breaking point for anyone else to see what they're feeling, to physically show their emotions because it isn't seen as anything more than just... crying, whining, miniscule, childish.

Putting up a front or distancing himself from his feelings, until he lets it out and shows how he really feels about everything. Violent, blinded with it (no funny puns.)

Even with this for any emotion, still needs to figure out how to not let it overtake him. (Easy said than done.)

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I don't know if this makes any sense now that I've typed it out. Maybe not. Idk if this is supposed to be "in character" or something.

I'm basically thinking about this in a feelings lens than anything.

Is this a headcanon??? I think so. Yeah.

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I think that's alllll for this random ramble about the Heart dude. Man's looks mischievous.

Hope you enjoy.

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[rebar2042]

weekend doodles