#especially sally face

[angel-the-god]

Been recently getting into some games

Crossover time!!!!

[killertoons]

WIP stuff I'm working on but I'll be away from my computer so look at it!

Making a cute silly video for poppy cause NO ONE DRAWS POPPY SO I WILL! and I made these two frames but...idk how it'll fit into the video but it's fun either way!

[fishersfall]

Sal Fisher getting starbies.

[snazzzycattzz]

more sally face bc he literally fixes my art block every time i draw him

[piece-of-garbage-2]

i think i gain a new hyperfixation every 5 days to 4 weeks

[tulsa24]

episode 4 was the shortest (or at least it definitely felt like it) but damn if it didn’t make me feel the most

[himbosimpraccoon]

honestly FUCK that jury and judge that sentenced Sal like where in that boy do you not see at least a pledge of insanity?? i mean i know it was probably conspiracy but wtf man

[valleyfthdolls]

Currently fucked up over Fran Bow and Little Misfortune and Sally Face and idk what it is about those 3 that just. fit so well together but christ do they

[troublewithvampires]

@oceanoecielo said: 💗 //wight on his wittle nosey wosey :3

(smooch his scars - open)

Salvatore has been lost in the science textbook open on the table before him for nearly ten minutes now, devouring every word on the page with a voraciousness he hasn't felt in a long time. Even if half the words on the page are nonsense to him, he doesn't mind the challenge in the slightest, a small, toothy smile spread across his face as he digs in.

It's incredible how much more the world has learned about space and the stars since he was thrown in a hole--every day he learns something new, and it's fucking amazing. There's just so much to learn, and he's more than happy to devour every morsel of knowledge that comes his way.

As absorbed in his reading as he is, Salvatore almost misses when Simon sits down across from him. Almost. As it stands, though, he nods in acknowledgment to the older man and offers him a brief smile before turning back to his book.

After a moment, Salvatore looks up at Simon, excited little grin still in place as he gestures with one clawed finger to the textbook before him.

"Have you seen some of the pictures that Hubble telescope shit got?" he asks. "Shit's fuckin' amazing. There's so much out there that most of us wouldn't ever get to see otherwise, and then this fuckin' telescope that some eggheads threw into space can take pictures and show 'em to us anyway." The awe in his voice is palpable as he looks down at the page again.

In the lull between his delighted ramblings, Salvatore doesn't notice Simon leaning forward until a few seconds too late, when he feels a pair of soft lips brush against the scars on his nose. Immediately, he's startled out of the haze of new information and looks up at the old man with wide eyes, his ears pinning back.

"Wh-" he splutters like an idiot. "What the fuck was that for?" Perhaps he should be upset by the sudden unprompted affection, but he's more just surprised than anything. All things considered, it wasn't unpleasant, but it was shocking nonetheless. "Jesus, you old fuck, haven't you learned about personal space by now?" The words have no real bite to them, no heat, as Salvatore struggles to school his expression into something more angry. It doesn't work.

[dragonfruitghosts]

I’m on my funny little Sona ref creating spree

I specifically remade the refs of my first Sal Fisher Kinsona and my Larry Johnson kinsona. These are their updated designs : )

These two mean a lot to me as they were both my first official kinsonas and I’m very attached to them

[irregularbillcipher]

been a little sparse on here because! i'm halfway through tabling my first major convention! i'll see if i can post pictures later, but it's been a really, really cool experience

[theodore-sallis]

“The Gift of Death,” Man-Thing (Vol. 1/1974), #8.

Writer: Steve Gerber; Penciler and Inker: Mike Ploog; Colorist: Petra Goldberg; Letterer: Artie Simek

[liminalw0rld]

HELP WHY DOES POSSIBLY IN MICHIGAN (The song) REMIND ME SO MUCH OF SALLY FACE??

[q-isthebestletter]

Having been a fan of horror/dark stuff is so fun, because now I look back at murder weapons as symbols of stuff I love

Like, you can show me a pipe, a kitchen knife, and a harpoon gun, and I'll be like "✨️Oh the memories✨️"

[froggyplanet4269]

sally is so gender frfr

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Wouldn't you like to see something strange?

HI I know the new Halloween character isn't out yet but I needed an outlet for my excitement (Yes, I am unfortunately a Nightmare Before Christmas girlie) 💀 so please be advised that he may not be in character here, I'm just writing based on vibes! This is technically a twisted!Jack Skellington x Reader fic, but the Reader is basically playing a role similar as Sally from the film.

P.S. I want everyone to know that I busted out my drawing tablet to make this special border for him the same day he was first announced... Yeah...

Boo.

On the nights with full moons, he liked to steal away to the Spiral Hill on the outskirts of town.

The outcrop of land overlooked a vast graveyard and field laden with pumpkins, perfuming the air with the crisp sweetness characteristic of autumn. Beyond it, uncharted territory. When he squinted into the darkness, he could make out the vague shapes of naked trees, their gnarled branches like fingers beckoning him to approach, whispering his name.

He draped his long, lithe legs over the hill, letting them hang in the frigid air. Spindly as he was, the wind easily blew them, knocking his legs around like the straw-stuffed limbs of a scarecrow. He kicked with the breeze, carefree as a child on a playground swing.

The moon stitched his pinstriped suit and tattered cravat with silver thread, touched his pointed crown at its highest points. Even the white ribbons ribbing his jacket and the pattern of bones tugged over his gloves seemed to glow under the celestial light. He liked the view, and the view seemed to like him, too.

Held in his skeletal hand was a single flower. He stroked a silken petal, then slipped another finger under it, plucking the petal free. The wind claimed it, setting it sailing off into the unknown.

He continued. A second, a third. So on and so forth, until the flower was left stripped down and barren, even robbed of its leaves.

He dropped the stem off the hill. The pumpkins below consumed it, and the once lovely flower’s body became one with the patch.

"I figured this is where you were."

He lowered his dark circular lenses. His bright eyes slid to the figure that had approached from behind, on feet so swift they hardly made a sound. They came in with the sweetness of deadly nightshade, the trace of a poisoning committed at midnight. "Not a lethal dose, just enough to knock the doctor out for a few hours," as they always said. "How else would I sneak out to see you?"

Dry, ghostly lips dashed with hatch marks pried into an open smile, both teeth and the gaps between them. Charming, in a crooked sort of way. "My dear. You've come."

You bent down. “If you don't mind, I'd like to join.”

“The spot beside me is always reserved for you.” He patted it, inviting you to take a seat.

"Such a gentleman." You sunk down, folding your hands in your lap. "And so handsome when you're brooding. You're terribly good at that."

He was, he was, especially silhouetted by the moon. The man was practically monochrome, but bathed in silver like this, his pale skin was less sickly and more ethereal. He almost appeared like a cruel angel in the light, descending to expunge evil.

"I'm not brooding," he pouted, "I'm dreaming."

“Dreaming." You reached out and tucked a strand of alabaster hair behind his ear. "Father says it’s a ridiculous, wild thing.”

"Ah, but that's what makes it so much thrilling. Life’s no fun without a good scare.”

His mouth quirked to one side, and his smile became off-kilter--as his ideas often were. "He'll bring us to ruin with his crazy, new-fangled thinking and flights of fancy," your father would complain. But you adored that about the boy. How spontaneous he was, how his curiosity was never-ending. He'd race about like a child, picking items up and sticking his face where it probably shouldn't go.

Full of life in this otherwise lifeless town.

"What's this? What's this?" he'd say. "I must know!"

"He's gone daffy," your father would declare.

"Mmm." You nodded absentmindedly, tracing your fingers along the shell of his ear and down to his arm. "What were you dreaming about today?"

He lifted his head, looking beyond the hill and to the woods. Not a word was exchanged. None had to be.

"The Hinterlands?" you whispered. "But we don't know what's out there. No ghoul or monster has ever ventured out that far."

"Then sounds like I'll be the first! They’ll put me down in the history books as a pioneer." His laughter brightened up the gloomy night. When he quieted, his gaze was solemn—more solemn than you'd ever witnessed him. "... Don't you wonder about what's out there? Stuff that's cold and fluffy and falls from the sky. Things that come in colors we haven't seen."

"Sometimes," you admitted quietly, "but those are just dreams. I don't chase them."

"Maybe you should. We should," he mused, fingers tucked under his chin. "I bet there's all sorts of things we've never even dreamed of, too. And wouldn’t you like to see something strange?”

"I would. I really, really would," you told him in a soothing tone. Trying to reassure him as much as you were yourself. "Let's not doing anything dangerous though. I sense something in the wind—tragedy at hand. I can't shake that feeling that something bad is around the bend if you tread that path."

You gingerly laid your hand over his. Behind tinted lenses, his eyes widened.

"Stay here with me," you begged. "We can be together. Gaze at the stars. Be safe in one another's arms."

“… Sweetness, I would love for nothing more than to have you and to hold you ‘til death do us part.” His voice fluttered like the brush of a falling leaf upon your cheek. He regarded you tenderly, locking his fingers with yours and squeezing. “But you know that’s not the kind of man I am.”

“Yes, you’re every flavor of foolish imaginable,” you replied, pressing your forehead against his, “and I love you for that.”

“As do I.” He brought his icy lips to the back of your hand. A chill spider-walked up your arm, and you shivered.

“Then…”

“That’s why I must depart one day.” He pushed his glasses up. You caught the tragic reflection of your face in his lenses. “Out there… something more awaits us. I’m sure of that. I intend to find it and revive our town, this season that’s gone stale.”

“I won’t stop you if you decide to go,” you murmured. “And I will count the days until you return to me.”

“I knew you’d understand.” His smile—now it was touched with sadness, the knowledge of soon parting ways. “Thank you, dearest.”

He stood slowly, drawing you up with him. Your feet followed, as if pulled along by a puppeteer. How in sync the two of you were, how nicely molded your bodies were to one another’s. Your joy melded under the watchful eye of the moon.

“Shall we share a dance? One for the road,” he crooned. An errant breeze tousled his pallid hair, his tattered coattails—but to you, he was fairest of them all. “Our last dance for a while.”

“Alright, let’s make this one count,” you chuckled, “so I can send you off on your travels with a smile.”

“Excellent 🎵” He slid a hand around your waist, guiding you to lean into him. “Let the merrymaking commence!!”

“Yes…!!”

The midnight waltz began.

He led you, step by step, and you trailed after. Movements easy and effortless, like two intertwining maple leaves, spinning and spiraling. Their partner, the center of their universe.

“It’s as plain anyone can see,” he breathed.

“We’re simply meant to be,” you returned.

They danced as if possessed or an enchantment was cast upon their footwear. The moment too sweet, too succulent, to relinquish so soon. They wanted to savor it, indulge in it—and each other.

For never was there a more perfect pair than the Pumpkin King and his consort.