#great prices

[thesoftboiledegg]

Yep...these are definitely two of my favorite commissions. When I reached out to @anpictor, she provided two preliminary sketches. I loved both of them, and her prices are affordable, so I paid for both pieces. I'm glad that I did because I can't decide which one is better. The expressive, painterly style is probably my favorite digital art style--it captures so much emotion.

I love how X-216 Rick looks like a dark, brooding character from an indie comic. He can be warm and nurturing, but he's still a Rick with all the trauma that comes with it. His version of the Smiths aren't exactly great, either. These images make me think of him walking around a city or parking lot in the winter, dwelling on his life in isolation.

(X-216 is my Rick OC who appears alongside C-137 in my fics Spectrum of the Curve and Running Like Water 🌿)

[avonrep132]

Great for gifts 

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price celebrates his 75th birthday with a special guest...RATIGAN!

[forsworned]

You know what would be absolutely hilarious? If Y/n was very androgynous-looking. Like maybe she has short cropped hair, doesn't speak much, wears no make up, mostly male clothing and binds her chest so that she doesn't have to worry about her boobs getting in the way? And she's still getting pretty acclimated to the team, but when they all wake up early on laundry day and everyone is gathering their clothes to put into the washer Johnny's dumb ass zones in on the pink frilly bra that somehow ends up in Simon's hamper.

"Oh, Simon, didn’t know ye liked keepin’ wee mementos!" He taunts holding the undergarment and obnoxiously raising his brows at him in a suggestive manner.

And so Kyle and Price join in on the teasing. Price whistles at Simon's disgruntled look.

"Never pegged you for a magpie, mate. A bra, really?" Kyle ribs.

"I’ll tell you what, Simon, if I were you, I’d keep that under wraps. Can’t be good for your street cred, mate." Price adds on, causing everyone to laugh. Everyone BUT Y/n who silently snatches the bra out of Johnny's hand and adds it to her hamper.

"Aw, come on! We’re just havin’ a bleedin’ laugh." Johnny pouts, as his eyes following her form to the laundry room just a few feet away.

But everyone's jaw (except for Simon's) literally drops as they watch her put all her girly, frilly panties into the washer. And it's just quiet for like a whole five minutes ESPECIALLY because Simon knows he's getting the last laugh. Unfortunately it's a bit at Y/n's expense, but she's also relishing in the fact that they all look like total idiots.

[kriskukko]

some rp related stuff i drew on a whim, feat. me and friends' characters -- a bunch of rogue knights half of which are also legit wizards

[tvuniverse]

EDDIE BEING A GREAT DAD (part 2/5)

9-1-1 ↳ Eddie acknowledging that he's doing a good job as a father VS thinking he's failed Christopher

[chiropteracupola]

the best kind of period-drama argument is when men scream and fight while still calling each other Sir

[obscureoldguy]

"I'll 'av the lot."

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nikolai sighing as he boots up the heli to go rescue those crazy millennials from their own tomfoolery.

[fangrurin]

Fashion of the Great Houses of Westeros: House Greyjoy of Pyke

[gomzdrawfr]

Broken strings of fate

PriceGhostWeek Day 7 (last day)

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price guest stars on

The Muppet Show (1977)

[longmaxsilvarg]

[heymurada]

(( Call of Duty Baseball AU: But Make It Tee Ball )) Coach John Price and his team of Little League misfits.

Bonus: Farah, Alex, and Roach

[laswells-ashtray]

John never thinks too hard about his childhood, he thinks he's past it. Drunken dad who died when he was a teen, mum who died the day he was born. No point wasting time on that and he thinks he's outgrown that point in his life. Maybe Dad was a bit heavy-handed with the belt but that was more acceptable back then, no need to fuss, and when he compares it to the stories Simon let slip when they both went a little too hard with the drink, he has nothing to complain about.

He never shares any family stories, yeah, Soap will share a story about how he was named after his dad and it sparks a conversation, Kyle will explain the origin of his name proudly, Simon will offer a sparse answer and none of them will ask for any further context. John will offer some half-assed explanation about being named after his old man's old man, someone he never met and never thinks about. Kyle asks him about his mother with a gentleness that can only mean he's noticed that John never talks about her, he offers the classic "never knew her" and it isn't a lie. It isn't. Because he didn't know her, she left earth the same day he made his appearance on it, the value of his life has always been at the cost of another, it's why he makes such a good captain. And he's sick of hearing "oh, I'm sorry" whenever he mentions that he's dead. He's a grown man, he can only hear so many apologies before they become just pointless words that hold no value.

So, it doesn't bother him. Two people he knew are dead, they started the list of countless other names that he doesn't bother thinking about.

And then he comes back from a mission one day, it was a shitshow. Nothing went to plan because their intel was fucked and everyone is frustrated. Ghost had to get stitches in a wound on his arm, isn't the end of the world but it was avoidable. Gaz, the poor fucker is concussed and Soap has the fun job of waking him up every two hours to check on him, a job he was assigned by a medic after they pulled the glass out of his hand. John is almost certain his ankle is sprained, his entire body is a bruise, he lost a good fucking cigar and he snapped at Laswell over comms so he owes an apology that he's planning in advance.

He wants Nik, it might be juvenile but he's tired in a way he can feel in his bones and he wants his pilot.

He finds Nik, he doesn't have to say anything as they head back to his room. Nik knows, Nik always knows. There's the briefest of exchanges as he strips out of his kit and he heads to the shower with the slightest relief knowing that his night is going to end in lazy sex and being stuck under the warm blanket of the Russian bear of a man.

He walks out with damp hair in a pair of boxers and socks because the floor is fucking cold with the constant draft and all but collapses face-first onto his bed. He'll offer Nik a murmured apology later for being selfish but he just isn't sure he can form the words right now.

He can hear Nik kicking off his boots behind him with little care as to where they land, it's a familiar sound from nights like this. He's as relaxed as he's going to get until he hears it, the sound of someone fumbling with their belt buckle. For years it's been just a noise but for the briefest of moments he tenses up in preparation, shoulders raised instinctively to try and block the leather from catching the back of his neck. He's not sure if he's breathing and he can smell whisky, the old fucker must've lobbed the bottle at the wall again and the last dredges of Johnnie Walker red label are soaking into the carpet again. If he doesn't remember to clean it before he goes up to bed then he's fucked, the old drunk will wring his fucking neck just like last time when he-

"John?" The hand on his back is warm as it lands between his shoulder blades, it should be comforting and he should relax into it. He doesn't. He's ashamed of the way he flinches, kicking out a leg as he tries to push himself up the bed and away from it hits him. It's Nikolai. The hand belongs to Nik.

He turns to face the other man, lying on his side and propped up with an elbow. He isn't sure if the sheer mortification he feels is obvious, or the tremors in his hands. He hasn't reacted like that since he was a boy.

"Fuck, Nik. Sorry, just lost in my own fucking head- Sorry, give me a sec and we can get to it." It's humiliating, he's the one who asked for sex and a fucking belt sends him over the edge.

"No, no `getting to it`. We shall continue another night." And there he's gone and done it, his fucking inability to keep his composure has just put a dampener on their sex life.

The cautious way Nikolai reaches out for him hurts, he's being treated like some scared animal. The large hand on his shoulder does act as a source of comfort when he knows who's behind it. "John, перестань. Talk to me, captain."

"I don't- I don't know, just give me a moment." How long can he spend pleading for just a little more time before Nikolai gets sick of it.

"The belt."

He looks up at the Russian with wide eyes, mouth open as he tries to form a denial of some kind, waiting for words that won't form.

Nikolai stares down at him with a look so gentle he has to look away, he can hear the faint sigh of resignation and the following mutter of something Russian that he isn't paying enough attention to in order to translate it in his head.

He sits in silence as the other man joins him in the bed, leaving a gap between that and offering John the chance to cross it on his own time. He shifts over and plaster himself against his partner's side, face buried in his neck.

"I assumed the scars down your back were from torture, just not the military kind."

"From years ago, don't matter much now do they? Taken a lot worse than a belt since then." His body was covered in scars of varying sizes, from anywhere to the scar on his hand from slicing a bagel to the silver band wrapped around part of his left thigh from a bastard with a blade that damn near nicked an artery. He'd stuck that poor sod's blade through his own throat and left him to gurgle on his blood.

"I assume your father is dead?" The fact that Nikolai sounds hopeful isn't lost on him.

"Drank himself into oblivion years ago." John had always thought it would've been his liver that did him in, would've bet money on it. Would've lost too. The old man had asphyxiated on his own vomit, silly prick.

"Good."

[meowpupp]

jus imagine infecting owner!price and pup!gaz w the sleepy girl agenda.

always pulling price back into bed, locking your chubby thighs around his waist. he just can't deny you. his cute girl, all sleepy and soft for him. he loves how sweet you are in the mornings, nuzzling into his neck, the comfortable weight of your body ontop of his, arms wrapped around your waist. he likes to act like he's getting up just so he can hear you whine, watch as you snuggle so close to him it's as if you're trying to crawl inside him.

with kyle it's the opposite. the pup works hard, keeping you and price safe, training, doing the manual chores around the house. he needs his naps, and for those he needs you. a pretty weighted blanket. he turns on your favourite movie, pulling you to rest your head on your chest. the whole time he idly plays with your hair, waiting until you fall asleep to join you.