#haunt the bodies if

[ruporas]

dragon meat, you, and me

[quadrantadvisor]

Thinking about DP x DC Jason Todd being a revenant again. Here's my scenario. Jason gets called that by some ghost. He's like "what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He's heard the term before but he doesn't know any actual lore. He googles it. He scrolls past the Leonardo DiCaprio bear movie. He opens the wiki. Sees the words "animated corpse" and gets a chill diwn his spine. He starts reading the first section.

He closes Wikipedia.

That night he has a nightmare that his family buried him, again, this time with precautions. He wakes up in his own grave, full of stones, too heavy to move, to scream.

[goryhorroor]

“1950s horror movies contrast radically with their 1940s predecessors. understandably – they were reflecting a whole new world. audiences wanted stories that connected directly to their lives, to the ever-expanding technology in their homes and workplaces. they also wanted horror movies that played to their fears – stoked by politicians – of the shadows that lay beyond their immediate, personal experience of the shiny american dream (applies to some of these movies).”

[fanofspooky]

Scream King - Kyle Gallner

[confessionseddie]

2.18 | 6.10

[amidstsilence]

do you know your holy relics?

prints

[qrowscant]

CHILDHOOD HOMES (and why we hate them): After over a decade, you return home to find it unchanged.

A short, interactive horror story, and my first attempt at making something in Twine. Inspired by Anatomy, House of Leaves, and my deep hatred for my own childhood home! Full trigger list included on the itch.io page.

Play here!

[welcome-to-alice-in-helll]

[c0ffinshit]

Reach Down (Simon [John Q.] x Reader) SMUT

a/n: hey guys, sorry this project is so rushed. i wanted to get something out since i haven't written anything in a hot minute. so i still hope you like it either way.

word count: 1,391

credit for the idea: @digitalpup444

warning: some poor grammer and spelling, porn with little plot, choking, priase/slight degradation kink, fingering with cunnilingus, dialogue heavy

You were never a huge music fan, and never considered yourself a fan of any given band. Because of this, you never got the hype of band worship, the idea of taking an average person and putting them on the highest level to the point where if they ruin that even slightly their career is over for good. 

That is until you got into the punk band PSYOPS. When the obsession hit, it hit like a bus. Suddenly, you were going to underground shows in gross basements and old warehouses. You were taking old shirts and cutting them up to put custom patches on them. You closely followed the band’s forums, trying to figure out their next show. Of course, the band knew of your existence.  It didn’t take long for you to end up in his truck, talking about what it was like being in a band. As you two talked, you felt a strong pull towards him. He liked making punk music and taking down the big man with lyrics. Toward the end of the car ride, he lit his second cigarette of the night and took off the mask as he pulled up to a house.

You always preferred John Q whenever talking about favorite band members. Something about never seeing his face drew you in him. What did he look like under that ski mask? Who was John Q? But when you finally saw his face covered in sweat from the show a shrug ran through you.

"What?" He asks, opening the driver side’s door to the truck, and shutting it with a thud.

You snap out of your daze for a minute, enough time to open your door and then shut it. "Nothing, don’t worry about it."

He glares at you, flicking his cigarette and pressing it under his boot. "Alright." 

He opens the house’s main door and leads you to his room, which looks like it hasn’t been cleaned. John flops onto his bed and groans loudly. You look around his room, slowly inching into his room. 

He notes this and sits up, watching you stare around his room. "Are you going to sit down? You look tired as fuck."

Your eyes flicker back to him. His boots are placed firmly on the ground and his forearms are just above his knees. It’s oddly sexy how he sits. Then again, he was handsome in general. 

"No, "You finally reply. "I’m fine, I promise."

John tilts his head back, smirking, and stands in your way. "You sure? You look…" His eyes look you up and down. "Tense."

You shake your head. "No, I’m fine. I’m just a big fan of your work and I don’t want to mess anything up-"

"Fuck off. You’re not ruining anything. You’re fine." He steps closer. "I mean that. You’re fine."

He eyes you up again, watching your hands hold each other. Your face slowly rushes with blood as he talks. Most critics would say that he speaks because he likes the sound of his voice, but honestly, it didn’t matter to you; you could listen to him talk for hours about whatever he wanted.

"Are you hitting on me?" You said, taking your hands apart. He snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me closer.

"Do you blame me? I’ve been hitting on you the whole night. " His face comes closer and you place your hands on his shoulders.

"Well, are you going to do something about it?"

"Do you want me to?" He asks, moving one of his hands to hold my chin.

A quick nod of your head and he pulls you in for a kiss. At first, his mouth tastes like licking an ashtray, but as his tongue snakes into your mouth, a faint of cheap beer covers your tongue. Your hands shake as they move up to hold his face. His other hand moves down to your ass, pushing you into his hips. His erection pressed against his thigh as you softly moaned into his mouth. John pulls away for a second, his lips covered in your saliva.

"Take off your shirt." He rushes out as he takes off his jacket.

Once you saw his shirt on the floor, you could feel yourself getting more excited.

You giggle and sloppily take off your shirt. His smirk returns to his face as he looks at your breasts.

"Such a good girl and such a cute bra. May I?" His hand ghosts over your bare skin, running his fingers along the lines of your body.

"Please," You whisper and his hands rush to squeeze at them.

His hands felt rough against your skin. You let parts of your body shine in the lamp near his bed. John’s tan but pale skin was dull and flat, yet was striking against your skin. You let out a small moan as his hands moved lower down your body.

"Take off those pants and get on the bed." He commands in a breathy yet dominant tone.

Your hands push the button and pull at the zipper of your jeans, revealing the cutest pair of the panties you own. Embarrassment sets into your face as you rush onto the bed. John smiles as his eyes look into yours.

"Fuck, you are so cute. For such a good girl, I didn’t think you’d be this much of a needy whore."

You giggle again at the compliment but stop as he slowly crawls onto the bed and in between your legs.

His eyes are dark as he kisses down your left thigh; every kiss is a small noise. "You doing alright?" He places his hand on your body. 

A low groan of approval leaves your mouth. He smirks a little as his hand continues to roam and his mouth continues to move downwards. "Good." 

He would’ve never figured you would be so sensitive. You lean forward and kiss his head, causing him to look up. He finally looks at you again, his first glance in a while. His hair was slowly starting to stick to his forehead. John has one of those stares that makes you shiver and squirm in your seat with pleasure. His face comes down to your throbbing heat, a small patch of slick waiting for him.

"Exicited were we?" He said with a small chuckle, kissing it right on the patch.

It was things like that that sent shivers up your spine. His fingers hook around the lining of your panties, slowly pulling them down. This was the most vulnerable you had been in a while.

"Before we start, can you do something for me, baby?"

A quick nods and he continues, his tone more hushed. "Call me Simon."

Before you can even process his request, Simon groans as his tongue snakes up your clit. At first, Lorne went slow, teasingly licking at your clit. But soon enough, Simon’s fingers were slowly entering your vagina. You looked down at his dark eyes, his tongue flicking at your clit; the lamp reflecting in his eyes. 

Going deeper into your pussy, goosebumps crawled up your skin. Your back arched. Suddenly, he stopped. His mouth pops from your vulva. You try to grab at his greasy brown hair, but end up pushing his head back down to your cunt. He started slowly; his tongue felt so good around your clit with every gentle, rough lick, and suck; you could feel myself growing weaker. He was licking and sucking, and the pit in your stomach grew tighter each second. He smelled of cheap beer, cigarettes, and old sweat. With each curl and press of his fingers in your pussy, your stomach swelled in pleasure. He looked up at me and his eyes looked as if he was smiling, which made you melt. You push your vulva more in his mouth and he lets out a low growl, making the pleasure more intense. 

Soon enough, your hot cum was dripping from his mouth and down his chin. When he finally poked his head back up, his smile was a sight for sore eyes.

"God, I’m surprised you were that quiet, still, such a good girl for me. So proud of you."

"It’s not about the sounds." You reply. "But it's about body language. At this moment, you have no idea how good I feel right."

[ghostampire]

hell's gonna be hot

[tempestousstocking]

[kayleerowena]

BETTER FIND ANOTHER SUPERSTITION!

playing around with some new designs!

i'm gonna be making stickers of this for june's ouija board mail on my patreon — patrons can vote here on which version is their favorite for the sticker! i'll also be making buttons of this design at some point.

[bixels]

The idea that uni protesters are "elitist ivy-league rich kids larping as revolutionaries" on Twitter and Reddit and even here is so fucking funny to me if you actually know anything about the student bodies at these unis. Take it from someone who's going to one of the biggest private unis in the US, 80% of the peers I know are either from the suburbs or an apartment somewhere in America, children of immigrants, or here on a student visa. I've heard about one-percenter students, but I've never met one in person. Like, don't get me wrong, the institution as a whole is still very privileged and white. I've talked with friends and classmates about feeling weird or dissonant being here and coming from such a different background. But in my art program, I see BIPOC, disabled, queer, lower-income students and faculty trying to deconstruct and tear that down and make space every day. So to take a cursory glance at a crowd of student protesters in coalitions that are led by BIPOC & 1st/2nd-gen immigrant students and HQ'd in ethnic housings and student organizations and say, "ah. children of the elite." Get real.

[valtsv]

anyway. the haunted house is a kind of body, yes. but the body is also a kind of haunted house.

[personostient]

POV You’re waving around a huge juicy raw steak

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wet and pathetic pasta man in the container cell needs to be wrung out who’s volunteering

[liberaljane]

As a chronically ill person, my body is NOT a temple!

digital illustration of a large pink and green haunted house with ghosts and stars. text reads, 'my body is not a temple, it is a haunted house.'