#hi! hope this is ok! if not lmk!!

[missdcalls]

What are the odds that the two of them would end up back together again? Except this time it's not in the bedroom, but instead at a restaurant at a now very awkward brunch. Atticus didn't realize that they had shared a mutual friend and had been totally caught off guard when they had walked through the doors.

"Just my luck." He mumbles under his breath, realizing that the only seat left was the one besides him. The other sits down and he does his best not to make eye contact. Busies himself with his coffee, acting like it was the best damn thing in the world (and most certainly did not taste like burnt bean water.) // @hellfollowed (based x)

[wuntrum]

2025 horror pin up calendar!!

print version | digital (/print it yourself) version

a labor of love, truly <3 prepare for the new year with 12 suggestive (and silly) horror characters :) featuring characters from: american psycho, bride of re-animator, the evil dead, hannibal, jason x, frankenhooker, alien, an american werewolf in london, jennifer's body, saw, the thing, and scream! to see the full specs of the calendar, check out the pages above!

[ruporas]

asking and receiving (bonus below readmore)

[ID: A black and white, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood. In the first panel is a close up of Wolfwood's mouth as he says, "Vash". Accompanying it is a close up shot of Vash's eye, widen and cheeks flushed. Wolfwood presses a knee against the open space between Vash's legs and says, "Tell me everything you want from me." Wolfwood's face is equally as flushed. He continues to say, "I'll give it to you. Everything." As he talks, a wide shot shows the both of them in white space. Vash is sitting, leaning a little back with both hands pressed against the surface he's sitting on. Wolfwood is in his white dress shirt, stripped of the blazer. He's still leaning in with one knee in between Vash's spread legs, his right hand touching Vash's lips and his left hand behind his back.

The shot closes in on Vash's mouth and Wolfwood's hand against it, pressing down on the lower lip as he says, "You have to ask though. Go on." His hand moves down to Vash's chin, gently holding it. With a shy and uncertain expression, Vash hesitantly asks, "Um... K... Kiss... Please?" Wolfwood, without wasting a second, leans in and kisses him and indulges by pressing deeper, eliciting a small noise of surprise from Vash.

Wolfwood moves away from Vash first and with a smile, asks, "What else?" Vash tugs on Wolfwood's left sleeve, wordlessly budging Wolfwood to give him his hand that was still behind his back. In the next panel, Vash utters, "Hold me..?" He's holding Wolfwood's left hand with his own while his right hand is reaching for his waist. Wolfwood complies, moving his left hand to Vash's shoulder and his right hand continues to touch Vash's cheek. Wolfwood asks again, "What else?"

More comfortable now, Vash leans in to kiss Wolfwood. Wolfwood catches him immediately, pressing his thumb against Vash's lips to stop him before demanding, "Hey. Ask." Vash looks back in surprise and Wolfwood meets his eye with a quiet, insistent look. They're quiet for a moment before Vash leans in again and curtly requests, "Kiss. Me." Wolfwood says "Good", smiling as he lifts his hand away, and meets Vash's lips. In the next shot, Wolfwood had adjusted his position, sitting on Vash's thigh. The hand that was once on Vash's cheek has moved its way to Vash's nape, pushing away the collar of his jacket with his pinky. His other hand continues to grip on Vash's shoulder. Still kissing, Wolfwood asks again, "What else?"

In the next shot, Vash is starting to turn, moving Wolfwood with him. Vash asks, "Let me on top of you?" Wolfwood says, "Mhm" before asking again, "What else?" The next panel shows a close look of Vash's face. He's looking down, flushed and shy just as he had been at the beginning, but now, more decisive. Vash asks, "Wolfwood... Let me have you..?" A panel of Wolfwood taking Vash's hand into his, pulling it towards his chest. The next panel shows Wolfwood lying down where Vash had laid him. Vash's hand is on Wolfwood's chest, covering the cross of his rosary while Wolfwood's hand lingers against his, loosely pressing Vash's hand in place. He looks up at Vash with a shy smile of his own, flushed cheeks. He says, "All yours."

A panel shows a close up of Vash's tender gaze before he leans down to be closer to Wolfwood. The final shot is a front view of their positions, Vash's face turned away from the viewer; Vash is leaning over Wolfwood who's lying down with his right leg draped over Vash's legs. Wolfwood's left hand holds onto Vash's left arm. With finality, Vash says, "...Mine." End ID]

[ID: A follow up bonus comic in a looser, sketchier style. They're laying comfortably in bed when Vash asks, "What was that earlier?" referecing to the start of the previous comic. Wolfwood glances away and says, "To get you used to it. Asking. And getting what you ask for. Since you're alwasy hesitant about it." Vash's eyes widen, tight lipped. Wolfwood continues, "Knowing you, it'll be a tough habit to break..." When he says this, Vash can't help but laugh, unable to deny it. Wolfwood slowly brings a hand to Vash's cheek and continues to say, "So I'll keep trying -- whatever ways I can... to get it through your thick skull." Vash takes Wolfwood's hand with his, kissing the the palm gently. Wolfwood's eyes soften and holding onto Vash's cheek, he leans in to try for a kiss. Vash says, "Hey..." before stopping Wolfwood's lips with the back of his hand, a smug look on his face, "Ask." Wolfwood's embarrassed and with little irritation, asks, "Really?" Vash smiles, saying, "You're in need of practice too." They pause for a moment, Wolfwood looking contemplatively, before he's leaning in again, asking, "May I please kiss you?" Vash looks him in the eyes and says, "Yes." The comic ends with a "chu", indicating an off-panel kiss. End ID]

[spaceistheplaceart]

In which Gordon finally realizes all his friends died long before he met them

Previous

[emily-mooon]

Nancy Wheeler the shoujo manga protagonist you are what with your love triangle and everything about you my pookie <3

[potatobugz]

i have a collection of silly little guys to share with you all

[daboyau]

I got an idea when looking at this post by @tangledinink. I couldn’t rest until I’d jotted it down. The art possessed me like an evil spirit. warnings for body horror, vomiting, general fuckery. 💚

what probably happened directly before Leo found himself in this situation:

Leo: Fairies? No way those sparkly little assholes are real.

The fae who happened to be within earshot: and i took that personally.

Anyway, here we gooooo:

Leo opens his mouth to scream, but the sound won’t come out. He gags on the feeling of it catching inside his throat, and then again when the trapped scream begins to grow thorns. It scrapes its way up, and he claws desperately at his throat, trying to tear the feeling out, falling to his knees as he gags around the forced silence.

The threat of suffocation is enough to tear his attention, however briefly, away from the horror of what is happening to his shell. His body is changing itself on the urging of some other thing’s whims, and even though his nerves didn’t seem to get the memo that a dissolving shell (you know, the thing that most of his internal organs and, like, half of his bones need to stay inside his body?) should probably hurt a lot, he can still feel it.

He retches as the first flower falls from his lips. It hits the ground with a disgustingly wet sound, coated with bile and saliva. It shines wetly, rich orange hues standing out brightly against the black soil. The rest follow shortly after, a painful deluge of familiar colors, and he’s helpless to do anything but dig his fingers deep into the rich soil and try not to let the horrific impossibility of the situation drive him crazy. Tears flow freely, staining his cheeks before they fall to the ground below, greedily absorbed by the cursed earth of this place.

“Oh, dear,” a voice says, too close for him not to have noticed their presence. He tries to jerk back, but he can’t pull his fingers from the dirt. It hurts when he tries. A high pitched whine escapes his throat, but he’s too terrified to be embarrassed by that. The voice shushes him, soothes him, and warm fingers wrap tight around the back of his neck. They come to rest just above where the lip of his shell should be. He sobs at the way his back squirms as heat shoots down his spine and something begins to grow. The furred fingers drag like velvet against his scales as they squeeze, the sharp prick of claws threatening to break skin, and then release him just as suddenly. 

“So much sorrow and pain. And, oh, so many regrets,” the thing says as she circles him, humming a tune that makes his head pound in rhythm with his racing heart. His hands have sunk beneath the black soil, and it has begun licking greedily at his wrists as well. He can feel tendrils of something wet and cold winding themselves around his fingers, and he wants to scream again, but the bursts of bile-soaked colors decorating the ground keep him from opening his mouth. He can feel a petal still clinging to his bottom lip, and when the thing kneels before him, she reaches out to pluck it off, unbothered by the way he shrinks as far away from her touch as he can manage.

She slips it between her lips, and he catches a flash of a blackened tongue as it darts out to meet that single purple petal. Her teeth are sharp when she smiles at him. They hadn’t been sharp, when she’d first approached him in the Hidden City. Nothing about her had been.

In the dim lights of the underground world he and his brothers had only recently begun to explore, she had looked soft. He’d seen her approaching, and the first thought to flit through his head was, aw, bunny. A fluffy, rounded face. Big eyes, dark and deep as a still pond as they reflected the flickering neon of a sign in the shop window behind him. A pink nose had twitched when she’d smiled at him, sweet and kind, and asked him for his name. 

(What had he told her?)

Now, she would be unrecognizable, if not for the same strawberry patterned dress that drapes over her stretched out frame. He’d think to compare her to a hare now, but the hares he’d seen when watching Animal Planet with mikey had never looked like they would take delight in tearing his nails off one by one or plucking out his eyeballs. They had never made his vision swim or his body shake when he’d looked at them. Maybe she’s become more of a wolf.

The soil has reached his elbows. Those cool, slimy tendrils have circled his wrists like shackles. They’re squeezing tighter and tighter, and he feels his fingers throb and tingle as circulation is cut off. 

His mind flashes briefly to raph and how he used to tell them not to wear rubber bands on their wrists, convinced that their hands would fall right off if they got squeezed too tight. He wonders if the things that live beneath the dirt will steal what they’ve claimed, just like she’s stollen his shell. Another sound wants to bubble up his throat at the thought, and he lets it, because what use is a swordsman without his hands?

The hysterical giggles escape as big, iridescent bubbles. They glitter pink and blue and leave a bitter taste on his tongue. They only float a few feet into the air before they fall back to the ground, their attempt to flee the horror of this situation not getting too far at all. Soft green grass rises up from the dirt to catch them, but they do not pop. They rest, suspended on those tiny blades, for far longer than any bubble he’s ever blown before. He watches, transfixed, as his laughter is eventually swallowed by green. It begins to spread.

A hand cradles his chin, and his gaze jerks back to the thing that brought him here. She is watching him intently, eyes darting to take in every tiny change in his expression. She looks curious, in the same way that donnie does when he’s thinking about all the ways he can take something apart, and what he can do with those pieces to create something better. 

Her hand is soft where it touches him. She is gentle as she wipes a cloth across his mouth. It feels like water, soothing and cool, and he finds himself leaning into this tiny offer of comfort among the stomach churning violation of what is being done to him. His eyes flutter, and he distantly registers that the face she wears seems to swim before his eyes with each rapid blink, shifting back and forth between bunny and wolf and something other. She looks like she wants to devour him whole, no matter which face she wears.

From this close, he can see the way her eyes sparkle and dance when she smiles. He can’t help but think that maybe being swallowed whole wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, after all. 

The writhing shackles around his wrists tighten. 

She laughs, breathy and soft, and the sound is layered and beautiful like wind chimes. It conjures a hurricane inside his mind. Her cool breath gusts over his face. It smells like churned dirt and funeral flowers and pustulous rot. He doesn’t know if he wants to gag or breathe deeper. 

“Little blossom,” she croons, cupping both his cheeks, dragging their faces close. He doesn’t resist. She giggles, and she drags those soft hands and those sharp claws down his neck and over his shoulders, fingertips bumping against the disgustinghorriblewrongparasitetumor gathering of delicate buds that have sprouted up all across his back. She pinches one between the pads of her fingers, and he wants to screamcrybeghertostoppushherawaycutherdownandtearthemalloutbytheroots be good for her.

“Little blossom,” she says again, and those dark eyes catch his gaze and hold it as a heavy feeling settles against his skin, across his shoulders, around his neck, and he can’t look away no matter how desperately he tries. But he doesn’t want to try. Her smile stretches wider, wider, and for one brief flicker of a second he can see blood on her teeth as she asks, “Do you believe now?”

.

(Side note just for fun. The flowers that appear in this but aren’t actually described or named are:

Orange marigold, for grief and despair

Purple hyacinth, for sorrow and asking for forgiveness

Red cyclamen, for goodbye and resignation

Yellow zinnia, for missing a friend and remembrance

Bluebells, for gratitude and everlasting love 

[liquidstar]

sleepovers save money on hotel rooms while on missions 👍

[alternautxyz]

uuhhh in other new that lmk s5 trailer dropped and people are very

mixed

for context the new season is being partly animated by wildbrain i think. flying bark is still working on the show but probably due to all the other projects they've been working on like the atla movie the animation is off.

its understandable that people are upset. lmk has some of the most consistently dynamic and lively animation ive ever seen, and going from that to ok animation kinda sucks. as a culmination of a lot of what the series has been building up to people were inevitably going to be disappointed

at the same time people shouldnt harass animators. like ever. no amount of trying to petition or anything will change the s5, people are just trying to do their job and theres no probably no major changing to the finished product by now. and theres still a lot of that lmk charm in there, and we haven't even seen the whole season yet to judge it. flying bark is still working on it, and even if the animation never reaches the peak of the old seasons it still has the same writers so at least the writing has the chance to live up old standards. idk though we'll just have to wait and see

[sonorous-eisfyl]

// starter for @electricea

"Sorry um-- hello, a bit of an awkward question, if you don't mind,"

---- Of all things to happen on a regular day like this, maybe a small child with a giant metal stick and a moth nestled into his hair was the last thing anyone would expect. His face having a few fresh scratches and some older scars seemed like a bit much for a kid his age too. Frosting shifts his weight, visibly nervous to be approaching a complete stranger like that. Still, though. He was lost-- and had absolutely no god damn clue where in the Elders' names he was at all.

Last he remembers, he was investigating a new portal sighting. Not quite typical of an event within the New World, but it's weird that it's happened twice before today. Though upon getting there, something went down before the hunter woke up in the complete opposite of what a forest was.

A city. With architecture he didn't recognise at all and definitely not somewhere within his world

Poor child stood out amongst the folk like a sore thumb. Not to mention he was also carrying a weapon publicly. That much probably wasn't very welcome, if he had to guess. He's just thankful nobody seemed to address him directly and kept moving on by

Other than that, Frosting had run toward the first person he felt looked friendly enough to listen to him. Especially if he had to explain his current... situation

"Wh... where am I?"

[shaxxnianpxpil]

@starsasunder liked for a starter

Well.

The first impression had indeed lasted. And some small part of Erenville felt...mildly guilty that he couldn't unsee Inanna as a frog.

So, in an effort to disperse that thought, he had invited her to come to The Last Stand for a meal, and perhaps a better way to get to know the Hero.

"My apologies for the...Rather sudden summons. I trust I didn't interrupt anything important?"

[reanimated-owl-moved]

Something wasn’t right.

Nothing about these ghoulish, yet elegant halls were familiar. He’d been wandering for what felt like hours, in some vain attempt to either find a way out or find something he recognized.

There wasn’t much else to do but continue onward, and so he did. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something or someone was watching him.

“Is… Is someone there? Or have I finally lost my mind?”

@spookyowlman

[shevaults]

a rad storm churns outside and nora is restless. they'd been waylaid by it on the way to a settlement that had requested help, and luckily, nora had stumbled upon a small bunker on her travels in this area in the past. they'd ushered inside, dogmeat sniffing the floor as he went on ahead of them ... but waiting out the storm was proving harder than she'd thought. the vault-dweller grumbles under her breath, kicking over a tin can in frustration. " how long left is there to wait? " she demands, flexing her fingers into fists before she throws herself down in on the aged sofa opposite hancock. it's her first time experiencing a rad-storm and it's the first time she's stopped since setting foot out of vault 111; the hunt for shaun is always on her mind, and only when it gets too much does she deal with whatever problem the minutemen need dealing with. now, with nothing to do except exist in the space they currently occupy, she hates it.

the gleam of the wedding ring on her finger catches in the light as she sits back and folds her vault-suit garbed arms, her blue eyes meeting hancock's. " i might just go out there, " she lies—and she probably would, if it wouldn't endanger dogmeat. / @victorycola

[tamedstray]

@azzagrazt ⸻ Sender stumbles upon receiver sitting in the stairwell alone, hiding from the crowded ballroom and all the guests ☼

So much happened during these parties beyond watching eyes. With such large houses, the crowd would thin out around the grand chamber or ballroom, taking a moment to socialise in the quiet hallways.

      Even when sent to events on Irnvar's orders, Vigor still had plenty to enjoy, though he often sought solace in the gardens. Gossip, stress, and crowds all wore him down. Most of all, Vigor was plagued by the building paranoia that followed every job. People he had cheated out of deals, even if they did not know it was him, or ladies he'd flirted with in exchange for valuable gossip. As careful as he was, he couldn't keep this up forever. Then who does he become, once he is of no use to Irnvar?

      Vigor is caught up in thought as he sits on an outdoor staircase, only occasionally looking up to make sure he is still alone. Soon enough, he sees a stranger approach.

      He had certainly noticed the man, and already felt a fool for not knowing anything about him, after all, he stood out. It was rare to see tieflings at these events, least of all one marked and scarred. The curiosity pulled Vigor from his dreary thoughts.

      ❝Apologies. I'm not in the way, am I? Just needed a little fresh air... A few of the ladies wear a little too much perfume,❞ he jests, fixing a grin upon his lips. ❝We haven't met, have we?❞ Vigor says before rising to his feet. It was enough of a faux pas to disappear from the crowd, he needn't make things worse by continuing to wallow in misery and paranoia. Besides, he has nothing to lose by learning who the strange tiefling was. He offers out his hand. ❝Vigor, of House Shieldbearer. A pleasure to meet you,❞ greeting him with a warm smile, far removed from the man sat in solitude just moments ago.

[zoklaanogar]

a hotd starter for @hcncrablesacrifice.

THE BASTARD DRAGON ──── that was what they called him , openly and without regret as he wanders the halls of the red keep. he keeps his head down , aware of the eyes that follow his every move , the whispers that follow him like a shadow. the product of a drunken night in the north with a house stark woman ; that's all he was. it mattered not that the blood of the DRAGON flowed through his veins just as the blood of the WOLF did. a bastard was a bastard , born to a KING or not.

JON PUSHES PAST THE COURTIERS , escaping deeper within the keep where they are not allowed. he nods to the men of his father's kingsguard , always kind to him , despite his status. his father had seen to that , seen to treat his bastard son as EQUAL to his trueborn daughter as he could without ruffling too many feathers. and while it was true that he would hold no titles nor inherit the throne , jon was CONTENT with his life. his half - sister had been named as his father's heir , and jon couldn't have been more proud.

HE TURNS A CORNER , headed to the courtyard to train with the kingsguard , when he SMACKS into the body of another. he staggers backward , spluttering an apology , when his grey eyes notice his dear sister's best - friend. quickly , jon straightens his posture and bows his head. " my apologies , lady hightower. i was in a rush. are you alright ? "

[eievuimultimuse]

@nightwatchr liked this so now he's getting a foot clan starter >:3c

     THE FLY IS no stranger to getting caught in the act while running errands for that tyrant his master. It was to be expected, given his…UNIQUE physiology, to put it mildly. No matter; he had been taught to deal with any witnesses swiftly and without remorse. Failure to do so was FROWNED UPON and would earn a harsh punishment.  ( He never wanted to. But he had no choice. )  So when he emerged from the back of the delivery truck  ( whose passengers were long gone on a highway somewhere, having found themselves ejected from the vehicle ), a large box now in his possession, he was unsurprised to find that he was not alone.

     What he was surprised by, however, was to find a bipedal turtle greeting his sight. Given his own upbringing, one could imagine that it was no mystery as to what he was looking at. Unfortunately, enough rants from his master also leads him to recognize that this is not some joyous meeting between two mutants. This is meant to be one of their enemies. And here ‘Fly stands, undeniably donning the opposing Clan’s symbol.

     ( …He doesn’t want to fight. Not one of his own. )

     The metal limb creaks slightly as he lowers the box to the ground, freeing up all of his available limbs. Though his legs are placed in such a way as to prepare himself, his hands and claw, albeit slightly tensed, are at his sides. “ I’ve no desire to quarrel. It’d be wiser for us to simply just walk away. “