#i hope he's oK!!

[glorysings]

closed starter for @missmvrder, ft. kalam

open to anyone

"I won't hate you. I know that's what you think you deserve but I could never."

[hinamie]

I don't want to regret the way I lived

[pjharvey]

his ex gf who was 18-19 when they dated is going to get so much flack for this and she’s going to get the courtney love treatment where people make this out to be Her Fault except even worse bc she was actually a victim of stalking from him and he died by either suicide or an accident resulting from intoxication right after she took legal action against him. horrible horrible horrible

[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!

[earl-of-221b]

I can’t explain what blue eye samurai makes me feel…….its a typical revenge story, a man sets out on his hero’s journey to kill the four men who have wronged him. A lone ronin, wide brimmed hat and sword in hand, roaming Edo Japan on his vendetta. But he’s not a man. He’s a woman. And how has he been wronged? What’s she getting revenge on?

On the fact that she exists. She wants revenge on the four white men that could possibly have conceived her. Who got her Japanese mother pregnant with a blue-eyed child. And not just any blue-eyed child, but a girl child. How is she possibly supposed to live in the world like that? For the wrong of being conceived, for the wrong of being born, for the wrong of being birthed into a world that will never love or accept her, she will kill her father.

I don’t know what level of convoluted self hate that is. Is she a child of rape? Or a child of a whore? Halfway through I realise what she told herself at the start couldn’t possibly be true - it’s not really for her mother. Her mother wasn’t the root of her vendetta, she wasn’t really doing it for her. When she leaves that farm and leaves the chance to live a simple, legitimate life as a woman, she goes right back to hunting down the men. Those men personally wronged her.

And then there’s so much to be discussed surrounding the way she grew up, because as a boy child and a man she can afford so much more than life has dealt her. Her swordfather who took her in out of the love and care in his heart had no shame in teaching a mixed man his art. The face of a ‘demon’ is fine. But not the identity of a woman. Shh. Don’t say it. Don’t confess. He knows and doesn’t want to hear it.

And because she’s lived that way her entire life for safety and security, she’s so completely alienated from being a woman, perhaps she really is he. But not really by choice. Or is it? The thing she does best is the art of killing, the art of men. Gender is a prison and gender is a performance and she has to choose which to perform. The times cannot reconcile hatred and violence with a woman. So she lives as a man.

So she can get revenge on her father, for revenge on herself.

[plumadot]

Saw your post and absolutely adore your art; could you draw any of the lifers with an oh expression?

he's going to follow that man until the ends of the earth isn't he

[purple-obsidian]

unconditional (18+, red hood jason todd x fem reader) wc 1.5k

⭓ this post contains explicit sexual content and is not suitable for minors. reader is afab and described as shorter than jason. established relationship. if you sense a theme in my writing, what can i say. i'm a sucker for sleepy sex. dedicated to @janybabyy who is always down to proofread my work at a moments notice.

You awaken with a start, the familiar creek of your front door closing, pulling you from your uncomfortable half-slumber.

The hall light flickers on, casting a tall, dark shadow over your perch on the oversized recliner in your shared living room.

“You actually used the door.” You mumble sarcastically, recognizing the hulking frame as your boyfriend.

Your greeting is reciprocated by a raspy exhale, followed by a heavy footstep, then another. “You should be in bed.”

He's already rid himself of his helmet. You admire the outline of his shaggy hair as he stalks closer, your heart beating stronger when he pauses several feet in front of you.

“Says who?” You ask, a coy grin itching at the corner of your mouth.

“Me.”

Exhaustion is apparent in his voice. You can practically feel it radiating off his body. Jason reaches a heavy arm to massage away an ache in the back of his neck as you stand up and approach.

He’s leaning into your touch before your palm even reaches his cheek. Another long exhale escapes him, your touch akin to a cool drink of water after a long run in the heat.

”Can’t sleep without you here.”

“Huh. Yeah right,” he presses his lips to the skin of your wrist briefly before continuing, “I know I wake you up. Don’t lie.”

His arm snakes around your waist, the most natural movement in the world to him. Muscle memory. That’s where you belong, in his arms, by his side. Even so, you know he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that some people are worth losing sleep over. That his love is worth the occasional sleepless night, whether it’s staying awake from worry, or comforting him through his ever-present night terrors.

“Jason…” You bring your other hand to cup his face gingerly, feeling a pang of guilt at the dark circles under his eyes.

He works so hard.

Before you realize it’s happening, you’re guiding him down into a slow kiss. His lips, warm and familiar, are tinged with the taste of salt and blood. You allow yourself to indulge for a beat before shying away, wanting to check him for injuries. But as you rescind, needy lips follow, an almost desperate groan rumbling in his throat.

“Don’t.” He mumbles, lips flush against your own. Rough hands grip you closer at the small of your back. “Please, sweetheart. Need you. Missed you.”

You swoon, allowing him to consume your senses. Eyes closed, lips entangled once more, Jason Todd never needs to ask more than once for your affection. Ever since the day you confessed your love for each other, you give it to him, freely and willingly. You are his safe space, his haven. The one person he’s finally let himself be vulnerable with, where there’s no need for his reticence.

And in return? You have, in him, a best friend. Your protector, your lover, the only man who can make living in this hellhole of a city worth it. There are very few problems in your life that he cannot solve. Nevermind that most of those problems are caused by dating him in the first place. Dating a vigilante has its dangers, but Red Hood seems to be at the top of the ‘food chain’ when it comes to Gotham’s criminal underworld.

All that influence, all the money and power that comes with it, and he still chooses to come home to you. In your mediocre flat, with spotty internet, expensive heating, and a dishwasher that never seems to stay not broken, no matter how many times he fixes it.

Several articles of clothing, discarded in a tired haze of affection, lead a telling trail to the bedroom. Jason lifts you effortlessly, laying you down on the bed, keeping himself close so he’s on top of you. Cognizant of his size, he remains propped on his forearms, caging you in but graciously allowing you to breathe.

“Need you too.” You whisper up at him, basking in his attention. You bite your lip, and reach down for the waistband of his boxers, the only remaining article of clothing keeping him modest.

“M’gross.” He mutters, voice tinged in hesitation. “It’s been a long night.”

But he doesn’t stop your fingers from tugging on the elastic. He helps you, kicking them off, and settling his frame over yours again, allowing his lips to rest against your forehead.

“Don’t care.”

You turn your head, allowing your breath to fan over the scarred skin of his neck.

“I couldn’t be more proud of you, Jay. Besides…” You nudge your nose against him, inhaling deeply, savoring his musk, eyes rolling back at the rush of feel-good hormones that flood your brain from the familiarity.

Your boyfriend chuckles, “Yeah? Besides what, hm?” Peering down at you with lustful eyes, his deep tone sends a tingle down your spine. Nerves on fire from the closeness, you reach for him, slow yet confident, not disappointed when your fingers wrap around his length to guide him to the space reserved for him and him alone.

He knows what.

“No prep? You sure, sweetheart?” His voice is tired, strained, but there’s an unmistakable tenderness in how he addresses you. You know he doesn’t have the energy to get you warmed up. He barely has the energy to be on top.

“I can handle you, handsome. Just take it easy on me.”

With no willpower to contest your assurance, Jason's heavy eyelids flutter shut as he slowly lowers himself flush on top of you. Chest to chest, skin to skin. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pushes his aching cockhead inside the familiar warmth of your body. Your velvet walls weep from his intrusion, the sting in your inner muscles one you’ll never quite get used to. It’s a bittersweet pain that you've come to associate with this behemoth of a man you share your home with.

Jason takes his time. His movements are slow, languid, letting you grow accustomed to him an inch at a time. He keeps close, exhaling little praises into your ear every time a pained whimper escapes your throat.

“Good girl, shhh, nice and slow.”

“Been thinking about you all night.”

“That's it, relax for me, beautiful.”

His unhurried thrusts, tender and deliberate, are slow enough that the cool air of the bedroom has enough time to cool your slick along his shaft before he pushes his progress back in. Your strained panting fills his ear, the way you cling to him urges him to continue on despite the stretch you feel. You don’t want him to think he’s too much.

He’s never too much for you.

Never.

“Jason… Please.”

You clench around him when he pushes deeper, your body finally catching up and leaking your desire around his girth that’s splitting you open.

“Fuck.”

The muscles in Jason’s back tense and release. He pauses his hips, biting into the pillow behind your head, adjusting one arm to hold a bit more of his weight.

Desperate for more of him, you shift your hips up and buck him deeper inside you in short thrusts, digging your fingertips into his back. You’re careful not to use your nails, having promised yourself long ago that you would never be the cause of one of his scars.

But deep down you know, this man would wear a scar from you proudly. He’s proved on more than one occasion that he would die for you.

Just because he would take it, doesn’t mean he deserves it. Which is why you use your self control to restrain yourself while you cling to him gently, crying out in pleasure when he finally starts moving again to match your rhythm, heavy breathing shaking his whole body.

The friction from the increase in pace has you flexing your feet and writhing, nodding your head, stuttering out his name.

“I love when you’re like this…” He admits. “Fuck, you feel so, ugmmmph!” Jason loses his breath, his orgasm hitting him unexpectedly, like an ocean current that sweeps you away so quick, you don’t know which way is up. All he can think about, all he can perceive while the pleasure spasms down his legs is you.

“Y-yes!” You stuffer, helping him bottom out deep inside you, his tip kissing the entrance to your womb, decorating it with his essence while his climax peaks.

Taking advantage of his euphoria, you wrap your legs around his strong abdomen, and hold him closely, showering his neck in fervent kisses.

The noises he makes in response to your affection sound guttural, like you’re fulfilling a primal need of his that he’s been deprived of for too long. A need all humans have. Something Jason Todd, specifically, was lacking most of his life, until he met you.

Enthusiastic, genuine, tender affection. Love that’s unconditional.

The type of love that doesn’t care if he’s dirty and scarred. The kind of love that understands not every instance of intimacy will be an epic performance. It’s the love that finds it endearing when his gentle snoring fills your ear less than a minute later, still one with the most intimate parts of you.

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please don’t steal my work. don't upload it to another site, use it to train ai, or claim it as your own.

⭓ masterlist ⭓

[adaki]

GIRLS NITE OUT >_< ((clockwork could not make it)) (wip)

[choccy-milky]

MC doing what we all wished we could do (aka napping on the floor with ominis )😴💕

[bunnieswithknives]

The strugglerrrrrrr

[starrysharks]

poids

comparison with the original from last year:

[hinamie]

brighter days ahead

[solplease]

SPOILERS FOR DAY 3 OF MUSHROOM OASIS!!

day 3 was a ton of fun and the cgs were absolutely beautiful so i HAD to redraw one of them

so here’s mychael being a lil creep!

[addamii]

I simply had to draw the tectives... I love them so much

a special treat under the cut :)

[bluebugjay]

I'm looking too far into it as always but Monty being a regular crow and then getting violently turned into a human without his permission for his owner's revenge plot, gaining human levels of emotion and intelligence and then having it all violently ripped away again without warning, assumably losing all of that human emotion and stuff is genuine psychological horror to me, especially when you factor in the whole being in a coma thing being a metaphor for his time as a crow with Esther like, is he ok?

[saragrosie]

I have been sketching. So much tma. Here's some expansions on my Jon and Martin designs I've been doing.

Another note I forgor to mention is I love how after hearing Simon go "it's enough to make your hair turn white" about Martin's office in s4 many of us collectively agreed his hair turned white because of his association with the Lonely. The shared consciousness is real and we use it to play hot potato with the communal brain cell dedicated to the sillies.

Closeup of apocalypse boyfriends (also to the person who said they love my s5 Jon's fancy white girl updo: I think about that every day)