#night mares

[da-owo]

at first i just wanted to draw like young koz an then it turned into oo horses! anyways new headcanon pitch was terrified of horses when he was younger also new nightmare men doodle

[moradadabeleza]

Night Mares

the last.

[elladreamsbig]

Night Mares

[alphashley14]

Inktober Day 1 - “Dreams”

A pair of nightmares entangled in a dreamcatcher, doomed to burn with the first light of dawn.

[389]

Miles Cleveland Goodwin, Night Mare, 2019

[lilies-and-laughing-gas]

There can only be one princess in Equestria! And that princess… will be ME!!!

[thegorgonist]

Tame your worst fears, ride the night mare for all it's worth, don't worry about where it will take you as long as it will take you away. Grab a print here

[xepphir]

Drawing for a request by a user on insta, need to fix a lot in this sketch so yeah

[without-ado]

Mare Nectaris of the Moon l Roger Hyman

[nobeerreviews]

So look around you. Wherever you see friendship, loyalty, laughter, and love... there is your treasure.

-- Neale Donald Walsch

(Monterosso al Mare, Italy)

[boxwearssocks]

[elladreamsbig]

Night Mares

[themareverine]

Stone Cold | Logan Howlett x fem!OC | TEASER

synopsis: They look at you differently, in mountain towns. Sure the female to male ratio—anywhere in Alaska, really—ain’t exactly cut down the middle. Women are territory, little else. And belonging to Logan—learning to be nothing short of an animal? Bred with his child? It’s another thing entirely.

warnings: mentions of a breeding link, implied sexual themes 🌶️, PG-13, pregnancy, comic adaptation, pre-established relationship from my Mare & the Wolverine series, angst, survival aesthetics, mentions of hunting, dead carcasses, extreme minimalism, blood, mentions of Logan's time at Weapon X, etc.

a/n: takes place in the Wolverine: The Long Night universe and follows up my Bed of Bones universe. I’ve been in my feelings lately and hormonal, so I wanted to play around with this—since survivalist Logan makes me feral and would love nothing more than to give him an entire litter. you’re welcome for this pure self indulgence.

masterlist | navigation | tags let me know if you want added!

TEASER

Freezing chill trojans into the supply store behind a bold arch of sunlight as the heavy door kicks open, arctic skies faraway in a sense that feels storybook, ethereal. Like this almost isn't real — in some ways, it doesn't feel like it.

Thick shadow takes up the full of the doorway like God, door braced open with an arm no smaller than trees growing in the sleeping forest beyond city lines.

“Logan,” there’s a relief she can’t fingerprint, but it jackrabbits against her bones all the same. Turning, she abandons her selections faster than the speed of light, they drop with a solid thud! at her feet enough to shake the world.

“You’re here,” it’s like breathing sweet air. His full scent takes up the space of the four walls, making parts of her tremble she hasn’t felt in weeks. Parts of her that spin and swirl with new life, with purpose “Missed you somethin’ bad, baby.”

Breathe deep of him, honey—don’t ever let him leave. Never again—never leave me, Logan.

Slipping between shelves and stacked wares like whisks of death, her feet are light. Airier than they should be, carrying around steel bones, the seed of a man older than new stars. The weight of universes were less than the life knitting in the depth of her womb, but she was designed for this—built.

Mere sight of him, scent of him stirs her blood like a swirling, hot little thing she didn’t know—his child in her womb all but leapfrogs into her chest cavity. He’s strong, she knows it—and it is a boy. Her bones know it. Nothing short of Logan’s son could brave the adamantium of bones like this child kicks around her womb.

Meeting his shadow in the door is just short of staring God in the face, stepping into the embrace of his extended arm is Eden. Nearly forbidden, how sinfully good it is.

A fortress to which she can stake hope, serenity. A future.

The smile knifing at his lips is genuine, more of Logan than many will ever know in this life. Steady heartbeat up against her breast as she rests against him, his arm falls around her shoulders perfectly. Fortressing her away from the press of the world, the dark eyes staring at them from the counter, the aisles.

Thumb gently kneading against her shoulder, his low rumble of approval lights her soul on fire, his other hand lifting to brush knuckles along her cheek.

“‘Course I’m here, darlin’,” he angles his head enough for his lips to skip over the line of her jaw, “couldn’t keep me away if ya tried.” Smelling of ocean salt, fish, sweat, he invades her senses like an assault. Capitulating quickly, her pulse kicks to life in a way that sends her spine almost numb. Lips chapped from frigid air as they skip across her skin, it's like tasting starlight as he kisses her, softly. Tenderly, so unlike everything he, actually, is.

A large hand palms graciously over the swell of her belly, protectively. Possessive, like she's made of the finest wealth buried in mountains. Reserved for his, to defend. Fight for. Kill for. Skin to skin that never ceases to drive her within an inch of sanity.

“Look at you,” his finger dips beneath her chin, lifts it a little to consider her eyes. Satisfied she's paralyzed under his gaze, right where he wants her, Logan's big hands find either side of her belly, feeling. Seeking, yearning in fascinated little way he's been since she started showing early in her fertility.

Kissing her cheek, he nuzzles his nose along the shell of her ear.

“You look good, all fat ‘n full’a me, darlin’.” Oh, he was wicked.

Strength evaporates, taking with it all the air from her lungs as she manages, somehow, a low growl of approval. Knees buckle. Swear to Christ— if she weren’t already so full with his child, well—she would’ve been. In shorter order than she probably could realize.

[weirdlookindog]

Henry Ospovat (c. 1878–1909) - He Met the Night-Mare

“Saint Withold footed thrice the wold; He met the night-mare, and her nine fold; Bid her alight, And her troth plight, And, aroint thee witch, aroint thee!”

from 'King Lear', Act III., Scene IV.

illustration from 'Shakespeare's Songs', 1901

source

[cara-warm-tenderness]

I'm sorry if anyone else's done something similar, but also fuck it

[thegorgonist]

Her troubled heart has summoned a Night Mare from the depths of her mind.

In my shop