#primal phantom

[redelliavalentinos]

I toyed with upgrading him one more time, but I opted not to because it's too much. And I don't think it's necessary. But I still like it. I'll tuck it away for later. Who knows.

[trainerjoshie]

Pokémon TCG XY Flashfire (2014), Furious Fist (2014), Phantom Forces (2014), Primal Clash (2015) & Roaring Skies (2015) illustrations by Kanako Eo ⭐️

[the-black-manor]

I think if I was taking a walk in the woods and I came across someone on all fours pissing like a dog, a switch would flick in my head and I would end up pinning them to the forest floor to breed them and mark them with my piss and cum.

[miamipalms]

some dota 2 heroes as cats (and kobold as a lil rat)

i tried to do some natural coat colors but not repeating exciting breed and real coat colors

[ecto-stone]

Better Call Vlad.

[tyr-ghost]

Some artist studies

- Genndy Tartarovsky's Primal

(+bonus Dexter's Lab)

- Stephen DeStefano's Unicorn Warriors Eternal

- Stephen Silver's art for Danny Phantom + a study of his characters from his "Art of Silver" art book

:^P

[maidot]

ppl in FB asking more ships v:

[heavenboy09]

Happy Birthday 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 To You

The Legendary & Most Influential American Actor In Both Television 📺  & Cinema 🎥  Starring In Countless Forms Of Entertainment. From TV Shows 📺,  Movies, Cartoons, Videogames & More

&

He's Everyone's Favorite Legendary Half-Demon 😈 Anti-Hero Of 2004

THE 1

& ONLY

MR. RON PERLMAN AKA  HELLBOY 😈🔴🔥 & OPTIMUS PRIMAL 🦍 OF TRANSFORMERS: RISE OF THE BEASTS

HAPPY BIRTHDAY 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 MR. PERLMAN 😈🔴🔥

  #RonPerlman #BeautyandTheBeast #AlienRessurection #TeenTitans #DannyPhantom #HellBoy #SonsOfAnarchy #PacificRim #TransformersRiseOfTheBeasts #OptimusPrimal

[childhoodcreativity]

(c) brick + mortar

[himbear]

Post your dog rn

FHUCKING ouppy

[the-gateway-to-madness]

Oh HECK yeah. I call this the Gravity Falls principle, just because GF is one of the best-known Slightly Off-Kilter towns (even though it's not even remotely close to the first or earliest example). Its Slightly Offness also goes both ways, slightly magical and slightly horrible, so it encapsulates this- vibe? trope? idk- super well. It's one of my favorite things in modern TV shows- when a town has the GF principle, when that weirdness has just always been built into the roots of the place, when the people there are part of the town and also the town has slowly leeched into the people. It's not portrayed as explicitly horror, really, but if you squint- or if you're an outsider who doesn't know how the locals live and adapt -the sense of normalcy that the human brain is designed to apply to anything it's used to, which the locals use to survive, will start to crumble.

I feel like Arcadia Oaks from Tales of Arcadia and Amity Park from Danny Phantom, if they existed in the same universe, would both be weird, but like, in opposite ends of the spectrum.

Like, Arcadia sits on top of a primordial hearthstone, the last one and also the biggest. Magic radiates throughout the town. Everyone who lives there is a little more in tune with nature. Everything and everyone is just a little too perfect. Everyone’s a little to pretty. They live a little too long. Their eyes sparkle with something more. Their streets are too clean and outsiders feel like they’re walking into a dream when they visit. It’s almost eerily enchanting.

Amity Park is on the opposite spectrum. Everything there is off. When comparing the two towns, people will notice a lot of similarities but they can’t quite put there finger on what makes Amity so off-putting. Everyone lives a little too long. Their eyes sparkle with something more. All of these qualities are shared between the two towns, but one is enchanting and the other is terrifying.

Either way, very few outsiders can stand to stay more than a few days.

[redelliavalentinos]

I have a few of these. I couldn't help myself.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Cult. [M]

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Raw Dogging, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Implied Unwanted Pregnancy, Power Imbalance, Big Dick! Ghost, Soft Dom! Ghost, Cult Leader! Ghost, Submissive (and Breedable)! Reader, Implied Abortion Attempt, Fem Reader, Profanity.

He’s filthy in the way he treats you, like a common whore, spreading you out over his desk – once-varnished mahogany, now bleached with weeks’ worth of spend, of tears, rubbed raw in places, the phantoms of many a night relentless under your leader – and bearing your body like it’s his god-given duty.

In essence, it is. Albeit, a god he created – fabricated – to lead lambs into a wolf’s den. And with the primal, savage way he forces himself into you, his tip pulsing and throbbing with the many hours he’s subjected you to, you can very well believe he is the very image of a predator.

“Won’t stop ‘til you’re full – ‘til it’s– fuck– ‘til it’s taken,” Simon pants, his shadow cloaking you, the sweat from his broad chest dripping down onto your sodden back. Your cheek is pressed into the desk, and in the corner of your vision, between the narrowed eyes you fight to keep open amidst the electric annihilation sparking between your legs, just below your stomach, you see him with bared teeth and dark eyes that glint with some unholy purpose. A purpose that only makes the feeling writhing inside you stronger, heavier.

With a deft hand – his other planted by your head, a cage – he finds your clit and presses it between two fingers as if it were the stub of a cigarette. He squeezes. Hard. 

Your lips quiver around him and a strangled moan escapes you, euphoria becoming you, possessing you as something had him. 

You keen on his hand, desperate for contact, for friction, despite him already filling you utterly and without mercy. Your arousal drips into his hand, pools in his palm. It takes all his will not to drink it then and there.

“I know, Doll–” ‘Doll’ – the name he’d given you, the name that reminds you you’re his to use as he pleases. His fingers squeeze your clit between them, a flesh vice. You’re gasping. He doesn’t stop, subjecting you to a pleasure so carnal you know only he can grant you it.

His free hand finds your shoulder, slips down your soaked back – a collage of brutal love-making, of animal rutting, of feral and incessant breeding – leaving goosebumps in its wake. He finds your rump, squeezes it, his hand flipping further between your legs until he finds your epicentre.

You’re so sensitive, and so swollen. He’s done this enough times to know that you’re red there, too.

He finds the spot where you’re connected, the modest sliver of his shaft that hasn’t been consumed by your wanting hole – where your combined arousal slithers out of you, dripping down his tightening ballsack – and plays at the edges of your lips, those that create a milky ring at the base of his cock, those that twitch with the almost overwhelming orchestra of sensations he is subjecting you to, playing you as his instrument.

Your hips twitch, pushing back against him, inadvertently impaling yourself on the inch or two he’d spared you from. 

He’s swollen – painfully so. Plugging you, preventing you from getting away. Something you realise all-too late as you try to pull away, to ease the searing ache in your lips, in your womb.

You’re crying, he’s grunting, throat raw with hours of praise, of nothing short of feral growling – curses to something other than his god.

You whine as he withdraws his hand from between your legs, instead coming to cup your breasts and pull you flush against his chest.  Squeezing around him again, the bulge of his cock inside you becomes ever more apparent when his hand slips up to your throat and he shunts you forward with his hips.

You’re weak – a ragdoll against him – and you’re pushed back down against the wood. He presses your stomach to the desk, your head now handing over the edge.

“D’you feel it, love?” he rasps. “Gonna give you a baby – put it right there.”

You do feel him, like an eel, slithering into any space he can, any space he hasn’t already occupied. You feel your heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and you feel his in the head of his dick, rabid. You want to sob, want the pleasure coursing through your every fibre to overwhelm you, to send you hurtling into a high nobody else can give you.

But you know this will have consequences.

You know there’s no morning after pill strong enough to overcome Simon’s seed, none strong enough to stand a chance against the sheer amount of his spend. You know this because you’re already pregnant.

You’d originally tried using a multitude of contraband substances – pills, medication, anything you could get your hands on – to stop the inevitable. To prolong it just long enough for you to find a way out of the hole you’d dug yourself into.

When Simon had found them – no doubt with the help of one of his disciples, one eager to please and who would settle for the simple pleasure of being the dirt beneath his boot – he made absolutely certain to undo all your hard work.

For days afterwards, when he gave his sermons, you had to stand, hands clasped in prayer, with his cum rolling down your thighs beneath your compound-issue garments.

 And despite how you know you don’t want this destiny he’s imparted upon you, you still urge your hips against his. Especially as you feel him twitching, your hole leaking and almost squealing with his semen and the memory of the many times he’s already pumped you full this same night. He’s ready to bust at any moment, ready to find and create any excuse to empty his load into you, his favourite disciple.

You finish first in a fit of euphoric fury, an outpouring of devotion, a static explosion that leaves you utterly spent and entirely limp, unable to move as Simon continues to pummell you, using you, not stopping until you hear him give nothing less than a guttural roar, throwing his head back as he empties every ounce of his spend into you.

Any chances of escaping, any hopes of the world beyond the company you’d embroiled yourself in – they’re all gone now. Knocked clean out your head and from your reach, your mind nothing but a post-haze. You feel full almost to the point of bursting, but your body settles for a ballooned discomfort in your middle. One which you know will only grow bigger and heavier over the coming months. And no doubt beyond that when Simon deems you capable – worthy – of bearing him more offspring.

Simon is panting behind you, hands planted either side of you, head hanging between heaving shoulders. As if he’s impregnated you with his very soul.

His hand slips across the desk down to your front, where he manages to levy his fingers between your exhausted form and the hard wood beneath. And, as if by divine intuition, he gives a hum. Presses a languid kiss to your exposed neck, uttering a “Well done, love.”

He’s going to be a father.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad X

[the-black-manor]

I love being so lost in bliss that I can't control my hips anymore.

Additionally, when sex devolves into desperate rutting. No words, just heavy breathing and the slapping of hips against hips.

[halfghostwriter]

@victoria-has-no-secret now, under normal circumstances, or even later in the month when Phantom starts regaining his awareness, this would work perfectly. The problem is, not only do ghost brains work wildly different than all other species (hence there being ghost-specific mind control items) making it incredibly difficult to even gain access into Phantom’s mind, it soon becomes apparent that trying to explain to Phantom that no, J’onn isn’t here because he needs protecting, he wants to bring the cubs to the rest of the pack, no the pack isn’t here right now but they are somewhere nearby, is like explaining to a chicken that the rocks it’s sitting on aren’t eggs.

Yeah, J’onn’s in the tails now.

Phantom’s very proud of himself. Not only was he trusted to look after the cubs, but the pack also wanted him to look after one of the older, stronger members! Something must have happened to this one, why else would the rest of the pack not wait until Phantom was awake to take their cubs back with them? Not safe for so many cubs to travel with just one pack member. Cubs are kept in the lair, around the haunt, or protected by the pack during travel, one adult per cub. (Phantom’s not sure how he knows this, but he knows it feels correct). And sure, his packmate was strong, and will definitely be a big help making sure none of the cubs wander off too far (which is honestly a big weight off of Phantom’s shoulders, good to know another reliable adult is here), but no adult packmember would be left with a brooding packmate unless they were in serious need of protection. (Again, not sure how he knows this, but he knows it’s not an instinct to ignore). No, this pack member must need help! And help them Phantom will! Phantom will look after all vulnerable members of the pack while also guarding his newborn cub!

Speaking of the cub, as Phantom looks at them, he can see the ectoplasm around the core start to condense, with small, wispy arms and legs start to take shape. His little one is forming very, very well. Only a few more days, and he’ll get to truly introduce them to the pack. Not yet, though. Only Phantom is allowed to see his little one so vulnerable.

In his thoughts, Phantom absentmindedly loosens his grip, and fails to notice the feeling of absence in his tails until it’s too late.

He turns towards his tails.

The cubs and packmate are gone.

….. gone?

GONE??

Phantom moves around his nest, sprouting new eyes as he frantically searches for his missing pack. He can’t lose them, no, no, he was trusted with them, trusted to protect, trusted to keep safe, trusted to look after, he needs to protect, needs them safe, needs them not hurt, if he can’t keep near-adult cubs safe, if he can’t protect them, how will he ever protect—

He freezes.

He finds himself painfully aware of the tiny, almost imperceptible weight he carries in his hands, held closely over his core.

He will find them.

He needs to.

He looks to the sky, and unleashes a cry known only to ghosts.

A warning to all that a brooding ghost is about to exit its nest.

(Taglist: @sailor-goddess, @aikoiya, @fisticuffsatapplebees)

When a true baby ghost is born— a ghost not born of dying, but rather through the desire of another ghost— they are little more than a core with wispy ectoplasm emanating from them for about a month. During said month, they take on influence from their surroundings in order to figure out the form they’ll take, hence why so many young ghosts look like their parents.

Because they aren’t fully formed until a month after their birth, the parent or parents will take on a far more aggressive, primal form in order to protect their child. The parent’s form will become incredibly monstrous, and their size will increase, with triple their normal size being most common among parents. Their mental state also becomes incredibly instinctual, higher intelligence temporarily being replaced by aggression towards anyone the ghost doesn’t consider family. They stay in this state until the baby is fully formed.

Of course, Danny “don’t worry about it” Phantom forgets to add this bit of trivia to his explanation to his fellow heroes as to why he was taking paternity leave. In his defense, he didn’t expect them to visit during that month.

And he definitely didn’t expect his brooding brain to latch onto most everyone who visited as “part of his brood.”

[clockwayswrites]

5 Times the JL Learned Batman was Married and the 1 Time They Met the Spouse.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. + 1

“What is going on?” Batman asked the group as he swept into the room.

John stayed focused on the circle, not wanting to mess up now. It would be a lot of faff for nothing if he did.

“Constantine believes he has a contact to help us with our current issue,” Superman explained. “He is working on the summoning circle now.”

“Is that safe to do on the Watchtower?” Batman asked, as cautious as ever.

“Yeah, mate,” John answered for himself. “This one is a good one. Haven’t met them myself, but real helpful sort of fellow from everything I’ve heard. Or at least real helpful for the things that they can help with.”

Careful not to smudge any lines, John moved backwards out of the circle and gave it a good look over. The rest of the lot were talking about something, but if Batman hadn’t stopped him yet, John figured he was good and intended to keep working. A little slice to his finger, a few drops of blood, the right words, and it was done.

The white markings of the circle seemed to shudder and warp, like the lines on a desert street. Then they snapped a bright green and the inner lines seemed to fall away into an endless void. The void rippled and suddenly a hand reached out of it. The claws made the worst sound as they gripped into the metal floor.

Another hand joined it.

And then the being pulled themselves out of the summoning circle.

John knew better than to try and comprehend what he was seeing. It was all shadow and green flames and fear anyways.

“Who dares to call upon the Ghost King?” the being asked. The voice echoed through the room, through John’s head, through his soul. It sounded like a thousand screaming voices of the dead speaking all at once.

Toxic green eyes in the black mass swept over the group. It was like they were being seen; their souls, their very beings, every aspect of them flayed open and on display for this other worldly entity. John swallowed reflexively when the eyes paused on him for a moment. He wasn’t scared, but there was still a primal part of his brain that said he should run.

Then the gaze landed on Batman and stayed there. Superman stepped forward, slightly, as if to shield Batman from the being’s view.

The being didn’t seem to care and leaned forward up to the edge of the circle. “B?”

Batman inclined his head slightly, “Phantom.”

“Shit. This Justice League approved, huh? Sorry about the dramatics. Usually I only get summoned by cultists who want Pariah Dark, the old king, to give them power or cleanse the world of life or blah blah blah. Best to show up and put the fear of me into them,” the being said, motioning to themselves and all their horror. The reverb of their voice had settled some, now only like a few voices overlapping.

“Understandable,” Batman agreed, seemingly unaffected by it all.

John could only shrug incredulously at Superman’s questioning gaze. Fuck if he knew. Sure, Bats was unflappable, but everyone knew he avoided the supernatural stuff if he could.

The being pulled the last of itself out of the portal which sealed with a sickening squelch. “You could have just called though. Like, I get summoning is a quick way to travel, but it's a little painful."

“Painful?” Batman asked, turning to stare at John, who swallowed nervously at the cold tone.

“Yeah. This was a pretty clean circle though, props to the maker—”

“Thanks, I think?” John mumbled at he watched the being start to shift. It was like watching a black hole collapse in on itself.

“—so it's not that bad, but still it feels like ripping some duct tape off my skin or something,” the being continued. They were much more human shaped now, though they still smiled with an alarming number of very white teeth.

“We'll keep that in mind in the future. I was unaware of who, exactly, they were summoning.”

The rest of the roiling darkness settled on their shoulders like a half cape— one that seemed to hold the infinity of the night sky inside it. The vortex of flames settled into a crown of fire that floated above a head of stark white hair. They flexed their claws and the limbs settled into normal hands that they tucked into pockets of their three piece black suit with its sharp white accents. Then they stepped over the live of what was supposed to be an unbreakable summoning circle.

Like it was just waking through a door.

Like it was nothing.

John took a reflexive step back. This kind of rule breaking shit was exactly why he liked to avoid the Infinite Realms when he could; they were too chaotic to easily manage.

“All good,” they said with a shrug and a fanged smile. “So, what did you need the Ghost King for?”

-

Bruce watched Phantom scan the meeting room as they entered. Their eyes caught, just for a moment, and a million thoughts ran through Bruce’s head. Did he want to do this? Was it time? He trusted the Justice League. They had issues and conflicts, like any group, but they were heroes through and through.

Revealing this also did not mean revealing either of their civilian identities.

The nod was barely any movement at all, but Bruce knew that Phantom had caught it and understood. After so many years together, they hardly needed words, which Bruce often appreciated. Words had never been easy for Bruce. He worked on it for his family. He had to after…

Bruce forced himself not to think about that. Danny had saved Jason, even if the resulting years without Danny there were some of the hardest for the family. They were together again and better for it. Bruce let out a careful breath and took his normal seat.

“Thank you for your assistance, King Phantom,” Wonder Woman started. Phantom held up a hand.

“I didn’t say I could assist. I’ll listen and help if I can and see fit, but there are a great many things that are not mine to aid in,” Phantom said sternly, though his voice was carefully kind. “My influence is only over those closely tied to death and of the Infinite Realms. The living are outside of my jurisdiction.”

“Of course,” Superman said quickly as he could without rushing the words. “Listening is a great start. If you’ll take a seat.”

Phantom nodded and strode right past the indicated seat. With a casual ease that Bruce had always envied, Phantom sat on the arm of Bruce’s chair.

“Um, King Phantom, your majesty?” Flash started nervously. “Batman doesn’t really like to be touched?”

“Really?” Phantom asked innocently. Bruce couldn’t see it, but knew exactly the smirk Phantom had as he leaned back to lounge against Bruce’s shoulder. (Bruce loved that smile.)

Bruce schooled his expression as he watched Flash and Hal exchange looks and frantic hand signs to each other.

J’onn tilted his head curiously as he took his own seat. Bruce could see J’onn come to an understanding as his eyes flickered down the the black metal brand around Phantom’s ring finger in the shape of a flying bat.

“Ah,” J’onn said softly.

“Ah? Ah what?” Flash asked, his words almost a whine. “What do you know?”

Bruce rested his hand lightly on Phantom’s hip, well aware that the motion was in sight of both Superman and Wonder Woman.

“Ah,” Wonder Woman said with a little smile. “J’onn knows something we all know, though not in this context. It is good to meet you, Phantom.”

“Good to meet you also, Wonder Woman. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Phantom said as she sat down next to them.

“I wish I could say the same,” she said with a teasing smile directed Bruce’s way.

“Hn.”

Phantom just laughed, the sound echoing like a ringing bell. “It’s okay, I know what B is like. Trust me, that you know anything at all is a big deal. He’s just bad at doing things the normal way.”

Bruce held back a sigh and just pinched Phantom’s side again, making the other squeak and backhand Bruce in the chest.

“Holy shit!” Hal jutted a finger at Phantom. “You’re Batman’s husband!”

“Guilty as charged,” Phantom said.

“Wait, no, you’re what?” Flash asked and zipped closer to the table. “Huh. You are so not what I expected. I mean, I guess ghost plus Spooky works but you’re so… lively! Wait— is that like, offensive to call the dead lively?”

Phantom laughed again and shook his head. “No, but not everyone in the realms will take it as a compliment. I don’t mind and besides, I’m only half-dead.”

“Half-dead?” Superman asked with his brow furrowed worriedly.

Phantom just waved the concern away. “It’s complicated. Mostly it just means that I still get to live out my human life as simply a human. Ghosts move slower, having eternity and all, so there’s not too much for me to do as the king other than attend to summons and make slow changes.”

“So,” Hal started, ignoring Bruce’s glare and sliding into a seat finally. “You’re married to Batman in your civilian form as well?”

“Of course, it would be silly otherwise,” Phantom said and then added, “and no, I won’t tell you who B is. That’s for him to choose.”

“Okay, but like, we can talk to you, right?” Flash asked, eager as ever.

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? But work first. What do you think I can help you all with?”

Bruce moved his hand to rest on the small of Phantom’s back and watched his husband command the room like the king he was.

--- AN: and here's the last part! The JL finally meet Batman's husband, or at least once side of him!