#pumpkin guts

[gottastim]

sugar_boogerz on ig

[tree-spright]

Bringing back my pumpkin head girl but this time in a new drawing style

Help support my journey to becoming a full time artist by donating to my Ko-fi! Your support is more than enough, but this is just an extra thing for those who want to go further in their support of my art! Thank you!

[gummi-stims]

🎃Pumpkin Guts Fluff🎃

From cornwithslime.com's Halloween collection!

[chemicalk7]

Whitestorm Pumpkin

So I tried carving Whitestorm in a pumpkin. I am proud of it, I've seen better. But I can't tell if I failed or succeed. I have very shaky hands so yeah lol :p

[nickv47]

FACT: Sharks are total bosses in the pumpkin smashing game!

Links to my shops on nickvolkert.com!

[outoutdamnspark]

Oh God, Have Mercy

No one asked for this, but have some more self-indulgent D&D stuff!

Once again from @psidontknow and I’s “Hound of the Emperor” au - featuring the bad end versions of my OCs Gibrahltar (”Lysiri”) and Cockerime, and my bro’s OC, Xikist, God of Knowledge.

Directly continues from The Serpent and The Hound.

Title taken from ‘Oh Lord,’ by In This Moment.

(CW: very brief and very vague mention of sex right at the start. death, violence, blood, non-graphic mutilation. body horror? character eats part of a god and gets transmogrified. hurt-no-comfort. Daddy Issues™️. ambiguous ending.)

===

Cockerime invites her to bed with him that night. 

She agrees - something she only ever does when the gnawing emptiness inside her grows all-consuming, leaving her numb enough to sink to rock bottom just to feel again. 

He is elated, of course; he has never made a secret of his attraction to her, his bizarre form of affection. She tolerates it, has never truly reciprocated his advances, let alone his feelings, but it's better than being alone and at least with him and the distance she keeps between them she doesn't have to worry about her heart being wounded should he leave her. It's as he lies asleep that she makes her move.

Centuries of hollowing herself out, over and over again, have left her as a shell of a person. No god will ever accept her soul now, not as stained as it is with their fellows' blood - nor will any mortal, ageless or not, claim her as one of their people. She had once been hurt and angry enough to think that was what she wanted - to have no one and no god hold sway over her ever again. But it is far lonelier to hide and live only to murder at Emperor Cockerime’s behest than it had ever been by herself when her soul had still existed. Now, there is nothing to cling to but the emperor, her sword, and the city of Kadessa. 

She just wants to sleep.

As Cockerime silently breathes on the other side of the bed, she slips out from the sheets and into her clothes, grimacing in distaste at the sweat in her hair. (Silver again at the roots; she'd stopped pouring black stain into it months ago.) She quietly sneaks into the adjoining room and gently takes the milky, blue-white marble from its protective box. The magical barrier does not stop her; she's one of only two people allowed to touch the Royal Treasures, and the other is still asleep in the other room.

She sneaks back into the bedroom, and pulls out the sword hilt she'd stashed beneath his bed. He doesn't wake until the blade is already swinging down against his naked back.

She runs then. 

With neither care nor plan of action, she dashes through the corridors, slashing at anyone who gets in her path. She is the Hound of the Emperor, a feral beast in Wingly form, the sword arm of the Archangel; most fall before they have a chance to react, and the ones that do, pause as they see her, unsure if they should raise arms against the Hound. Their hesitation renders them actionless just long enough for her to cut them down. As arrogant as the budding New Empire is as a whole, it takes almost no effort to topple the entire palace guard in less than an hour. 

It takes even less to destroy the signet sphere holding the city aloft. 

Cockerime finds her just as she smashes the magical orb keeping Kadessa from falling to Endiness below. Pity, she thinks, I should have stabbed harder. The New Emperor is not nearly as inclined to die as his subordinates - he charges at her with all the rage and betrayal his mortal body can possibly hold and more. She knows what he must be feeling, knows because she recognizes it, has felt it before, though not from someone that could be considered (however barely,) a lover. It's what she had felt when she'd still been young, barely a teenager, when she'd overheard (her father) Xikist in his office telling Sister how much time and effort he'd invested in her. She doesn't blame Cockerime, and so does not stop him from slicing at her face with a sword of his own.

Her left eye goes dark as his blade comes down, her lip and cheek rent and burning with white-hot pain. 

She smiles at him with a shredded face and bloody teeth as he steps back to snarl at her. The Jewel rests heavy in her palm, and she opens her fist to look at it, holding it out for him to see as well. He demands it back, demands to know what she's doing, how she could betray him and why. She just smiles harder, grins, peeling her lips back over her canine teeth, red pooling between them, until it becomes anything, everything but a smile. 

They fight - him for vengeance, for retribution for his pain, and her because he, like she, has far outlived his own rotten end. (She will follow him into oblivion soon enough, whether by his hand or her own. It will still be more than either of them deserve.)

Her Dragon Buster takes his arm, and his magic scorches her body. All down her front and side, up her neck and creeping into her one unbloodied cheek, Holy Fire ravages her skin and muscle, searing the ends of her hair. The Dragon Buster pierces his torso; the Harm Touch erodes hers. 

Father would be proud, she thinks sardonically, and swallows the Moon Jewel whole, watching as the light leaves Emperor Cockerime's eyes.

(Kadessa falls to the might of the Archangel, the Goddess of Judgement made flesh within her body, her six new wings and four new arms grasping at magic no person should wield, twisting it until the capital is crushed and falling to the ground.) 

She doesn't remember anything after that. 

When next she opens her remaining eye, there is sand below her. Miles and miles of dry, dusty earth, a familiar desert wind sifting through her hair and the feathers of her stolen Archangel wings. One of her new arms hangs limp at her side; she reaches up and tears it off without a second thought and drops it to the hungry, shadowy Hasera beasts in the dark below. 

Her wings continue to beat, though she cannot recall bidding them to, propelling her towards the only place she could think to go, could ever possibly hope to return to. She knows she likely won't be welcome, and she hopes she isn't, knows she doesn't deserve to be after everything she's done, after threatening to carve Xikist's tongue from his mouth that last time she'd seen him over two thousand years ago. (But even knowing all of this, she still yearns, like a lost and wounded child, for the once-familiar feeling of the place she'd once called home.)

Another arm is lost to the waning magic keeping her body alive, the Jewel that sits heavy in her opened stomach barely stopping the spread of death. She tosses the arm aside, same as before; by the time the tower is in sight, the only limbs intact are her own and one ragged pair of feathered, stolen wings. 

She knows his window by heart, from inside the tower and out, and it's this muscle memory that carries her to it, even as her vision starts to fail completely. She lands heavily on the sill, her body weight and momentum just enough to send her crashing through the window and onto the floor of the office in a heap of blood, feathers, and broken glass. There are voices in the hallway, possibly a scream; she cannot tell. 

She pushes herself up on arms that barely work, even still attached as they are. Her vision is a mess of viscous red and blinded black and she gropes blindly along the glass-strewn floor to pull herself forward, legs refusing to function. She manages to turn herself over before she vomits up what tastes like blood and bile, with the heavy, muted thump of the Jewel finally rejecting from her body.

The last of the wings rot and slough off her tattered back. She tries to sob but nothing comes out.

There is the sound of the door crashing open followed by rushing, frantic footsteps. She thinks she hears Sister telling someone not to look, to go to their room; she thinks she hears her first Brother yelling at someone to fetch a healer. (But that can't be right, she thinks, Brother has gone away, just like her Nameless Sibling.) 

She is wrapped in warmth, two solid arms encircling her as a familiar voice calls to her, calls her by a name she thought she'd forgotten.  

"Lysiri? Lysiri!"

(Yes, I'm here, she tries to say. And why does Father sound so worried?)

She is pulled into a lap, cradled, surrounded by a faint scent of ink and parchment, of snake scales and desert flowers. She tries to turn her head and bury her face in her father's dress, but her body is too weighed down with sleep. She must be more tired than she thought. 

A hand pets through her hair, gentle; down her ruined cheeks. She can feel something warm, like gold and glitter, trying to knit her skin back together. But it's far away, so far away that it feels like only an echo of a spell. 

The hand moves, leaves her face and hair and slips into hers; she weakly grasps it with numbing fingers. "...Eniri?" 

Father gasps softly above her, saying something she cannot hear. 

She squeezes his hand, tries to, tries to comfort him. "I think I had… a nightmare…"

(Her chest hurts, why is it so hard to breathe?)

Father says something else, but she doesn't know what. She clenches her hand in his. "Eniri… can I stay… with you… tonight…?"

The hand is pulled from her own and she makes a soft sound of protest, twitching her fingers at its loss, even as his hand returns to her hair to pet it. The golden, glittery feeling is back, but now it's only like a glint of light from far across the desert sands. 

Her fingers twitch again. "I don't… want to be… alone…"

(She falls asleep to the feeling of a desperate kiss being pressed against her forehead.)

[tattooed-alchemist]

The tag at the grocery store read “fairytale pumpkin” and the brownish-orange color goes great with stuff inside the house. This thing was really juicy and dripped like crazy when I poked the design outline before cutting it. It’s going to be in the front window and not on the stoop because of the below freezing temps we have going overnight. That makes pumpkin mush very fast.

[sleepymccoy]

This is also a bit of a culture query, cos these are all in my house so I genuinely cook with these all (except chicken salt, that's been in my cupboard for ages)

But I'm not from the USA and most people here are, so I wonder if that's similar! Maybe your cupboard is identical to mine. Maybe we use the same stuff but call it something else. Maybe USA has a different relationship with pre mix spices and you use none of it. Maybe you've never heard of pre mix spices. I dunno. That's why I'm asking!

I use plain herbs and spices as well. Especially when making a complex meal I'll do it myself. But I use pre mixes other times, so I'm voting. Voting for a pre mix doesn't mean you don't also use paprika! If you genuinely have no pre mixes in the kitchen tho, then hell yeah, tell me!

Also, I know I haven't listed everything in the world. One, that's impossible. Two, this is a bit of a culture thing so I just checked my kitchen and used those. This selection is representative of me only

(you don't have to be from the USA to vote, obvs, we just all know that's how the results will end up. Please tell me about your spice mixes in other countries!!)

Morrison spice blend: Pepper, tumeric, ginger, cardamom, parsley, salt

Chinese five spice: Star anise, cinnamon, clove, fennel, Sichuan pepper

Chicken salt: Salt, chicken stock, garlic, paprika, pepper, onion, celery

Gluhwein gewurz: Orange peel, cinnamon, lemon peel, star anise, hibiscus, clove

Chimichurri: parsley, garlic, oregano, vinegar, chilli, salt, pepper

Za'atar: thyme, cumin, coriander, sesame seeds, sumac, salt, chilli

Garam masala: coriander, cumin, cardamom, cloves, pepper, cinnamon, nutmeg

[yvesdecamps]

Pumpkin Gut Chocolate Chip Muffins These moist spiced muffins with mini chocolate chips make good use of pumpkin guts, the stringy flesh bits that surround the seeds.

[redqueensemporium]

Soon……

[noecoded]

happy fall !!!!!

[gummi-stims]

🎃Pumpkin Guts🎃

From satisfyingaudeez on tiktok!

[badkitty3000]

While I realize this is in reference to a 5 year old child, it’s 100% Five Hargreeves. He tries so hard to make an intricately carved masterpiece, with carefully drawn out plans and blueprints, but it’s actually a lot harder than he thought and he keeps getting more and more mad until he just snaps, punches the pumpkin with his fist, tells it to “Go fuck yourself” and stomps off in a rage. His pumpkin still gets displayed in a row with the rest of his siblings’ and they can’t stop laughing at it every time they see it

[thatsbelievable]

[andrew-dwyer]

I’M just saying ending the episode on a shot of tommy and giving him the final funny one liner feels pretty significant to ME