#t;w blood

[chibifox2002]

Ayo Burnt Popcorn Cookie, you got a lil something on your face bud.

C'mon, don't be making messes now..

[chibifox2002]

Oh my jeezus...

My chest started hurting at how hard my man's was coughing...

tw: blood If you're not drawing your oc in pain for the fun of it, can you really call yourself an artist?

The cost of sophistication is being a little more "delicate" than one would care to acknowledge. Gold has all sorts of malfunctions and hiccups every now and then. at least one every 3 or 4 months. Usually minor tics that, at worst, he would need to hit his chest like a staticky box tv to get it up and working again. But there are other more... Violent outbursts that require a more involved hand... Either way, they can all be summed up as; unfun.

[art-from-within]

I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE TO DEMIGOD LORD MOHG FOR CALLING HIM MOHGLESTER69 8000 TIMES IN THE SPAN OF 3 MONTHS. I AM WRACKED WITH GUILT TO KNOW THAT I HAVE FALSELY ACCUSED HIS MOST SANGUINE MAJESTY, OF DEBAUCHERY AND DEGENERACY. I WHOLE HEARTEDLY APOLOGIZE TO LORD MOHG FOR VICTIM BLAMING. I CONFESS MY SINS TO THE ESTEEMED MOHGWYN HOUSE, AND ACKNOWLEDGE MY FOLLY. I SHALL MAKE MONTHLY OFFERINGS OF MY PERIOD BLOOD AS AN ACT OF REPENTANCE. I SHALL NOT REPEAT THIS MISTAKE AGAIN. PRAISE BE TO LORD MOHG.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EDYN TIDESTRIDER, CHALLENGER OF THE UNDERSEA, RIVAL OF THE DEEP. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOUR BROTHER WAS CHOSEN TO BE A WEAPON OF THE GODS? HOW WILL YOU UNDO WHAT THEY HAVE DONE TO HIM?

[venomgaia]

Hey do u think any of the district 23 chefs have ever gotten 'ingredients' from R corp. All that meat has to go somewhere, unless R corp is pulling a soylent green

I'm sure there are plenty of places that could actually manage to use 'ingredients' from R corp seeing as there's absolutely a surplus! Although, anyone who's procuring fresh 'ingredients' for the sake of the culinary arts...may end up with more of a mess than they bargained for...

[wikoymi]

all things live and all things die

[odinsblog]

Nazis, openly waving Swastikas and doing the Sieg Heil salute in Orlando, Florida

Not a single uniformed police officer in sight. I say “uniformed” because the odds are that some of the people doing the Nazi salute are probably in law enforcement.

Now, contrast that to how overly militarized police have routinely shown up at peaceful Black Lives Matter protests

Or how the police treat peaceful college students protesting for free higher education

Or how the authorities treated Black people simply walking in our own communities, after the murder of Mike Brown

Oh, and how about six months before the January 6, 2021 white supremacist riots, when National Guard troops were deployed to the Lincoln Memorial on June 2, 2020, during George Floyd protests held in Washington, DC? Where was this overwhelming presence on January 6, 2021??

And finally, Ron DeSantis, a leading Republican candidate for President of The United States(!), has a large following of Neo-Nazis, but he has yet to explicitly denounce them. I guess maybe he’s too busy banning books, or making sure drag queens aren’t reading books to children, or making sure that accurate Black history—aka American history—isn’t being taught in schools.

I could go on and on and on, but the police never seem to have that same energy for actual fucking Nazis, or the Proud Boys, or Oath Keepers, etc etc etc

Domestic terrorism by white nationalists is the biggest threat to social stability, justice, democracy and to America itself.

👉🏿 https://www.thepinknews.com/2023/09/04/orlando-florida-nazis-march-blood-tribe/

👉🏿 https://www.nbcnews.com/news/amp/rcna103186

[citrighost]

i thought furry culture was just some kind of weird recruiting scheme for IT professionals and breakcore producers

[lickthehilt]

Yandere! Blade x Reader Drabble

T/W: violence and toxic relationships. Choking. Death (brief). Allusions to body horror. Not edited 💀

There’s a stillness to Blade as he watches you bleed out under him. Your blood is liquid sugar, nectar bled by fruit cultivated by years upon years of tenderness. He finds himself knelt above your body, cradling your head between one gloved and one bandaged hand—the bandages soaking up the blood pooling from your nose.

“Will you run for me?”

An irritated flicker gleams in your eyes, a wet sheen gathering to the corner where it cascades down your cheek. When it mixes with your blood, it turns to a pale pink that looks similar to the gradient of the tassel hanging by his coat.

“Not… today. No more,” you wheeze.

A finger twitches from where your hand is splayed, palm upwards, beside you. Leaning back he hums in a low grumble.

His gaze is sharp as it trails down your beaten body. You can’t see clearly through your wet gaze, but you can feel his finger tips dance across the flower-like bruises and cuts that had been made by the thrashing of his nails from your earlier tussle. You would rather be trapped in the prison cell of a panopticon than be subjected to his surveillance, his wonder and curiosity.

Underneath him, his touches, your body stitches itself back together. Your cells rejoin in waves, weaving together as if someone had sewn ladder stitches to every single open wound and had just pulled the sting taunt. Your streams of blood runs dry. Your chest heaves with air. Your eyes can focus on him once more.

He has your hands in his, roughened arms bringing them to his body. Your limbs are slack as he presses your palm against his chest; beneath your fingertips his heart races like the beat of show horses galloping against dry soil.

Your palm is now on his throat as he helps you to squeeze your fingers. His fingers press yours to dig into his flesh.

“Choke me.”

Finding your nerves, you clench. His skin is tough, but your grip is firm as you leverage your nails to anchor itself into him. Fighting against gravity, you roll to have the upper hand, to now pin him to the floor as he had done to you. A flush of anger pools at your ears, the blood dancing in your veins as you squeeze tighter and tighter.

“I wish to turn myself into liquid.” He gasps as he pulls his hand to cradle your wrist. “To enter your body.” There’s a sting of saliva dripping past his lips. His eyes shake in focus as he continues to look, to gaze. He looks at you as if you were death, eyes round. There’s a fantasy passing though his mind that you could bring him this salvation, be the one to bring him to- to- “if I were liquid— I would eat away at your lung to replace it, would train myself— augh— to become solid so you could no longer breathe without me.”

His free hand slaps gently at your waist, holding it in a tender grip. “Would you like me— hng— to be your rib instead? To be a bone that you could live without? But for me to be removed from your system— it would— ah— change you. The soreness— your body would be different.” There’s a pain at your waist as he squeezes. “When you press to where I once was— ugh— all you would feel— is the impression of me— where we were once— joined.”

The seconds seem to creep by as your grip shakes. A grin is at his lips as he watches your tender cheeks get coated in the salty liquid of your tears. It’s a chore to slam him to the ground, so you settle at bringing your body weight forward.

He gurgles and you imagine his veins popping under the lack of air flow, the rush of warm liquid pooling from his lips. They’d drip into your fingers and coat them in a glove of crimson. But you’d stare at him in envy, that the fact that death would be successful at cradling him. But that isn’t the case. It never is with the two of you.

He no longer looks at you as his eyes roll backwards and his body slackens. He speaks bullshit to you.

Your head swims in warmth as you slowly release him, eyes watering and the nerves of your fingertips buzzing. When your head meets his chest, you can hear his body stitching itself to work once more. It’s like clockwork hearing his heart start up as his popped lungs gather itself. When he takes his first breath, the sound of Kafka’s heels echo through your ears and entrances you to dream.

Tucked into each other like lovers is how Kafka finds the two of you.

[leonisdumbasallhell]

Can you draw the scene where they're waiting for Rebecca but with Claire and Chris in the same cell leaning into each other, with Leon holding his hand thru the bars ;_; (with them all visibly beaten up of course <3). Thank you ^w^

How did chris get so covered in blood? My pen exploded he’s just lucky like that <3

[lookmomitsmytmblr]

I finally bought the second set of ten/Donna big finish audios, so expect me to be off on my nonsense real bad.

Anyway, in One Mile Down Donna offers to get the Doctor a hat that says “kiss me” to cheer him up, and when he says he doesn’t like hats she says it would suit him.

Edit:

Doctor: "There goes young love... Of a sort."

*Donna immediately appears*

Doctor: "Ooooo, can I try your ice cream?"

Donna: "Yeh, but it's pear."

Doctor: "You did that on purpose..."

[chibifox2002]

Finally made a proper spooky month avatar for myself

[astrobei]

he’s fine, he’s just in his sam winchester era

day 3 of @bylerween2023: demons, devils, and exorcisms. nooooo will don’t drink the demongorgon blood noooo

[muchmossymess]

lings the kind of guy you would think would be the first to die in a horror movie, but actually he just fucking. lucks out the entire time and is the only to make it out unscathed

[shibara]

Ok, so, for a while now I've been inhaling husborth's fics, and a few weeks ago it reached the quantum stage where so much fic had entered my brain, art had to come out.

This is a bit of a collage of my favourite scenes from Mythology, a fic series I cannot recommend enough if you want to have MASSIVE FEELINGS, and read about complicated family reunions and the aftermath of highly dubious medical procedures. There's something in the looped patterns in which themes move in those fics that made me want to work in circles. Little phrases and ideas return over and over, taking the story back and forth until it reaches the end and I think that was great.

@husborth thanks so much for writing these fantastic stories and for sharing them with us all. They've given me a fuck ton of hours of happiness and lit up my art brain like a little bonfire ^ ^

[just-sp-in-inginthevoid]

No because wait a bit.

Shio only asks Satsuki to tell people Hibaru and Terasu died, and sure, for people who have them in front of them he isn't going to say that, it's more logical to ask them to kill and act as if they didn't but—

But it's still not Shio who asked for the murders? We don't see him ask for it? It's Satsuki who carries the message – I don't doubt that Shio rather have Hibaru (and Terasu) dead, but it's very much Satsuki who pronounced those exact words.

That doesn't erase the surprise from "but we're brothers"! But it does change the "tell everyone Hibaru and Terasu are no more" to "kill everyone that takes Hibaru's side" and that's not the same thing

It's very oblivious the entire situation is beneficial for Satsuki: he looks like he's pleased with how things turned out, Shio just develops a God complex so he's even more easy to manipulate (if he already wasn't before), and for someone as naturally not charismatic as Satsuki who doesn't look like a fighter and doesn't have an astro giving him a fighting ability, using someone else — someone whom most follow — is the best option. He's the second son, he knows he won't ever be first no matter what in no matter which context, so he takes advantages of it: if he is second, nobody pays attention to him because he's not a direct threat, and if nobody pays attention to him because he's not perceived as a threat then.. he has free rein to manipulate everyone as he pleases. And nobody will ever notice but he'll come out on top.

He's very much more brain than muscles, that's easy to see. I'm just waiting to see how much he manipulates things to place himself in the true position of power and how much Shio knows Satsuki subtlety distorts his words. (Because surely, if he only changes the way it's worded, the way people will understand Shio's intents won't change, right?)

Is it the first time Satsuki subtlety distorts Shio's orders/words in a twisted game of telephone?