#tw ;; gore

[shyaringan]

You laugh and I agree

That this thing got the best of me

(Malmo- Mook)

[ghost--heart]

the plot twist was absolutely insane! I absolutely loved this! going in blind was definitely shocking, but I have not read such a good plot twist in so long!! the build up to it is so mundane and well done as well?!? I literally never would have expected the ending!

very much inspired by a post i’ll link at the bottom to avoid spoilers

i love putting john price in situations

simon had known price for over a decade, had served under him as his lieutenant for a good portion of it, so he was pretty confident in answering yes when asked if he thought he knew the captain well.

he could acknowledge he wasn’t as close as say laswell may have been, but he knew that price’s wife was not common knowledge around the base either.

he’d pieced it together over the years on missions; catching the odd comment shared over coms; the glint of a ring around his neck; the odd teased mention of her when they sat in the rec room after barely scraping through a tough spot, when price needed the company as well as the silence ghost offered before returning to the real world.

it was how simon knew the sergeants were staying when price let slip about her one day. because he doesn’t let anything slip, wouldn’t, especially about her.

“got anyone at home waiting for you, sir?” gaz asked as he sighed impatiently over the coms, hour three of silently waiting and watching had finally gotten to him.

“i do,” price said simply, not offering any further information. ghost could imagine the amusement tugging at his daft facial hair as price refused to continue without prompting and simon smiled under his mask when he heard johnny scoff next to him before chiming in.

“c’mon sir, give us a wee bit more’n that,” he weedled. “when’d ya meet? is she nice?”

john hummed, the sound low and crackly over the radio in their ears. “met when i moved.”

“oh, a real meet-cute type thing, eh?” gaz teased.

john ignored him. “wouldn’t say she’s nice, soap. she’s more than that. ‘nice’ is your aunt’s new wallpaper; you have permission to shoot me point blank if i start calling her nice.”

“what is she then?” ghost piped up. this was the chattiest john had ever been on the subject and he was going to take advantage.

john went silent for long enough that the three men thought that was it, the end to their sharing session and knowing more about their captain outside of work. simon chewed the inside of his cheek.

“she’s devoted,” john whispered finally before his voice firmed. “heads up, team, movement 2 o��clock. anyone got eyes on the target?”

—

it was months later when she was brought up again, the team thinking. nothing of it until price’s phone pinged in his pocket enough times to pique johnny’s interest as they prepped to leave.

“that the wife, sir?” he asked.

john huffed, didn’t bother checking his phone as he turned and shook his head. “she’s clingy, but she doesn’t bother me when i’m at work.”

“how’d you know?” gaz asked. “could be an emergency.”

“‘n’ how’d you get her to agree tae tha’?” soap followed up quickly, having had issues with his own flings petering out when he was distant and slow to reply.

“been with her long enough now it’s routine,” john said simply. he checked his weapons before heading for the exit. “helo in 5, be air ready.”

—

the mission had gone to shit, and they were stuck hidden in a building that looked like it was 10 seconds away from collapsing under a brisk wind when ghost finally felt his patience snap.

it was no one’s fault, but being stuck in another country with no back up and a target on their backs for an extra three weeks wasn’t ideal and johnny’s insistence on playing cards at every opportunity to keep his idle hands and mind busy combined with gaz’s tinny whistling had made for the perfect scenario to grate on simon’s patience quicker than anything else ever had.

“tell us about her. ya wife,” simon asked, his gaze slipping across to john, watching him pick at his nails. his cuticles were red and raw from four days of agitated fidgeting since they’d ran out of cigars and cigarettes. every so often simon caught him pat his empty pocket before he’d remember and huff heavily through his nose like a bull.

john closed his eyes at the mention of his wife and sighed. he started his description without protest or hesitance. “shes soft spoken. christ, you’d hardly know she was there half the time, she’s so quiet. but she’s firm. stands her ground no matter what,” he chuckled. “don’t think i’ve ever won an argument against her.”

kyle laughed and ghost closed his own eyes, trying to picture what he thought the captain’s wife might look like. pretty certainly, but was she tall, plump, did she have an endearing gap between her front teeth, did she keep her hair short or long?

“she’s a bit of a homebody,” john admitted bashfully, unaware of simon’s drifting thoughts. “but i can’t say i mind it.”

“not wanting to leave the bedroom much when yer back?” johnny joked, hissing when ghost punched his thigh.

john just smiled placidly, eyes still closed. his eyebrows pulled down as he gushed, “god she’s gorgeous in red. wears it every time i come home.”

“lucky bastard,” gaz huffed.

“yeah.” john nodded and finally opened his eyes. “yeah, lucky.”

“you’ll be back with her soon, cap,” gaz reassured him when he saw price swallow thickly.

“thanks, gaz. now who’s taking first watch tonight? soap?”

—

john was quiet on the plane ride home, not unusually so, but ghost noticed the difference all the same.

he was pensive perhaps, worried what his wife would say when he finally got home a month later than scheduled, uncontactable the entire time. ghost could understand to a certain degree that john would have more important things on his mind than what his three subordinates were going to do as soon as they stepped foot on home soil, so he didn’t push when john ignored the few threads of conversation thrown his way by their younger sergeants. instead he nodded when john said a quick goodbye as they all parted ways in the airport.

simon could only assume john was the same all the way home in the cab that dropped him outside of his little three bed house.

he didn’t see however how john hesitated at the door to his home that evening. how he gripped the front door keys tightly in his fist, shook as he stared down at his feet instead of letting his eyes drift and catch on the windows, and felt as though he could crack a tooth from how hard he was clenching his teeth.

he finally opened the door when he thought the neighbours might begin to get worried and stepped inside, flicking on the lights as he went.

it wasn’t until he got to the kitchen that he found her.

stood bare foot, silent, eyes wide and pleading, blood seeping - always seeping. would it ever stop? would the blood ever end? - through her white pyjama top, his top that she’d borrowed for the night, and trickling down her bare legs.

her mouth opened and she visibly struggled for breath, but no sound escaped even as her tongue wagged on the floor of her mouth, lapping at the backs of her teeth as all words escaped her.

he swallowed back bile.

“hello, sweetheart,” he choked out. “sorry i’m late.”

the blood pooled at her feet, the panties she wore were seeped a dark purple from the viscus liquid dying the dark blue material and the shirt stuck to her front. john had remembered loving seeing her like this in a morning, had always thought she looked best in as little clothing as possible.

“i know you hate it when work keeps me busy, but it was unexpected. we were caught—“ a high screech, not dissimilar to that of a whistle that only a dog could hear, pierced through his ears and cut his words short. he curled in and covered his ears, but he knew it would do no good, he should’ve known better than to talk about work around her.

not after what had happened last time he got back late after overtime.

tears prickle at his eyes and the sound abruptly stopped. he’d never questioned why it seemed to be only him that could hear her protests, why his neighbours never mentioned a shrill cry every so often from his home. he had always said she was made for him and that had apparently translated literally into the afterlife.

he looked up at her again - it was best not to ignore her he found. it only made her angry.

“it won’t happen again,” he promised wetly. “i did my best to get back as soon as i could, i promise, sweetheart—“ he choked on his words, biting back a sob. she watched unblinkingly, silent except for the wet squelch of her feet on the laminate.

they both knew he wasn’t apologising for being late this time. he got like this sometimes, when her agonised face and mangled body was too much to bear after a long mission and the guilt bore down like a physical presence.

he couldn’t help but think if he’d gotten home even just an hour earlier he might’ve been able to save her, to have kept her company instead of leaving her on the floor alone and cold, maybe he could have caught the bastards that had hurt her while he was still travelling back from deployment after agreeing to hang back and finish his paperwork there and then instead of emailing it across.

he reached a shaking hand forward and blew out a ragged breath when his hand met nothing but frigid air. but when he brought his hand up to his face he could smell the copper tang of his dead wife’s blood on his skin. the stench unwashable, cloying, but if he concentrated hard enough it ever so faintly smelt like the vanilla perfume she used to wear.

“was telling the lads about you, love,” he forced an empty chuckle as he walked around her to the kettle and went through their usual routine. “think they might’ve fallen a little in love, not that i could blame them.”

he ran a hand over his face and gave himself a moment to let the tears fall as his palm hid his eyes. her silence was the worst part of it all, but he could see the glaring red of her in his peripheral when he dropped his hand to the counter.

it wasn’t pretending his wife was still alive if she was right there at his shoulder, was it?

“looks like i’ll need to grab you some more pg tips, sweetheart,” he said and poured the boiling water into two cups, sparing a glance over his shoulder at his wife. “we’re almost out.”

post link

[suretkerim]

going back to our roots it’s dissection time :D

[corey-beepington]

A little violence, as a treat

[latetothepartyandconfused]

[ID: digital drawing, dsmp fanart It shows c!wilbur and c!dream on black background, the drawings are very simplistic. The drawing is framed with red. Wilbur is on the left side of the drawing, shown from the left and looking over his shoulder. He has a coat and a short hair with a white streak. His face is coloured red and it looks like there are branches growing out of it. Dream is on the right side, shown from the front. He is a hooded figure with hands that reach towards his face which is covered by a white mask. There are grey staticky clouds at the edges of the drawing. Betweeen Wilbur and Dream is a text that says "He will deliver" and a drawing of two severed hands. \end ID]

mega inspiration from the game faith since the art in that game is so cool smile

[psiioniicarts]

Cannibalism as a metaphor for an unhealthy relationship my beloved…

MAN I killed that fruit twice and you want MOOORE?? Ya’ll greedy (/lighthearted). But fine since you asked politely, I decided I’ll let this shit ass WIP of a scrapped idea for Adam’s bday see the light of day, enjoy your Jonah angst 💖💖

[oat-pup]

bruuuuuhhhhh cosmo 🤦‍♂️ havent you read the fucking wiki 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️😭😭💀💀

[tamrieltraveler]

I strive for this art style. Beautifully done.

Sketch of Indoril Nerevar

[apporutte]

// nudity, selfharm, reproductive organs

this is what I am, what is valued

school thing

[plushieroyale]

cuts off your pinky finger

”AAAH WHAT THE FUCK ?? OH MY GOD.”

He is. bleeding profusely . and clutching his hand!

[mondo-tastic]

TURBO-TASTIC!!!!!!

some turbo doodles I coloured. the black and white one is related to the au I'm making, when I make a digital ref sheet for "Turbo" in that AU I'll post all the info :3

[djpachipikachu]

tw ! unnaturally twisted body ! like a corpse split in half ! broken and split shell ! no blood or guts but it can be disturbing ! mitski lyrics !

leonardo cursed with eldest daughter syndrome all the damn time okayyy whatever man (DARK LEO ARC COME TO ME PLEAS

[oligoweee]

THIS IS SO COOL

art by -erlk.01

[artisticgargoyle]

Vent art ft Mikey plus bonus comic to make it makes sense for the au

[fissile-materialism]

A bit of a warning on this one, there's some death and gore here, and sex if you squint really hard. But hopefully you all enjoy

You've started dating a war robot, which is fun and all, but it absolutely refuses to have sex with you, which is... frustrating, to say the least. It just says that it will "hurt you" or something, as if you didn't expect it to be a sadist (See: War robot) but no matter how much you say you're fine with being hurt a bit it just keeps saying no until eventually you decide to fix that.

Its not like you're going to make it completely mindless, just reach into its programming and switch a 0 to a 1 or something. You aren't exactly sure what you're doing, the most you've ever done was take a course in Java back in high-school, but it can't be that hard right? There's tons of people doing this stuff, it should be easy.

You follow your normal nightly routine, kissing its visor goodnight and plugging it in while it shuts off right next to you, only instead of cuddling it while you sleep like normal, you get out of bed and plug the war machine into your lap top as you bring up videos online to try to figure this out.

Alright, you *think* you've got it to figure out. Now, all that's left to do is wait until morning and ask it! If you did it right, it should be ready to absolutely ravish you~

Which is the last thought you have before you pass out onto the bed. You're far from used to staying up this late.

Morning finally comes, and hopefully, you will soon too. You clamber out of bed with a groan and stumble to the kitchen, making yourself some coffee as you hear your mechanical partner's chirp of being fully charged and it get out of bed. Soon, it will come to the kitchen and sweep you off your feet to toss you into bed and-

Oh. It was right. This... hurts. More than you expected. More than you could of ever hoped of feeling. How could it be doing this to you, you thought it-

Your thought is cut short by an jolt of agony running through your body as it's claws shift inside of your torso, it's own emergency sealant sprayed around the wound being one of the few reasons you haven't bled out already. Atleast you aren't the only one having a horrible time, it seems to be doing something close to sobbing about what you're making it do to you and why, you can't really focus on that since you've started feeling light heated a litre or so ago, and it's not like you can respond, since your vocal cords seem to be about 14 inches to the right of where they should be.

You're actually having trouble thinking at all, really. You're clearly not dead since if you were, it would stop hurting (hopefully), but you're very sure that you're still in agony, despite your body feeling fuzzier and further away the more your own blood leaks from the half sealed wounds covering your body. You can only wonder how much more your mortal frame can take, and hopefully, it isn't much. You're far beyond the point of returning to a half normal life even if you survive this, which won't happen, it's making sure of that, atleast you think it is, you aren't sure what exactly you did to make it do this besides turn off some inhibitors, but clearly they weren't the ones you thought you were turning off.

Atleast everything has stopped hurting so much. It all feels numb, if not a little warm and hard to breath, but before you get a chance to consider those thoughts between your internal pleads of mercy, it rips its clawed hands away from your chest cavity, and with it, your heart.