#why is this fandom so small

[crowholdingaknife]

My verge design!!

Save me midnight burger save me

[igot99catsandnoproblems]

In like time travel books where they go back/bring someone forward who like died near wwII I wonder if in the background anyone tells them that Hitler dude did some fucked up shit

Like I'm reading fablehaven again and Patton died in 1941 so like he KNEW about the war but did he know know how bad the war was

He was a magic guy trying to find ways to help Seth and Kendra in the nebulous now times he was trying to find information on where the font of mortality was not how to end the axis powers

I just

Did anyone tell him ??

Not because he could do anything just to like KNOW?

I DUNNO ITS NOT LIKE RELEVANT BUT IM SURE HE ASKED LENA WHEN THEY SPENT THE NIGHT(when not fucking like animals because Lena had not seen him in like?? 70 some years) together I'm sure they talked about world events? Like youve been alive anything interesting I missed??

PATTON WOULD ASK IK HE RESPECTS TIME AND DOESNT WANT LENA TO BE SPOILED FOR HIM BUT HE IS VERY OKAY WITH KNOWING ABOUT PRESENT/HIDTORY AFTER HE DIED ABOUT WORLDLY EVENTS LIKE THE SPYNX GETTING THE ARTIFACTS

Idk man like

WHAT DID HE SAY WHEN SHE SAID THAT BC THE WAR WAS GOING ON WHEN HE WAS ALIVE

[snailsmeller]

THE ARK FAMILY MAKES MY HEART HURT AUGHH

[paintedkinzy-88]

Blood/Gore warning! Just in case—

My first major post to a new fandom and I brutally kill a main character. Shouldn’t have expected much else from myself, honestly. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Anyway, context if my subtle background hints weren’t enough (or ya just want a little bit more info):

Post movie, Leo couldn’t be saved, and everyone went home mostly expecting him to be dead. There was very little hope for his survival, really, and they all had injuries to care for themselves. While they did plan on trying to check later on, (at least to get a body), with Donnie building a portal and Mikey trying to unlock his powers, in the end, they didn’t have to.

Within a few days, things started happening gradually around the lair (moving objects, closing doors, flickering lights, etc), until eventually they were getting texts from Leo’s number. No one really wanted to believe it, whether out of fear of what his presence implied or straight up not thinking ghosts were real, but eventually, as Leo texted things only he’d know (and the general acknowledgment of Hamato spirits being a thing), they came to be… open to the idea.

Draxum confirmed that ghosts were fairly common amongst yokai, separate from spirits, and with that Donnie dived head first into researching it, determined to see the ghost and get solid proof that it was, in fact, his twin.

In that research, he came across information on a ghost’s appearance. He didn’t pay much attention to it, or the dread that settled in his stomach. He didn’t care. He didn’t.

But Leo does. Leo really, really does. And that’s two reallys.

[sincerealev]

Hey guys sorry I disappeared for a bit, I had artblock and artstyle envy 👍 But I've been experimenting with my style so here's a quick art dump

[sofonn]

I LOVE THE CREW I LO- (Im only on 20th episode but feel free to tag spoiler things I love spoilers)

[anamelessfool]

Didja know you're seeing cool art from years and years ago, amazing performance videos and GIFs and rare photos on here, beautiful fics and cosplay that needs to get revisted.....because people are actively reblogging things?

That's how this place works. Btw.

[acidicgrimace]

back with more dogman art since yall loved the other post so much

I love this guy hes just like me fr

[from-ib-to-asshai]

me when people give canonically conventionally unattractive characters instagram face

[alitteraladhdmess]

Bros got that constitutional drip

Don’s being abused, harassed, assaulted, hate crimed, bullied and publicly humiliated. Vote for ❤️💜Bloom From Oblivion🧡💙 and Don might find a fashion era he likes.

Lee and Angelo are having fun tho and Aprils just here for the laughs

@tmntaucompetition you ordered pre 1920’s so the turtles came and delivered!! Applause and applause aaand waiting for your applause.

[genericpuff]

y'all have no clue how wild it is to live in my timeline, because 12 years ago i was a huge fan of these cute lil' zelda strips and at the time i found out through the grapevine that the creator apparently stopped making these comics because they had started drawing NSFW content-

and at the time i was like "oh ok that's wild but respect"

and now in the present the artist who's making the OMORI manga adaption is under fire for being a shota fetishist and it's putting the spotlight back on the OMORI creator themselves for ALSO being a shota fetishist and oh my god the omocat who made those zelda comics over a decade ago is the same omocat who went on to make OMORI holy shit-

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

thinking about when keating asks the purpose of language and neil says “to communicate” and keating goes “no! to woo women!” like?? did you expect neil perry of all people to guess/resonate with that?? you know just as well as i do that mf is a homosexual.

[mythosandthemorbid]

🔪❤️‍🩹Depollute me, pretty baby❤️‍🩹🔪

Next Chapter ->

(Art by Gatobob)

CW: implied cannibalism, self harm, bondage (unsexy way), blood, general violence. Same warnings as the source material, boyfriend to death.

Type: Strade x reader, first person POV of the reader

Everything was dark.

Drip drip drip...

I was aware of the sound of a dripping facet... or perhaps a leaky roof? I shifted slightly, my leg brushing against the floor. It felt like concrete. I blinked a few times. It was still dark.

Drip drip drip...

There it was again. I decided I wanted to investigate, to try to get a sense of my surroundings. I tried to stand, but some sort of force tugged at my wrists, holding me back. I tried to move forward, but it was there again. Reluctantly, I leaned back. Whatever was behind me wasn't a wall, though it was tall and hard. Rectangular? It was some kind of pole. I lifted my fingers, trying to feel around my hands. I was met with rope. My hands were tied behind me, keeping me against this pole.

“Goddamnit...” I muttered, trying to clamp down on the fear already rising within me. I needed to stay calm. I focused on my breathing.

In and out.

Slowly.

Wherever I was, it smelled suffocating. The smell of cleaning products and... bleach? Filled the air. It was nauseating. It mixed with the smell of sawdust and must, but even beneath all that, there was something more.

I tried to move again, tried to focus on the sensations rather than the smell so I wouldn't throw up. Moving my legs was easy enough as they were unbound, there just wasn't much to do. I began tapping my foot against the floor, hoping the rhythmic sound would help calm me. Thats when I became aware that it wasn't concrete I was tapping against. It was a puddle of something. I dipped my shoe in it again, then brought my leg closer. It smelled coppery, like blood.

“Fuck,” I said, sounding choked already. My voice cracked a bit on top of already being hoarse from how dry my throat was. How long had it been since I’d last had water? How long had I been down here for? Would I ever get out?

My memory was a blur, the last thing I recalled was leaving the bar. Now I was trapped somewhere, unable to move, and there was blood. My heart pounded in my chest, my eyes darting around as I frantically tried to make sense of my situation, to at least figure out where I might be. I couldn't make out anything in the darkness.

“Help...” I said, quieter than intended. Panic set in. “Help!” I said again, louder. “Somebody help me please! HELP!”

I called out again and again, my throat growing sore. It was no use.

Tears streamed down my cheeks- they had been for awhile. I was alone. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of my own sobs. What seemed like hours passed before I heard something else. A slight creak. The click of a doorknob.

“Hello?” I called, cringing at how broken my voice sounded. There was a pause, then I could've sworn I heard a quiet laugh. The sound of creaking stairs followed. Someone was here. I wasn't sure whether I should be relieved or afraid.

“Moin, moin! You’re awake earlier than I expected.” The voice sounded somewhat familiar- it was definitely masculine, there was a German accent too. “Sorry to keep you waiting. That was rather rude of me, no?” A light clicked on overhead, blinding. I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut. “Ah ah ah,” he tsked. I felt his rough, calloused hand grab my chin, tilting my head up. “It’s rude to pretend I don’t exist, you know.”

“Thats not...” I was going to protest, to say that wasn't my intent, but thought better of it. I didn't want to piss off my captor. I tensed but opened my eyes anyway. The light stung. Standing before me was a man who had to be in his thirties, someone I recognized. “Strade?” I asked, squinting at him slightly.

“Ah, so you do remember me!” The smile on his face grew. He let go of my chin and instead brushed my tear-stained cheeks with the back of his hand. “You were quite talkative at the bar last night, where'd all the energy go, hm? I didn't take you for the shy type... then again, I also didn't think you'd be much of a crier.” He stood, cheerful as ever. “Though, I must say, the tears are a pleasant surprise!”

“What... What’s going on?” I asked quietly, afraid to even speak. My mind felt foggy, I was thinking slower than I’d previously realized. He seemed to plow right forward, as if he was four steps ahead, leaving me in the dust. I was still having trouble processing.

“Oh, I really did a number on you, huh?” he asked, patting my head. I winced, pain immediately shooting through me. My head was pounding. Why hadn't I noticed that before now? “I’ll fix you up, don't worry. Can’t have you too damaged before we get to the fun part!”

He turned away from me and started rummaging through some cabinets. I could hardly understand what he meant, so I took this as an opportunity to familiarize myself with my environment, now that I could see. I looked around, wincing slightly as the pain in my head persisted. We had to be in a basement, considering the stairs and concrete floors. There were toolboxes and construction materials everywhere. In front of me was a drain. I glanced at my legs and froze. The puddle was red. It was blood.

My stomach turned and I let out a soft groan, leaning against the pole again. I couldn’t do this, I felt like I'd throw up already. I didn’t even know whether that was my blood or someone else's. Had he admitted to hurting me? I couldn't remember. Why couldn't I think clearly? Everything was sore, everything hurt, and worst of all I couldn't even process any of it properly.

Strade perked up upon hearing the noise. He brought over some bandages and the like, crouching down in front of me once more. “Making cute sounds already?” He asked, chuckling to himself. I looked up at him and opened my mouth to respond. No words came out. “And cats got your tongue too, eh? Don’t worry, you can speak to me. Ich beiße nicht.”

“Mmn...” I mumbled as he brushed my hair out of my face. “What are you doing?” I asked, watching him pour something on a cloth.

“Cleaning you up,” he said simply, pressing it to my head. I winced as the cloth touched my skin, stinging like fire against my already throbbing head. The smell of whatever he was using was sharp and medicinal, overpowering the musty, bleach-filled air. I gritted my teeth, trying to keep still as he dabbed at the wound.

“There we go,” he muttered, almost to himself, placing a bandage over whatever wound I had. “We can’t have you bleeding all over the place before we even get started.”

“Started?” I croaked, the word barely escaping my lips. My heart was racing, and every nerve in my body screamed at me to fight, to run—but I couldn’t. The ropes dug into my wrists with every subtle movement, and my head spun too much to even think clearly. “What do you mean?”

Strade’s smile widened, as though the question was exactly what he’d been waiting for. “Oh, you’ll see,” he said, his voice sweet, almost caring. He leaned in closer, his face inches from mine, and for the first time, I noticed the gleam in his eyes. “But not yet. Like I said, I need to patch you up, make sure you’re all nice and healthy. Can’t have you passing out on me before the fun begins.”

I swallowed thickly, my throat dry as sandpaper. “Why… why me?”

Strade tilted his head slightly, as if the question surprised him. “Why not you?” He tapped the side of his head with a finger. “Fate’s funny like that. Sometimes you’re in the right place at the wrong time. Or was it the wrong place at the right time? Either way, you caught my eye. Now here we are.”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek, trying to ignore the rising panic. There was no reasoning with him, no pleading that would change his mind. He was enjoying this—whatever this was. I was shaking a little, the dread sinking in deeper with every passing second.

Suddenly, he stood up, brushing off his hands as if he’d just finished a simple chore. “Alright! Now that you’re all cleaned up, I think it’s time we get started.” He clapped his hands together, his grin never faltering. “I’ve been planning this for a while, you know. So I hope you don’t mind if I take my time. After all, it’s not every day you get a special guest like yourself.”

“I thought you said- said you’d wait until I’m better,” I said with a nervous laugh, tugging at the ropes again. No use.

“Oh I will, but it can’t hurt to start with something small,” he said, rummaging through a tool drawer. He paused for a moment. “Well, it will hurt, actually. But that’s all apart of the fun!”

My breath caught in my throat as I watched him pull out a small, glinting object from the drawer. It looked like a scalpel, sharp and delicate. The kind of tool meant for precision. The kind of tool I was familiar with, though I wasn’t supposed to be.

I steeled myself, taking a deep breath. Right. Right. I could deal with this. If a scalpel is all he was going to use, I’d be fine. My heart still pounded in my chest, but I managed to keep myself steady, refusing to let my panic spill over into outright terror. Not yet.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flicker of something on Strade’s face—a flash of surprise, maybe even disappointment. He was expecting more, wanting more from me.

His smile faltered slightly, though it never fully disappeared. He leaned in closer, the scalpel gleaming as he lifted it toward my face. I felt the cold, sharp edge graze against my cheek, just a whisper of pressure. My muscles tensed, but I didn’t flinch. I stayed still. Silent.

“Oh?” Strade’s voice was laced with amusement as he tapped the blade lightly against my skin. “Aren’t you a brave one.” He dragged the scalpel down, barely scratching the surface of my skin, watching me with that same eager look. “But I wonder… how long can you keep that up? Du kannst nicht ewig Löwe spielen.”

I swallowed hard, but still said nothing. The silence stretched between us as he continued to tease me with the blade, tapping it against my cheek, down my neck, each tap calculated, deliberate. He was waiting for me to break.

A tear slipped down my cheek, unbidden, and I felt the tension rise in my chest. I couldn’t help it. I was terrified. But I kept still, refusing to let the sobs escape.

Strade chuckled softly, wiping the tear away with his thumb. “Ah, there we go,” he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. “That’s more like it.”

He didn't stop there. The scalpel danced over my skin, cutting again, but softer this time, more deliberate. He was drawing it out, savoring every reaction. I felt the sting, sharp and spreading like fire, and more tears welled in my eyes. I couldn't stop them now.

The pain wasn't overwhelming, not yet, but it was enough to make the tears fall faster, my breath hitching as I tried to stay quiet.

He moved the blade slowly, creating shallow cuts along my arm, then up to my shoulder.

"Such beautiful reactions," he mused, his voice low and pleased. "Cry some more. I love watching it… you're so pretty when you cry."

Strade's smile widened as he looked me over, watching the tears fall freely now.

"Hmm... I think we need to loosen things up a bit," he murmured, stepping behind me. I felt the ropes around my wrists slacken as he untied them. My arms dropped forward, sore and shaking from being held back for so long.

Before he could take control again, I moved.

My hand shot out, grabbing his wrist, and before I could second-guess myself, I took the scalpel from his fingers. For a brief second, Strade's eyes flashed with surprise.

"Oh?" he said, his tone curious but amused, as though watching a child play with a new toy. I didn't hesitate. My grip tightened around the scalpel, and I pressed it against my own arm, drawing it across my skin. The sharp sting bit into me, but I felt... calmer. I could breathe again. The control was mine, even if for a moment

Strade's eyes darkened with something like fascination, his lips curling into a slow grin.

"Interessant," he murmured, stepping closer, watching intently as I made another cut. The blood welled up quickly, dripping onto the floor below. "You really are something special, aren't you?"

The satisfaction in his voice was unmistakable, and I could feel his gaze fixated on the blood and my trembling hands. "Do it again," he whispered, voice low and commanding. "Show me."

I hesitated for just a moment, then did as he asked, slicing into my skin once more. The pain was sharp, but there was a strange comfort in it—knowing that this part, at least, was on my terms.

As I pressed the blade deeper into my skin, again and again, more blood spilled over my arm, pooling and dripping onto the floor. I hadn't realized how deep I was cutting, but something about it felt... right. Control. The pain grounded me. I didn't know it at the time, but it was exactly what Strade wanted.

I heard it then, a soft, low sound—a noise of pleasure slipping from his lips. My eyes darted up, and I caught sight of him. His eyes were half-lidded, his face slightly flushed, and I noticed the bulge in his pants, his arousal now unmistakable. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I wasn't sure if I was more terrified or disgusted.

Strade chuckled softly, catching my glance. "Ah, forgive me," he said, his voice thick with amusement, though there was a hunger beneath it. "I wasn't expecting you to be so... bold." His eyes flicked down to my arm, now covered in at least five deep cuts and several shallower ones. Blood trickled steadily, and his gaze lingered on it, fascinated. "You've truly outdone yourself."

His grin widened, but he didn't move to do anything about it just yet.After all, he had his manners.

"It'd be rather rude of me to indulge right now, wouldn't it?" he teased, taking the scalpel from my hand with ease. He brought it up to his lips and kissed the bloodstained blade, sighing contently. "But, mien liebchen, you've given me such a beautiful show. Truly, wunderschön."

He knelt beside me, wiping my tears with the back of his hand, the same disturbing tenderness still in his touch. "You're quite the special one, aren't you?" His voice was low, husky with satisfaction. I shuddered as he carefully set the blade aside and began tending to the cuts he'd made-and the ones I had made myself.

Strade hummed to himself as he poured antiseptic onto a cloth and pressed it against my wounds, though he didn't seem to mind my winces of pain. "You've bled quite a bit, und wie hübsch es ist. Can't have you passing out on me, hm?" His hands moved deftly, almost clinical, as he worked to clean and bandage the cuts. But I could see it-the way his breathing had quickened, the flush on his face deepening.

With one hand still bandaging me, his other slipped toward his own waistband, fingers tracing idly over his erection. He groaned softly, clearly enjoying himself, but not quite ready to lose focus on the task at hand. "Mm, I'll have to excuse myself soon," he murmured, more to himself than to me. "But don't worry, I'll finish fixing you up first."

His grip tightened slightly as he worked faster, the occasional low moan escaping his lips as he tried to maintain control. "You've done so well," he praised, his voice filled with delight. "So well, mien liebchen. I'll make sure you're all patched up, and then..." He trailed off with a wicked grin, standing up and gathering the bloodied bandages. "Well, you can imagine what comes next."

Strade moved to retie my wrists, only to realize that the rope would reopen my wounds if I struggled against them at all. He chuckled to himself and shook his head, grinning as he proceeded to tie them anyway. “Scream if you need me,” he said with a grin. He gave one final, lingering look, his eyes sweeping over the blood on my skin, the tremble in my body, and then without another word, he stepped out of the room, leaving me alone. Again.

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

elena of avalor + text posts (pt 1)

(2)

[mothievoid]

Clockwork Design

Miss Ouellette has arrived !!

[reedeemable]

You know what’s funny? Gavin putting his hands on Connor or even aiming a gun at him is competely optional. It’s all up to the player. None of it is technically canon.

But Hank laying his hands on Connor, saying “Listen, asshole. If it was up to me, I'd throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it. So, stop pissing me off... or things are gonna get nasty” and aiming a gun at him is canon no matter what.

And yet, Gavin is labelled the asshole 🤔