#DK Nightmares

[chimerical-creations]

My entry to this year's @dreamkeeperscomic Halloween contest. Glow-in-the-dark necklace pendants of the Nightmare and Neon Knives faction symbols.

Pendants are approx. 4cm in diameter and made of stone; not sure what, exactly, but if I had to guess I'd say some sort of agate. Faction insigna were drawn in Inkscape, cut out of vinyl, sandblasted into the stones, then filled in with paint (the purple of the Nightmares pendant), and glow powder mixed into clear porcelain varnish (everything else). Baked in regular oven to fuse the paints and varnish/powder mixes, then slapped things with a spray-on clearcoat for extra protection.

(Image alt text will be added later, when I have a proper keyboard and not just a stylus.)

[smokbeast]

oh chriminy I’m cooking things , I’ll be real I just see murder boys everywhere but Idk what they’re about, or nightmare. Or error,. But uhm his colors I like..them.. and nightmare is big spooky octo thing, I uh, I’m lost in some kind of thinking sauce

[tarnussy]

being distracted by thicc brick house of a man, what a way to go

[autistic-yuri]

God I hate Richie and Ruth’s death scenes (affectionately) because they make me so upset. This show really effectively gets across the fact that these are teens who don’t deserve this, and it makes it so depressing

[exsqueezememacaroni]

gods I love Mike's voice

[hahahaillmurderyou]

I had the cutest dream where DK was my boyfriend and I kept calling him my Arthur and he was giggling like a mad man so be prepared for me to write even more about him 🙃🙃

[panchambro]

Taiko no Tatsujin x DK Bongos when?

A nightmare that Scratch-Don can't imagine to bear.

Character by @fareydonch501

[bcrncoldx]

@mischiefxmuses continued from here

"What are you talking about?" The minute Angelus' name left his lips her blood ran cold. How did he know? How could he know? Those horrors were only known by four people, including herself. Spike and Angel would never utter a word about it to anyone else, and Darla wasn't there. "What the fuck?" The church that she had so desperately tried to forget sprang to life around her, the stone as cold and solid as it ever had been. Whitechapel. Frantically, she grabbed a cross from the altar and brandished it in front of her in her free hand, ignoring how her skin began to blister and burn. "What sort of sorcery from hell is this? What are you?" The scent of blood mingled with the incense that hung in the air, cloying and sickly in her nose. But she couldn't break, she wouldn't let herself. She was stronger now, she wasn't the weakling under Angelus' thumb. It would take every ounce of her strength, but she was determined. "A-all this for a wallet? Pathetic, really." Her voice, much like her entire body, was trembling. But she wouldn't give up. Not anymore.

[sludgebat]

[bananabraiined]

How would feel if Bayonetta summoned you as a demonic ape?

"That's um......I dunno. I doubt Bayonetta would appreciate having ape fur in her outfit. Neither would Jeanne."

[scottstiles]

i also wish that instead of wasting time trying to absorb twitter @staff was working on making this website a safer place for minors

[bootyful-seventeen]

Quick question for the homies who have a bookshelf to display their kpop albums and/or mangas and figures, what kind of method or style do you like?

[sunnyseraphs]

do you remember the despair kinnies discord server? i was an active member before it started to die out and ive been thinking about it lately, i was wondering if it was still around at all?

hey!! i do yeah, i haven't thought about dk in so long omg.. so like it Technically still does but it's mostly as an archive now 😭 i remember we tried to revamp it into like a general kin server back at like the end of 2020 bc it was quiet and then it didn't rlly bring back much activity and then i had a falling out w the other mods so it's there just a ghost town...

[butchwink]

i was always a girly little fag. i accepted boyhood more and more because you all kept insisting on it. alison mulawyshyn youre no better than my mother and you all cant stand trannies. you love me so much as a boy and will never get over it

[turigirl]

nope

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ see me through the morning glow | gojo satoru

wc: 1.0k summary: you and gojo have a slow morning.  contains: f!reader in mind, suggestive if you squint, food descriptions. a/n: unedited, i honestly dk what this is i just really needed to get this out of my system! this is how i cope with 236.

re-uploaded because i accidentally deleted!

You slip out of bed faced with the promise of sunlight. 

The curtains in your bedroom radiate a glow that bounces off the man lying next to you; it’s soft, near-white, almost ethereal, the color of his skin, hair, and bones. His back is exposed, arm reaching out over the (now) empty space beside him—the crinkles and folds where you once were. 

You’ve always thought your bedroom had good lighting, and now you can confirm why: in the shadows, deepening the line that runs down his spine; in the highlights, guiding your eyes to the pockets of muscle behind his shoulders. 

You look away, trying your best not to stare; the only reason he’s undressed is because of a cold sweat, from the nightmares—and the very need for skin-to-skin, to ground him in your touch. 

On mornings like this, you let Gojo sleep in. 

(Because you’re lucky if he can fall back asleep again). 

It’s slow today—no work, no missions that need you or him. It’s your favorite kind of day, and Gojo’s too (once he wakes up and smells the waffles you’ve prepared, double topped with whipped cream and maple syrup—his special, of course). 

A steady stream of warmth flows through the window to your kitchen countertop, the marble glimmering as light hits. The material was his choice; you don’t care much for glamor but Gojo likes pretty things—you especially, he likes to say. 

The batter is quick to prepare, a recipe you’ve done many times before, so you ladle it into the waffle maker before letting it set on its own. Then, you grab a pan to heat up, spooning in last night’s leftover rice, some soy sauce, and mirin, adding salt to taste, as needed. A standard fried rice breakfast, with a yolk to mix in later. 

The sound of his footsteps are concealed by the sizzles of the pan in front of you, but you’re caught off guard by arms wrapped around your waist, and his chin nestling itself into your shoulder as he nuzzles you. 

He’s still shirtless, you notice, so you inch backwards in case of any oil spatter. 

“Good sleep?” you mumble, certain that he heard you. 

He hums, before whispering, lips tickling the edges of your ear on purpose, pouting, “Not anymore when you left.” 

This man—a giant baby, puffed cheeks with long limbs hunched over you. 

Your big baby. 

Despite his whines, he’s telling the truth, you know, and you feel warm because of it, affection seeping in the cracks between his arms and the kitchen stove. 

You blow on a spoonful of rice before lifting it up to his lips. Gojo’s breakfasts are always sweet, but every time you cook, he looks forward to this: waiting right behind you to be fed over your shoulder.

His review will always be the same, of course, everything you touch turns out good. 

He reaches for the waffle maker with one hand while the other keeps you close, and you plate his little breakfast for him, whipped cream with little hearts drawn in maple syrup. 

You grab a bowl for your rice and sit by the counter, Gojo sitting thigh-to-thigh beside you despite the abundance of space around you. 

You realize then, that Gojo tends to hover. 

Not necessarily in a bad way, just that, he does it all the time—always wanting to be near.  

And for someone so perceiving, practically all-seeing, he doesn’t really have to for him to know what you’re up to, but with every opportunity he has, he never misses a moment to be close to you.

When you wash the dishes by the sink, he stays beside you, shoulder-to-shoulder, even when the sink is wide enough to accommodate him a few inches farther. 

Even the walk to the bathroom has him tailing you, following your footsteps as he traces the footprints of slow mornings with you. 

Your bathroom counter has two sinks, but of course, today, he chooses to stay by yours. 

“Skincare?” you raise a tub of face mask. 

He doesn’t need it, but you love pampering him, so he nods, whatever you want. 

You struggle for a bit (he’s just too tall), so he picks you up by the waist and rests you on the bathroom counter, against the mirror.

He stays in the space between your legs, hands flat against your thighs. His thumb kneads your skin gently, and any other time, this position would end very differently, but there’s a look he’s giving you—all words without speaking. 

And—

“Quit staring,” you mumble, turning shy. You’re about to rub the product onto his cheeks, under his eyes. 

“What, I can’t look at you?” he moves closer, keeping his eyes locked on you as he rubs circles on your thighs. 

“No, you can, but,” you swallow, “you’re looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” his brows furrow. 

“Like that.” you sigh, gesturing to his face. 

“Like I love you?” 

And it is like that. Like he loves you. That’s why he says it so casually. 

Because he does. 

You stay quiet, stunned, before you clear your throat and finish up the final area on his face. 

“Yeah.” you mumble, reaching over to wash your hands on the sink. 

Gojo waits for you to finish before he takes a small towel to dry your hands with it. 

“As if you don’t know.” he scoffs, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. 

He’s right—it’s been said before, but there’s something else in his eyes right now, shiny and devoted, as if this is all he could ever want. As if you, on this slow morning, in this too-big bathroom is all he could ever need. 

But he doesn’t say anything. At least, not what he really means. 

“Not my fault you’re so pretty today,” he adds on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

It should be funny, that he’s telling you all this with a mask slathered all over his face, but his compliments always speak to the depths of you, even when you don’t expect them to. 

His fingers mold against your cheek, to your ears, down to the back of your head, bringing you closer until he kisses you softly, a gentle peck. 

Bits of the face mask transfer to your nose and you giggle, wiping it off. 

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, they say.” you joke.

Gojo smiles, that look on his face, “Good for you then, you’re the only one I see.”

re-uploaded because i accidentally deleted!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡