#slightly gore

[liiittlehand]

[branzart]

Please only touch me where I'm real

[cocktail-chacha]

If Leon didn't make it out of Raccoon City alive

⚠ TW : Blood / Slightly Gore

[roselyn-writing]

Hiii! Evening Lovelies 🤍. I made a few sketch in my free times. Warning! Two of them are Slightly gore.. and creepy! Skip if you don’t want to see it!! Two of Sexy Selviya and Selena and the others are about Dark Gothic Queen Aliyaa 🖤

@lorabeyc

[newttxt]

the best way to luffy’s stomach is through his heart (or something like that)

a four page one piece fancomic in which luffy and law talk about luffy’s stomach

page 1

panel 1: a top view of luffy and law sitting in grass. luffy is leaning back on his hands with his legs outstretched. law sits crosslegged between them. they are both looking down at the hole in luffy’s abdomen, where law has used his devil fruit power to remove his stomach. “whoa! cool!” says luffy, while law hums, “hmm… interesting.”

panel 2: a close-up of law’s hand holding luffy’s stomach in its cube-like container. “it looks surprisingly average,” law says, “for a bottomless pit.”

panel 3: “isn’t it weird?” luffy asks. he is sitting with his back to the viewer, but his smile is still visible as he leans into law’s space. law is still crosslegged, holding the stomach, and he looks vaguely uncomfortable as luffy keeps talking. luffy says, “that thing can make food stop looking like food and start looking like poop! huh. wonder how it does that…”

page 2

panel 1: law looks off to the side, sweating and kinda grouchy. knowing he’ll regret this, he mutters, “i… know how… at least for NORMAL humans.”

panel 2: the back of luffy’s head takes up most of the panel as he demands, “what?! i wanna know too!” law grits his teeth and shouts back, “you’re just gonna fall asleep!” and luffy yells, “nuh-uh!”

panel 3: luffy grins widely, throws his arms out to the side, and flops onto his back in the grass. he’s loudly yelling, “tell me! tell me, traffy!”

page 3

panel 1: law is visible from a low-angle, as if from luffy’s pov on the ground. he sighs, “fine. here’s how it works.”

panel 2: this panel looks similar to the previous, but its slightly darker, with gray bars at the top and bottom, narrowing visibility to show luffy’s eyes are closing. law continues, “the stomach has two main functions.”

panel 3: law is now barely visible through the gap. luffy is almost asleep. law says, “the first, as YOU know, is the storage of food.”

panel 4: the background is completely dark, and law’s words trail off, “the second is—“

page 4

panel 1: a large, top view of luffy lying on his back in the grass. his arms are thrown wide still and his eyes are open. he has just jolted awake, saying, “hmm?” off-screen, law complains, “i don’t know WHY i bothered.”

panel 2: law accuses, “you didn’t listen to a word i said.” luffy sits up, his lips pursed and eyes narrowed because he’s a terrible liar. he says, “sure i did,” dragging out the “sure.”

panel 3: luffy breaks into a grin and proudly declares, “it’s a mystery!” law cuts him off with a “NO,” his speech bubble literally dripping with disdain.

panel 4: the silhouette of luffy and law sitting side by side. law is whapping luffy on the head with a light fist. law says, “idiot…” before bonking him. luffy yells, “hey!” but he is laughing, and a small “heh” shows law is too.

[stil-lindigo]

patchwork canary.

a comic about two girls, fate, and a powerful man who felt entitled to something that wasn’t his to own.

support me on patreon (if you’d like to see more comics like this one)

[bhramarii]

at least my cat was there for me after my breakup

[fence-time]

:3c

[rosenkranz-does-things]

here are all three of my TSV posters in honor of the beginning of S3 🦀 I'm definitely gonna make more, especially given the bang with which the new season started

[acatpiestuff]

Food scraps//compost pile

[sluckythewizard]

YOU JUST HƎARD IT FROM [HIS MOUTH] FOR SURƎ!!!

[brother-emperors]

ANTONY cry 'havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war

earlier in my script (which is not Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar), Antony refers to Dolabella as one of his ‘dogs of war’ when talking to Cassius (which IS a reference to Shakespeare’s JC), and it comes back around after Cicero writes to Cassius and informs him of Trebonius’ fate

While these things were taking place at Rome, Cassius and Brutus were collecting troops and money, and Trebonius, governor of the province of Asia, was fortifying his towns for them. [...] Trebonius, who was captured in bed, told his captors to lead the way to Dolabella, saying that he was willing to follow them. One of the centurions answered him facetiously, "Go where you please, but you must leave your head behind here, for we are ordered to bring your head, not yourself." With these words the centurion immediately cut off his head, and early in the morning Dolabella ordered it to be displayed on the praetor's chair where Trebonius was accustomed to transact public business. Since Trebonius had participated in the murder of Caesar by detaining Antony in conversation at the door of the Senate-house while the others killed him, the soldiers and camp-followers fell upon the rest of his body with fury and treated it with every kind of indignity. They rolled his head from one to another in sport along the city pavements like a ball till it was completely crushed. This was the first of the murderers who received the meed of his crime, and thus vengeance overtook him.

App. Civil Wars III. 26

For Dolabella is in Syria, and, as you have foreseen in your prophetic soul and have foretold, Cassius will crush him while they are on their way. For Dolabella has had the gates of Antioch shut in his face and got a good beating in trying to storm it. Not trusting in any other city, he has betaken himself to Laodicea, on the sea-coast of Syria. There I hope he will speedily pay the penalty of his crime: for he has no place of refuge, nor will he much longer be able there to stand out against an army as large as that of Cassius. I even hope that Dolabella has by this time been overpowered and crushed.

Cic. Fam. 12.14

Place then before your eyes, O conscript fathers, that spectacle, miserable indeed, and tearful, but still indispensable to rouse your minds properly: the nocturnal attack upon the most beautiful city in Asia; the irruption of armed men into Trebonius’s house, when that unhappy man saw the swords of the robbers before he heard what was the matter; the entrance of Dolabella, raging,—his ill-omened voice, and infamous countenance,—the chains, the scourges, the rack, the armourer who was both torturer and executioner; all which they say that the unhappy Trebonius endured with great fortitude. A great praise, and in my opinion indeed the greatest of all, for it is the part of a wise man to resolve beforehand that whatever can happen to a brave man is to be endured with patience if it should happen.

Cicero, Philippic 11

Philippi and Perusia, Ronald Syme

ko-fi⭐ bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost ⭐ cara.app

[runs-red]

I find antishipper logic to be kind of interesting because most* of the time it only applies to shipping fictional characters. Yes, fiction affects reality to the point where if you're writing or reading about it, you must want it to happen in real life, but only if it's shipping!

If you enjoy shipping a fictional boy with superpowers with his fictional teacher who teaches at a non-existent fictional school who also has powers, you must endorse real high schoolers hooking up with their teachers. But of course, it would be fine if you wanted to write a story where he suffers extensively, because as long as it's not sexual, you don't actually want it to happen.

Fiction affects reality to the point where if you enjoy fanfiction where Peter Parker gets his back blown out by Tony, you must want real-life minors to get with older men. This is how this works, duh. Of course, it's okay to watch and enjoy a show about two homicidal men who maim, murder, and eat people.

[taxi-boi]

well i mean. it IS april fools!

cake close-up: isnt it gore-geous... am-ace-ing... fantasti-cake... heart.

[nerdpoe]

A Jotunn, a Pirate, and a Wraith walk into the DC Universe-(part 3, final)

Part 1, Part 2, Ao3

Jason was shit out of luck.

He was out of bullets, down a leg, Damian had gotten himself knocked unconscious, and they were still completely surrounded.

Jason still nudged the youngest Bat as far behind him as he could.

He'd been the only one close enough when the word that Ra's had finally managed to kidnap Damian had reached him, and was still too late to spare the kid from the League of Assassin's particular version of a warm welcome.

He'd still been the first on scene, and fuck him for admitting it, but Bruce had been right.

He should have waited for backup.

Because he had not only fucked himself, but he'd also screwed over Damian.

The League began to close in.

And Jason had nowhere else to run.

He back was quite literally to a pit, and everywhere else was filled with League Assassins.

Jason forced himself to stand back up.

With one hand braced against the ledge of the pit, he shifted so that his weight was on his unbroken leg.

The blood running down his arm dripped into the Lazarus Pit, he took only a brief moment to watch it mix with the vibrant green.

'If I don't get out of this,' Jason thought as he turned away and back towards their enemies, 'Then at least let me fall in the Pit so I can make the Pay.'

The League Assassins...started taking steps back.

Jason, against his better judgement, turned his head just enough to peek behind him.

Then he turned around so hard he accidentally threw himself to the ground.

There was something rising from the Lazarus Pit.

It...looked like a man, ascending into the air until his feet didn't touch the green Waters he hovered above.

The air, which had had at least a small bit of movement from crossbreezes and rising heat, went completely still, and the scent of blood and ozone polluted the air.

White hair flickered like fire, licking at the air. The man's clawed hands flexed, and his dead dead dead red eyes bore into Jason's soul. His skin was blue, but wasn't that normal?

All corpses had a blue tint to them, after all.

And Jason had seen so fucking many.

The man's clothes appeared to be tactical in nature, or they had been at one point. They were battered, stained, burned. There was a shawl of sorts that clung to him through no visible means, it's ends turning into a wispy mist that shrouded and outlined the man in equal measure.

He floated soundlessly, not even pretending to take any steps as he moved forward, those glowing red eyes completely focused on the buffet of prey in front of him.

Jason could actually hear some of the Assassins attempting to run.

Hell, he could feel the Pit within him cowering.

The man in front of him was fucking dangerous.

Everything about him screamed Pain. Every movement was restrained, like a panther going in for a kill.

Then the man smiled; a cruel thing that Jason had seen on far too many people. The kind of people he hunted, the kind of people he hired, the kind of person he'd become.

And between one blink and the next, the man was working to prove that he could deliver pain and cruelty just as well as he could threaten it, deep, harsh laughter bouncing off of the walls of the cave; even as he was decorating said walls red.

Lightning lit up the cavern, illuminating just how well the new red paintjob on the walls matched the mans eyes, and Jason looked away. He instead used that opportunity to check on Damian.

He ignored the screaming and the begging, the wet noises and charred flesh scents, and came to the satisfactory conclusion that Damian would be alright with medical treatment.

Then, as Jason managed to drag himself yet again into a standing position, it was done. Everything had fallen silent, and the man was standing in front of him with a sneering smile that was all fangs and satisfaction.

"Hey kid," the man said, snapping his blood-covered fingers in Jason's face, "Pay up."

Jason jerked back, almost blacking out as he twisted his broken leg.

"Pay you...with what, motherfucker? I'm broke as shit and I sure as fuck didn't summon you." Jason lied through his teeth when he successfully fought off the light-headedness. He was, like, pretty sure material wealth didn't mean much to Spirits.

Which he was fairly certain was what this was.

Blood, Lazarus Water, intense Desire and Will?

Probably accidentally a summoning.

One Jason absolutely refused to take responsibility for.

"Oh no, you don't get to fuckin' lie to me," the man-spirit-thing rumbled, resting a hand on Jason's chest, "I just did all that work for you, you ungrateful shitstain, I deserve a snack at least."

Then the hand plunged into his chest, and Jason became painfully aware that Damian was absolutely awake when he heard the kid scream his name.

His first name.

Fuck, he was gonna die, wasn't he?

But it didn't hurt. There wasn't even any additional blood, really.

Then the man ripped his arm back, and in his hand he held...a very angry green blob?

Which he then ate.

"Fuck, that's some potent shit. Thanks for the liquor kid; you're too young for it anyways."

With that, the man disappeared entirely.

Jason slid to the ground and largely ignored Damian's desperate pawing at his chest.

What the absolute shit had just happened?

The other half of what the man had said caught up to his brain just as the rest of the family came barging in.

"...But I am old enough to drink!"

[worldsewage]

Side order if it wasn’t fucking around would have in fact been 100 times more goopy.