Video Essays About Horror, Fear And Dread

I was planning to take a small social media break but I saw the amazing headcanon that Argyle and Billy might have been friends in California! It such a sweet idea that I just had to draw something with that :) There’s something so special about childhood friendships and having seen someone through everything including growth spurts and the preteen awkward phase! And in a scenario where Billy lived, seeing that pizza van would be like some sort of miracle after everything he’s endured.

my favorite part of Crowley’s confession scene is how an immortal being with no need to have a body or breathe somehow managed to work himself into a very respectable level of hyperventilating

Pink Gauze & Glitter Glue

In season 2 I want them to reappear as kids.

I want them to get up and for Ben to be alive. I want Ben to be angry at everyone because of how they treated Klaus, and shrug off everyone's hugs and greetings. Smiling and nodding towards Vanya and Diego as Klaus is clinging onto him like hes his only lifeline (he might as well be).

I want Klaus to step back.

I want him to instinctively reach for dog tags that should be around his neck, a habit developed over 10 long months for whenever he felt anything remotely negative.

I want him to feel nothing and look down in panic as his siblings have a stare off in the background. Allison and Luther pushing Ben for answers on why hes so cold.

I want Ben to turn towards Klaus and I want to see the exact moment Ben realizes something is wrong.

I want Klaus to start hyperventilating as his world zeros in on the fact that they're in the past, that his clothes didn't transfer through time travel, that hes stuck in his old academy uniform and that he's missing Dave's dog tags.

Hes missing Dave's dog tags.

He's missing Dave's dog tags.

They're gone.

They didn’t transfer through time travel.

I want Klaus to realize. I want Ben to realize.

And then.

I want.

To see him...

break.

Klaus has gone through so much and I want him to sob, I want him to claw at his chest and release blood curdling screams of emotional agony as his last connection to Dave is severed.

I want Ben to pull him in his arms and hold him as Klaus shatters.

Klaus, already a pile of shards, already only held together by pink gauze and glitter glue.

And in that moment he changes.

As Ben screams at his siblings in righteous fury, finally cracking under their accusing stares. Every wrong they’ve ever committed towards Klaus spilling past his lips like a never ending stream of poison.

I want Klaus to go blank.

A blankness that Five is intimately aware of, one that is part of him still. A blankness that he never would wish on any of his siblings, one that he came back to prevent.

I want him to go blank. The blank of someone who has forgotten happiness. I want him to stand up and wipe his face, I want him to stare at his siblings, zeroing in on Luther, and turn.

I want a dark Klaus. One who suffers from extreme PTSD and anxiety. One who can stand in the middle of a battlefield and calmly load a revolver and shoot every person perfectly in the forehead. One who still makes dirty jokes (now twisted and macbre and no longer finny) and wears extravagant clothes (only in pitch black). One who still does his nails in neon colors and smudges his eyeliner everywhere (now only a routine force of habit and not because it brings happiness), but also one who is a shadow of his former self.

I want a Klaus who is broken, bruised, shattered, torn. I want a Klaus whose pieces have turned to shards. Whose gauze is now barbed wire and whose glitter glue is now acid.

I want a Klaus who has an obvious, terrifying, plastic smile. I want him to willingly torture, hurt, kill and maim. I want him cold, cynical, apathetic, harsh, downright cruel.

And then

I want him to get better. I want him to change, to learn to let go, to free himself. And in the very last season I want him to smile; a bright, sunny, happy thing; crack a very Klaus joke; don his feather boa; grab his pink rimmed umbrella; shimmy into his tight lace up pants, sheer crop top, black coat and 6 inch death wish heels; and I want him to stroll into the sunset dancing to music on his I pod and singing a happy little tune.

I want Allison to whisper, with tears in her eyes that that was his first real smile in years (hell maybe decades) as she shares a grin with her siblings.

Because recovery is part of the journey, and they deserve to be happy too.

No matter how twisted their family is.

accidental luisa madrigal fanart 🤣 wasn't my intention but honestly look like her if she wore a shorter skirt and had straighter hair since this is my most anatomically correct person so far, i'll take it!!!

“He’s my bbg”

And then it’s a man with PTSD, war crimes, a 50,000$ bounty, and if you even touched him he’d beat you violently to death

everyone settling into the hotel and figuring out the unsaid rules of cohabitation like

1 - it’s okay for Angel Dust to leave work stuff lying around IF ITS WASHED

2 - if you want a drink you ASK Husk. If you want to die you mess with his drink display

3 - TV is timeshared and if Alastor wants to use his timeslot to turn the tv OFF then no you can’t watch it just because he’s not using it

4 - Niffty can pin up the cockroach kill of the week in the lobby for everyone to wince at but it has to be on the cork board Charlie bought for her and she has to take the old ones down first each time

5 - if you break it you rebuild / replace it. You do NOT upgrade it with weapons while doing so (Sir Pentious THIS MEANS YOU) 5b - as long as it gets rebuilt / replaced no one gets to make a huge deal over something being broken or blown up again (or at Sir Pentious for doing it)

6 - don’t move around the fucking lobby furniture without moving it back afterwards 6b - if it’s in your room then you can do what you want but in all shared spaces the furniture NEEDS to be kept tidy and in proper place unless you want to hear swearing and sounds of violence as Vaggie trips over and throws her spear into a wall in frustration again, ruining the paper 6c - every third time this happens everyone has to sit through another presentation by Charlie explaining how having one eye is different when it’s not huge and in the middle of your head and you’re not basically at ground level

7 - Charlie can sing but only between 10am and 10pm unless it’s an emergency. If she tries singing outside of that whoever’s nearest is allowed to GENTLY hush her 7b - if you hush Charlie at any other time Vaggie will chase you. 7c - the above is NOT a recommended source of healthy exercise (you will have trauma)

8 - and above all have fun and FUCK yourself!

- Whoever changed “be” to “fuck”- it’s okay and you are loved <3

- Platonically. You are loved platonically, by me Charlie, who is writing this while standing next to my beautiful girlfriend.

- hey Charlie puff you alright? Sounds like she had a gun to your head while you were writin’ this XD

- It was more like her lips on my neck but yeah pretty close!

9 - Charlie and Vaggie are not allowed to be gross and cute in common areas they have a room for that sappy shit and need to keep it there thanks

- Homophobia.

- this is hell, toots

- You are literally a gay man Angel Dust

- I contain multitudes. Multitudes of d

- Bonding between friends is WONDERFUL but this is a list of rules not a chat room so let’s end things here ha ha ha ! Great job everyone!!!!

- KILL

- niffty what the fuck did you write that in it wont wash off

- BLOOD~

Can you please reblog if your blog is a safe place for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, asexual, aromantic, pansexual, non binary, demisexual or any other kind of queer or questioning people? Because mine is.

dont.....dont call me out like this!!!!!!

it’s so important for your health and well-being to get overly attached to a fictional man who is both deeply amoral and unbelievably, pathetically sad

"now which of version of angel dust will be the object of your affection?"

Porn version:

Husk: nah

Flirty version:

Husk: nope

Horny version:

Husk: absolutely not.

Covered in blood, holding multiple machine guns with a black eye, and so much confidence:

Husk: HELLO SAILOR