Tumgik
#6th December
Text
23 notes · View notes
pop-goes-the-weasel · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Small is a fun word for a "rancid vibes" Man. Considering how most villains are huge and imposing
17 notes · View notes
one-boring-person · 6 months
Text
Krampusnacht.
Warnings: gore, graphic violence towards a child (I'm sorry), blood, injury, whipping
Context: I wrote this ages ago and now it's finally an appropriate time to upload it 😅 it's not fanfiction but it's my own work based on my favourite creature from German folklore (well, one of them at least). Fair warning, it's a bit messed up😬 the image of Krampus that I have in my mind comes from the masks I used to see as a kid so ye👍 enjoy!
Masterlist
Make a request (for fanfic)
Tumblr media
The screams wake me. Desperate and blood-curdling, they tear through the empty halls of the house, sharp as razors in my ears. 
Beside me, my wife gasps herself awake, body quivering, eyes circular. Instinctively her hand comes to grasp at my knee as she sits upright, fingers clutching at my leg with adrenaline-fueled fervour. Her voice is frail as she speaks my own fears aloud.
"Is that Hilde?" 
Inexplicably, I’m frozen in place, a heartbeat surely too fast to be my own roaring in my ears, terror blazing to life inside me as the realisation dawns on me. The screams are all I can hear for a moment, my mind paralysed at the sheer horror cementing itself into my bones, each cry cutting right into me. Pleas work themselves into the chilling sounds as they reach a cacophony, deafening and distinctly pained now.
"Moritz?" 
My wife’s voice snaps me from my stupor, my body now working of its own accord. Spurred to life, I throw myself from the bed, uncaring of the icy air biting at my naked body, hurling myself towards the door. Thankfully, it’s open (did we leave it like that?) and leaves my frenzied sprint from the room unhindered. 
The four metres down the hall stretch before me, the far door on the left where my daughter is supposed to be sleeping apparently miles away now. The screams rise to a chilling crescendo now as I rush to get to the small bedroom, panic clawing bitterly at the back of my throat. My feet thud against the wooden floorboards, swiftly finding the tacky rug we've placed over them, only to catch the edge. Pitching forwards, I careen into the wall at the end of the hall, my face slamming harshly into it. Tears spring to my eyes, pain momentarily swamping the adrenaline as a line of blood dripped from my smarting nose, collecting on my dropped lower lip. 
Silence.
My heart stops in my chest, pain forgotten again as I turn to the ajar door beside me.
I realise it isn’t quite silent. Soft, wet sounds emanate from the room, a distinct dripping keeping time in the background. Ice floods my veins, the metronome pounding in my head as everything slows, two other noises creeping into my ears. The first is odd -  a low, animalistic grunting, guttural and inhuman, as if some great beast is sitting right behind the door. It sends a bolt of fear straight to my heart, though the hammer that really drives it home is the second sound: agonised whimpering. My daughter's agonised whimpering.
In a daze, I watch my hand find the doorknob. Sluggishly, I push against it, the door swinging into the dimly lit room, revealing the blinking Christmas lights and paper angels by the far window, the only decorations my daughter would allow us to put up. Even then, they’re pushed to one part of the space, where they’re inoffensive to her disdain of the holiday itself. Now, however, they’ve adopted a more grizzly addition to their supposed cheer.
Strung up with Christmas lights by her wrists and white as a ghost in the pale moonlight streaming past her from the window, is my daughter.
Her eyes stare fearfully at me, her round cheeks wet with tears and some other, thicker substance, her mousy-brown hair sticking to the combined fluids, giving her a bedraggled appearance. Violent tremors wrack her frail body, her small hands clenching in their festive constraints, grasping at anything that might free her from her gruesome entrapment. As I stare, I know her actions to be futile, the blood streaming from her torso and thighs clearly proving the damage to be done, no matter what she tries to do now. I can’t keep my eyes on her for long, my heart aching as my stomach turns, shame rising alongside my horror as I avert my gaze to the figure beside her.
My stomach drops as I instantly recognise the beastly face from the hideous masks propped up all around town, the very myth my daughter and wife have always laughed at standing before me now, its eyes glowing fiercely in the dark. In the flickering lights, I can just about make out the bared fangs framing the lolling, inhuman tongue, and its gnarled face, the heavy brow twisted into a leer I’ll never get out of my head. Great, curving horns sweep back out of its face, sitting comfortably above pointed ears that emerge from the thick coat of shaggy fur that covers its uncomfortably tall and mostly humanoid body. In one clawed hand, it holds a whip of sorts made up of many prongs, each dripping with blood now as it swings the weapon at its side, somehow in time with the tufted tail hanging behind it. 
A muffled cry pulls my gaze away from the creature for a split second, my widened eyes fixing briefly on a stained wicker basket by its side, the walls of which ripple every now and then, as if something is trying desperately to escape. Putting two and two together, I realise that that is indeed what the child inside is trying to do. 
Sickened, I turn back to the monster, only now realising that my wife has joined me. A scream chokes in the back of her throat, her distress as palpable as mine. I don’t spare her a glance as a coarse, gravelly voice suddenly resonates around the room, falling from the horrific jaws of the creature before us.
“She must learn her lesson.” Krampus growls, pulling the basket towards him and opening the lid, a cruel sneer contorting his lips, “All children must.”
He turns to me.
“You were aware this would happen.” 
I look away. He is right.
3 notes · View notes
Today is an important day for me as a woman in engineering.
On this day 33 years ago a man, who believed, that us women were getting too powerful and that "feminists destroyed his life" went into a mechanical engineering class at L'École Polytechnique in Montreal and k!lled 14 women, 14 more were severely injured.
He decided to k!ll them because they were simply women. Many of them were as old as I am now. They had their whole life in front of them and is was taken away from them. Today I want to remember their names:
Geneviève Bergeron
Hélène Colgan
Nathalie Croteau
Barbara Daigneault
Anne-Marie Edward
Maud Haviernick
Barbara-Maria Klucznick-Widajewicz
Maryse Laganière
Maryse Leclair
Anne-Marie Lemay
Sonia Pelletier
Michèle Richard
Annie St-Arneault
Annie Turcotte
🕯🖤
12 notes · View notes
trietfotolog · 6 months
Text
106 - Helsinki, Finland - 06 December 2023
Ruoholahti on Independence Day 2023
Tumblr media
View On WordPress
1 note · View note
Video
returned : ) 3330~ seen
0 notes
fuzzysparrow · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
0 notes
sketchy-noodles · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
The price of greed 💜
Tumblr media Tumblr media
569 notes · View notes
one-time-i-dreamt · 6 months
Text
I was at Disneyland, and I rode all of the wet rides without getting wet, only to get splashed by some dude jumping in a puddle, and I was like “ah man, and I was doing so well”, and this middle aged white guy came up to be and was like, “Hey man, it’s okay,” and told me, like, one of Jesus’s parables and I was like “Cool, but I don’t think you get that I’m annoyed at this very minor thing,” and then he winked at me and I woke up.
475 notes · View notes
loversmore · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“i believe in you so what’s left is for you to believe in yourself.” – han
for @hyunsung ♡
412 notes · View notes
geezerwench · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
Happy Saint Nicholas Day.
412 notes · View notes
geopsych · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Two more of the geese flying along the ridge toward the lake. 
3K notes · View notes
snowe-zolynn-rogers · 3 months
Text
Ruin: This is the worst outcome…
Kitten Solar: *wriggling and squeaking as he crawls onto Moon’s foot and wiggles for warmth*
Moon: One man’s worst case scenario is another man’s dream.
151 notes · View notes
rabbitcruiser · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Radio City Music Hall, “Showplace of the Nation”, opened in New York City on December 27, 1932.  
291 notes · View notes
10centjams · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
119 notes · View notes
Video
2580... it self destructed and autosaved :(((
0 notes