#brpd

Dark Horse is celebrating Hellboy's 30th anniversary with a deluxe figure. Sculpted by George Helmick and Mike Bonanno and painted by Hector Arce, the soft vinyl and PVC figure stands 12.5" tall (15" with crown) on a 6.25" wide base.

It comes with attachable Tam O'Clannie corpse, removable BPRD shirt, alternate head with horns and crown, alternate left hand with pistol, empty holster, holstered pistol, Excalibur sword in skull, and two skulls.

Priced at $149.99, Big Red is expected to ship in September-November.

thank you so much for your submission! it really means a lot! ♡ i am so over the moon happy that someone requested hellboy,, i hope i do him enough justice in this!! ・・・・・ inbox open ⟶ ♡ ・・・・・ decided to do headcanons and a little blurb! ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

➤ most people see the cigar, the scowl, the big gun. but those who know him see the guy who rescues stray cats from alleys, quotes comic books mid-battle, and keeps trinkets from every mission like a sentimental magpie ➤ he watches people carefully around them, but he trusts them implicitly. he’s just... wary. he’s seen too much to not keep his guard up. but with them, he lets it down a little more each day ➤ hand holding? absolutely. leaning on him while watching tv? always. his favorite. he’ll pretend to grumble about it, but he melts every time ➤ his tail has a mind of its own. it wraps around their leg when they’re standing too close. it taps against the floor when he’s impatient or flustered. once it knocked over a lamp during a kiss. he blamed it on the wind ➤ not always great at words, but he’ll show love through actions: fixing their gear, bringing them back weird little souvenirs, or holding them all night after a hard day. “i’m not good at this stuff,” he’ll mutter, but he tries. and it means the world ➤ loves being fussed over. even if he won’t admit it. they clean his cuts, smooth his hair back, rub his shoulder with balm. he closes his eyes and leans into it with a heavy, grateful sigh. it's the kind of tenderness he never thought he’d get to have ➤ absolutely treasures little domestic moments. grocery shopping. watching old movies. folding laundry side by side. those quiet, human things he never thought he’d have a place in — he cherishes every one of them. ➤ keeps photos of them tucked into his locker or coat. grainy polaroids, blurry selfies, a picture they drew him as a joke — he treats it all like treasure

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

the mission had ended hours ago, but the adrenaline always lingered in his bones like smoke in fabric — hard to shake. his coat was hanging over the back of the couch, boots kicked off and forgotten, one arm draped lazily around them as they nestled into his side.

the apartment was dim, just the low hum of the TV playing reruns they weren’t watching, and the soft sound of their fingers tracing slow circles over his chest. the contact made him feel like something real. something grounded.

they looked up at him with that gaze again — the one that always knocked the air clean out of his lungs. full of warmth and awe, like he was something sacred. like they still couldn’t believe he was theirs.

“what?” he asked, voice low and gravelly.

they smiled. “just looking at you.”

he snorted. “you do that a lot.”

“can you blame me?”

He didn’t answer — just leaned down and kissed the top of their head, his hand curling gently around theirs. he was still getting used to it. to being looked at like this. touched like this. loved like this.

he didn’t say I love you often — not because he didn’t feel it, but because it scared him, how much he did. but in the quiet way he held them closer, the kiss pressed to their temple, the way he exhaled like he could finally breathe again — it was all there. every bit of it.

ANUNG UN RAMA