#Preacher Woods

[suicidetwo-tone]

[all-yourn]

♡AMERICAN TEENAGER♡

[souplover-69]

the fire place in a cabin built in the 1820s

[kaansasblues]

you wanted me sadder

[lulu2992]

🤔🤔🤔

Sources: Seed brothers - Ben Foster & Chris Pine

Wait, something’s not right. Let me quickly edit this...

Aaah, it’s better!

Sources: Dominic Cooper - Chris Pine

[rottendust]

Don’t go into the woods at night ;))

[toniodarling]

I need more IDV angst artists/editors to discover Ethel Cain

THIS IS PERFECT FOR ADAMIL

Being completely honest, I don’t know much of Ann’s lore BUT THIS ALWAYS MAKES ME THINK OF HER

WU CHANG.

IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT OF EMMA

THERE’S SO MUCH MORE TOO

[motelpearl]

[robbietography]

Georgia

[thedepartmentofdiscoveries]

Salome with the Head of Saint John the Baptist

Andrea Solario (Italian, Milan ca. 1465–1524 Milan)

ca. 1507–9

Medium: Oil on wood

Dimensions: 22 1/2 x 18 1/2 in. (57.2 x 47 cm)

At a fateful banquet, Salome was granted one wish by her stepfather, King Herod. Stunningly, she asked for the head of John the Baptist on a platter because he opposed her mother’s marriage to the king. Solario’s unusual composition includes only the hand of the executioner, de-emphasizing his role in the gruesome scene and placing the blame (literally and figuratively) in Salome’s hands. Solario’s style was shaped by his travels. In Venice he encountered Netherlandish influences that were popular in the city. In Milan he was inspired by Leonardo da Vinci’s naturalism and delicate treatment of light. Solario executed this picture in France at the castle of Cardinal Georges d’Amboise, where he worked alongside French and Italian architects and sculptors.

[mylilgibsongirl]

a few of my favorite pictures i've found + taken ♡

[mintygreencake]

Fuck it, showing my Dnd OCs because my campaign is coming up again and I adore these two

[likesthemoon]

Shoutout to ethel cain for aestheticizing wood paneling fr

[dirtylace]

take me back to last summer

[riverrunscold]

🏳️‍🌈 ✏️ 🎵 🔮 !

🏳️‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community?

Yes! I'm a bisexual trans guy! If I'm being more technical, demisexual biromantic nonbinary trans guy.

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction?

Oh absolutely! I've written fanfic since I was in middle school. I started on fanfic.net with writing a self insert x Frodo fic. Forgot about it after I got embarrassed by it and stopped writing fic for a hot second. I wrote stuff for Fear the Walking Dead, a Preacher and Harley Quinn crossover I never published, then The Quarry. I haven't written one in a while, I'm hoping to write some for the pride month challenge, though!

🎵 Last song you listened to?

Hard Times by Paramore

🔮 What’s your dream job?

Probably a writer. I'd love to make comics, too! But writing in general is something I want to do for a living.

[yeyinde]

preacher's daughter (Ethel Cain inspired) and biker Ghost would go so hard. all that corruption, religious trauma/catholic guilt, and small town gothic misery, you know?

sheltered daughter meets violence personified. the devil and the sacrificial lamb. you meet him when you wander up to the motorcycle club on the outskirts of town with a pamphlet about salvation clutched in your trembling hands. he leans his big, intimidating frame against the door jamb, and with his arms crossed over his broad chest, says must be good on your knees, aren't you, birdie?

(you answer with an earnest yes, sir, i worship on my knees everyday and pretend the heat that flares in your belly when he groans is from the too-hot sun; the first of many sins.)

later that evening, your daddy tells you that he's an honest and good man, but sometimes he prays that God strikes that vile place right down. you bite your tongue and nod, but sneak out at night and meet him there where you slip into silk lingerie and dance on stage just for him. he tells every man there that if he catches them staring at you, he'll stab them in the eyes, and you think it's the most romantic thing you'd ever heard.

it's love letters carved into the sunbleached bones of a half-submerged deer left to rot in the stagnant bog just outside of the abandoned white chapel. something watches you from the dark stained glass windows as he runs his tattooed fingers over your skin, leaving smears of gunpowder and soot.

(someone set the old man's car on fire—the who leered at you while you stood in the choir, wearing your lily white dress and sang glory be while you tried to forget what those tattooed hands felt like when they slipped under your skirt and between your thighs.

the old man was still inside—)

they call him a ghost. a demon. you call him Simon and daydream during bible study that you'll run away together. hop on the back of his old Harley and forget this place ever existed.

a daydream that quickly turns into a nightmare when your sordid relationship comes to light, and your daddy threatens to have him locked away for good. there's a gun in the safe upstairs. you think about the time Simon dragged you into the woods to shoot at cans and lose your faith under the sweltering sun when you pull the trigger.

"for us," you tell him, breathing in the dank church air ripe with sin and the stench of blood. "i did it for us."

it's leaning on the back of his Harley with your fingers threaded around his thick waist as the town grows smaller and smaller in the distance. staring up at the endless blue sky and grinning wide because you finally got your monster of a man wrapped around your finger.

(and all it took was a little deal made with the thing that lives in the abandoned church.)