#bill your face!!!!!

[unsung-idiot]

way to ruin the mood

[king-candybug-backup]

More screenshots that killed me while working on that dumb disco stick memepost, but OH MY GOD, THIS ONE ESPECIALLY-

NEFARIOUS CREATURE

[angstflavoured]

crazy to me anyone out there atp thinks billford is just an opinion. like no this isnt the fandom shipping them and filling in blanks to make it make sense, it just... IS THERE. THEY WERE CANON. You dont have to like them, but they just are canon, it was romantic confirmed. And the fact people think there is any leeway--if Bill was a woman, you wouldnt even think twice. There would be absolutely no doubt in anyones mind that they were in love at one point. but bc theyre both dudes, its like "eh.. well you can INTERPRET it that way." NO??? HELLO??? no like oh my god, it was so romantic its insane. there were 500000 different clues and if youre still scratching your head and dont see it then i dont know what to fucking tell you dude. you might be just a liiiiittttllee homophobic. you dont have to ship them yourself, but dont just act like its not there jfc.

[knockknockwhosthereartistism]

Why dis 🤓 look so mad 😭😭😭

From Ch. 23 of this fic by @sapphosscribe

[formerquestionmarkmp]

Y’KNOW, DON’T THINK I EVER BOTHERED INTRODUCIN MYSELF TO THE MOM BEFORE. THIS SHOULD BE INTERESTING.

Drop dead in a ditch somewhere William Lucipher.

[mahou-no-momo]

Josh be lookin all submissive and breedable. Probably be whimpering and begging and shit.

That's all I gotta say. Y'all know that tiktok trend where the woman would try pushing her mans up on the counter to see his reaction? Oh, you know Josh would lose it. He would be like those men who're all sensitive acting all emasculated, "I'm not a faggot!" he'd scream, but would be blushing like hell because it kinda turned him on. Especially if you start teasing him. He'll get more mad. Just flirt tho, hard. He'll forget all about that fragile masculinity shit. Grab that pooch and tell him how cute he is.

[isabellaofparma]

cold case rewatch (5/∞)

1.07 -'A Time to Hate'

[toxintouch]

hii!! I just read cold spots and it was AMAZING!!! Im not sure if you wanted to continue the fic, but if you don’t mind could you continue with Veres part? I don’t know what you would write about but I just feel like that fic has so much potential to be a little 3 part series or something 🙏

<- Cold Spots TYSM ANON!! I put the Vere End at the beginning for ease of reading. For the sake of folks who would like to read this as a stand-alone... I think u can? With the knowledge that the premise of Cold Spots is that Mhin and MC/Sparrow went ghost hunting. Vere is said to have been responsible for a handful of local ghost stories, so…of course he makes some mischief.🦊 Also MC needs some Winter wear, stat.  A very light Possessive Vere warning in this btw, though perhaps in a roundabout way.  Plausible deniability is so important to him.

You putter around in your room at the Wet Wick as you go about your nightly routine. The occasional cheer or thud from below only accentuates your nervous energy, punctuating your reluctance to settle down and get into bed. You smooth the covers with your bandaged hands and fluff the pillow before extinguishing the lamplight. You tug the bedding up above your shoulders, fighting to get comfortable. As your eyelids finally start to droop, the flicker of a shadow catches your attention.   It dances and sways and bends and grows until suddenly it is right in front of you.  On top of you. Silken, blood red drips down onto your face, a knife gleam smile too close for comfort.  You breathe in a gasp, wondering if you should scream. “Vere, what–” “Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger lightly to your lips.  His breath is hot against your skin. “I only came to keep you warm, pet.”

Heat Signature

“Poor thing.” Vere purrs.  “Your lips are so cold.”  He leans ever closer, his mouth hot over yours–hovering.  His other hand reaches for your face as well, nails trailing against your cheek in a teasing caress.

You feel even the thought of being cold leave your body, replaced instead by the unusual thrill he commands, that strange enthralling sway.

That heat you’ve come to associate with Vere; sweet tendrils of want that nestle in your bloodstream.

You squirm a little, though you can’t move much with him looming over you.

(You should probably do more to protest his intrusion into your room, you think to yourself, though, the majority of you is–curious, daresay even far too eager to–)

“Whatever trouble did you get up to that left you in such a state?”

At this you scoff, tilting your head back into the pillow and effectively knocking Vere’s finger from your lips.  

“As if you don’t know,” you accuse.

Vere looks entirely unperturbed by you shaking him off, his lithe fingers traveling freely along the newly displayed skin of your throat, making your pulse jump.

Vere chuckles at that, dark and silky.

“Being tight lipped about your adventures, hm?”  He angles your face just so, ensuring you meet his sharp eyes, his nose brushing up against yours.  “Not that it matters.  It so happens I do know what you’ve been up to.  Trespassing in places that don’t belong to you.”

“...It was an abandoned building.  I don’t think it really belonged to anyone.”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Vere says, “everything in this city belongs to someone, darling.  You just don’t know what belongs to who yet.”  He peers down at you with laughter in his expression, though there's a distinct edge to it that you can't quite place.

“So, you're here because that building belongs to you...?”

“Hmm, amongst other things.  However shall I make you apologize to me for this most egregious offense?”  He asks airily, shifting until he’s beside you rather than perched over you, resting his cheek in his hand and letting his eyes slip closed. He's the absolute picture of unbothered leisure.  

(You’re not fooled–he’s simply waiting for you to let your guard down before he pounces.)

You open your mouth to deny any debts on your part (though, if your ghost hunting spot was indeed Vere’s hideout, you really do feel guilty) but Vere cuts you off before you can speak.

“Alas, I suppose it’s not mine anymore.  Within a week it will reek of wet dogs and cheap booze. It's a lost cause now that those drooling reprobates know it's inhabitable.  A pity.  By Eridia's standards it really was divine in its heyday.  Good wine, music, dancing.  There was this portrait artist who would paint the performances…”

His tone remains light as he reminisces.  But the look he pins you with is dangerous: his eyes gleaming bright, his canines bared in an irreverent grin.

“I had such hopes and dreams of reviving the place myself.  Some of the dances were very scandalous.  You never did share with me your stance on dancing, did you?”

You stumble out an approximate answer.  It’s…harmless information to give, isn’t it?

Though, judging by how pleased Vere looks, you wonder if you should have refused to say.  He looks positively wicked as he ponders your answer aloud.  “Oh, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of talents to share.  In another life, perhaps I'd have put you on stage.  Though, I admit.  I find myself partial to a private show.”

And–as expected–the moment you let your guard down, he's in your space again, crowding you.  Heat and proximity and the softest brush of his lips against yours, light enough to send a thrill down your spine, curiosity and a want so deep it surprises you.

“Well?”  He purrs.  “Care to audition?”

You can't hide behind the excuse of supernatural sway or charm or the thrall of hypnotic sunglo eyes.  It's not Vere's power that controls you. It's your own gnawing desire; starvation and longing that draws you to him despite all sense.

Kissing Vere is heady.  Dizzying.  

Kissing Vere is like being in conversation with Vere–a constant of giving and taking, being chased after and running to keep up.  It’s enticing and alluring and decadent and never quite enough, over too soon even as you feel yourself losing air, the rush of blood and sensation threatening to overwhelm you.

He gives a parting nip to your bottom lip as he pulls away.

Then another one, playful, to your jaw.

When he presses his face into the side of your neck, you expect him to bite again.

What you don’t expect is for him to nuzzle into you, inhaling deeply before heaving a great sigh, his tail flopping lazily to land across you with a thump.

He’s officious as he rearranges the covers, ensuring your arms are tucked carefully away from him before he’s willing to fully settle into the bedding, pulling the blankets up around the both of you like a den.  He hums something low in his chest as he tucks himself up alongside you, long tail curled around your waist. 

It’s rhythmic–

purring.

And it’s…soothing, actually.

The weight of him, the warmth.  The incessant lamplight of the Amaryllis District, shining ever present through your window, is dim–tolerable, even, courtesy of Vere's magnificent shadow manipulations and the blankets sheltering you. 

The constant noise seems to fade away as well, obscured by the sound of purring. “Falling asleep when you have me in your bed, pet?  You really do try your luck…”

[child-of-the-danube]

This was the most beautiful episode of a series I've seen in ages. I am amazed and absolutely heartbroken 💔💔

I knew my girl was on her way out, but her end was beyond beautiful. Having lived a life that was never your own, nothing you did or said changed what you saw, but your end being your own choice is pure poetry. Everyone else on the road had their power taken or blocked by something outside their control but Lilia's power was painful to the point that she decided to take it away herself. Feeling so powerless that you decide to MAKE yourself actually powerless to avoid any more hurt is such a gut wrenchingly hard decision. But imagine how terrifying spending half of your time unsure of where you are, if things are really happening or if you're just seeing something must have been. And on top of that, all people ever saw you as is a herald of death, or worse, they didn't see you at all. Nobody was there to share her fears and doubts, and neither to share any happiness that could have been. She was her own obstacle and what does she decide to do when clarity and confidence have finally returned to her? The one thing she was never able to do in centuries - save the ones she loves. And she does it by sacrificing herself.

And Death knew her. Rio knew who Lilia was from the start cause she watched her from the shadows. She watched her grow and learn and become a witch and most of all - survive. Keeping their true meeting for when it was time to stop running...

I'm going to cry myself to sleep tonight

And if you want to cry yourself to sleep tonight too (some more), go listen to Patti Lupone singing Stars and imagine it is Lilia...

[yourlowkeyidiot3]

The lack of media literalicy and victim blaming is really bad in this fandom when even the people who claim to love Ford so much are fucking victim blaming him

[caterpillarinacave]

Using the computer as a babysitter for Jed and Octavius is all fun and games until they figure out how to use Larry’s credit card

[rofax]

I took a piece of art from my journal like, 2 years ago, and re-did it digitally bc it has been feeling ESPECIALLY POIGNANT LATELY.

[widowshill]

— And do you or do you not have difficulty remembering such simple instructions? — Only during thunderstorms, sir.

THE SOUND OF MUSIC (1965) / DARK SHADOWS (1966)

[nulli-cat]

More stupid meme drawings

[krissistired]

uhhh happy late new years, here have some possessed Ford :DD

(I broke my right arm and was unable to draw for a few months)

EDIT: oops now he's killed a man. rip

[caswlw]

i’m just so devastated, exhausted, and emotionally drained. steve kornacki, thanks for your service. big fuck you to anyone who abstained, voted for trump, or voted third party.