#he makes me so !!!!!

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

Lovers' fevers.

Quick summary: Rust tries to overcome the night you spent together.

Word count: 655 words

Warnings: Mentions of smut; don't chain-smoke???

A/N: Last drabble before I actually commit to a longer story. Read context for this (and eventually that) here!

***

To remove himself from his tendency to think and think and think, Rust smoked, slumped over the wiry railing of the upper balcony outside his place. His first instinct had been to drink, of course—but, once he had opened the fridge, he was consumed by the image of your fingers curled pretty over the neck of the Corona he really shouldn’t have given you. 

So far, he had made his way through half a pack, sucking down smoke as if he’d be nearly as lucky enough to be granted his silent death wish. At least, then, his skin would stop buzzing like a halogen bulb, give way to true silence. 

It was evil, really: if there existed a God, He sure loved violence. Rust would’ve loved to blame it on external possession: it had not been him reduced to an animal, really, but something other, and that something had touched and been touched and had indulged in that pointless hunger. Selfish. 

He shuddered quietly at the memory, which pulsed thickly, rhythmically, just behind his eyes, an all-consuming vibration. Half-convinced that there was something supernatural about your touch, Rust hastily lit another cigarette, crushing the previous beneath his matted work shoes, counting on the habit to numb this inconvenient distraction. His skin was thick. So thick, in fact, that there were times where Rust felt it was really a suit, some aspect he could step out of and inspect for maintenance. No sensation, no pain, could ever compare to the fact-based knowledge that everything happens in the head. Manage the mind; manage the self. The mind outlasted the self. Nostrils burning, eyes blown wide, Rust would tell that to Crash before receding, so that his brain would not leak from his ears. It usually worked. Here, he felt acutely aware of every temperature shift, every varying texture upon his skin, writhing secretly with near overstimulation.

Still, you remained, like a ghost. He dragged a hand across his face, like he might manually remove the anguish there. 

He should’ve liked to blame you. Temptress, Eve in the garden. Only, in what world would that ever be fair? Rust only existed to deliver what was fair, what was just. He refused to align with the supposed blameless. Marty considered himself blameless, and some unmanaged part of Rust loathed him for it, itched to apprehend him.

Rust was not blameless �� far from it. Every bad thing that happened to him, he knew he deserved. Call it karma. Nature carried out its dues – why shouldn’t he?

You had smelled so fresh. 

You were trying to quit – he had almost felt guilty, smoking so openly in front of you. Then too, it had been a last-line defence against the craving that only grew every time he allowed himself to look at you, that gnawed and tore at his gut when your tired voice had quietened to a low drawl. You: threat to his realm, soft, wanting. When you had opened yourself to him, took him in deep, you were close and warm and wet – Rust would have liked to have blamed it on his programming, the way he responded. He knew, though, that it was just him.

He would not sleep tonight, he understood. He would not even approach his bed. The whole place still smelled like you, even though the linens had been to the laundromat’s, even though he had had the windows cracked open to Louisiana’s summer heat every night since. 

Maybe Rust would drive to a bar. Maybe he would stop at a gas station, stock up on Camel Blues. Then, he would shower. In the morning, he would shower again, knowing that, in any proximity at work, he could risk weakening your resilience to quit with the cigarette smoke that seemed infused into his very being. Or perhaps he would let you be tempted by this – perhaps you would then understand what was happening to him. 

[rrylies]

was feeling good and then i remembered altans last words were centered around finally getting his vengeance

[pepteezer]

a sketch i did of evil peppino in attempt to break out of art block (with two expressions bc both were just so good)

[internalchickens]

Every time I think of John I cry a little

[strnza]

🩸  THE  VAMPIRE  OMAR,    info.

opportunistic,  power  and  fame-hungry  at  any  and  all  costs.  the  true  paramount  of  all  narcissism,  omar  puts  his  own  desire  for  success  and  worship  above  all  others.

born  in  egypt  in  the  early  1500s  -  turned  willingly  by  another  grand,  old  vampire  around  the  year  1530  (during  the  early  days  of  the  ottoman  empire  in  egypt).  omar  was  promised  wealth,  good  standing  and  all  the  riches  he  could  ever  imagine  by  his  maker,  easily  seduced  into  joining  his  coven  of  other  beautiful,  powerful  vampires  -  with  no  hesitation,  omar  accepted,  eager  to  live  up  to  what  he  believed  to  be  a  life  destined  for  greatness.

even  during  his  mortal  life,  omar  found  himself  drawn  to  the  finer  things  -  to  the  ideologies  of  worship,  of  gods,  of  altars  and  those  who  came  to  devote  themselves  to  something  higher  than  themselves.  he  thought  highly  of  himself  as  he  grew  up,  his  looks  and  marble-etched  physique  garnering  him  positive  attention  from  men  and  women  below  and  above  his  status.  every  opportunity  to  escalate  himself  through  the  rungs  of  society,  he  took.  power  was  his  drug  of  choice.

in  truth,  omar  lacks  genuine  ambition  for  anything  besides  notoriety.  there  are  no  skills  that  he  enjoys,  no  hobbies  that  he  excels  in,  no  talents  to  speak  of  besides  the  things  that  he  has  learned  to  earn  the  adoration  of  others.  he  is  a  master  manipulator,  someone  who  easily  masks  his  intentions  in  a  crowd  and  still  manages  to  usurp  and  harness  the  end  result  of  whatever  it  is  he  wants  in  that  moment.  his  soul  is  a  dark,  murky  abyss,  ever-hungry  for  love,  attention  and  approval  in  any  and  every  form  he  can  obtain  it.

he  has  sired  many  vampires  by  his  own  hand,  all  exclusively  for  his  own  benefit  -  unfortunate  souls  manipulated  by  his  greed  to  benefit  him  and  him  only.  other  aspirational  humans  who  hold  more  genuine  talent  than  omar,  willingly  and  unwillingly  turned  by  the  elder  vampire  who  believed  that  he  could  gleam  their  talents,  notoriety  and  fame  for  himself  -  attach  himself  and  leech  off  of  what  they  possess  that  he  does  not.  those  who  resist  him  perish  at  his  hands.  those  who  fail  in  giving  him  what  he  wants  perish  at  his  hands.  only  a  handful  of  his  progeny  survive,  usually  by  hiding  from  their  maker  until  he  grows  bored  and  delves  into  another  unwilling  escapade.

omar  alienates  himself  from  his  maker  and  his  coven  in  the  late  1700s,  believing  that  they  are  inhibiting  his  full  potential  for  greatness  -  beginning  to  roam  the  earth  as  an  independent,  stronghold  vampire.

from  the  1800s  onward,  omar’s  penchant  for  success  and  worship  takes  a  nosedive  -  he  seems  to  be  followed  by  a  black  cloud  of  bad  luck,  overshadowing  his  every  attempt  at  regaining  his  societal  and  social  status  of  a  high-rise  life,  praised  by  others  who  know  no  better.  call  it  karma  or  fate,  but  some  unforeseen  obstacle  always  seems  to  get  in  his  way:  this  only  furthers  his  desperate  determination  to  rise  in  the  ranks  of  being  an  abhorrently  powerful  vampire.

🥀    OMAR  +  ELIZA:      omar,  like  much  of  the  rest  of  the  world,  finds  himself  beguiled  by  the  international  rockstar  sensation,  eliza  kardel.  he  watches  her  debut  onto  the  bursting  new  music  scene  from  her  early  career  in  the  1960s,  soon  recognizing  the  force  of  nature  she’ll  be  and  the  droves  of  fans  that  flock  to  her  very  existence.

for  all  intents  and  purposes,  eliza  is  the  very  opposite  of  omar  -  catapulted  into  fame  when  her  desire  was  to  be  anything  but.  he  spends  years  stalking  her  career,  her  team,  her  life  -  waiting  until  the  pinpointed  moment  at  the  height  of  her  fame  to  insert  himself  into  her  daily  practices.  he  bribes  and  schmoozes  her  management  team,  playing  off  the  act  of  being  nothing  but  an  unimaginably  wealthy  fan  of  hers.  eliza  accepts  that  as  the  reality,  viewing  omar  as  no  threat  until  he  forcibly  turns  her,  toppling  her  life  as  she  knows  it  upside  down.

omar  attempts  to  use  his  charm,  manipulation  and  wit  to  bend  eliza  to  his  will  -  bring  him  into  the  folds  of  her  fame  and  success.  make  him  a  household  name,  too,  bring  him  on  tour,  allow  the  masses  to  see  her  alongside  him  and  they  will  love  me,  too.  eliza  resents  him,  shields  herself  from  him,  hides  from  him  and  resents  what  he  has  turned  her  into.  upon  seeing  that  she  will  not  be  swayed  to  his  desires  any  time  soon,  he  abandons  his  fledgling  without  so  much  as  an  explanation  on  her  newfound  nature.

with  time  and  neglect,  he  believes  that  eliza  will  come  crawling  back  to  him,  have  no  choice  but  to  accept  him  and  his  desires.  eliza  would  rather  kill  her  maker  or  die  trying.

[agapintheskin]

..see him face

[wordswhisperinthedark]

Sakata Gintoki, chained by promises to protect, burdened by his failures to do so

*head in hands*

[forflightlessbirds]

okay yes i said i was going to do an intro but i must thought stew

is this blog going to turn into a bf appreciation blog WHAT no crazy anyway

i look at him as he's talking about something i don't know anything about and his eyes are so bright with unabashed passion and suddenly my future is film reel and in each frame i am finally the lead role and he is the camera and he is the constant of time passing and the flickering between frames and we are both sat in the audience as our hands brush one another's and in his eyes i find starlit solace as they crinkle up as he smiles and that dimple in his left cheek is there again and his hair is in the light and this is love in a moment and it will all be over soon so that it can happen again

sorry moots who followed me for go or tma i do this shit on the daily time for a cup of tea and a lie down in the grass

[burrythebusy]

A little hirano pose for an au I'm working on

[ginyia]

my thought process while playing Ace Attorney: Dual Destinies (Turnabout for Tomorrow)

I definitely see the potential in this case and I appreciate how the writers managed to string clues to this case throughout the game. However I find many issues with the way capcom-

omg miles edgeworth (*^.^*) <3 <3

[nxuvillette]

im writing dr ratio porn hehe

[yusuke-of-valla]

I need to make coherent thoughts about Yusuke's definition of love being "giving affection for nothing in return" because ooougggUGGIJFNFH

[vader-anakin]

Andrew Garfield talks to Elmo about grief and the passing of his mother

[yujateaandpi]

y’all just— thinking about how excited Stanley must have been to host the twins— Alex says he smokes cigars but he doesn’t smoke once in the show— has a beer gut but he only drinks sodas in front of the kids— doesn’t swear when they’re around which must have taken INCREDIBLE effort— Stanley Pines, known crook, buying pancake mix at the supermarket and many bottles of syrup— learning to cook basic healthy meals and burning so many of them before he gets it right— buying new sheets, new mattresses— avoiding bunk beds because it reminds him of Ford— looking at the attic room he made wondering “is this enough will they like me”— trying to act aloof at the bus stop so he doesn’t betray the fact that he was there hours early— watching them goof around and thinking of New Jersey beaches— then the first night they’re there, he watches them debate running away and only stay because Mabel shook a magic 8 ball. That must have kept him awake all night.

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[chloesimaginationthings]

Doey from poppy playtime met someone like him!