#i had no goddamn time!!!!

[switch]

>become adult

>finally become comfortable with my sexuality and want to express it in art after years of repression

>christian interest groups immediately succeed in pressuring platforms and payment processors and now every website is in full on nannymode so you can’t post adult content anywhere but twitter because twitter gets slack on everything

>twitter also explodes

>

[anniilaugh]

”So.. somebody forgot to mention it’s their birthday, huh.” 💚💛

[beif0ngs]

GALAXY IMPACT🌌🌟💥

[s0fter-sin]

vampire au where they can only drink the blood type they were before they were turned. other blood has an almost poisonous effect, burning them from within like acid and drinking too much of it can kill them

in the old days, before the knowledge of blood types, it made humans they could feed on absolutely precious. they're kept safe, pampered and doted on; a vampire’s most prized possession

attacking another vampire's human is seen as the highest insult; not only is it a slight against them, it also carries the implication of "i want you to starve"

it's also used as the cruelest of punishments; starving a vampire for months, until they're feral with hunger just for their torturer to throw in a random human, watching them desperately suck down poison, their instincts begging them to keep drinking even as it kills them

ghost is one of the few who survived it; thrown in a pit so deep, he saw stars in the middle of the day, left with nothing but the dried bodies of the humans roba drained without care, others with their throats slit, blood he can't drink spilled out around them

a taunt of the one thing he needs but will never get

but ghost hasn't survived this long just to give up here

he refuses to die in this stinking, rotted pit

ghost is a force of nature as he descends over roba's manor; killing any who wander into his path until the halls run red. until he gets his hands on roba and tells him a secret:

vampires can feed on the blood of any vampire, regardless of blood type

it becomes a legend in vampire high society; if you starve another, you'd best make sure they actually die

otherwise you might end up piled in a dining room, the vampire you left for dead lounging on a throne of corpses with his fangs lodged in your throat

ghost decimates roba's empire, burning it to the ground until no one dares to speak his name in fear of incurring his wrath. it's incredibly taboo for a vampire to feed off another but ghost's too powerful for anyone to challenge him and the other vampires are too scared to try. scared of what he's willing to do, the lengths he'll go to; not that they'll ever admit it

soap is the first human he ever brings to court; delicately bathed in the finest silks and jewels, his throat always bare so he can show off ghost's ownership, his bite framed in lace

he's not like the delicate waifs the other vampires show off; he doesn't cling to his master, demure and submissive. he shows off his teeth as often as any vampire, fully willing to rip out the throats of any who insult him or ghost

a feral master needs a just as feral pet

[mediapen]

BITE THE HAND, PART ONE.

↳ CS55 ++ 'how to be a dog' by andrew kane ++ [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x]

[rubyglasses]

when lilia said, "i loved being a witch."

when jen said, "you hold nothing."

when billy said, "am i killing this boy so my brother can live?"

and when agatha said, "sometimes, boys die."

[d444lso]

since abduction magazine, vol. 23: formerly, grape

- magazine spread edited and interviewed by scarlett lankford - band photographed by india rivas

[hydrachea]

All of the quest menu descriptions for Aventurine's quest "All the Sad Tales".

(... And the one from "A Walk Among the Tombstones.)

[braisedhoney]

the fundamental problem

[show-us-kaidenshenandoah]

every time i watch anything with him in it (admittingly, predominantly from the Dropout app), i am reminded that Lou Wilson is the most handsome man to have ever lived. like, objectively. he just is. i will hear no arguments for any other person to be ranked higher. Lou Wilson: whose face single-handedly shows humanity can go no higher in beauty. he is THE most attractive man in the world. argue with the wall lmao

[turtletoads]

thinking about those cora lives aus but they never explain how he’s alive, so i always assume its this scenario

[clownowo]

a little bit obsessed with this guy

[marclef]

i went to Pride today, may have gotten a bit excited from all the different people and flags and stuff. so i drew some Fakes to get my excitement out hehe ✨

(he can change colors to match Peppino, so, who's to say this isn't an option as well?)

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 58

part 1 | part 57 | ao3

@steddie-island said i wasn't allowed to cut this lol. cw: angst, canon typical horror, mentions of minor character death

“Lucas called me a ghost today.”

Steve almost laughs, bitter and sharp. Sure. Why not? What’s one more ghost in his passenger seat?

He doesn't really want to talk to her right now, if he's honest. It's been fifteen minutes and she still hasn't apologized for trying to rob him, or explained where they're going, or what spooked her, or why this car ride was so urgent that he had to risk his job for it — a job he actually needs, considering his, well, everything. She's hardly said anything beyond the occasional "turn here" or "next left" while sulking with her forehead pressed against the window.

But he can tell she has something she needs to get off her chest, so he swallows his annoyance and offers, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she says back. Doesn't elaborate.

He gives her another minute to gather her words, watches her open and close her mouth a few times in his periphery, but nothing comes out. She scoffs at herself and abruptly changes the subject. “Eddie was being extra… well, extra today.”

“Was he?” Steve asks, his bones itching under his skin. He doesn't want to talk about Eddie. Doesn't want to think his name.

“Yeah, he, uh- he was kinda manic? He was, like, running all over the cafeteria and starting shit with Jason Carver...” And he's only half-listening, anger simmering as she goes on and on, because she promised that Dustin didn't put her up to this. Said that this wasn't some bullshit excuse to get him to talk about Eddie or hang out with Eddie or think about Eddie or kiss and make up with fucking Eddie, and now she's just talking about him, and it-

And it hurts; god, it still just hurts—

"....Then he started rambling about how he can’t wait to get the hell out of here when he graduates.”

Searing-stabbing-burning-sharp. Steve clutches at the flare of pain in his chest, the crushed soda-can feeling where his heart's supposed to be. His head pounds. He follows her next direction onto a winding, tree-lined road, the canopy suffocating overhead, and his skin feels too dry — too tight, too small, shrink-wrapping him inside of it, because he knows where they are now. Knows the tilt of the rusted lamp shade, the shape of the weather brick paths. He's tasted the metal tang of this stop sign in his nightmares.

Fuck. Fuck.

"Cool," he grits out as he drives through the cemetery gates. Past stone and wrought iron, past the empty central fountain. He hasn't been here since July. “Good for him.”

“Steve-"

“Why are you telling me this?" he snaps. He throws the car in park under an old oak and turns to glare at her, barking a frustrated, "Huh?"

Immediately, he feels bad for raising his voice. Feels even worse for the way she flinches away. The naked fear on her face, her hand reaching for the door. He takes a long, deep breath and lets it out slowly through his nose. “Sorry. Sorry. Just-" There's a leak inside him somewhere; some infected, gaping hole, and his stupid heart keeps pumping all his blood into the wound. "Why are you-?”

“Look,” she says sharply, "I know it sucks. To talk about him." She's staring at the rows of headstones up ahead, her face gone steely with determination, her shoulders squared, her big eyes wide and a little wet when she turns to meet his gaze. “But whatever you were— whatever happened, it just… it really messed him up.”

Good. "You sound like Dustin."

"Maybe Dustin had a point."

"Since when?"

She throws her hands up, nostrils flaring. "I'm trying to tell you that I think he still cares!"

“Yeah? He’s got a seriously fucked up way of showing it if so!”

“Yeah, well some of us don’t know how to show it!”

And oh.

Oh.

Silence blankets them like dust. Eyes locked; harsh breaths. This has nothing to do with him and Eddie, does it?

Lucas called me a ghost.

Steve sighs and slumps forward, his forearms on the wheel, his chin resting on his wrist. The late afternoon sun is warm through the glass, and his head gives another nasty throb as he looks out over the hill, at the polished stones glinting in the golden hour rays.

His dad is buried here.

A lot of people are.

“Hey,” he murmurs, rolling his neck to look at her. The skin under her eyes is red. "Sorry for yelling."

She sniffs quietly. "Me, too."

He reaches over and gives her hand a quick squeeze, keeping his voice low and gentle. "You know you can just talk to me, right? Max, talk to me. Please.”

Her bottom lip quivers. “It’s nothing, okay?” She sinks down in her seat, crossing her arms to shield herself. “Shit’s just been… it’s just been weird all week. Like- like bad weird, and I don't know if I'm just going crazy, or— I mean, maybe Ms. Kelley's right, maybe's it's just— but it feels like…”

"Like what?"

She holds a hand out flat in front of her; flips her wrist over slowly so her palm faces the sky.

Steve's blood runs cold. He thinks of his own nightmares: the weird visions, the headaches, the persistent haunted feeling.

"I don't know anything for sure," she insists, rushing to reassure him before he can fully start to panic. "Seriously, don't freak out; I haven't, like, seen any gates or anything, it's just— bad dreams. Nose bleeds. I don't know." She hoists her backpack onto her shoulder. "I thought coming here might help."

He catches her by the arm, raking his eyes over her face, looking for any signs of danger. "Is there anything I can do?"

She shakes her head no and tugs free of his grip, and then she's slipping out of the car, letting the door fall shut behind her, and Steve watches her crest the hill while sirens wail inside his head.

—

part 59

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[arom-antix]

And so @viktuuri-week starts!

Day 1: Music

I was in one hell of a time crunch to make all the illustrations because I procrastinated UuU But I took most of these works as opportunities to experiment a bit with some ideas so I had fun.

Credit to TheMoonChild on Musescore.com for the arrangement of Yuri On Ice used.

[worldwright]

It's the "repeat after me" that always gets me.

The silent, invisible struggle is over. Jon has tried and failed to stop himself from speaking. He has turned the page and his voice is steady and expressive. His voice is Jonah's.

Was there ever a fight at all? Jon has always followed the path Jonah laid out for him. Or was that a lie Jonah told to make his victory seem unilateral? Regardless, the eye's weapon is information, and Jonah wields it with precision and uncompromising force. He always has. And now his favorite plaything is finally ready to serve its purpose.

In some ways, Jonah made a gamble by tossing his statement in the stack randomly. If Martin had seen it before Jon, then they would have known his plan and been much more wary of any future attempt he made. But his calculation was sound. Martin had no real reason to look over the statements, and Jonah knew that his Archivist liked to read them in private.

It's one thing for him to gloat. Villains like to have their little monologue, and an avatar of Beholding especially so. But dragging his confession out of the throat of the one he abused?

He chose Jon as Archivist. He made sure that he went far enough down the path that he wouldn't be able to stop. He made sure that every word out of Jon's mouth sounded uncannily like Jonah's own voice.

But even that wasn't enough. All he really had to do was put his little incantation on the second page and he would have won. But he wanted Jon to know what was happening, and why, and how. And that he never could have stopped it. And after all that:

"Repeat after me."

Jonah had never seen Jon as a person, that had been obvious for a long time. Even so, he had great affection for him. Enough to apply his twisted love to one final act of exquisite cruelty.