#sorry i was inspired by the poll

[dogboymutual]

the sun demands blood.

you are a young child, and you haven't yet learned what the sun could do to a naive heart like yours. you go outside to play on a warm summer's day, like many children your age do. your parents watch from the shade of the porch with tense, forced smiles as you splash around in the sprinklers. your skin is covered with a light sheen of the water that has long since rolled off your body. after a while, your parents hear a cry. they have to look after your baby sibling, so they call out for you to come back inside, or at the very least, stand on the porch.

you do not. you roll your eyes. your parents have always been overprotective of you, from the moment you were born. you never understood why they worried about you so much when you went outside. even just on the trip to school, they would make sure to send you with a jacket and a hat. your running has caught up to you, and you grow tired. you yawn, laying down in the misted grass for a moment.

when you wake up, it's to the panicked sounds of your parents and a gentle shove to get you onto your side. you are carried into your house, your eyes wide as you try and ask them what's wrong. you try to reach for them, but your skin burns. you bring your arm within eyesight, and it is scalded red. the next few days pass, your skin shedding off of you to reveal similarly red, raw skin beneath.

.

you are a young adult, and you've turned out to be a good person, as far as you're aware. you're crossing the street one day on your commute to work. you've managed to increase your pace so that it only takes 10 minutes to walk from your home to your office and back, something you've become incredibly proud of over the 3 years you've worked there. you pass an alleyway and through the darkness of the sunglasses you've made a habit of wearing, you manage to spot an altercation.

you always knew your manager had a problem with gambling, but you had no idea he was in this much trouble with local criminals. your mind races as you debate whether it's worth it to try to intervene, but the sudden glint of a blade within the high sunlight freezes you in place.

your body is paralyzed with fear as you watch the red blossom from his white dress shirt -- once, twice, thrice, even more times than you would like to count. the jacket he had been wearing has new holes in it, slowly blooming with blood stains as well, after a while. you're lucky that the criminal didn't manage to see you, because after he's certain that his victim is dead, he runs further down the alley and out of sight.

you race forward before your mind can even think to, hoping that maybe, somehow, he's not dead yet. you could be a hero, a guardian angel, someone worthy of praise and adoration, or at least a 20% raise.

but your heart sinks as reality slowly begins to dawn on you. there was no way you could have saved this man. he was destined to die here. his choices led him to this fate, and had you tried to help him, your choice would have led you to yours.

you unwittingly reach down and touch the blood on the pavement with one hand while the other tries to dial emergency services with shaking fingers.

the blood is searing hot, almost like molten lava.

once you get out of the alleyway and into the direct sunlight again, you can swear it almost feels brighter outside. you look up and even through your sunglasses, the sun's light sears into your vision.

when you return on your way back home, there's nothing left but a puddle of red and a bit of the viscera that his attacker had managed to pull out with his knife. it sticks to the cement like a promise.

.

you are well into your adult years now and you've been lucky enough to have never experienced anything of that nature again.

it's nighttime, and you've had a long day of paperwork at the office. it's tough being a manager, especially nowadays being short-staffed. the world around you is getting warmer, the light is almost unbearable some days. normally, you can get by with a hat, some sunglasses and an outfit that covers most of your skin, but sometimes you even wear gloves to the office, just to protect the feeling of your hands searing in the unforgiving heat.

you haven't slept much since witnessing your former manager's brutal death. every time you try and close your eyes, it's like his corpse reappears and tries to take you with it. you shake hands with business partners and sometimes you can still feel the scorch of his blood beneath your fingertips.

your eyes are closed and your mind is somewhere dark when you suddenly feel a pair of eyes on your back.

you turn around, and there, in the darkness of the moonlight, is a tall, thin woman with long legs, burning red eyes and ebony hair cut bluntly to her chin.

"hello, stranger," she says with a smile that's not quite comforting enough to keep it from being unsettling.

your throat is dry and you cough before responding. "h-hello." you've always been a polite person -- your parents raised you that way.

she takes a step closer, the heel of her boot clacking against the dark pavement below. "what's a person like you doing out so late? don't you know it's past daylight?"

you want to answer, but she continues, taking another step forward. "you look classy, probably have a nice job somewhere, right? who'd you have to kill to get that position?"

your eyes widen. you instinctively try to take a step back from her, but something about her blood-red gaze keeps you standing still. it's like you're watching him die all over again.

she steps forward once more, only a step or two away from you now. at least, in terms of her strides. "i think you deserve a warning. after all, only bad things crawl around at night."

you can't remember her taking the last stride towards you. all you can remember is waking up later in your home, wearing your jacket, gloves, and sunglasses in your bed.

you hadn't put them back on for the walk home, though.

.

you are still an adult, going through the routine of your weekday mornings. you wake up, take a shower, brush your teeth, get dressed, have breakfast, and then head to work. same old thing, every time.

you don't usually look in the mirror -- you've developed a phobia of seeing yourself red and burned from the sunlight, ever since the horrible burns you received when you were a kid.

breakfast tastes awful, like ash in your mouth. you check the expiration date on everything, but it's all still supposedly good. you decide that maybe you're just growing out of the same breakfast foods and want something new. you resolve to go to the grocery store and buy some new things after work.

your last good jacket was the one you somehow wore to sleep last night, and you'd rather not dig up any of your other dirty laundry. you decide that maybe once, it's okay to go without it this time.

the moment you step outside, there is searing pain everywhere. it feels like you're being sunburned again, only much worse.

there is the same feeling of lava beneath your fingertips.

you look up and feel yourself losing your vision to the unyielding whiteness of the sun's light.

as you feel yourself nearly burning to death, you hear a familiar voice. the woman from last night.

she whispers in your mind, almost, "i apologize for not telling you in advance, but the moment you go out at night, you're doomed to it. after all, only bad things come out at night."

you splutter through melting vocal cords, what is still left of your fingers reaching to your throat and feeling it give way beneath your touch.

she continues, "you see, our kind has made a pact. we keep our immortality as long as we sacrifice enough people to satiate our god. we find who we can, glamour them into a trance, initiate them, and then they can't remember what happened, so they happen to wither away under the all-seeing light."

your jaw breaks off, knees buckling and sticking to the concrete beneath you. you are turning into a searing red puddle, just like him.

"and if they happen to not go out within the next 24 hours and solidify themselves as our kind, well... we get creative with the ways we sacrifice them. silver, dismemberment, things of that nature."

you can still feel yourself burning, despite your existence as a mess on the sidewalk.

"you were somehow even easier to get to than your friend was all those years ago. you should have known, given the fear you have. i mean, you quite literally watched the man die and begin to melt. you must either be brave or foolish."

there must be something you can do, but your body is frozen, searing in pain.

"i suppose your thoughts answer my question. well, the good news is that you'll be able to sustain our god for quite a while, young one. the bad news is that you will still feel your death until your existence finally fades, once God has had its fill of you."

if you had any way to express yourself, you would be in sheer horror.

she giggles, and the last thing you hear until your existential nightmare is finally, mercifully over, is her whispering to you --

"the sun demands blood."

Please reblog, I’m trying to make up a god

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

There's nothing he can't do. Yet.

(Thank you to everyone who participated in the poll!)

[sasanka-27]

The oil under Impala mystery 🔍✨

(Inspired by the lady with expert wife tips from tiktok)

[queenlucythevaliant]

Okay gang, here's a silly little game. I've assembled six teams of blended Narnia and Tolkien/LotR characters. Here they are:

For bonus points, tell me in the tags where you're going on your road trip, who has what role (driving, snacks, aux) on the road, and what you'll stop off and see along the way

[castielsparkle]

Hey. remember how its canonical that sam prayed every night as a kid

[ladychandraofthemoone]

Some old narrow gauge Nia doodles I’ve done over the past month, Nia’s livery was inspired by 🌺mrterrier673🌺 on Twitter

Saw some edits of Nia with glasses and I fell in love we need more engines with accessories

Some pannier shaped siblings, they met pre-msr days (they didn’t come in the same time)but were very happy to reunite with one another in the msr then in the Skarloey Railway 😊☺️

Their sibling friendship/relationship is like alastor and Rosie or Mary and jack, Nia didn’t care about Stanley’s “jinx” and defended him whenever he got bullied, she’s one of the very few folks who can make Stanley genuinely happy and do things like singing much to his colleagues surprise (also livery inspiration for one another♥️❤️🧡💜💛🖤)

[llumimoon]

VOTE FOR TAYLOR AND I WILL DRAW FOR YOU

hi there. my name is Cal and despite already being knees deep in requests i WILL draw you a quick doodle of any character or oc of your choice if you can send me an ask showing me proof that you voted for Taylor DNDADS Swift in the alloaro showdown!! (he is unrelated to the singer of the same name)

HERE R SOME EXAMPLES OF MY ART:

THERE IS ONLY ONE DAY LEFT IN THE POLL!!!

VOTE FOR TAYLOR NOW! TURN THE ODDS!

@alloarocharactershowdown

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

listen to the silm power metal album Right Now

[naturalkillercyborg]

Literally just learned these were a thing so

If you know don't spoil the fun + maybe reblog. Especially if you're not a Mother fan

[art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament]

Stats Part 3

Now that Round 3 is over, we're down to 32 (well, 33) remaining artworks which feels about time to check in on how our statistics are doing!

And if you're not interested in statistics, I (Mod Salix) wanted to talk about the polls. You may have noticed that I've been trying to keep to 4 polls a day, which would mean that Round 4 is only going to be 4 days, and Round 5 would post everything in two days. Starting in Round 6, we'll probably re-institute week long polls. Hopefully none of us will lose track of what day to post the next round!

We have 20 artworks by male artists, 10 by female artists, and 4 by groups or unknowable entities! And of those, one person is Black, two are Aboriginal (one of whom is Mestizo and Kichwa, the other of whom is Aboriginal Australian), one is Asian-American (and two are Chinese living in China as opposed to living somewhere they're a minority), and one is Indian-British. And also three are left from gay men about the AIDS crisis, in addition to the AIDS memorial quilt, and one lesbian comic.

There are six American artists (including the Asian-American mentioned above), and three Chinese artists (including the Asian-American mentioned above), as well as three Russians (including Ilya Repin, who was born in the future Ukraine and lived near St. Petersburg), technically two different pieces by the same Dutch artist (hi van Gogh), and one each from Argentina, Serbia, Ecuador, Colombia, Canada, Italy, Northern Ireland, Poland, Australia, Finland, Germany, France, and Britain. And one artist I have listed as Denmark/Germany/France, because August Friedrich Schenck was born in a place that was Denmark at the time, Germany now, and worked mostly in France.

Of the pieces with known locations, eight are in the United States (four specifically in New York), two each in Australia and Russia, and one each in Argentina, Finland, Italy, Ireland, the Netherlands, Poland and one in a private collection.

There are two archaic pieces of art, Judith is our last standing piece from anything between archaic and 1843, 8 pieces of art from the 1800s, although five are from 1878 to 1896, one from 1903, two from the 70s or 80s, 5 from the 90s, four from the 00s, four from the span of 2014 to 2016, and three from the last two years. And two unknown dates and the AIDS memorial quilt which is still being added to.

There are 15 paintings, 7 installation arts, one comic, one photograph, one cave art, one sketch, one tattoo, and one fiber art slash installation. And the most common subject of the art are five queer related art pieces, although I have four each I summed up as either horror or grief/anguish.

And, lastly, someone sent in an ask in like Round 1 asking about statistics regarding whether being in first or second place in the poll biased anything. I'm not actually a statistician, so I can't answer that question, but I did compile the numbers of how many first-positioned vs second-positioned arts won! Surprisingly, Round 1 had 64 firsts to 63 seconds (and one tie), Round 2 had 29 to 35, and Round 3 had 15 to 17. Technically speaking that's not a large enough sample size to determine bias but it's... interesting?.

I was going to make a scatterplot featuring the number of votes in each poll to track engagement, but I haven't actually figured out how to do one in Google Sheets yet so maybe at the end of the bracket.

[echoes-ofdawn]

ps: i love discussing writing ideas so if yall wanna comment or simply dm me here with an idea or something I'd love to hear it and see what could be done