#triggers at the top

[jasonmacavoy]

Snakes, Phantoms & The Debts of a Dead Man || Self: Flashback

tw: violence, fighting, weapons, toxic masculinity, death, some blood and bruising

It had started out as nothing more than a bad habit, an attempt to mend the gaping hole the loss of a step-father and the suspension from the UFC had left in Jason. A teenage prodigy they had once called him, best left hook since McGregor. All power and strength coupled with an unlikely speed for that build of his, a combo that proved to be absolutely lethal. Too lethal. Too lethal for a kid with a bad temper and no guidance, still grieving.

But street fighting had brought that all back to Jason, enough to get him out of his own head and taste the familiar surge of adrenaline that he had so desperately craved. Fight number two on the streets fanned the flames, and by the third– well, the third had brought in the cash.

Jason was pocketing that cash, fresh off his latest match-up when it happened. He should have just gotten his ass back home. Kicked back in the empty trailer Tommy had left him with and downed some skunked Millers that were still in the fridge he hadn't bothered to clear out yet. Tommy sure as all hell wasn't going to miss them. But instead Jason found himself at his step-father's favorite dive, deep in the belly of the Bronx, with a build that gave him enough years to forgo an ID.

Not that he would even need it. He hadn't even stepped inside yet, walking down the street towards the front door when a voice called out to him which Jason blatantly ignored. “Yo!” It tried again. This time, louder, hungrier, more pissed. Jason let them try a third and fourth time before he slowed, and turned to meet the sound.

There were three of them, each one more slimy than the next, all sleek suits and knowing smirks, hair grease, and completely out of place for a joint like Corks. Gangstas as Tommy would have put it to him. "Tell your ol' man, he owes us." The middle one hissed at him, threat laced like venom on his prickly tongue.

Jason outright scoffed at him, shaking his head at the goons. "Good luck. Tommy's been dead for weeks now." The words still tasted bitter in his mouth, the realization that he really was gone still needing to sink in.

"Then it looks like you owe us now." The ringleader spewed more venom as he stepped to Jason. It seemed his step-father’s debts still haunted the kid even from beyond the grave, the fat wad of cash in his pocket seeming more like a burden to him now than his hard earned spoils of war.  

"Don't owe you shit." He spat back. Tommy’s voice was in his head now: Don’t be soft, kid. Never be soft. Always stand your ground, and don’t take shit from no one. They make you mad? Good. Use it. Anger is your best weapon. 

The trio was closing in on him, encircling Jason as he grit his teeth. The quiet two were now flanked at each one of his sides while the leader still remained before him, flashing him the pistol beneath his belt. Jason had no choice but to follow suit as they cornered him into the alleyway beside the bar.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your loser of a Dad always liked the hard way." The leader smirked, goading him as if he already knew his answer. It was hardly a choice. Not for Jason anyway, wired to never give in or back down. He had barely registered the threat, the heat coursing through his veins and hijacking any rational thought he had. All he wanted now was to wipe that shit eating smirk clean off the mouth of the viper that taunted him.

And so, the hard way it was.

Jason didn't answer; he charged, straight for the middle man. Three on one, already in the losing position. The other two were on him before he could throw more than a couple quick jabs, each with one of his arms now holding him back. He managed to land a scrappy elbow to the larger lackey’s skull, sending him to the ground, out, but still breathing.

His efforts were futile, for snakes were slippery creatures and before Jason could strike again the barrel of the pistol struck him from behind, cascading him into momentary darkness with just enough time for the other two to snag his winnings, take a couple more cheap shots, and make a start to the street.

There was a sharp intake of breath next, and Jason’s eyes snapped open, wide and hungry, back still pressed against the cold ground. He didn’t know how long he’d been down for, but it didn’t matter. He was grinning as he stared up at the night sky licking pooled blood from his teeth. 

And then

Jason

lunged,

barreling at the ringleader from behind with all the pent of frustration from the last couple of weeks propelling forward. It was quick work now, taking Tommy's advice and manipulating the rage that welled deep in the depths of his abdomen. He took down the unlucky bastard who dared to make a mockery of him and his step-father within seconds. Blow after blow after blow. Jason couldn't stop. Jabbing at anything and everything he could get his bloody paws on—sloppier, messier, all leading up to that deadly left hook of his, landing square on the bastard's jaw that claimed his final breath.

A couple of bystanders had gathered by now, and a mix of jeers and gasps erupted all around, one egging Jason on while the others subdued the third lackey who wasn't strong enough to grab Jason from behind. Another pair of unknown hands were latched onto his shoulders now and they pried him away from the serpent heap, pulling Jason upright to look down upon his handwork with a set of blues that would never be the same again. They weren't baby blue or azure anymore. They were icy, squall, and eventual death. 

Panting with his fists still trembling, the man behind the hands pulled him away from the scene deeper and deeper into the alleyway towards a backdoor of the bar.

"Never liked that asshole." The man told him once they were concealed behind the door, and Jason was leaning backwards against the wall for support, drawing in uneven breaths. He met the man's stare, still unable to register who the hell he was, but a patch with a phantom riding a motorcycle gave Jason an idea. "Your fuckin' lethal, kid." The man said studying him now, seeing something in him that Jason couldn't. "And I wanna make all this shit go away for you, but I’m gunna need somethin’ from you..."

Jason spat fresh blood to the ground, a shiner purpling up the side of his jaw, and nodded, pledging his undying loyalty to the Ghost Riders from that day forward. 

[puppyeared]

Um so. I remembered The Incident while I was hanging out with Odile

[awakefor48hours]

Just ran into someone writing "k!ll" on one of their posts so I just want to remind any refugees that you should not censor yourself on tumblr. This isn't tiktok, you can write the actual words without any repercussion, watch

KILL, KILL, DEATH, SEX, MURDER, KILL

Not to mention this is also bad etiquette for people who have those words blocked/filtered and for people who use screen readers.

[ljsarts]

"If I was so dead, where was my funeral?! Where’s my headstone?"

I'm haunted by both these quotes and the idea of what would have happened had Timothy Goose found Ylfa after she'd well ...

Quote is by Kristin Chang

now available as a print

[otaku553]

I got a haircut today and I’m so giddy about it,,,, it is so difficult to explain to my mom why I feel so giddy about the undercut sideburns I got

[rizukii]

Fanboy and his idol keychain~

[r1poutmygvtz]

medium/high res is kinda amazing because wdym i can have that donut that i've been craving to try for weeks and still have enough cals for dinner now that i've upped my intake??

[elguritch-art]

more post session brainworms of the cowboy, things have not in fact gotten better and he's in fact more tired then he's ever been every single week <3 now with added trauma triggering!

Virgil Lawrence | He/Him | 212 Years Old | Ex-Sabbat Brujah Vampire

Session/Image Context below:

finally got his coterie mate's crazy tremere ex dead and gone, and then had to listen to a baby sabbat brujah's entire life and family collapse around her. also he got a new knife for free (by being stabbed)!

PoV you're the Boston Prince (who totally deserved this) and have been in office 100 years after your predecessor was also killed by being thrown off a building by the same cowboy.

PoV you're a coterie member who pissed off the already EXTREMELY on edge and furious brujah by rebuking his attempts to suicide bait you and he just drew his 10+ pool revolver.

damn hard to stay keeping it together when you see and hear the ghosts of your kindred loved ones all around you all the time and in the words spoken by those around you, without anyone meaning to do it

[yuanology]

nanami kento is not the type of man to regret many things. regret will only take root in one's heart and turn them into a rotten monster, one filled with so much sorrow and grief that they are unable to even shift their finger. being a reformed jujutsu sorcerer has taught him such.

so, kento makes a point of always leaving without regrets and with a thousand nightmares saddled upon his shoulders. that's fine. kento is good at coping with nightmares and monsters under the bed.

yet, when you are here, smiling down at him as if you are genuinely so pleased that he's right here rather than a thousand miles away, kento is beginning to realise that he does have regrets, after all.

"come on." your palm presses flat over his cheek, cradling his jaw as if he's something fragile, or perhaps something precious. he doubts it's the latter. the both of you have been tainted with too much hurt to be anything beautiful anymore. "i've missed you so, kento. can't you give me one more tonight?"

kento should know better. after all, this is precisely why he has been avoiding dipping his toe into the jujutsu world. but favours have been demanded, and strings have been pulled, and you have held him too close, and he was back in your bed again, blinking up at you past his tears as if nothing has changed.

"too much," he murmurs. his voice isn't slurred yet, but he knows it'll be soon. kento doesn't like losing control very much for anything, but you're extremely skilled at making him give it all up for you, so he was fighting a losing war from the very start. that's fine, too, he supposes. he misses you too much to hate you for it right now.

your smile turns indulgent, a little condescending, and kento wants to kiss you so, so badly that it hurts.

"you can take it." you lean in, pressing your mouth to the crown of his head, and kento is suddenly twenty years old again with both of your arms thrown around him and your lips pressed right where you're still kissing him now, and he's leaving.

he's here now, and he's taking you the way he's never allowed himself to have you before, and nanami kento has so many regrets and every single fucking one of them wears your name and wields your smile.

"okay." kento forces himself to relax, to let you to sink into him deeper because you're here. you're right here and so is he, and if either of you are going to regret this come morning, then kento will do something worth remembering as well.

"good boy." he earns himself another kiss, to his hairline this time, and your hands tighten around his hips. kento lets out a sigh, sinking into the mattress underneath him, and finally allows himself be swallowed by the weight of your presence caging him in at the moment.

when you start moving, kento's heels dig into the small of your back and an ugly, desperate sound escapes his lips. before his hands can curl around the sheets, you catch them in your own. your fingers are intertwining themselves with his, and kento can only exist with awe as both his hands are pressed against the mattress on either side of his head. you press down on him, using it to anchor yourself as your hips keep fucking into him with steady pressure, and kento realises belatedly that half the reason why you can let go of your grip on his hips is because of his own legs caging your waist.

a soft sound escapes kento's throat at the sight; a whimper, a moan. you catch onto it, smile, and kiss it away as if it's a bruise that needs to be healed.

and, well. kento hadn't realised it until your mouth is sealing over his that it is— he feels raw all over, an exposed nerve flayed open above burning fire, suffocating all over, but he doesn't think he has ever felt more alive than he does in this moment. the sheets stick to his skin, and his hair is plastered against his forehead, and you're still looking at him like he's a miracle.

"kento." your voice is heavy, laden with the sound of your pleasure and exertion. kento has never heard his own name sound that way before: carrying so much weight, so much affection and reverence. it's terrifying.

it's beautiful. he has never felt more beautiful before.

he murmurs your name in return, clenching down on you, and he is entranced by the sight of your fluttering eyelids, of his name once again drifting from your lips in a feathery sigh. kento's own breaths stuttered at the sound, and he wants this all of a sudden. he wants all of it back. he wants you back.

nanami kento does not bode well with regrets, but you are one of the very few things in the world worth regretting. he regrets not listening, not asking you to come with him, not doing every single hideous and ugly thing he had thought of but never dared to commit. he regrets a whole lot of things all of a sudden, and it should feel like a burden but it feels like catharsis instead.

because in spite of his regrets, you are still here. years have passed by, and neither of you had stood still while waiting for the other, but you had still allowed him to carve a tiny, fleeting space into your life. it should be arbitrary, but it isn't. it isn't.

kento's back arches when he comes, fingers squeezing around yours, and his eyes roll back so far into his skull that he swears he can see the gods he doesn't believe in him smile at him. this is your second chance, they all seem to be saying to him, and kento doesn't actually need them to tell him that. he knows, and he intends to seize it.

he feels you fill him up, following his high swiftly after, as he shakes through the aftershocks. your voice reverberates from your chest and over to his ribs, rattling his heart and lungs, and kento can't breathe all of a sudden. i can have this, he thinks, dazed and high off sex and dopamine and revelations. i can have all of this.

you lift yourself up from him slightly, torsos still pressed against each other's comfortably. you're turning your head, likely about to ask him if he's doing okay because you're a good person like that, always have been a good person like that. even in his darkest moments, kento has always known your kindness. in the pits of hell, you are his light. you are what guides him back to port; you are what guides him back here, in hell or in heaven, he doesn't know anymore. this must be hell because it reeks with death, but you are here so it must be heaven. it is neither and it is both and it doesn't matter because kento is here with you and heaven or hell, both can be conquered as long as you were with him.

kento tries his best to live a life without regret and with such in mind, he reaches out and chases your lips with his. "don't go," he murmurs, soft against your lips, soft enough he hopes that you will see enough of it in him to at least hesitate before you go. "stay the night."

he never had to worry. your hand untangles from his, curling around his nape, and then your mouth his slotting over his once again. "okay," you tell him, just as soft. "i'll stay."

[hazbin-hotel-aesthetics-quotes]

"I could fix him. I could fix him!"

No, babe.

I could make him whine, beg, cry and ask for more. I would terrorize him.

[bebemoon]

look for the name of MANUELA (requested by anonymous) | vintage dusty pink mid-length gunne sax w/ lace-trim and sailor-style collar, vintage roy rogers & trigger official graphic short sleeve sweater (c. 195o's), miu miu beige leather western mules w/ pink embroidered rose bud details, d.s. & durga "cowgirl grass" eau de parfum (bergamot zest, lychee, pink geranium, jasmine water, peony, wild grass, crystal amber, musk, vetiver), chloé "kerala" chocolate brown leather tote handbag w/ horse and horse shoe charms

[obsessive-evie]

Top!Kate headcanons

bc i may have been slightly persuaded that she isn’t a complete bottom

lots of heavy breathing and swearing, always smiling and isn’t afraid to sweat (think what she looks like when the camera zooms in on her during a free throw 😍😵)

will pin your hands above your head but not too harsh, just by holding them and lacing your fingers together

whispers in your ear, kisses your neck, bites your shoulders

loves lingerie on you like an unhealthy amount, will buy you new sets “just because”. also loves to see you wear them out just in day to day stuff bc then she knows what she gets to unwrap later, always wants to see you in something pretty and lacy (baby blue and electric blue are her favs)

isn’t opposed to quickies like anytime she can…

like will bend you over the kitchen counter right before she leaves for an away game “for good luck”, fuck you in the backseat of her car in between classes, morning sex always

also will fuck you anywhere?? the couch, the backyard, kitchen counter, dinner table, bathrooms, shower, the car, hotels, etc. i can’t explain this one 🤷‍♀️

lowkey loves you riding her in any way. she’d be more than happy to sit and watch you on her fingers or her thigh all smug

^^ would want you to sit on her face lowkey all the time (think that doja cat quote… i love big noses bc you can yk, sit on em. i might be projecting with this one)

would love , i repeat LOVE your thighs and hips, literally would worship them before going down on you

likes to see you try to be quiet, hence the quickies

i’ve mentioned this before but… would really like using vibrators on you. partially because of how loud you get and how fast you finish, partially because she can multitask that way but still give you pleasure

isn’t afraid to be mean and tease or edge you, but prefers overstimulation and just giving you orgasm after orgasm, no matter how much you’re shaking or saying you can’t take it. unless you safeword out she’s giving you another. and she’s a munch so she’s putting in the work

calls you sweet thing, pretty girl, pretty slut, good girl, like mainly praise but occasionally a touch of degradation

not necessarily top kate but she likes making out, just like overall addicted to kissing you. bonus if she makes you grind on her fully clothed

BONUS

if you call her mommy on accident while she’s topping she would freeze first, kind of smile and be all teasing and cocky about it, but would ultimately make you ask her or make you admit you wanna call her mommy (thank @iminlovewithpaigebueckers for this one)

[peachybeins]

Sorry I'm gonna be mean here for a second. Dysphoria's been beating my ass so I deserve to be an asshole about this.

Male Charcter/ Reader being AFAB=/=PIV bottom, please tell me y'all know this right? Also please tell me you know that It also does not equal necessitating the most dysphoria inducing femme terms like cvnt pvssy cl*t (can't even fully type that shit out) right?

And if you insist on this at least have the decency to care about dysphoric trans men & Masc NBs by Tagging Your Shit!!!

Like at this point I don't even care if it's trans people doing this, it kinda makes it worse imo. I don't expect cis people to give a shit but fellow trans people should at least be cognisant of others.

I'm asking some of you to expand your imagination when it comes to the sexual roles of trans men & afab NBs in your writings. And if you don't want to?...that's fine great that you can enjoy these types of depictions awesome for you...now give a damn about others who can't at tag or give a CW so we can skip/blacklist tags.

[livingdeadhorse]

They are about to watch the shittiest horror movie to ever exist. . .

+ art dump for things that I don’t wanna post individually below cut

[ink-the-artist]

21 pilots isnt edgy. its like boring.

Maybe angsty is a better word. like,

[mushroominaforest]

I keep drawing stuff for the ask blog and then realizing i can't post it lmao (by "this keeps happening" i mean its happened three times I'm just dramatic)

look. look. the siblings au was just me having fun writing a story, and then one day i drew and posted one (one) meme about it to my account with twelve (twelve) followers, and it somehow blew up??? so i kept posting more about the au cause... people liked it! exciting! and now i have 321 followers and i have NO idea how that happened lmao but uh it did.

the thing is, the story and the canon is pretty dark in a few parts (obviously lol) and I'm worried about posting any more-in-detail angst and a few things i havent even mentioned bc i dont know how much i trust you guys to listen to trigger warnings. no offence of course!!!! im sure you guys are super responsiple and stuff, i just want to be careful, human curiousity is a very powerful thing and i know ive probably looked at a few under the cut things that I knew would upset me just because i was curious lol.

is that just me??? let me know if it is bc im clueless lmao

i just wanna know like. if i were to make a post on the ask blog with the comic under the cut and a "tw suicide" or something on top, would people actually lisen to that and be careful? I'm always worried that people will ignore those