#wish me luck 😂

[choatic-bumblebee-agenda]

the conses... they be quencing... who could have foreseen this <- promised to write and now has to actually write

[monstersinthecosmos]

September 26, 1973

His things are neatly stacked by the hotel room door, waiting for the sun to come up, and he sprawls on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his gaze circling round and round, following the shape of orange light cast by the bedside lamp.

Nerves almost calm now, but the sedate white face flashes in his memory every time he closes his eyes. As the hours pass, these jolts of fear lose potency. Each a little weaker than the last, until it barely rouses him. Maybe he’s too tired, or too hungry. He’s not sure.

His stomach hurts. 

It’s not really hunger anymore, maybe. Just pain, cramping around the memory of starvation. He glances towards the windows; curtains drawn but no light spilling through the cracks yet. Too early. He wonders when the cafes will start opening. 

Fingers drum in little patterns against his hips. They take on a rhythm. Everything aches and his thoughts are scattered by music drifting in and out of his thoughts. His foot taps against the floor to the song in his head and he considers listening to the tapes again. 

This song was everywhere when he was in high school. It bounces back and forth inside his skull and he remembers listening to it in Alice’s car. She used to belt out I wake up feeling sorry I met you! speeding down Route 15 after her boyfriend dumped her. Daniel bounces through the song, wondering how long ago that was. 

What time is it over there, anyway? He can’t remember how the time zone works. Maybe he should follow up with that publisher. 

“How can I fight a love that shouldn’t be?” he mumbles, barely singing, voice scratching into the empty room. “When it’s so deep, so deep, deep inside of me…”

It feels like Alice is dead already. And her fiance. Her mom and dad. Daniel’s mom and dad.

And Connie and Jeff and everyone else he’s ever met. Even himself. The shelf of tapes in his old apartment is like a graveyard now. And the fear rises again; not the way Armand had shattered him, but something murky. Swelling inside, throbbing in his poorly-healing neck wounds. He presses his fingertips against them, feeling for each hole. There would never have to be a trace of them if he’d stop picking, he knows that. It doesn’t make a difference anymore, though. He feels marked.

His eyes burn with sleep deprivation. For a moment he wonders if it would be safe enough to sleep for a few hours—maybe he can take off this afternoon. The sun would still be up, it might be okay. He thinks maybe he should fly somewhere far from here and sleep on the plane, though. Vancouver. Buenos Aires. Sydney. 

Everything had happened too fast, back when he saw Armand. Whole body screaming in fear, unable to feel his face for a good three hours. But later, once all the sediment sank to the bottom of his head, he thinks he felt Armand’s presence in the wound. He rubs against it again, feeling the dull throb, wondering if it means Armand is nearby. 

It reminds him of his dad. The way his war wounds used to ache when it was going to rain.

Armand doesn’t seem like the same person Louis described. Daniel’s hands twitch, and he turns to look at his bag. Thinks about listening to the tapes again, even though he probably has them memorized by now. As if one more time will really make everything make sense. He’ll hear something he missed before, some piece. 

There were holes in Louis’s story, though, Daniel thinks. Or maybe some sense of dishonesty. Some emotional part that wasn’t in focus—perhaps even vampires lack that same self-awareness that people do. Because, sure, Armand was beautiful—Daniel saw it himself—and perhaps to Louis he was the patient mentor, perhaps he was wise and kind. But he’d let his friends kill Claudia. And he’d let Louis kill his friends. And he’d locked Daniel in a basement—

You are like a dog, he remembers Armand saying, cutting through the fog. He presses two fingertips to the two scabs, unsure if he’s imagining it. The night Armand took him… what?

When had pain started turning him on?

He lost his virginity to one of his classmates in junior year, on an ugly orange couch in her basement lounge. They were sneaking shots out of her parents’ liquor cabinet and she kept playing the same side of Sgt. Pepper over and over, kept starting it again instead of flipping the record, but Daniel was buzzed and horny so he didn’t complain. Anyway. She’d scratched up his back pretty bad, and it was nice. Overwhelming, and it would take a few more partners before he would start narrowing down what he liked in bed.

No one’s ever really been too rough with him, though. And he hasn’t really asked. And he knows now that vampires disarm you, they trick you, so coming in your fucking pants when they attack you might not be Daniel’s fault.

Maybe he’s been ruined, because he’s hard again, just thinking about it.

The strength. The steady hands on him.

Strength had turned him on when he first slept with a man. And that, too, took a few partners before he started understanding his type. He closes his eyes, relaxes into the bed, still anxious but exhausted enough to allow himself a break. 

Armand was short, definitely looked like a teenager. Not Daniel’s type at a glance, except for that sense of his power. Of danger, Daniel starts to tell himself, but rubs over his pants with his free hand. He still touches the scabs on his neck, wincing as he digs a nail into the edge. 

Daniel had fucked one of his professors, back in his first year. His film lit professor, who invited him for a drink when he’d stayed after class to talk about Persona. It hadn’t been like the couple of nervous makeout sessions he’d had with boys in high school, with anxiety shredding through his whole body the entire time. Not like the fumbling handjobs in a friend’s car. No, this maybe felt like a man. 

Stronger, and Daniel hadn’t been able to stop staring at the veins in the backs of his hands as he sipped his wine, or the soft blonde hair on his forearms that peeked out from beneath the red sweater. And sex had been fun, up until then, as a kid, not really knowing what the fuck he was doing, but it had never felt like this, with someone so confident in control. 

Armand was clean shaven, and would be forever, not like Daniel’s professor. Armand’s jaw won’t leave the insides of Daniel’s thighs pink afterwards. 

It’s hypothetical, anyway, Daniel thinks. Louis made it sound like vampires don’t like sex, and for some reason that sorta makes sense. But he lifts his hips, enough to slide his pants down, enough to curl his fingers around the tender head of his cock. And he remembers how his professor had lifted him by the thighs, pinned him against the door frame to suck the skin below his ear. The weightlessness he’d felt, the way his stomach flipped when his feet lifted from the ground, but the way it tangled into the arousal.

Armand could do this, Daniel knows. He would bite, though.

He gasps as his thumbnail finally finds give against the scab, as he tears at his healed skin in the wake. Needling, sharp pain for a moment, and he feels how the blood rushes in, feels it trickling down the side of his neck. He strips harder at his cock, cupping his hand around the blood to keep it from getting on his shirt, and it stings as his palm makes contact.

“Fuck,” he hisses, but doesn’t stop. 

Something disarming about his professor, about being cared for, about the warmth in the blue eyes as he sized Daniel up. Daniel doesn’t always have the best filter, has a short fuse for mouthing off, but even discussing the film over a glass of wine, feeling like the lecture never ended, hadn’t bothered him. Made him feel special or something, made him feel safe. Not disarming like how the vampires had been; not some sinister energy trying to rearrange his brain. It had been, just… something else. 

He remembers it now, for some reason. Doesn’t think of Jeff or any of the others. Goes back to that first time, and how it had been a little frightening, overwhelming, how he’d felt so small. 

Armand is short. Not small, really. Curvy in the places it matters. But he makes Daniel feel that same way, that fragile. That overwhelmed. His neck still stings, and his palm is sticky against the trickling blood, and he tries to remember how it felt to be bitten. 

To be fed on.

His toes curl inside his sneakers, and he digs a heel into the floor, arching his back as he comes. And he’d saved his shirt from the blood, but not from he pearly load that paints across his belly. Breath heaves in his chest and his ears ring as the release pulses through him, and he tries to relax again.

There’s a tiny voice telling him to hang onto the feeling for as long as he can, to enjoy the glow, because he can’t remember the last time he felt good. His body goes lax against the mattress, and he can feel his pulse slowing in his hand, still holding there until he’s sure the bleeding has stopped. The fizzy, irrational light-headedness, the warmth of the orgasm, the blessed quiet nearly convinces him that being almost-murdered was the best sex of his life.

For a blissful minute he floats, doesn’t question it. Holds the doubt at bay and tries to just stay with it.

Because it will disgust him soon, and he knows it. The haze will clear and he’ll remember where he is, remember his clothes are dirty, remember he has to flee, remember he forgot to shower. 

And he’ll wonder how long before his parents realize he’s gone, and he’ll feel bad he forgot to send Alice’s RSVP back. How long before he feels bad that his dad is disappointed in him? At least he’s still too angry for that, but while the cum soaks into his t-shirt and goes cold, he’ll ask himself if he’s a bad son, if he was a bad person.

He lets go of his neck, stares at the rusty smear in his palm, how it darkens the crease of his lifeline. He covers his eyes with his right hand. 

It’s not that he feels guilt for disappointing his dad. It feels a million miles away, too unimportant. More that it’s a cold fact now, something etched into him. Part of his old life, and it doesn’t matter anymore, except that he knows it’s how he will be remembered. 

You died a disappointment.

[previous day] | [next day]

[justbackgroundnoise]

if you think an ear infection is keeping me from playing soccer tonight, you are wrong!! only three games left in the outdoor season and I refuse to miss one.

[ohwghlwd]

At the gym trying to build a shelf like Joe 😌

[mikelogan]

🎃 TJ MIKELOGAN'S HALLOWEEN 2023 EVENT 🎃

RULES:

Use the tag #USERTJ to share your creations (and so I can reblog them)

Include "TJ MIKELOGAN'S HALLOWEEN 2023 EVENT" + that day's prompt in your caption

Reblog this post

THINGS TO KNOW:

This event is open to anyone who wants to participate -- gifmakers, editors, etc. -- and you do not have to be following me if you don't want to! Create gifsets, graphics, moodboards, whatever you enjoy!

You can do as many or as few prompts as you want! This is supposed to be fun, so no need to put unnecessary pressure on yourself.

Interpret the prompts however you see fit; stick to them as loosely or as rigidly as you want!

Make sure to check out the #USERTJ tag as well so you can see what everyone else is coming up with and share what they've created! Even if you're not participating in the event yourself, we love reblogs!

If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask!

PROMPTS:

DAY 1: A movie you watch every spooky season DAY 2: A Halloween comedy DAY 3: Based on real events DAY 4: Your favorite horror movie DAY 5: A Halloween TV show episode or special DAY 6: Favorite animated villain(s) DAY 7: Vampires DAY 8: A horror franchise or series DAY 9: Favorite movie monster DAY 10: Favorite horror director(s) DAY 11: A non-scary Halloween movie or show DAY 12: Found footage DAY 13: Ghosts DAY 14: A classic horror film DAY 15: Your favorite horror TV show DAY 16: Favorite gore/slasher film DAY 17: A spooky musical DAY 18: Black cats DAY 19: An animated Halloween movie or show DAY 20: Fictional serial killers DAY 21: A recent horror film (from 2010 or later) DAY 22: Favorite thriller(s) DAY 23: Haunted houses DAY 24: Favorite live action villain(s) DAY 25: A movie or show that isn't horror, but still scared you DAY 26: WitchesDAY 27: LGBT+ in horrorDAY 28: Favorite final girlDAY 29: Mike Flanagan films and shows DAY 30: Take a piece of media that isn't horror and make it horror DAY 31: Wildcard -- your choice

Below the cut, I'm tagging those who reblogged my original poll regarding this event and were either interested in participating or signal boosting, as well as some moots who've expressed interest in all things Halloween and horror.

@connie-rubirosa @laurabenanti @heroeddiemunson @ianmckellen @gatortillmans @evermoredlx @fabines @katieskrsgard @jakeperalta @finalgirlsidney @ghouls-ghoul @azrphales @sculien @katesharmasheart @natscatorrcio @magicaplin @logangarfield @tutontawan @ghosttfaces @iichliwps @nessa007 @antlerqueer @emmaswns @captain-hen @bloodcrimsonrain (so sorry if i missed anyone!)

[fantomette22]

Solaire of Astora… save me…

Solaire of Astora

Save me Solaire of Astora

[devilart2199-aibi]

Gimme some Transformers to draw pls!! ✨️

All 6 CHOOSEN ALREADY!

Pls send them to my ask box! And include what version of them it is, like: G1,Prime,Earthspark,IDW1/2, ect! Or I'll just draw a random one! :3

I'll update this once I've got six!!

[good-beans]

Thanks for the tag @rainbowghostcat!! This is really fun :3 ✨

Are you named after anyone? - Aw, my middle name is also after my (great) grandmother! I know my parents knew someone with my first name who they really liked, but I wasn't specifically named after her

When was the last time you cried? - Lmao I'm a big crybaby so. um. today. asdfasdfs

Do you have kids? - No, and no plans on it, really.

Sports? - I did dance for a long time! It wasn't competitive, but the company was very involved, so it never felt lesser. My favorite was ballet, but I did jazz, modern, and musical theater :)

Do you use sarcasm? - Absolutely nonstop with my family since that's all of our humor, though I'm hesitant around others since I never want to come off rude.

The first thing you notice about someone - huh, I've never really thought about it? Not their name, that's for sure 😭

Eye color - Brown 🤎

Scary movies or happy endings? - I'm a big wimp and can't take scary things, so I'll go with happy endings asdfsd

Any talents? - Well, I'm hoping I'm good at writing (creatively and academically) 😅 I'd say I'm pretty crafty overall -- I may not have mastered a single art but I've dabbled in enough mediums and projects to have some skills

Where were you born - The new england area of the US! (Never managed to develop their cold tolerance, but some people around here say I have a hint of an accent asdfsdf)

Hobbies - Writing, drawing, reading, and though it's been a while since I've actually played anything, video games lol

Pets? - The rest of my family has always been allergic to cats/dogs, so we had bearded dragons when I was younger :3 Catsitting for my brother made me fall in love with them, so I'd love to get more reptiles/a cat someday :')

Height - 5'5/165cm but I'm still holding out for my growth spurt 😤👏(<- she is past growing any more -_-)

Favorite school subject - English/Language Arts! It could be hit or miss with the sciences

Dream job - Author..... I'm still hoping to write and publish things, but the dream is being successful enough to solely be an author 😅

Anyone is free to hop in! Tagging @iqmmir @justzosiahere @heynowisavedyouright @labyrintherim @trinipopkt :D

[papyrus-in-places-he-shouldnt-be]

Papyrus shouldn't in therapy

Because he should be okay!

[monsterrae1]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Tagged by: @giddyupbuck @daffi-990 @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon thanks 🖤

I’m gonna be gone most of the day getting a tat done, so have some witch buck:

Buck was 22 years old when they finally settled down in L.A., both of them working odd jobs to support themselves, and it was almost accidental how they started the apothecary; Buck had been lifting curses off objects on the side for a while, he was working construction and they kept finding cursed objects, so Buck had just started to lift most of them - he had always been good at seeing the magical strings and undo them, and slowly people started to seek him out with the intention of hiring him to lift curses, and after a while he had to leave his job and dedicate his full time to that.

On the other hand, Maddie had been selling potions and spells on the side, and she too got busy enough with it that she could make a comfortable living out of it. They had both been working from their then shared apartment for a few weeks before Maddie came out with the idea of opening a store.

They got popular, and Buck’s abilities got famous enough that before he knew it he had become the LAFDs official warlock, and their little apothecary found itself with a page in the firefighter manual, stating that all cursed objects must be transported to them for safe disposal. And that’s how he met Eddie Diaz, a paramedic with the 118.

Tagging if they wanna share anything @adiazhalloween @loserdiaz @hoodie-buck @buddierights @honestlydarkprincess @bigfootsmom @prettyboybuckley @rogerzsteven @heartshapedvows @eddiebabygirldiaz @underwater-ninja-13 @satashiiwrites @elvensorceress @spotsandsocks @shortsighted-owl @hippolotamus @the-likesofus @housewifebuck @911onabc @disasterbuckdiaz @leewithme and whoever else wants to do this!

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

marshmallow gang goes camping 🔥 (self indulgent blorbo art)

[snickerdoodlles]

🧁I was so tempted to add an apple in a nature’s candy way but decided not to be a dick at the last minute

now I want an apple and cupcakes...

swinging to a different WIP, I don't believe I've shared the beginning of red line fic here yet 👀

Kim’s in danger.

This is supposed to be a tutoring session. And, by all metrics, it is one--he and Chay are sitting in Chay’s living room, on opposite ends of the couch, with a guitar in Chay’s lap and Kim coaching him through a tricky transition. Just like they agreed to do last week, when Chay had asked if he could help him with some things he’s been struggling with, and Kim had immediately made space in his schedule to tutor him, because he is Chay’s guitar tutor.

This does not feel like a tutoring session.

“Oh!” Chay gasps as he tries the bridge again. And he nearly gets it, fingers moving across the fretboard beautifully until he gets halfway through and his fingers cramp and falter from the unfamiliar movement.

“Oh…” Chay says with a pout. He shakes out his hand and tries the awkward finger movement again, frowning cutely as he can’t quite get his fingers to move the way he wants them to.

Chay looks to Kim, eyes big and adorable and dangerous. “Show me again?”

Thud thud thud, goes Kim’s heart, which is a stupid thing for it to do, because this is just tutoring.

[undefeatablesin]

You know what? Fuck you. *Bloodbornes your Pinnochio again*

[604to647]

Cw: alcohol

Okay I’m pouring myself a big glass of wine and editing the next ch. of Safest with You.

[lexqa]

i have a job interview tomorrow😩

[mint-hiddenite]

Vriska Undertale

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