#yeah so uh

[1nt3rnalpu7ref4ct10n]

s4e17

[zedorxio]

I think they’re in L word … Leprosy.

[pikachu-deluxe]

hey, image of my beasts coming up sometime tonight in like a few hours, if not check back tomorrow in my art blog, it should be there by then

[minty-bubblegum]

Goinh to eep brb

[okcoolthanks]

Anyways I think that Drey Ferin was replaced by a navy doppelgänger and that’s why he didn’t remember Lizzie and his memory is spotty

[danidrawsstuff]

[ *into the thick of it starts playing*]

🌟[ Commission Sheet | Commission Terms / Form ] 🌟

[mosaic-hunter]

do any of u ever feel scared abt doing art rqs cuz u fear the art turning out ugly

yeah couldnt be me

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Drafted on 3/17, Sunday Ducks (&various others)

[barrelrollgif]

i took some perfectly good images of cats and made them better

originals below cut

i took these from pexels, you can find image credits there

[vampstel]

I still have multiple things to write about V (such as his likes and dislikes, trivia, and even health) but here’s his backstory

Quick warning: This mentions murder, execution (specifically beheading), and general dark themes. I don’t go too in-depth about it, but still beware.

“Nikolai was conceived and born in England during the 19th century to Wilford and Morana Godfrey. Wilford was a mortal human and Morana was a pureblood vampire, thus making Nikolai a natural dhampir.

During his childhood, he was extremely sheltered and hidden from the outside world. His parents were overprotective of him — hybrids and interspecies relationships were (and still are) stigmatised. Not to mention… Nikolai had poor health.

He holds no grudge against his parents for being the way they are. He understands they only wanted the best for him. After all, his parents took care of him and loved him unconditionally. There was nothing else he wanted or needed and he was happy with his life.

However, Nikolai can’t deny his ever growing-desire to go out and explore the world. To feed his curiosity, he successfully sneaks out without his parents knowing and stumbles upon a boy named Adrian.

The two quickly become friends. While Adrian was frightened by Nikolai’s sudden appearance, he begins talking to the dhampir. Nikolai, being shy, didn’t speak and chose to respond by nodding or shaking his head instead.

Nikolai continues to sneak out regularly to meet with Adrian. He slowly warms up to him and begins engaging in conversation. Asking him general questions about his life and the world, to which Adrian happily answered.

At some point, Nikolai trusted Adrian enough to tell him he was a dhampir. The boy didn’t care and instead found him even more fascinating. He wanted to learn more about him and reassured him he wasn’t afraid. However, his view of Nikolai quickly changes once his parents find out.

Adrian’s parents urged him to tell them everything he knew about Nikolai. They, alongside the townsfolk, quickly came up with a plan to murder his family. They raid their house, steal their belongings, and burn the place down before inevitably killing Morana and Wilford.

Morana instructs Nikolai to run and hide before they could catch him. She gives him her necklace, telling him to keep it safe. And most importantly, to keep himself safe and to stay alive. The dhampir successfully escapes but the townsfolk did not stop their pursuit. After a few days, they find Nikolai and bring him to the village to execute him.

Nikolai doesn’t even try to fight. He was exhausted and had no strength or will to live. He allows the barbaric men to drag him ruthlessly to the village. Having him beheaded in front of everyone, including Adrian.

At the sight of Adrian, Nikolai breaks down, lashing out and harming the boy in the process. He starts screaming and crying out, asking him why he did this. To which Adrian wordlessly looked back at him in guilt and horror.

By some kind of miracle, Nikolai survives his execution and flees. He finds shelter in a cave, sleeping for decades to heal his wounds but the scar on his neck will never fade away. Nor will his emotional scars fade away either.

Ever since this incident, Nikolai swore to himself not to trust a mortal again. It takes him time to get back up, shocked to find out how different the world has become. After a lot of effort, he integrates himself into society. Masquerading as an orphan abandoned by his parents.

Nikolai never sticks to one place. Often moving to avoid suspicion before finally settling down in London. He successfully finds a career dabbling in art with a part-time gig as a barista.

To this day, Nikolai wonders how he survived and why he did.”

[ilyuu-archive]

have you eaten yet? you better eat something

unless youre one of those people that just dont eat breakfast

just asking cause i gotta eat you for breakfast so

MELON??

KOFFKOFF I CAN’T BREATHE HOLY SHIT nahnah i’m gone i’m a goner do you see me? nah u don’t because i’m a ghost now i’m just floating around at this point because whathwyanwtawhaywhayahyaAKAJ

[thirstyandbeautiful]

Been mulling over how Jack would be in bed and I think I’m leaning toward a dom streak. Perfectly sweet and respectful out and about but also ready to put you over his knee or not let you come if you pushed his buttons wrong…

sweetheart in the streets and a freak in the streets yes yes! from what I see him, I'm leaning towards him being perfectly balanced between a soft-dom and a mean-dom. will worship your body and treat you like a goddess but will also fuck you like he hates you or

''fuck me like you hate me''

''darlin' , i could never hate you so I'm gonna fuck you like I own you''

yeah very jack coded imo

[zedorxio]

Funny bone man

[szczylpierdolony]

i need to start killing people

[reallytiredperson]

AUUUGGHHHA HHHHHYAHH AHHHHHH AHHHHHYY AUUUUAGAGHAHAHQHQHQHH AHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAA AHAHGAHAHAHAHAHHAHSS S AHHAJWJWBW WHEID DNEHEHE

hiya! may i please be 🦈 anon :P

i just saw some of your notes on the neglected omega reader, and the reactions from the pack after they realise they're the threats to you in your heat (absolute devastation, they cant fix it though, the only way they could get close is if you were sedated). after that lonely heat the pack starts trying to fix it, showering you in love and adoration, yet you growl, dont let them in touching distance, and leave any physical gifts back at their doors, not even in their rooms. if any of the pack tries to feed you? you simply reply that you're not hungry, or you feel sick, anything to be away from them. their faces after they see you scavenge for food directly after they offered is almost comparable to after you growl in your heat, rejection, defeat, and guilt.

i think i may be wanting some hurt/no comfort to read

Hurt/no comfort you ask for? Hurt/no comfort you shall get beloved anon 🙂‍↕️

Original Post

The air in your room reeks of sterile emptiness. Stale sheets and hollow pillows, the scent of detergent clinging like cobwebs- cold and impersonal. Nothing here is soft. Nothing here is safe. It is a cage without bars, a nest without warmth, and it’s all you have now.

You are starving for touch, for scent, for safety. But the hunger turns sour in your gut because you know you are unwanted. Unloved.

They have left you.

The thought curls sharp inside your chest, a cruel thorn that sinks deeper every second the door stays shut.

They must hate me.

They must, because how else could they forget you like this? Forget your heats, your needs, your voice when it grew quiet, and then quieter still? And hadn’t you tried to make it easy for them? Hadn’t you swallowed down your hurt, your fear, your endless ache just to keep the peace?

But they’d let your scent curdle. Let you fade into the background like wallpaper, just another fixture they could overlook. Now, you’re ruined inside and out- something sickly, something sour. And no one wants to touch something so… rotten. You understand; you wouldn’t want something like yourself, either.

You wrap your arms around your legs, chin pressed to your knees, trembling as the walls lean in.

They smell it before they see it.

The scent of your heat hits like a knife between the ribs- sharp, wrong, and devastatingly fragile. But it’s the undercurrent that guts them: a bitter rot of loneliness and despair that should have never accompanied you.

Soap is the first to find you, his own scent- sweet and warm, the summer sun and melting icecream- coiling through the hall like a frantic pulse. But it’s met with a growl so feral, so wounded, that he recoils. He doesn’t even make it past the doorway.

“Sweetheart-”

Your snarl cuts him off, raw and rasping, lips pulled back to show teeth. A threat.

He stumbles back, as if burned. The devastation on his face cracks something deep inside of him, his hands trembling as he reaches out and stops just shy of touching the frame. Gaz and Price arrive next, Ghost trailing behind them, and all three of them freeze when they hear Soap’s ragged voice, see the look on his face.

“She- she won’t let me near her.”

Won’t let any of them near you. Gaz steps forward, soft and steady, his beta instincts humming with the need to fix, to soothe, and his scent is something gentle and steady like the lapping of ocean waves- but you press yourself deeper into your nest of broken sheets and reject him, too. Price tries next, voice low and commanding, but the alpha in him only agitates your frayed nerves, makes you hiss like a wounded thing. And Ghost- Ghost doesn’t even try. Can’t, frozen in place as he is. He sees it for what it is.

A rejection.

They’re the threat now. You view them- your own pack as a threat to you.

The silence that follows is shattering. Soap digs his nails into the skin of his palms so harshly he leaves violent crescent moons behind. Gaz’s shoulders shake as he turns away, ashamed. Price sits down hard against the wall, like his knees have finally given out. And Ghost stands in the doorway, fingers curling into fists, his mask the only thing keeping them from seeing the way his face crumbles.

Because they did this. And they know it.

They let you fall apart.

They try to fix it, of course. Oh, God, do they try.

Price leaves his favorite jacket outside your door, the one that smells of gunpowder and cedar and something distinctly alpha and John. Soap writes you notes, apologies scribbled on scraps of paper and slipped beneath the crack. Gaz leaves little gifts- tea, candles, things he remembers you liking before. And Ghost? He stands guard. He’s a shadow outside your door, silent and unmoving, as if his presence alone can make up for his failures.

But you reject it all.

The jacket disappears, but you never wear it. The notes go unread, folded up and left in the corner like discarded memories. The gifts get left outside their doors in return- untouched, unopened.

And it kills them.

They see the way you flinch if they come too close. The way your eyes dart to the exits, calculating how fast you can escape if they dare to step inside your orbit when they were once the very stars circling you. They hear your brittle voice when they try to coax you into eating, into talking, and then they see you scavenge the kitchen like a ghost when you think they’re not looking.

Soap and Gaz drink, let the liquid poison make them forget their pain for one night. Price tears his office apart. Ghost stares at the empty nest you once shared and wonders if you’ll ever come back. Wonders what he must do just for you to look at them as something less than a threat to you.

But you don’t.

Days pass. Then weeks. The pack tries to stay patient, tries to be gentle, but the distance grows wider, and with it, their guilt festers. Soap lingers outside your door the longest, pressing his forehead to the wood and whispering apologies through the grain. How could he let his packmate, his fellow Omega, feel like this?

“Please, bonnie… please let us fix it.”

Gaz leaves another meal at your door, but this time it’s warm and handmade- freshly cooked, something that smells like comfort and home. He waits. Hopes. But the plate is left untouched again.

Price is quieter. He doesn’t leave gifts or words, just stands outside your door sometimes and waits, like his presence alone might be enough.

Ghost, though. Ghost is the worst.

He’s careful never to touch you, never to linger where you might even see him, but you feel him everywhere. His scent hangs heavier in the air, marking paths he knows you take, and it gnaws at your resolve.

But you don’t break.

You can’t. Because if you let them back in, they’ll hurt you again, and you don’t care how much it destroys them. You are sure they do not love you anymore- they are merely trying to absolve their guilt, more than anything else.

They see the weight you carry, the exhaustion in your bones, the hollowness where your light used to be, and they don’t know how to fix it. Price stays awake at night, staring at the ceiling and wondering how he let this happen- how he let one of his omegas slip so far away that he doesn’t know how to reach you anymore. Soap aches. He aches in the marrow of his bones, his scent dull and muted without you there to soften it. He sketches you from memeory- moments and seconds where you’d been happy. He should have seen it sooner. Should have done something. Gaz tries to hold them together, but even he cracks eventually. The sight of you turning away from his gift, his offering, cuts so deep he doesn’t know if it’ll ever heal.

Ghost doesn’t break. But he’s the one who starts leaving things inside the nest you abandoned, the nest that once had an imprint of you. Little things. A mug. A scarf. A photo. Pieces of them, pieces of you.

Because Ghost knows it’s not just about earning your trust back. It’s about proving that no matter how far you run, no matter how long it takes-

They’ll still be here.

Waiting.

[lesbianralzarek]

"life doesnt get better, you just get stronger" does NOT include ages 11-17. life does in fact just get better from there. those years are dogshit. like, you do get stronger but its mostly just a factor of not being 11-17 anymore. positive thinking helps but it doesnt fix whatevers going on at 15, you have to brute force through that one raw