#STEVIE.

[parancrmcl]

stevie adjusted their headlamp, the beam slicing through the thick, stagnant air of the abandoned asylum. the building loomed above them, its crumbling façade whispering secrets of a bygone era. they tightened her grip on their flashlight, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. urban exploring had always been their escape, a way to channel her curiosity and thirst for adventure—a way to get them out of their computer. but this place...this place was different. they glanced at their watch, the hands glowing faintly in the dim light. wondering how soon the others were supposed to arrive. they had all eagerly accepted the mysterious invitation to explore the infamous asylum. The email had been brief, promising untold secrets and an experience like no other. and a prize if they lasted until morning—or whatever that was supposed to mean. stevie took a deep breath, her heart pounding with the thrill of the unknown. they had arrived early, wanting to get a feel for the place before the rest of the group showed up. the air inside was cooler, carrying the faint, eerie scent of decay. they could almost hear the echoes of the past in the silence that enveloped her. "here goes nothing," they muttered to themself, stepping through the broken entrance. the hallway stretched before them, long and foreboding. peeling paint hung from the walls like old scars, and every shadow seemed to hold a story. stevie's footsteps echoed down the empty corridor as they moved cautiously, their eyes darting around. they'd heard the rumors about this place—an asylum where patients had been more like prisoners, subjected to horrifying experiments. it was the perfect setting for the urban legend to take root, but standing here now, stevie couldn't help but wonder how much truth there was to the stories. they paused at a rusted gurney in the corner of what must have once been a treatment room. the sight of it sent a shiver down their spine. as their mind started to wonder, trying to imagine the things that had happened here, the pain and fear that must have permeated these walls, more footsteps echoed from the entrance, making them startle and go back to the entrance, their heart making flips inside their chest and totally ruining their cool persona. "took you long enough," they said, approaching the group. there were four of them, and aside from their complicated interpersonal history, they still showed up for one another. "this place is every bit of creepy we thought it would be."

closed starter for @ruindgod plot — a group of urban explorers ventures into an abandoned mental asylum rumored to be haunted (house on haunted hill meets 1408, but make it all in the 90s). we can have a mumu and play all characters, if you'd like.

[exspiritment]

@wristful // stevie said: a kiss on the corner of the mouth 

Nobody’s using you, baby she had said. And maybe she thought she could mean it at the time — but Stevie is a drug user, and Spirit is a people user, and these are things that will always get in the way of just about anything else. 

Andrew wouldn’t let her do this. Droopy and drunk and rambling — he would tell her to say what’s really on her mind or just go to sleep, start fresh tomorrow. He wouldn’t let her sit in his lap, play with his hair. She rests her head on the curve of his shoulder, lets herself feel the warmth. Lets herself pretend. 

Even when she looks up at him, she is disoriented enough to keep pretending. 

And so she kisses him — perhaps missing his mouth on purpose to gauge his reaction, perhaps having awful aim. She kisses the left side of his lips once. Twice. 

She pulls away to see what he says, if anything — disturbingly lucid, disturbingly vulnerable.

[consumare]

family over everything. feat. @stagstalked & @roseguided.

[pollard-zero]

𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚎 𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚜.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

[whimsigothwitch]

Window appreciation post

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The T-shirt David was wearing :) <3

It is from Stevie Brocksom (orders only through Stevie's website, any you see on amazon is a fake so report there :))

[amaranthaes]

[text] I ate the whole wheel of cheese. Help.

[   📲  bibbles  ]  :  meus  deuses

[   📲  bibbles  ]  :  como  assim?

[   📲  bibbles  ]  :  tudo  mesmo??

[   📲  bibbles  ]  :  mano  kkkkkkkk

[   📲  bibbles  ]  :  ainda  bem  que  eu  não  durmo  contigo  lol

[   📲  bibbles  ]  :  você  precisa  de  um  remédio  pra  intolerância? 

[baby-girl-aaron-dessner]

You look like Stevie Nicks

in ‘75, the hair and lips

[breathtakinglymiraculous]

Only when your girlish glow, flickers just so, do they let you know: It's hell on earth to be heavenly. Them's the breaks, they don't come gently. Clara Bow - The Tortured Poets Department (2024)

[tswiftupdatess]

Stevie Nicks wrote a poem for “THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT”

[artrealla]

read this fic for steve losing his fucking mind

[piratefishmama]

single mother Stevie Harrington doing those daily tiktoks/insta reels of what she packs her kid for lunch each morning and rockstar Eddie who stupidly comments "GIMME ONE CHANCE" under one of her videos on the band's main acc because he is in fact, stupid.

[exspiritment]

@wristful​

a headache is splitting behind his eyes; really pounding, the kind that makes you dizzy and sick and makes it hard to look at headlights in the dark. fuck he needs -- well. she knows what he needs.

"isn't that supposed to be my line?"    

he jitters on his feet, rocks back and forth, settles when a car drives past a little slower than he'd like; it's harlem, people don't look too hard, but it's not hunts point and he knows the bronx like the back of his hand. stevie itches. his fingernails are so bitten down that it doesn't make a damned bit of difference when he tries scratch over his neck and ears and head.

"i got what you asked me for -- you got what i asked for?"

“This is bad. All I’m getting at is that this is bad.” 

She feels that, knows that to be true. But she also knows herself, and she knows that who she is — it’s the type of person who doesn’t really, truly, give a shit. About the badness of it all, that is. 

Cars go by. People a block over, they talk about fuck knows what. Spirit steps close to Stevie like a lover, slips something into his front pocket. He’s tall, with the sort of build you’d expect. She looks small and harmless while she might be slowly killing him. 

“But I’ve got you. I’ve got you, always.” 

[consumare]

STEVIE GRAHAM: NICE TO HEAR YOUR VOICE. 'and yours, mia figlia. i was not sure when i would hear from you again,' he's allowed very few moments of peace, even less time on the phone, and so he is truly pleased to hear from will's daughter. now someone he saw as his, as well. will may refuse to pay him any mind, but at least hannibal knew he still had a connection to the graham family. 'your father would be angry, if he found out we were speaking,' but it was not a scold. the grin could be heard in his voice, eyes glancing over the guard that watched over his cage before giving his attention back to the phone. 'how are you doing, dear heart? are you behaving?' @roseguided.

[lazylittledragon]

more t4t steddie because it turns out it wasn't the black mold and i'm still deranged

[milfzatannaz]

a beautiful Klimt-inspired Stevie Nicks commission for my forever fav client @gayiconjamesflint 🌻🌻