#and pretty angsty

[museumgiftshoperaser]

Paint the Devil on the Wall

80s New York City art scene AU, Coming November 7th!

My Steddie Big Bang project has a posting date! The first of five chapters will be uploaded to AO3 on November 7th! I can't wait to share this story that I've been working on since January. It's the longest I've ever worked on a fic and also the longest in terms of length. We'll probably be clocking in at around 60k and it will be rated E. The fic will be accompanied by art from @melonalemonade and @dreaminginpencil which I could not be happier about! I've seen a little sneak peak of one of the pieces and it's so insanely gorgeous, you're gonna love it so so much <333 Below is a little excerpt from the intro...

***

The first artwork Eddie ever falls in love with is a piece of graffiti on the dumpster behind the church. He’s ten, maybe eleven and his mother pushes him across the parking lot on Sunday morning. They’re running late and pretending not to be, but the Indiana sun soaks sweat through his mother’s nicest blouse. A telltale sign of rushing and cheap polyester. 

Would you look at that, she tuts anyway, like judging other people will guard her from nasty looks from the right side of the picket fence. Her yellowed nails hook into his shoulders. I bet it’s those Peterson boys again. 

So Eddie looks. 

It’s a corner of town he’s seen a hundred times, but just like that it’s new again. Angry blue and black lines swoop across the metal into bold letters spelling out SOON. Loud like advertising, enticing like early morning cartoons. Messy, but on purpose.

His mother must see the crease between his brows, maybe the longing in his eyes because she adds you don’t draw on things that aren’t yours, baby.

Inside, with his knees on the hardwood and his eyes closed, those bright letters light up the inside of his eyelids like a promise. Soon. He doesn’t know what, or where or how, but he thinks it’s coming. 

Later that night he scratches the same swooping letters into his bedside table with a ballpoint and a vision. Pushes so hard the plywood dents in the shape of his marks and learns how good it feels. How a room can be a canvas. How he gets to pick the colors.

His stepdad smacks him over the head for it when his mother finds out so he figures nothing in his bedroom is really his. But maybe he knew that already. 

It’s a decade later now, and Hawkins, Indiana is over seven hundred miles away. He doesn’t believe in God anymore, maybe never did, and he no longer believes in Art. But he believes in Soon like nobody’s business. Gets the word tattooed over his wrist his first week in New York and never looks back. The money. The boys and the white, chalky lines across every black surface he can find. Everything. Soon.

It’s coming.

All of which is to say that this is not a love story.  At least, not yet.

(If you have any questions you can always send me an ask, I've been absolutely DYING to talk about this story since January) (And also thanks so much to all the moderators who've been running this big bang!)

[charlietheepicwriter7]

G̴̩͍͆͆̈́e̵̹̣͆t̷̬̋ ̸̻̮̎̒ĭ̸̏̃n̵͙̋͐ ̸̛̳̃t̶̪̣̅ḣ̸̳̇͜è̵̠̲͖̔̑ ̶̢̹̖͗͐̀Wa̵̬̞͝ṫ̴̩̣̣e̶͉̲̯͂̏̎r̴̉

It was a simple mission. Damian was working with Father to confirm the existence of a Lazarus Pit below Gotham, as Ra's Al Ghul speculated. And they had found it, deep in the caves below Gotham. A Pit the size of an Olympic sized swimming pool, bubbling and steaming. He'd only looked away for a moment.

"Kin-slayer."

Standing waist deep in the water stood Damian's reflection. The hair might be white, and the eyes glowing with the waters, but it was his face. But not his face alone.

Danyal's ghost glared at him. "Get in the water."

Father threw a batarang at him, but the metal flew straight through his head like it was air. Danyal didn't even glance at him, his eyes fixed on Damian. "Get in the water," he ordered again. He stepped closer to the shore and the green water sloshed up the bank higher than it was before. "Or I'll raise the tide so high, all of Gotham will die. So get in the water."

Damian's heart jumped into throat. "Wait-"

"Get in the water."

Father shoved Damian behind him, as if it would protect him, as if he could stop Danyal. "Stop this, please-" If he could just explain-

Another step and the waters surged forward, nearly touching Father's boots. "I'll make whirlpools so profound, your entire family will drown," he promised.

"NO!" Not his brother, his kind brother-

"THEN GET IN THE WATER!" Danyal snarled, revealing monstrously sharp teeth and a black tongue from Damian's poison. "G̴̩͍͆͆̈́e̵̹̣͆t̷̬̋ ̸̻̮̎̒ĭ̸̟̰͙̏̃n̵͙̝̟̋͐ ̸̛̳̃t̶̪̣̅ḣ̸̳̇͜è̵̠̲͖̔̑ ̶̢̹̖͗͐̀w̵̜͍̤̌a̵̬̞͝ṫ̴̩̣̣e̶͉̲̯͂̏̎r̴̉͜!̷̡͔́̀̽" He lunged and Father pushed them back down the passage they'd come. "Don't mistake this for a bluff, brother. You've lived more than enough. Just get in the water." Damian swallowed, throat dry. Was this Danyal's revenge? Did he finally have to face what he had done?

"Robin, who is this?" Father snapped, trying to keep retreating down the cave. But Damian wouldn't let him; the waters, and Danyal with them, would only follow.

Danyal looked between them, scowling. "G̴̩͍͆͆̈́e̵̹̣͆t̷̬̋ ̸̻̮̎̒ĭ̸̟̰͙̏̃n̵͙̝̟̋͐ ̸̛̳̃t̶̪̣̅ḣ̸̳̇͜è̵̠̲͖̔̑ ̶̢̹̖͗͐̀w̵̜͍̤̌a̵̬̞͝ṫ̴̩̣̣e̶͉̲̯͂̏̎r̴̉͜!̷̡͔́̀̽" he snapped again. "I'll take your father and gouge out his eyes, unless you want to stop being a coward and choose to die. Now... get in the water."

[pineflowerart]

Never look back Aventurine

Too much to gamble

[enden-agolor]

am i even a real lukas fan without drawing his trailer design? so there’s that. also have some very sweet and gentle baja blast boys 🤗

[frenchonionsoop]

so chapter 113 huh

[skawdia]

"It's clear we don't understand it, but the last thing on my mind is to leave you"

(Mika - Relax, Take It Easy)

Grand Duke Wyll and Spawn Astarion!

[mangywayway]

"The Boy who saved them All"

.

And here is my piece for the @harringrove-relay-race! ✨✨

Was this all a big excuse to draw them in a more fantasy setting? Yes, yes it was. Sue me. I honestly just decided to try and have fun with it and I did; there is still stuff that I will like to change? Yes. But I also like this piece a lot and that's the most important thing.

The first idea was to make it more gorey and stuff (as in, Billy with his chest open etc). Didn't end up doing it and went more on a "symbolic" route but who knows, maybe in the future 🤔

"Fun" fact: the dragon is supposed to be the Mind Flayer. I tried to make it more like similar to the series but that giant jelly thing was giving me an headache because I couldn't understand how the fuck it was made so, DRAGON (still Mindy and Flayer tho). Also tried and wanted to make Steve cry gold (cuz, the tears are worth their weight in gold kinda stuff) but I don't think I managed (so this is way I'm writing it here lololol).

ANYWAYS, thanks for not falling asleep after reading all of this and please, get your arses ready because the next work that's going on in an hour comes from the fantastic @kaizenkhaos ✨✨ so up up everybody and go and show them all your love 🫡💖✨✨

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Who Dares Summon Me: Timeline

When the love of your life is mortal and refuses to accept your deal for immortality.

Charlie: So, do you want to cash in that deal?

Vaggie (23): *smirks* Nice try, demon princess. Not today.

-----

Charlie: So! How about that deal?

Vaggie (35): *pecks Charlie on the cheek* Not yet, babe.

-----

Charlie: *concerned smile* Sooooooo..... uh... 20 year anniversary! Is there... something you want to do today???

Vaggie (43): *twirling a small lock of grey hair between her fingers* I'm okay with just laying out in the yard and watching the stars, mi amor.

-----

Charlie: Vaggie, please, cash in the deal!

Vaggie (55): *stretches and winces as multiple joints crack and pop* Ah! Fuck... No, I'm good. Thanks, hun.

-----

Charlie: *quietly watching Vaggie from her seat on the patio* .......Vaggie-

Vaggie (68): No, Charlie. But thank you. Now, let's head inside. I gotta make that tres leches for the grandkids.

-----

Charlie: *sitting at Vaggie's bedside, holding her wrinkled had and crying* Vaggie.... please.... accept the deal... please? I'm begging you. I don't care what you look like. We can still do it. I'll even let you revert back to whatever age you want....

*kisses Vaggie's hand with a sob* Please.... I can't lose you now.... not after all this time...

Vaggie (88): *tired smile* Don't cry, mi amor. Everything will.... be.... fine.....

Charlie: *senses Vaggie's soul dispatch from Earth and howls in agony as she cries against her beloved's chest*

[yyuuraii]

PAC E MIKE DECORAAAAA

speedypainti like putting pretty things

[pencap]

1. Capture a man. Hold him. Hold him. Hold him. Hold him. Hold him. One day he forgets his own name.

2. Leave no body to be found. Fill an empty grave with dirt. Let the world forget on its own.

3. Give him a name. Give him twenty. Tell him a new history. Teach him a new language. Teach him five. Give him a mission.

Let him go.

4. Take him back. Let him go. Take him back. Let him go. Take him back. Let him go.

He comes back on his own feet.

5. Give him blood and steel and pain until his muscles forget the difference between bone and iron and his skin craves the kiss of leather straps like it craves the touch of gentle fingers.

Drain his veins dry and empty and fill his heart with something new and let the poison spill like lifeblood.

6. Give him pain. Take it away. Bring it back. Take it away. Bring it back. Bring it back.

7. Give him a new name. Give him a new past. Destroy it all.

8. Tear him away from everything he knows. Let him watch his world collapse. Let him see his name wither away. Let him strangle hope with his hands.

9. Make him beg for mercy for respite for death.

10. Deny him.

- how to break a man by sylvie (j.p.)

[chiliger]

Scream. Maybe a god will hear.

[buffyspeak]

everlark texposts: 1/?

[dervampireprince]

hey guys psst hey guys psst hey guys psst hey guys psst

and yes it's a public one, not a patreon exclusive. it'll be posted either tomorrow if i get the art done in time or if not then it'll be the wednesday after. but i'm going to try my best to get the art done so it's up tomorrow.

(also the gender tags don't reflect the genitalia of the listener, it just changes the pet names to 'good boy' or 'good girl' or neither. no specific genitals mentioned on any of them. we t4trans-inclusive content over here.)

EDIT: it's done! check the most recent posts on my blog or do a lil search on my blog for astarion or look my youtube! there's also a direct link in the reblogs and replies to this post!

[edgeray]

Arlecchino is a cold person.

(Arlecchino x Reader Blurb)

It's no suprise to anyone. It is simply an objective fact of the matter. She is aware of this. The House of the Hearth is aware of this. The Fatui are aware of this. It's ironic given the nature of her vision, but it nonetheless rings true despite the fire she possesses on her blackened fingertips. She is callous and curt, and underneath her skin there is nothing except frigid ice that envelopes her being like a fitted coat. She speaks with no warmth, acts with the absence of heat, exists in a constant state of cold emptiness--a state in which there is a void inside of her, as if sucking all that is human of her.

Years ago, when she was just a child of the same orphanage she headed, she had naive thoughts of finding companionship, someone who would provide the warmth she sought on lonesome nights. She was barely just an adolescent who dreamed of lying in someone's arms, feel the heartbeat of another so surely, it would remind her that she was indeed alive. For even the briefest of moments, she yearned for someone who would, if not shield, then distract her from the cruelties of this world. She had shed those foolish wishes aside. In the House of the Heart that she was raised in, such notions were admonished, in fact, the wishful thinking was one of the reasons she had nearly lost her life. Never again, she had promised to herself, when she mercilessly beat the backstabber. It was then that she believed when the time came, her tale would end the same way as it began for her: alone. As the years of being a Fatui, then becoming a Fatui Harbinger, hardened her, there was comfort in that view.

That is what she believed in. Until you came.

Iciness wraps her being. It is present in her expression, in her words, in her touch. But that is exactly why she finds solace in your being. Her vision could only grant her a synthetic flame, but, you, you're an everlasting hearth. She melts in your embrace every time she slots herself in your arms, as it feels like a kindling ignited in her heart. It is only with you, that she learns how warmth can be found in.

Arlecchino is a cold person.

It is why you, as a warm one, is perfect for her. You whisk away the most depraved thoughts, ease her of any emotional and mental turmoil, and you do not treat her with the same coldness as the world seems so fond of doing to her. You are her flame, the one that sparks her being and reminds her that she is alive because her heart beats with you, beats for you.

Except you are cold now. It is unfathomable to her how you can be this way when your entire being exists to warm her, but when she touches your skin, you are unbearably frozen. Your body does not tremble like it does when her clawed fingers ever so gently trace your skin. The corner of your lips doesn't quirk up into the usual small smile of yours when she appears in your sight, but they remain ever rigid like the rest of you. Uncharacteristically, your expression doesn't soften with her presence.

You are cold, just like her. And that makes her afraid. Her hand searches for it, prodding your skin for a familiar thumping that is nowhere to be found. You continue to stare at her, unblinking. Here would be the moment where you give her a beaming smirk and you'd cup her face tenderly as if she was glass. And she would let you, because you are her beloved, who has watched her shatter so many times before and wordlessly each shard back together, and it is for that reason that she would lean closer towards your touch.

Because you lie broken in her arms and her hands are stained again with the familiar color of red. Your eyes are glossy and gaze unblinkingly at her. Frozen. Even when you are covered in your blood, you are beautiful, she notes, but oh, so cold that it makes her doubt if you were warm to begin with.

She misses your warmth. Where has it gone? Or has it died along with you?

Her hearth is gone. And as she clings onto your form, her body wracking with a fear and desperation she's never known before, two revelations come to her: that there is no such thing as an everlasting fire, and even after so many years ago, she was right along.

Arlecchino is a cold person. And she will remain always cold.

[azogue2718]

To that one guy that begged God someone draw Saiteru with this audio...i gotchu pookie. This is real scuffed tho (ToT)

Here's the base sketches,,, if anyone cares,,, it looks pretty cute to me

[larrylimericks]

19May24

Precisely a year since it started (The Sun forgot ratrry tongues darted)— May the next be as mild (We’re still detoxing Wilde)— The curtain’s come down, Hussell’s parted.