#iron gates for sale

[amazinggates123]

Enhancing Your Property with Wrought Iron Driveway Gates

The elegance and security provided by wrought iron driveway gates make them an exceptional choice for homeowners seeking to enhance their property's curb appeal. These gates offer a blend of aesthetic appeal and robust security, making them a popular choice for driveways. In this comprehensive guide, we will delve into the benefits, styles, and options available for wrought iron driveway gates, including driveway swing gates for sale and custom wrought iron gates.

The Timeless Appeal of Wrought Iron Gates

Wrought iron gates have been a symbol of elegance and strength for centuries. Their intricate designs and durable construction make them a preferred choice for many property owners. The inherent strength of wrought iron ensures that these gates provide not just beauty but also security, making them ideal for driveway installations.

Benefits of Wrought Iron Driveway Gates

Durability and Longevity: Wrought iron is renowned for its durability. Unlike other materials that may deteriorate over time, wrought iron gates are built to withstand the elements and provide lasting service.

Security: The robust nature of wrought iron makes it an excellent choice for security. These gates can deter potential intruders and provide a strong barrier that is difficult to breach.

Aesthetic Appeal: The visual appeal of wrought iron gates is unmatched. They can be customized with intricate designs, making them a standout feature that enhances the overall look of your property.

Low Maintenance: Wrought iron gates require minimal maintenance. A periodic cleaning and occasional touch-up of the paint are usually sufficient to keep them looking pristine.

Choosing the Right Wrought Iron Driveway Gates

When selecting wrought iron driveway gates, it's essential to consider several factors to ensure you make the right choice for your property.

Design and Style

Wrought iron gates come in a variety of designs, from simple and modern to elaborate and traditional. Consider the architectural style of your home and choose a gate design that complements it. Some popular styles include:

Classic Scrolls: Featuring intricate scrollwork, these gates are ideal for traditional properties.

Modern Minimalist: Simple lines and geometric patterns suit contemporary homes.

Ornate Designs: For a more opulent look, choose gates with elaborate details and flourishes.

Customization Options

One of the significant advantages of wrought iron gates is their customizability. You can work with a designer to create custom wrought iron gates that reflect your personal style and meet your specific requirements. Customization options include:

Size and Dimensions: Tailor the size of your gate to fit your driveway perfectly.

Design Elements: Incorporate unique design elements such as family crests, monograms, or thematic motifs.

Color and Finish: Choose from a range of colors and finishes to match your property’s exterior.

Driveway Swing Gates for Sale

Driveway swing gates are a popular choice for those looking to add a touch of elegance to their entrance. These gates swing open like a door, offering a grand and welcoming entry to your property. When looking for driveway swing gates for sale, consider the following aspects:

Space Requirements: Swing gates require adequate space to open and close. Ensure your driveway has enough clearance to accommodate the gate’s movement.

Automation Options: For added convenience, consider automating your swing gates. Automated gates can be operated remotely, adding a layer of security and ease of access.

Hinges and Hardware: High-quality hinges and hardware are essential for the smooth operation of swing gates. Opt for sturdy and durable components to ensure long-lasting performance.

Finding Wrought Iron Gates for Sale

When searching for wrought iron gates for sale, it is crucial to find a reputable supplier who offers quality products and excellent customer service. Here are some tips to help you in your search:

Research Suppliers: Look for suppliers with a proven track record in the industry. Read reviews and testimonials to gauge customer satisfaction.

Examine Quality: Ensure the gates are made from high-quality wrought iron and have a durable finish that can withstand weather conditions.

Compare Prices: While quality should not be compromised, it's wise to compare prices from different suppliers to get the best value for your money.

Warranty and Support: Choose a supplier that offers a warranty on their gates and provides reliable customer support for any post-purchase queries or issues.

Installation Considerations

Proper installation is key to the functionality and longevity of wrought iron driveway gates. Here are some factors to keep in mind during the installation process:

Professional Installation: Hiring a professional installer ensures that your gates are fitted correctly and securely. Professional installers have the expertise and tools to handle the job efficiently.

Foundation and Support: A strong foundation is essential for the stability of your gates. Ensure the supporting posts are firmly anchored and can bear the weight of the gates.

Alignment and Balance: Proper alignment and balance are crucial for the smooth operation of swing gates. Misalignment can lead to operational issues and premature wear.

Regular Maintenance: Although wrought iron gates require minimal maintenance, regular checks and minor upkeep can prevent potential problems and extend the life of your gates.

Conclusion

Investing in wrought iron driveway gates is a decision that enhances both the security and aesthetic appeal of your property. With their timeless beauty, strength, and customizable options, these gates offer a perfect blend of form and function. Whether you are looking for driveway swing gates for sale or considering custom wrought iron gates, the key is to choose high-quality products and ensure proper installation. By doing so, you can enjoy the benefits of these elegant gates for many years to come. Contact us today to learn more about our offerings.

[tiyoin]

I ate your heart

warnings: graphic description of: violence, SA, gore, mentions of cannibalism, murder, reader almost gets graped, alcoholism*, manipulation, ‘victim blaming,’ unhealthy coping mechanisms, dark content - alastor and readers relationship is up for interpretation

dawg imagine you get killed by yan human alastor.🫣

like you’re thinking that you’ll finally be safe in the afterlife, hoping that you got a spot in heaven. (yet apparently, premarital sex would automatically remove your spot in line for a chance at salvation)

blasphemy does those kinda things🤷🏻

doesn’t matter if you lived as a nun. helping sinners see the light and righteousness of god. doesn’t matter if you fed por hand your entire life. or even if you solved the trolly problem.

one toe out of line, and your ass is grass.

so you’re in hell. if you knew you’d be going to hell you would’ve done a lot worse things in your human life for more power.

imagine living on the low, yeah you’ve killed people, maybe even took a soul or two. but it’s nothing to brag about, especially compared to the over lords.

—

very important note at the end.

1-800-662-4357 - addiction hotline.

-

by pressing ‘read more’ you have consented to reading this.

just a few years into your stay they started going missing. one, by one.

there was a whisper in the wind, a chill in the air as everyone had this impending sense of dread as a new over lord would be found almost daily. ripped to shreds, horribly mutilated, with missing limbs and ginormous bite marks that would open the food gates for intestines to spill out and pool around them.

sometimes there were no intestines at all.

or a body.

yet there was always a new broadcast

it wasn’t an exaggeration that everyone has been looking over their shoulders whenever the shadows looked a bit longer than usual. when the air starting churning and crackling. when the sudden sound of screaming ripped through the air. it was a natural hell-born reflex to flinch at the slightest noise of static.

a conditioning technique his radio broadcasts seemed to involuntarily instill on sinners.

you’ve never seen this so called ‘radio demon’ in person before. well, barely have been able to escape him and tell the tale so you weren’t sure what to look for.

or look out for. all you knew is that his name was alastor. and that whenever you heard that name you blood ran cold and your body stiffened.

tour mind would ring and your head would pound as you try to remember just where you’ve heard that name before.

yet your memory always failed you.

but alcohol never did.

seated at a bar as noisy club music blasted, you trace your finger longingly on the rim of your shot glass. eyes already drooping as your wrist which was keeping your head propped up started to ache.

you wouldn’t call yourself an alcoholic per say. more of a,,, continuous connoisseur. which was surprising due to the  hellish prices on everything here.

it’s not eternal damnation unless there’s a 5% sales tax plus gruitivity.

so instead of working your ass off to make a living, you’ve decided: ‘hey, it’s hell! i can do whatever i want (to an extent) and so i choose to scam men!!’

with every new bar came a new rotation of men looking to take up the empty seat next to you. you puffed your chest as you recalled a few women and non conforming folks take the seat sometimes.

you always made sure to… entertain them.

feeling a familiar pit in your stomach, you pause your hand. the coldness of the shot glass cooling your hot lips as the animal man next to you howls with laughter. the alcohol hitting his system like a firecracker.

and like clock work, his hand slipped around your waist, as he whispered filthy nothings you didn’t bother to catch, having heard it all before. even the sweet begging to take out to one of the many sex rooms the club has.

yet he dragged you towards the exit.

and you allowed him.

you thought it comically ironic that you were doing just the thing that punched your ticket down here.

the bitter cold nipped at your skin and tickled your brain. you were always so confused with the temperature of hell. freezing at night, scorching during the day.

even he’ll hated the homeless. who knew 🤷🏻

in the alley next to the club the animal man was biting and clawing at you. panting and speaking gibberish as his clumsy movements seemed to cause a new line of blood on your skin. you couldn’t do much to stop it.

limbs and eyes heavy as you tried focusing on him, on his wandering hands, his filthy mouth.

you wanted to go home.

he favored ignoring your sluggish mumbling and groans to comment about ‘wanting to fuck you nice and hard, giving you a few kits to remember him by.’

your clothes were practically in shreds. the chill in the air adding a faux impression of clarity as your arms started to weakly bang against him.

you didn’t even think he noticed as your fists wouldn’t even make it to his chest. you were so weak right now.

the only reason you weren’t crumpled on the ground as because he were pinning your entire body to the wall.

yet the inconsistent grip he had on you caused you to ping pong a bit.

“s stowp” you slurred, head lolling down as you felt his claws stop momentarily. he let out a cackle that rang through your eyes and rattled your brian stem.

fuck. you hissed. this is gonna one shit of a hang over

the drunk broke your thoughts as he continued his drunken rambles.

“the moment you took the sshhhot” spit flew in your face “i paid for… you were mine” he pushed his face in your neck, the hotness of his breathe sending distressed shivers down your body. urging your body to WAKE UP

yet he kept you pinned. you head looked to the side when tears started streaming down your face and with a big, slimy lick he greedily lapped them up.

you started struggling once his claws moved to your legs.

fuck fuck fuck you fucked up. you fucked up. why did you think this was a good idea, you knew something bad was going to happen. why didn’t you just listen to your gut. why didn’t you just take his watch and turn to the next man. why did you entertain him.

why did you let him buy you that drink.

“angel shot” had different meanings for the orderer.

if a woman ordered it, then security would either beat the shit or kill the demon she pointed out. (whether the staff respected women or just wanted an excuse to get blood on their hands, was a topic you often avoided thinking about)

but, if a man orders it… he wants to take a woman to the heavenly gates of sovereignty himself.

that last part is often open to interpretation.

nothing ever got done about these drinks. you were in hell after all. you think the politicians would ban something they invited?

the sting of his drool on an open, bloody bite mark on your collarbone ripped you from the sanctuary of your minds palace as his glowing yellow pierced into yours.

in an instant you felt nails digging into the flesh of your bruised and battered neck. blood dripped from your neck and onto your body as he squeezed harder.

black spots danced across your vision, followed by white, then purple, then red.

“help” you choked out, head lolling to the alley way as people walked by, not even phased. it was just an average day in hell after all.

the arm that wasn’t trying to put distance between you and him was heavily reaching out towards the street. hoping anyone, anything would come save you from your fuck up.

“get ready to meet god, bitch” he growled, hands-

there was a squelching noise as his breathe stilled. you dropped to the ground, hard. as he let go of you. his clawed hands fell limp to his sides. his face was blank as he staggered back.

“w-what” he stuttered, arms shakily moving to his stomach- well, what used to be his stomach- as a black tendril was impaling him.

you couldn’t move, couldn’t even stand or lift your eyes to see the scene before you. your heart beat was slow, yet thunderous in your ears. it’s thump almost made you miss the pleading, miss the screams of absolute anguish as the sound of flesh tearing and static and laughter filled the air. miss the way his head rolled in your direction before a dark, clawed hand reached from the hands and snatched it back.

it felt like hours before someone came up to you. but realistically, it was only a few seconds before you felt something hard and metal touch your head. only for the oddly shaped stick to wrap around your hair and yank your head up.

you groaned at the pain, eyes droopy as you struggled to stay conscious. you wouldn’t have been able to fight even if you wanted to.

paralyzing fear that washed over you like a tsunami, RUN. a voice spoke. yet you couldn’t even breath automatically. that job becoming harder and harder with each passing second. you couldn’t forget about the possibility of broken bones after… your viscous assault.

so you had no choice but to stay pliant to the new player in the game. 

“well well well” your eyes snapped up, your eyes met the abyss as a ferocious, crazed grin greeted you.

“it seems you carried over that habit of keeping… bad company he mused. although there was a hint of amusement in his radio voice, you knew there was nothing to laugh about.

he sighed before picking up the demons decapitated head by his hair. pushing it toward your face you were forced to smell him.

he pulled his staff- you- closer to the head, your upper body twisted uncomfortably as you were almost nose to nose with you.

a whine left your throat as alastor face came into your peripheral vision.

“what’s wrong? i thought you two were in the middle of something! but all means continue, i would hate to intrude”

he wasn’t talking about tonight. you knew that.

you felt your consciousness slip for a moment, only for a moment as a sharp sting penetrate your skull.

in a moments time the head was gone, but it was replaced by a dreaded sense of dejavú.

your brows widened as the face of pure, unadulterated fear contorted onto your face.

his grin only seemed to widen as his eyes crinkled harder.

“it seems someone remembers something. tell me miss y/n” he leaned closer, some kind of indigenous symbols started to crackle and float around him.

“tell me what you remember” he sneered, radio voice growling as his horn stretched out longer than before.

your mouth was dry, yet your tears were bountiful as your body’s natural reactions took over.

you were petrified. alastor knew this as you inhaled the intoxicating scent of terror that cling to you like perfume as you struggled to speak.

he hummed in what sounded like disappointment. but you were never sure what he was feeling as that damned smile was always glued on his face. even now.

he stepped away as he dropped your head, luckily your arms were positioned as the perfect pillow for your head to fall onto.

“since that cat has clearly stolen your tongue” he mused, briefly looking to the furry body he just… exterminated. he got bigger. horns growing even linger from his head, like branches from a tree, his already deformed limbs cracked and snapped like twigs as they went in all they grew longer, and larger in thr wrong directions.

you hadn’t thought it possible, but his smile grew larger, sharper as more teeth were revealed. pointy, yellow stained teeth with chunks of flesh and fur still in them smiled at you.

you were scared.

scared for you life-

your soul.

you wanted an escape.

giving up on physical escape meant the only place safe was your mind. yet even there he still resides.

yet his limbs weren’t twisted and broken, his voice wasn’t shrouded in statics and his hair most certainly wasn’t red.

you gasped.

alastor.

his face deepened.

“so you’ve remembered…”

you were shaking, visibly shaking as you saw two of him.

one with full teeth and brown eyes and hair… the other…

monstrous, nightmarish. hell-ish

why’d you think you could escape him, why’d you think you’d get mercy in your afterlife, when you didn’t revive any in your past life.

you didn’t wanna die by the same man twice.

alastor, who could practically read your mind inched his face down further

“don’t worry little one, i do not plan on making the same mistake twice.” like a flicker of a candle his demonic form turned into his human form. though you must have imagined or hallucinated it. as the thing was still there.

yet with each passing moment his horns subdued into his head. his grin downgraded into a smile as the symbols slinked out of existence one by one.

“i was quite… emotional back then.” he pet your hair, instantly stopping your shaking. he pretended it wasn’t because you were scared stiff.

“i didn’t know how to react when i heard you had a midnight rendezvous with the librarians son. it broken my heart” he sniffles, eyes slowly turning back into red slits.

“it saddened me, woed me to do what i had to do.” he sighed. you felt a punch to your gut as his personality did a compete 180.

“i never wanted to… yet you left me in a tricky situation” he shook his head sadly, palm against his cheek to empathize his sadness.

“but!” he said, a smile on his face as he pointed up. “i know it wasn’t your fault, that boy had been ogling you far too long so i did the only thing i thought that was fitting.”

his free hand opened his palm, showing you a faux image of smoke and mirrors, a woman and a man.

they looked around before they noticed each other. you could tell what their relationship was by how they ran to each other.

before they could reach each other, he crumpled his fist, nails digging into his glove as his slits narrowed.

“i ate you heart”

—

1-800-662-4357 - addiction hotline.

*as the author I feel obligated to write this : reader is an alcoholic but they can’t see that they are. due to having friends struggle with this i’m telling you guys straight out. that reader is addicted to alch so that part isn't up to interpretation. it’s very serious and very isolating, please think about your friends and families before you go down this path. voluntarily or involuntarily. addiction isn’t fun or even remotely ‘cool.’ the more serious talks we have about addiction instead of crossing it out as 'something only dirty people do' and start seeing it for the monster it truly is; is the day we will get as a society. although i didn’t struggle with alcohol addiction, i was victim to another kind that plagues me to this day, so please take my advice and make smart choices.

this also extends to self destructive behaviors, like what reader is doing

personally, i think alastor is some kind of ace / demiromantic

out of all the things I was gonna write to come back, I never would've thought it was gonna be a hazbin hotel imagine. let alone an alastor x reader one.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Aw, maaaannn, another one of my dream houses is back on the market, but this time, instead of the $3.5M price tag it had in 2018, it's now listed for $9.75M + $1,967mo. common charge. The 1910 building is located in the East Village, a desirable trendy part of New York City. It's a large duplex with 5bds, 4.5ba.

The entrance is thru an iron gate and a forest green door.

The property consists of a penthouse with a cottage on the roof.

In the living room is a lovely fireplace and a mezzanine on the 2nd level opens the space, giving it some architectural interest.

The home was renovated and has a renewed staircase, yet retains an original niche. A ceiling-high glass block window lets in light.

Open concept dining room lined with windows for lots of natural light.

The open space ends with the kitchen.

Love the vintage look flooring. The kitchen island is unique- it looks like a mid-century modern sideboard.

The mezzanine is basically just a walkway, but it has a wall of shelving and enough room for a chair or two.

There's also a nook for a small desk or writing table.

The primary bedroom is a nice size, gets good natural light, and has a small nook for a chair, plus a lovely fireplace. It also has a view of the patio. And, it's located in the rooftop cottage.

Very nicely remodeled vintage style bath.

Hallway with a built-in closet and a bedroom used as a TV room.

This bedroom is designed the same as the primary, but on a smaller scale.

Lively turquoise subway tile bath and bedroom #3.

And, another lovely tiled bath with bedroom #4.

The rooftop cottage and brick patio looks like a beautiful home you'd find on the ground.

It's like the best of both worlds, living in the city and the country.

There're even trees, lawn & gardens.

View of the city.

[fearforthestorm]

tickets for the additional Texas shows went on sale today, and idk if anyone else has posted it, but the extended description of JfT on the ticket listings is REALLY good:

The west Texas the Mountain Goats conjure for Jenny is huge and already crumbling to the ground when we meet her in lead single “Clean Slate,” where a new arrival to the safehouse finds it nearly full, his host beyond exhaustion. Her burdens are heavy, and the measures they cause her to take have consequences that scale well beyond anything she could have anticipated when she decided to open her home to others. Such gestures are noble and doomed.

“You can’t be the person everyone relies on to take care of them and keep them safe for too long,” Darnielle says of the reality of these spaces. “It eventually causes so much stress that it threatens to break you.”

Ironically, that same stress makes it impossible for Jenny to see that she’s on the verge of being broken until it’s too late. Explaining the title of the album, Darnielle notes that Jenny is not unlike a character from Greek literature, someone on the verge of an unimaginable tragedy whose signs and portents will not make themselves known to her until she finds herself amidst the wreckage. “These things never happen in isolation,” he says. “One bad event leads to and is the reason for another bad event. Jenny should know that you can’t keep a safehouse in a west Texas town, but she’s too wrapped up in the process and has to go through the loss to understand how it happened.”

Whether or not she comes to understand how it happened, the events of Jenny from Thebes set Jenny on the run. A woman and her custom yellow and black Kawasaki held in the memories of a vanishing few, someone who held the gate for as long as she could, as a warrior might, before disappearing into the night like a thief.

(this is specifically from the ticket listing for the Dallas show, and there's a little bit more there that I didn't quote here, just because I didn't want to make the post too long lol)

[burntoutandproud]

europe tripping out, man

things to do in europe:

photograph "unBelongings:"

-windsor castle smoke detectors -hidden electrical booths of notre dame -graffiti. and more graffiti-

everywhere you look, like rotten fruit on stone, dead flies in a mcdonald’s paint packet.

nearby, a furby lies pitiless in a pit, watching from the moss- glazing upwards with glassy angel eyes.

we all want to be immortalized (even just for a day) so turn the camera on yourself and smile! at the irony

be greedy. you deserve it. you're on vacation, bitch.

run your hands along cathedral walls; pause to lick them clean.

stained glass window-shop for priests (where'd he buy that robe, temu) in the smile of a con man (his head has made an indent on the window seat) search for shades of belief (painting the town tritone beige-brown with each wing)

airline TV in the halo of overhead shine you are reborn

you Belong.

find god in the boy who called you names behind your back make him laugh the click-clacking of trolley wheels "kudzu for sale!" "consume or be consumed!" warning: may contain multitudes. here, his love language is french- kissing your lips red as aged wine (tastes like cheap nail polish) he steers you towards the light

and amsterdam is thick with smoke but god, the sky is so clear.

in the mirror- rearrange each strand of hair as if it will change your face.

meld into the cobblestones; soak up the rain wait for the oncoming train let the rails arrange your spine as you go- bump in the night towards a new life

where you can be anyone

impale yourself on the eiffel tower. just for fun.

kill your-

...

apologize.

i'm sorry you i'm sorry

i never posted the photos and what good is europe if no one is watching.

what good am i if i am you and you are everything but- negative space and a keychain shaped like a girl:

-a ticky tacky tourist -a straight-backed pew with the head bowed -a polaroid in a snowstorm -a post card, wish you were

here, but forgotten, years later still lying in that pit in the street to yourself- a love letter in blood on the gates of my body

your body. with the anger of a soldier and the patience of a guard an angel under glass with wings rubbed iron raw and shoulders shrouded in sky each eye a ring light reflection and a rifle at your side- loaded with a message to home.

i'm scared.

i miss you.

nobody knows me here.

she is blurry. and beautiful (from a distance) how could you forget?

things to do in europe:

hold on tight to my Belongings.

look down.

leave. while you still can.

[valoisfulcanellideux]

The Greatbridge in its heyday

We all know it as this beautiful creation:

But I wanted to write about how it might have been in its heyday, when the Ancient Capital was alive and thronging with people. And so I did...

From These Stones Remember (ch.22) -

The great wooden gates lay up ahead, and beyond them he could see a bustle already arising. Carts rumbled past him, laden with wares, donkeys and llamas similarly packed with goods passed by more noisily. And, as he walked through the gates, the whole of the Greatbridge lay before him. Flanking the whole length of it, as far as he could see, stalls and stands were already set up and in the process of being stocked. Banners and pennants danced in the river breeze that also brought the scents of spices and incense smokes to him. Baskets and crates and sacks, fruits and grains and vegetables, the hot floury smell of flatbread baking in ovens, the mouth-watering sizzle of sides of pork turning over hot coals that nosed down from the far end of the bridge, the chatter and laughter of haggling already underway. To his left, a large balloon that floated in the air, tied down with rope. Occasional bursts of flame upwards into the stiffened cloth sphere made it rise to the limits of the rope, as well as the heavy net slung across the top of the sphere. Below it there hung a large square basket, from which burly men wearing brown leather breeches and white shirts handed down large crates to their colleagues on the ladder below, who cracked them open and set out their contents on tables and boxes. Stacks of books, both plain and with magical sheen, piled between shining ingots of pure iron. To his right, a great chirping, flapping, and squawking as a man and woman took birdcages from a small cart pulled by a third, hanging them beneath a joyously bright statue of a parrot. Two small children stood close by, hand-in-hand, watching and giggling. Beneath bright awnings, cooking oils by the jug and dried fruits by the waxen bag, seeds by the pouch for planting, buttons by the cone and ribbons by the measure of thumb to elbow. Beneath the llama statue, women crowded to haggle for the best and brightest from water-filled buckets of colourful flowers. Moving through the bustling crowd, delights at every turn, Paix gloried in the beauty and heart of humanity that thronged this place. Hawkers cried their wares, flattered and wheedled and flirted with their customers for another sale, jugglers and tumbling acrobats somehow managed to keep both a space about them and an entertained audience distracted before them. Devotees sang and sold wine and sugar beneath a floating quartz cupola that defied both gravity and sensibility. A redstone trickster held a small gaggle of onlookers rapt while his light-fingered accomplice relieved their pockets of coin. Mummers performed a comedic play, drawing roars of laughter from those crowded around their antics. Paix was offered samples of wine by the singing devotees, juicy hunks of roasted pork by odd little squat folk whose cloak hoods flared widely on either side of their heads and who tried to press him for an additional purchase of copper ingots, giggling when he demurred since he had nothing with which to pay them. More wine, followed by a hand thrusting a crescent-shaped meat pie toward him with a broad grin and a bellowed word that was lost amid the general clamour on the Greatbridge.

[sparklepocalypse]

Thank you thank you for the tags today, @eusuntgratie, @onthewaytosomewhere, and @orchidscript, and on Sunday, @ninzied, @cha-melodius,

@anincompletelist, and @kiwiana-writes!

Today you get even more content from my upcoming @aroyallybigbangrwrb fic, which I am still writing even though I'm tier 2, lmao:

Seven Sisters has the best smithy and farrier anywhere in Duval County, and Alex heads straight for the blacksmith's shop once they ride through the town gate in the late afternoon. He’s been a regular customer here for years — first with his Appaloosa mare Bramble, before she’d gotten too old to take on bounty jobs and retired to a life of luxury in Nora’s stable, and now with Fuller. When the brass bell over the door jingles, announcing his entry, the smithy calls out, “Be right with you!” over the sound of heavy hammer against hot iron. Alex leans against the front counter and waits patiently while Henry lets his curiosity get the better of him and turns in place, taking in all the wrought iron and forged steel goods for sale, from fire pokers to sample lengths of fencing. The hammering stops, and a moment later, the smithy, grinning broadly and approaching them both, declares boisterously, “Alex Claremont-Diaz, as I live and breathe! Lord, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

[thesamoanqueen]

Way back Home

Raiting: 14+

Warnings: Angst; Fluff; The drama I dont want to talk about…

A/N: Morning break before WM39 and Im here to throw some angst around 'cause I'm going to have a meltdown tomorrow and that's it. Enjoy.

They had moved away from the city center for a while, streets were almost empty now, it must have been a residential neighborhood. Or so she thought, there were so many trees on the properties that it looked like a jungle out there and almost made houses disappear. Roman continued to swerve and follow the directions, but Y/N had looked at the map and there didn't seem to be anything nearby at all.

- Where we going? - she asked curiously, looking away from the window and at him, with that expression.

- I want to show you a thing – he announced with a smile, his attention still on the road, although by now there was no one except them.

Silently she looked out again, trying to understand. It was clearly a residential part of the city, an upmarket one probably. The streets and sidewalks were neat, the houses hardly visible, but the letterboxes and fences were, and even those made a decidedly good impression. She really didn't understand what there could be to see in such a place, perhaps a foundation, a small private museum maybe? a club? There was a connection to the bay across the river out there somewhere… all those trees were confusing her, it looked like a maze.

- We've been in the car for hours Ro.

- Are you tired?

- No, but you're keeping to go around, with all these houses, the empty streets... it seems like the beginning of an horror movie in which a serial killer drags a girl to his cabin in the middle of the Florida swamps and chains her there to torture her - she joked with a snort and Roman laughed, turning to face her for a moment.

Yes, she was exaggerating and yes, she was getting impatient, she knew it.

- There are some good people living here Y/N and if there was a chance one of us was a serial killer, it wouldn't be me. We both know that.

- True, but-

- Be good. Its here - Roman stopped her, slowly taking the last cross.

The news silenced her immediately and she moved her eyes to the road, which after the wide curve became a shaded and empty strip of asphalt. There were black railings along the sides and a few light stone pillars to space everything out, but no houses could no longer be see. Maybe there were some, but the properties must have been larger than what she had seen coming this far and after a few seconds, she realized the street wasn't even that long. It ended in a roundabout beyond which they had placed an elaborate iron gate and a lay-by with an intercom.

- What's beyond the gate? - she asked again as Roman rolled down the window to press the button just below the "for sale" sign.

- Not a cabin. – she heard him joking, before someone opened to let them in.

She had a few days off that week. A break in anticipation of what would soon happen and for which everyone would have to give their all. The idea of going home hadn't even crossed her mind for a second. It's not that she didn't like it, but she spent so much time away from there that it became a warehouse for the things she couldn't keep in her suitcase and with the mood she was in, Y/N really didn't want to set foot there to get away the plug. She needed to keep herself busy, to distract herself and continue to be absorbed by work had been one of her ways to overcome those moments for years. She had taken a car and driven almost half a day to get there, a flight would have been more practical, but sitting looking out a window with headphones on helps you think and she didn't want to. It was already afternoon when she had opened the door of the hotel room where she would stay until the next show and she had to take a shower. Leaving the suitcases in a corner and together with them her heels, she took off the earrings, rings and necklace, looking at her phone one last time.

The last message was from that morning. No calls, no news. He had yet another busy day. She took a picture of the city from the window to send it to Roman, an excuse to find out if he was all right and turned off the screen, breathing deeply to regain control, while she turned on the TV to fill the silence a bit and lock herself inside the bathroom.

Work had sucked her in one day and spat her out the next in a worse state than the previous one, Roman wasn't there, he wouldn't even be there the following week and to her it really seemed like an endless nightmare. She heard her co-workers talk, saw the show go on, people sit and stand as usual, but Y/N had the impression of being stuck in quicksand. She had tried to keep busy, to wear herself out physically, she had agreed to go out with some friends in an attempt to distract herself and resume a normal life, but just like with quicksand, moving had made things worse. She slept badly at night, head always elsewhere, clinging to those few moments in which Roman showed up and then disappeared again. She couldn't go on like the others if she didn't let go first and part of her, more than a part to say the truth, was refusing to do it… even to her own detriment. She should have faced things, cleared up, faced reality for her own good, but she was worried about Roman not herself. She trusted him, but knew how big the change was, how hard it could be to loosen his grip and lose control of something he'd driven and been responsible for for years and she didn't want him to go through it alone.

He didn't need her and had clearly chosen to keep her out of that phase of his life, yet Y/N felt she had to be there for him at that moment, she wanted to be there, to support him and in her own small way reassure him, even if her role it boiled down to a few texts and a couple of calls. Y/N'd never been the kind of woman who would give herself up to a man, her priorities had always taken precedence, but this time she just wasn't able to.

The garden looked like a little paradise, a peacefull island in the middle of nowhere. Nothing could be seen beyond the trees and the outline of the hill behind which the river flowed into the sea. There were other houses around it, yet everything seemed to be there to shield the place from the rest. Distracted, she watched the clear water of the pool stir in the wind and only when Roman sank onto the couch next to her, she turn around smiling. Y/N hadn't imagined something like this when he'd asked her to stay in Florida with him for a few days, but it had been fun.

- So, does it deserve a vote? - she heard him ask seriously, arm sliding behind to caress her bare shoulder.

- The color of the walls at the entrance is horrendous, this is not Tahiti – she reflected just as seriously.

- It can be changed.

- And living room and dining room should be reversed. There is more light on that side of the house, the windows are wider. It's strange that no one thought of it…

- Something else? - Roman inquired, looking at her with the tip of a smile.

- No, the floors are beautiful, bathrooms and fornitures too with all that marble. Rooms are huge and the garden alone is half the value of the entire house, your parents will love it.

Y/N couldn't say she knew them well, but she'd spent time with them for a variety of reasons, from PPVs to trips that Naomi and the twins had taken her and Roman was their copy. They loved having family together, keeping busy in the outdoors, that house would be perfect for everything. He had chosen well and the thought made her instinctively reach out to stroke his beard: he was a walking guarantee fund.

- It's not for my parents, my mother would be angry if I spent money on them. Its for me.

The carelessness with which he said it astounded her and Y/N hand slid down his arm as she stared at him in silence.

For him? Buying another house? Did he want to move or he just want a second house? Did make sense to have a second house so close to the first? Same state? When had that idea occurred to him? Why was the first time she heard that story? And what was she doing there with him?

- You take me to choose your house? – she asked confused, while he insisted on stroking her shoulder.

Because during their visit it didn't seem like he had already decided to take it and just wanted to show it to her. The real estate agent had asked him what was his first impression. First. Had he taken her to choose a house with him? It's not the kind of thing you do with… well, she wasn't that one for him. Maybe she was misunderstanding things, she must have misunderstood. That was a life choice to share with someone special and yes, they were more than friends, they had a unique relationship in their own way and they had added quite a few, lot, benefits over the last year, but that was a serious thing.

- You have more taste than me and it's an important step. I wanted you to be there – Roman admitted without too much trouble and Y/N abruptly swallowed the boulder that had risen down her throat.

They weren't that. There wasn't that between them. It would have been nice, but it wasn't like that, she knew it. She was, she… it was just her misunderstanding, because he had a natural talent for attracting attention and destroying pussies in any way possible. This one was new and unexpected, but still a way.

- You should have brought your mama or one of your sisters, it's an investment.

- I'm old enough to know how to manage my life. I wanted you. - he insisted and Y/N made an effort with all herself to remain lucid on that patio, because the moment he said it, her mind had gone elsewhere.

He wanted her. He had chosen her for a step like this. And it wasn't a fallback, he'd planned it because they'd planned those days in Florida together weeks ago, not out of the blue. Roman had really wanted her to be there with him, to be next to him and it was a good feeling. She knew well that they weren't planning anything, that it wasn't about choosing a house for some kind of future and that things between them wouldn't change once they stepped out of that gate again, but it was still a good feeling. Knowing that he wanted her with him, that somehow she needed her support. It was comforting.

She felt his hand tighten lightly on her shoulder and instinctively followed suit, squeezing hers on his arm, an uncontrolled smile creeping across her lips when she saw him smiling a little bit too. He was so-

- That area can be expanded if you want, maybe put in some children’s games, all permits are in place. - the real estate agent broke in out of nowhere, without even trying to hide her knowing look.

- Add them to the contract and let's review everything - she heard Roman add, with a cocky smile and the woman’s eyebrows raised so much that they almost touched her bangs, as she returned inside the house.

Whether it was because of his smile or the idea of having closed a contract with all those zeros was not clear.

In the last two months so much had changed for her… and Y/N really couldn't understand when that jump into the void after a bad moment had become everything. Maybe it was inside his private bus on the road to Charlotte or maybe on the trip to Portland with Jey and Jimmy. She remembered the endless days in the stadiums, breakfasts in the car and nights in the parking lots or inside hotel rooms before leaving again the following day. The night in the gym when she had decided to go over the limit and he hadn't hesitated for a moment, even tearing the air out of her lungs to fuck her senseless, the moments together that lasted a life or the absurd day when she had seen him sign a check for that which had become his new home with her next to him.

He had been in and out of that house for the past two months, planning and planning perhaps even with someone else next to him, while she waited for him, only suspecting what was inside his head and silencing her own. Y/N didn't want to think about it, she didn't want to focus on that, it would have been useless and more painful than it already was. She just wanted to be there for Roman. And so firm in her purpose, she waited for him to finish his round of greetings and let himself fall in the locker room next to her.

- That was a big pop - she recalled, still hearing the noises of people in her ears as Roman entered the ramp with Paul.

It was amazing how everything changed when he was around. For people it was moments, but for her it had become something else and being able to be there, alone, even if it was just a little, made her feel better.

- It played well yes… I like your hair – he commented, turning to look at her with a smile.

- Thank you. – she said softly, moving playful on of her twists from the shoulder and Roman nodded slowly, returning to stare at the floor of the locker room.

Having the opportunity to spend time away from that routine was doing him good, he was physically less tired, but there was still something wrong, she could see it.

- I have to thank you.

- For the hair?

- You know what I'm talking about Y/N – he said heavy, turning back to look at her and she felt her stomach crumple, because he had always been able to see beyond her and Y/N had almost forgotten how it was like.

He had chosen to keep her on the sidelines of that story from the first moment, whether because he wanted to face it alone or because her place wasn't at his side, Y/N really didn't know and wouldn't even ask. Not with Roman, not with how she felt about him. It hurt and she wished badly for things to be different, no matter what had or hadn't happened between them in nearly a year, but she was happy, immensely happy, that he was aware of her attempts to be there for him. Because it was all she ever wanted and it was worth it.

- Don’t say that. There’s no need. – she denied quickly, gritting her teeth so as not to collapse and let everything flow all over her, but Roman stopped her when her shoulders hadn't even had time to physically shake off those words.

Something was already ringing somewhere, probably a reminder for who knows what appointment or communication, but neither of them turned to check, not this time, not yet. Y/N felt his hand caress her cheek as it hadn't done for a long time and a part of her, the one beyond the impeccable facade, the one that had thrown herself upon him for comfort and was now seeking him like air, curled up in that point as if it were home.

- I had to do it. Another month, just one. – he swore seriously, rubbing her cheekbone with his thumb, eyes devouring her as they did every time they met.

It was a bad time of the year in their parallel universe to make promises and predictions for the future, but Roman was a man of his word and whatever came next, Y/N would go along with it anyway. That moment was enough for her to know that she was a safe road for him in that chapter of his life. Past or future. A month and then she would move on with her life, she could do it for him.

- Raise up. They are waiting for you.

One month. One.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyanarossi @wickedsunfire @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @thiccc-rider-mcintyre @keybladeofsteel @iovereigns @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @ichdrachenfrau @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @vintage-pvssy @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @niknakbucks92 @wrestlezaynia @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @nestorsgirlfriend @brattyfics @wanna-be-dominated @kitanasposts @tribalchiefreigns @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @raeluvshammett @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @jeonmahi1864 @romanreignseater @kilviaa7 @thewarlordsworld @mzv11

[sleepyburito]

Dillon Gateway

Dillon Gateway is a playable character in Honkai: Star Rail.

A uniquely intelligent individual with several quirks, viewed with both awe and confusion.

They have been held on the pedestal of genius since birth but now wander the universe without any worries or deadlines. She believes true genius and intelligence comes when one understands their own limits and can work without stress. Despite the continuously increasing hoard in his room, this proves to be the case.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Overview Rarity: ⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡ Path: Erudition Combat Type: Quantum

Bio Real Name: Dillon Gateway  Pronouns: they/she/he Species: mutated human (warp trotter)  Faction(s): Intelligentsia Guild Astral Express World: Astral Express Messages: Dillon’s Messages  How to Obtain: The Forever Journey

Family Relatives: Dr. Ratio (adoptive brother) Nancy (Legal next of kin)

Voice Character: Gwen Stacy English: Hailee Steinfeld Chinese: Esther Yu Japanese: Aoi Yuuki

𓆩⟡𓆪

Trivia

Despite his confirmed wealth, Dillon mainly uses sales and coupons as his way of acquiring materials

This includes materials he has no need for such as rags, pillows and spare parts

Dillon is confirmed to have degrees in chemical engineering, quantum physics, engineering and biology

They have even created specialised college courses for some of these subjects 

Daffodil, their cat, was created by collecting and shaping residue left behind by warps and ‘jumps’

Her watch and glove were created especially to prevent Dillon from accidentally creating jumps in the fabric of reality 

Dillon is a night owl and usually is awake during the late hours of the night working away in their lab or relaxing in their room

They do however attend dinner with the express crew

⋆

Etymology 

In Irish heritage, Dillon is a name meaning ‘Like a Lion’ or ’Loyal’ 

Gateway originates from Old Norse “Gat”. the literal meaning of the word is ‘an entrance or passage that may be closed by a gate’ 

It is implied Dillon chose their own name in Dr. Ratio’s voice lines

@star-rascals one of the promised other 2 oc's : )

took a while to post cuz I had to iron out some details about this one but hope ya'll enjoy!

[diabolus1exmachina]

Borgward Isabella Coupé 

Has any automaker gone from oblivion to success and back again as quickly as Borgward? Mention the name today, and you're likely to get blank stares, or questions along the lines of "Borgward? Who made those?" It's hard to imagine any European posing that sort of question in 1955, when Borgward had risen from the post-war rubble to outsell all other German automakers but Volkswagen, or 1958, when the Bremen firm very nearly nipped Porsche for the German sports-car championship. And yet, by 1962, the company was gone, the victim of a tragic and avoidable series of circumstances.

The Isabella was a bull's-eye in the mid-priced sedan market segment. Volkswagens were less expensive, but smaller and less powerful. Mercedes-Benz's 180 sedan had the sophistication of an overhead cam, but no greater top speed, and cost 30 percent more than the Isabella's list price of 7,265 Deutsche Marks. Opel's Olympia Rekord couldn't touch its top speed, or its all-coil-sprung suspension; and BMW had nothing between the fantastically expensive "Baroque Angel" 501 and the Isetta-based 600 microcar. On top of it all, the press loved the car. By the end of 1954, more than 10,000 Isabellas had rolled out the factory gates.

The Isabella had thoroughly up-to-date underpinnings, with a coil spring at each corner, swing axles in the rear and A-arms up front. The engine, a pushrod four designed by Karl Ludwig Brandt, wrung 75hp from its 1,493cc, with its relatively high 8.2:1 compression ratio and good breathing. The intake manifold was entirely enclosed atop the engine, making for a tidy design that could have been mistaken for an OHC. So sound was the engine that, developed for racing, it powered Cooper-Borgwards to many Formula 2 victories in the Fifties. The Borgward RS, or Rennsport, became Porsche's nemesis in the hands of drivers like Stirling Moss, Jo Bonnier and Hans Herrmann.

If the Isabella had a flaw, it was that its development had been limited, and early cars suffered from weak engine bearings and front-end components. Competitors started a whispering campaign about "die Traumfrau mit der schmutzigen Unterwäsche," or "the dream girl with the dirty underwear," but Borgward, unfazed, worked with its suppliers to iron out the bugs, and no real harm was done to the model's reputation.

Just as with the Hansa 1500, new models were quickly spun off the Isabella. In 1955, Borgward launched convertible and station wagon versions, as well as a hot TS ("Touring Sport") model with a two-barrel carburetor that could top 90 MPH, leaving Porsche 1300s behind. As the decade wore on, new designs from its competitors and a softening economic situation led to declining sales, prompting Carl F. W. to add the most glamorous model yet to the Isabella lineup: the Coupé.

[politemagic]

The Haunting of Sleep Manor: Chapter I

For years, Sleep has promised Vessel that he would find a safe haven for himself and the other vessels, a home free from judgement and ridicule where they would be free to be themselves. Through his dreams, Sleep showed Vessel a beautiful home, the perfect solace for the four of them. When Vessel sees Langley Manor listed for sale in a local paper, it feels as if everything is finally falling into place.

Only Langley Manor is more than meets the eye, with plenty of secrets yet to be uncovered.

2.01k words | ao3

a/n: she's here!!! I am so very excited to finally get this series going. thank you everyone for your kind words on my haunted house headcanons, I never would have started this without you. I've been having a lot of fun writing this and I look forward to continuing the eepies' adventures at Langley Manor! I hope that you enjoy, any comments/feedback are always greatly appreciated 🖤

The realtor had expressed great concern on the phone with Vessel, insisting that he should come to view the home before making any final decisions. But when he continuously refused a formal tour, she decided it may be best to just keep her mouth shut and accept her commission, letting him discover the truths of Langley Manor for himself. What she didn’t know was that Vessel had visited the property, though not physically, on many occasions. Sleep had taken him there through his dreams, guiding him through its halls, showing him glimpses of what he believed to be a refuge for himself and the other vessels. A place where they could commune with Him in peace, free from the judgemental eyes of prying neighbors and passersby; the desolate region surrounding the manor allowing them ample privacy. When Vessel saw the familiar facade listed for sale in the paper, he dialed the number immediately, not hesitating to purchase the home from his dreams. 

They didn’t have much in the way of worldly possessions, so all of their belongings packed neatly into one moving truck. The four vessels of Sleep squished together in the cab as they barreled down the quiet country road. Vessel was humming along to the radio, II lightly drumming along with his fingers against his thigh. IV’s mind had wandered off, his eyes slightly glazed over as he took in the passing scenery, III snoring against his shoulder. At last, they could see the wrought iron gates of Langley Manor, their new home looming at the end of the drive beyond. Vessel veered off the road, pulling up to the gates and shifting the truck into park, causing III to stir from his slumber.

Vessel hopped out of the driver’s door, unlocking the padlock with one of the many keys from the keyring he’d received from the realtor’s office the day before. The old house came with a ridiculous number of keys, he couldn’t even begin to imagine the various secrets locked away inside the home. Sleep wouldn’t have selected just any home, he was sure there was something more to this place than meets the eye. He pushed the gates open at last, quickly making his way back to the truck. The gravel driveway crunched beneath the tires as they entered the grounds of Langley Manor, the vast expanse of land that surrounded the manor house sprawling out in luscious greens before them. The manor house itself stood four stories high, its once bright red brick walls faded beneath years of direct sunlight to a muted rusty hue. Vines of ivy crept up from the ground, draping the house in a shroud of green. Despite the slightly dilapidated exterior of the house, Vessel felt his heart leap in his chest. He could hardly believe that he was finally here, that any of this was real.

They all clamored out of the truck, taking a chance to stretch and breathe before they began to even think about unloading their things. III groaned as he finally stood upright again, his legs severely cramped from the five hour drive from the city. II came to stand beside Vessel, glancing up at his obscured face with careful eyes as he watched Vessel tilt his head back to take in their new home, a deep sigh escaping his chest. II had become skilled in reading his body language over their years together, but there was something new in him now, something II had never seen before. When Vessel turned to look at him, the brightness of his smile made II’s heart skip a beat as he realized what that new emotion was. It was hope.

“What do you think?” Vessel asked softly, eager to hear II’s thoughts on their new home.

“It looks perfect,” II replied, shifting his gaze to look back up at the imposing structure before them. Vessel’s smile spread into an all out grin as he turned his head to see IV staring up at their new home in awe.

“Sure beats that dinky old cottage!” III exclaimed, walking up behind Vessel and II to throw his arms over their shoulders.

“Hey, at least that one was air conditioned.” IV argued, coming to stand on the other side of Vessel as the four of them silently admired Langley Manor. They all knew, as if Sleep whispered it into their ears Himself.

This was their home.

“Shit, Ves. This place is sick.” III added, letting out a low whistle.

“How far are we from town?” IV asked, looking to Vessel.

“About half an hour.” He answered, noting the way IV’s eyes lit up at his reply. As the newest vessel, he was still the most sensitive to the ridicule they were so often subjected to.

“He’s really blessed us this time.” IV mumbled to himself, noting the remains of a long dead vegetable garden to the side of the house. He silently thanked Sleep that they wouldn’t have to venture into town too often for groceries if they could grow some of their own.

“I can’t believe this is ours.” II said in quiet awe.

Vessel felt tears pricking the corner of his eyes, feeling a wave of satisfaction roll over him. He’d finally done it; he’d finally fulfilled the promise he made to the boys so long ago to find them a safe place to call home. They’d tried to build a home for themselves many times, though they always wound up getting chased out of town. People tended to fear things they didn’t understand, and no one ever bothered to try and understand the reasons behind their masks. Not that he expected it to make much difference, he doubted many of their previous neighbors would have been particularly receptive to the message of Sleep. It pained him that the others trusted him so fully to lead them, yet he felt as if he continuously led them in the wrong directions. He’d begun to doubt the visions Sleep had shown to him, and began to believe that maybe there was no safe place for them at all. But finally, here he stood, feet planted firmly on the ground before the home that Sleep promised to them, the home that He told Vessel would be theirs.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Vessel said, making his way up the front steps. He singled out the master key from the jangling keyring, wiggling it into the deadbolt lock. When he heard the click of the lock disengaging, he turned back to the others before opening the front door, their eyes bright with excitement.

“Come on, let’s see it!” III encouraged, bouncing on the balls of his feet impatiently. Vessel shook his head, laughing quietly to himself as II elbowed him in the ribs. Vessel then dramatically pushed the door open, stepping aside to let them cross the threshold first.

III immediately went up the staircase that led to the second floor, shouting something about wanting to investigate the bedrooms first. IV took more tentative steps inside, being drawn straight to the library directly off the grand foyer. II walked in as if he was entering the home of a new acquaintance for the first time, hands folded behind his back as he admired the large crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling, then decided to follow III up the stairs. Vessel paused in the doorway, taking a deep breath before he stepped inside.

The moment his foot made contact with the hardwood floor, an oppressive, stifling feeling came over his body. Once he was inside, the door slammed shut behind him, causing him to jump. 

“Fuckin’ hell!” He shouted, turning back to look at the door. 

“Everything okay?” IV asked, quickly emerging from the library.

“Everything’s fine,” Vessel shrugged, examining the door. “Door’s just real fuckin’ heavy I guess.”

“Suppose we’ll just have to be careful coming in late, then.” IV responded, taking his own look at the large wooden door.

“You want to check out the kitchen?” Vessel asked, and IV nodded his head. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

As he led IV down the familiar hallway Vessel couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t welcome in this place. That oppressive feeling he felt when he first entered wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to him, and he felt a pit forming in his gut. Ever since he surrendered himself to Sleep, he’d found himself particularly attuned to the spirit world. He had become sensitive to the energies of souls that had yet to pass on to the Other Side. Over the years he managed to train himself to ignore it, but something about the way he felt in this house was different, stronger, as if the spiritual energies were amplified. But surely the house wasn’t haunted. There was no way that the house they had dreamed of and waited so long to find would be haunted. Right?

As Vessel pushed open the door to the kitchen, his heart plummeted. Gathered around the kitchen table was a group of five translucent figures. IV gasped when they entered, and for a split second Vessel thought he might see them too, but he instead made a beeline to countertops, investigating the slightly outdated appliances that came with the home. Vessel stood rooted in his spot, eyes locked onto the gaggle of ghosts. One of them, a woman in prim regency attire, scoffed as she watched IV draw nearer, not yet looking at Vessel. She had an air of authority about her, and Vessel assumed she was the matriarch of Langley Manor during her life based on her polished look. Her hair was pinned neatly atop her head, her dress perfectly unwrinkled as if she was ready to sit for a portrait.

“Oh wonderful, more cultists.” She sneered, shaking her head, her eyes scanning IV from head to toe.

“Hey, they might not be like the last ones,” A man said hopefully, watching IV carefully as he examined the pantry space with an almost childlike glee. “They seem nice enough, right?”

“That one’s scary.” A little girl’s voice piped up, and Vessel could just barely see her small hand pointing at him from behind the leg of the kitchen table. He felt a pang of hurt in his chest at her words, his shoulders slumping. 

All the ghosts turned to observe him, freezing when they felt the weight of his gaze staring back at them. The man who’d spoken, a tall man dressed in dark coveralls, took a tentative step forward, eyeing Vessel suspiciously. When Vessel took a small step backwards, the ghosts’ eyes widened.

“Can you see us?” He asked, and Vessel nodded, eyes flitting over to IV, who was now opening and closing the various cabinets, checking for anything that may have been left behind by the previous owners. 

“He can see us!” The little girl shrieked, shrinking back behind the table leg.

“We want no part in… Whatever it is you’re here to do. We have enough problems of our own and I’m tired of cleaning up your kinds’ satanic messes.” The woman said as she placed her hands on her hips. Vessel just shook his head, not speaking as IV returned to him, eyeing his distressed demeanor carefully.

“Hey, you alright?” He asked, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, no I’m fine,” Vessel reassured him with a half-hearted smile. “Just, uh, think I’m tired from the drive.” 

“Are you sure? Because you don’t look so hot.” IV said with concern, eyes narrowing at the beads of sweat forming on Vessel’s neck.

“Just feel a little out of it, is all.” Vessel shook his head, eyes darting behind IV’s shoulder to watch the ghosts, who were still eyeing him with suspicion.

“Well, let’s find you somewhere to lie down.”

Vessel let IV lead him out of the kitchen, casting a final glance behind him at the ghosts as the door swung shut behind them. He took a deep breath and followed IV to find II and III. 

Well this should be interesting. He thought to himself.

Chapter II

[satoshi-mochida]

Some games on the PSN New Year Sale. Ends February 1st.

13 Sentinels

Actraiser: Renaissance

Afterimage

AI: The Somnuim Files

ALTDEUS: Beyond Chronos

Anima: Gate of Memories

ANONYMOUS;CODE

Arcade Spirits

Ary and the Secret of Seasons

A Space for the Unbound

Assault Suit Lynos

Bayonetta and Vanquish

Buried Stars

Castlevania Anniversary Collection

Chaos;Child

Coffee Talk

Coffee Talk 2

Control

Crash Bandicoot N. Sane Trilogy

Cris Tales

Cross Code

Cult of the Lamb

Cyber Citizen Shockman

Cyberdimension Neptunia

Danganronpa 1-2 Reload

Danganronpa V3

Darkwood

Death end reQuest

Death end reQuest 2

Devil May Cry HD Collection

Digimon Survive

Dissidia Final Fantasy NT

DJ Max Respect

Double Dragon Gaiden

Dragon Ball FighterZ

Dragon Ball Xenoverse

Dragon Ball Xenoverse/Xenoverse 2 Bundle

Dusk Diver

Earth Defense Force 5

Earth Defense Force: Iron Rain

Exoprimal

Fallen Legion: Sins of an Empire

Final Fantasy XV: Royal Edition

Final Fantasy XV: Comrades

Freedom Planet

Ghost n Goblins Resurection

Ghost Trick

Giga Wrecker Alt.

Ginga Force

Goat Simulator

Goat Simulator 3

God Eater Resurection

God Eater 3

Gravity Rush Remastered

Grim Fandango Remastered

Gungrave G.O.R.E.

Harvest Moon: The Winds of Anthos

Hatsune Miku: Project Diva X

Horizon: Zero Dawn

I Am Setsuna

In Nightmare

Jak and Daxter

Jak II

Jak 3

Jak x: Combat Racing

Kaze and the Wild Masks

Kerbal Space Program

Kingdom Hearts HD 1.5 + 2.5 Remix

Kingdom Hearts 2.8

Labyrinth of Zangetsu

Laika: Aged Through Blood

Legend of Mana

Light Fairytale Episode 1

Light Fairytale Episode 2

Like a Dragon: Ishin

Little Nightmares

Little Nightmares 2

Little Witch Academia: Chamber of TIme

Lock's Quest

Lost in Random

Lost Judgment

Made in Abyss; Binary Star Falling Into Darkness

Maglam Lord

Mary Skelter Finale

MediEvil

Metal Gear Solid 5

Metal Max Zeno Reborn

Mirror's Edge Catalyst

Monster Hunter Rise

Mr. Driller DrillLand

My Aunt is a Witch

My Hero: One's Justice

Several Naruto games

Neverending Nightmares

Ni no Kuni 2

Obliteracers

Omega Quintet

Several One Piece games

Oninaki

Our World is Ended.

Owlboy

Persona 4 Ultimax

Persona 5 Royal

Potion Permit

Praey for the Gods

Pumpkin Jack

Raging Loop

Relayer

Re:ZERO -Starting Life in Another World- The Prophecy of the Throne

Several Resident Evil games

River City: Rival Showdown

Romancing SaGa 2

Romancing SaGa 3

Root Film

Root Letter

SaGa Fronter Remastered

SaGa Scarlet Grace

Sakura Wars(PS4)

Samurai Shodown

Scribblenauts Mega Pack

Secret of Mana

Sega Gensis Classics

Simulacra

Skul: The Hero Slayer

Slender: The Arrival

Song of Memories

Sonic Frontiers

Sonic Superstars

Steins; Gate

Steins; Gate 0

Steins; Gate: My Darling's Embrace

Super Bobmerman R

Super Monkey Ball: Banana Blitz HD

Super Night Riders

Sword of the Vagrant

Taiko no Tetsujin: Drum Session

Tales of Zestiria

Tembo the Badass Elephant

The Evil Within

Several King of Fighters games

Valkyria Chronicles 4

Valthirian Arc: Hero School Story

Valthirian Arc: Hero School Story 2

Various Daylife

Warborn

When the Past was Around

Yakuza 3 Remastered

Yakuza 4 Remastered

Yakuza 5 Remastered

Zanki Zero

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Here's an unusual/unique custom built 1926 home in Deland, Florida. 3bds, 3ba, $398,900. From what I understand, Deland is an artsy town, so maybe that would explain the design of this home.

This is such an interesting living room. Look at the ceiling and archway.

There's a lot going on in the kitchen. Brick, wood, Victorian tin, stained glass, and I've never seen plaid cabinets. The kitchen is huge, though. Note that on the far end of the kitchen, there are iron gates.

The brick looks like fake Home Depot brick. My parents had a brick wall that looked so real, even contractors would touch it to make sure, so some brands are better than others.

The kitchen is open to a family room. I like the flooring in here.

One of the empty bedrooms.

I really don't know what this room is. I guess it could be a bedroom.

I'm so confused by this house.

Definitely a bath. Looks like there was a leak in the wall.

This has to be the primary bedroom.

It has an en-suite.

Not sure, but maybe this is a walk-in closet?

Here's a shower room.

The yard is interesting. There's a hot tub and a covered patio, at least I think that's what it is.

The lot is .49 acre but there's a vacant lot behind it that's also available for sale.

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, 66: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A glass box, its clear panels leaded at the seams, its trio of locks glinting gold. Warm blue lights dance frantically inside it, seem to beat against the glass walls like trapped wings. The keys are nowhere to be found. Knowledgeable PC’s can identify it as fey made.

A Random Musical Instrument that always sounds like a Random Music instrument when played.

A vellum document folded and sealed with a red wax seal as ornate as any used by the nobility. If unsealed it is a formal invitation to the unnamed bearer and a small part of guests to the 60th birthday of a Chodo Contague, which is occurring 2d4+2 months from when the letter was found. Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that Congangue is a major crime boss of a largest city in the nearby country.

A blackened iron coffer that has seen better days. The coffer is locked and must be picked or smashed open. Inside are three cones of incense wrapped in sanctified, unholy cloth stitched with golden signs of Chaos.

A detailed sketch of a halfling maiden wielding an impressive sword.

A signed receipt slip from a black-market pawn shop including an evaluation for the item sold into hock. To the untrained eye, the receipt lists the sale of one plain silver ring for 2 gold pieces by Mary Goodwife at John’s Honest Pawnshop. The entire note is written in Cant, the language of thieves and mentions that interesting contraband can be purchased discreetly at John’s Honest Pawnshop to those coming in asking to buy Mary an engagement ring.

A heavy pleated kilt, whose green and red tartan pattern identifies it as being from the northern Kerr clan.

A glass jar with a large toadstool inside with a few smaller mushrooms around it. The jar is filled with some sort of viscous substance, completely submerging the mushrooms. A note glued to the glass claims that the contents to be the beginnings of Myconid birth, but assures viewers the sprout is "inert".

An unsent letter from a parent to their child congratulating them for their job as chef and finally revealing the secret family recipe to the kid.

A leather wallet stamped with the image of a merchant’s ship. It contains a high-quality forgery of a tax-exempt import / export license on goods produced by Random Artisan’s Tools. According to the paperwork, the bearer, up to three of his retinue and up to one ship or wagon can pass through any border, bridge, gate or city without paying any toll, tax or fee of passage or a tax on the goods so long as they were produced by those tools. The licence expires 5d10 months from the time it is originally found.

—Click Here to be directed to the Hotlinks To All Tables post, which provides (As you might have guessed) convenient links to all of the loot and resource tables this blog has.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A glass box, its clear panels leaded at the seams, its trio of locks glinting gold. Warm blue lights dance frantically inside it, seem to beat against the glass walls like trapped wings. The keys are nowhere to be found. Knowledgeable PC’s can identify it as fey made.

A Random Musical Instrument that always sounds like a Random Music instrument when played.

A vellum document folded and sealed with a red wax seal as ornate as any used by the nobility. If unsealed it is a formal invitation to the unnamed bearer and a small part of guests to the 60th birthday of a Chodo Contague, which is occurring 2d4+2 months from when the letter was found. Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that Congangue is a major crime boss of a largest city in the nearby country.

A blackened iron coffer that has seen better days. The coffer is locked and must be picked or smashed open. Inside are three cones of incense wrapped in sanctified, unholy cloth stitched with golden signs of Chaos.

A detailed sketch of a halfling maiden wielding an impressive sword.

A signed receipt slip from a black-market pawn shop including an evaluation for the item sold into hock. To the untrained eye, the receipt lists the sale of one plain silver ring for 2 gold pieces by Mary Goodwife at John’s Honest Pawnshop. The entire note is written in Cant, the language of thieves and mentions that interesting contraband can be purchased discreetly at John’s Honest Pawnshop to those coming in asking to buy Mary an engagement ring.

A heavy pleated kilt, whose green and red tartan pattern identifies it as being from the northern Kerr clan.

A glass jar with a large toadstool inside with a few smaller mushrooms around it. The jar is filled with some sort of viscous substance, completely submerging the mushrooms. A note glued to the glass claims that the contents to be the beginnings of Myconid birth, but assures viewers the sprout is "inert".

An unsent letter from a parent to their child congratulating them for their job as chef and finally revealing the secret family recipe to the kid.

A leather wallet stamped with the image of a merchant’s ship. It contains a high-quality forgery of a tax-exempt import / export license on goods produced by Random Artisan’s Tools. According to the paperwork, the bearer, up to three of his retinue and up to one ship or wagon can pass through any border, bridge, gate or city without paying any toll, tax or fee of passage or a tax on the goods so long as they were produced by those tools. The licence expires 5d10 months from the time it is originally found.

An old rose made from ash, carved with the Elven script for "Good".

A scorched brass horseshoe that was thrown from the hoof of a Nightmare, a type of fiendish equine named after the terrible dreams suffered by those that encountered them. The wicked creatures are best known for serving as mounts under a variety of malevolent beings throughout the Lower Planes.

A wheel of aged dwarven cheese, clad in beeswax.

A hand mirror made of silver, with ornaments of beautiful and long-haired androgyne faces covering the frame.

A one-gallon cask of Untergraad, a liquor made popular by students and modeled after the medical or scientific alcohol commonly pilfered from laboratories. It's often flavored with herbs and its alcohol content is both very high and incredibly constant. Drinks are usually poured to the proportionate weight of the imbiber. A skilled bartender can push an Untergraad drinker to the very edge of riotously drunk with a measured dose.

A rather drab-looking painted portrait set in a brightly shining metallic locket.

A crude effigy and shamanic heirloom from one of the hagtrees that grow deep in the forest.

A physical shard of blackest night said to be a prison for the partial essence of the Trickster himself. Any close to it may be undone by its troubling aura.

A scroll describing a dread spell that fills the foes' minds with their own worst nightmares.

A clear crystal broach of purest clarity whose core dances with whirling white specks like that of the fiercest blizzard.

An abhorrent lodestone from which a gnawing sense of wrongness emanates.

A military uniform, in white and sky-blue color, with a unicorn emblem.

An elegant dress with rich black silk back and sides and a deep purple velvet insert in the front creating a striking combination of fabrics. The solid half-sleeves have a beautiful floral pattern, tree-cornered lace that falls into a point of silver-thread piping.

A simple bamboo mouth-harp.

A leather wallet stamped with the symbol of a mortar and pestle. It contains a full set of certified identification papers denoting that the bearer is a member of the healer’s guild. The section containing the member's physical description (Height, weight, sex, race, eye, skin and hair color) is completely blank and could be filled in by anyone with half decent handwriting.

A hair clip made from a mermaid’s scales along with a piece of coral.

A wooden doll depicting a man, possibly from a Stone Age culture, carved with a spear in his hand, his waist adorned with braided sinew as a belt of sorts.

A silver flask midway full of a strong and harsh brew of ale.

A mesmerizing crystal that pulsates with an otherworldly energy, resonating with alien life force, casting haunting reflections within its crystalline structure.

A wrought iron bottle filled with a plant based supernatural libation known a Zozo Juice. It is a fiery red drink with thick orange bubbles that almost makes it appear molten in nature. Although it is technically an ale, its more like coagulated blood considering how thick it is. Bubbles crawl slowly to the surface through its sanguine blood-like depths. It is an extremely spicy drink that makes it almost unbearable to consume.

A pickled kobold fetus in a jar that occasionally twitches when the light gets too bright.

A crude set of glass wind chimes that faintly hums in starlight.

A dwarven hunk of flint carved with a short prophecy.

A clockwork sphere with iron wings. At center is nut-sized storage hole.

A collection of fourteen perfectly spherical steel balls. When held in close proximity to each other, they snap together into a cube by themselves. If one ball is removed from the cube, they collapse back into a pile.

A carpet that depicts a map of the heavens, showing many different, colorful constellations and whirling planets, woven in thick, richly dyed wool.

A tall, thin sculpture of a sort of squashed-in horse, carved out of translucent stone.

A rowan wand, charged with the first circle of seven marks for binding.

A big copper key that looks like it has been lying around turning green for a couple hundred years. It is six inches long may be the heaviest key ever hefted. It is squared off flat on the sides and Investigative PC's can discover an inscription under the verdigris that when scrapped at reads; “Random Motto”.

A silver bracelet with dozens of small charms hanging from it. The charms represent various symbols of luck and fortune from different religions, cultures, and traditions.

A hat made of soft felt and adorned with small branches, flowers and butterflies that change color with the seasons. It was crafted by a fey artisan as a gift for a mortal friend.

A wooden crate full of human hands of all shapes, sizes and colors and all of them are remarkably preserved and in near perfect condition. Some of them have perforations where the cut is.

A thin sheet of ironoak on which is sketched a charcoal drawing of a child wearing fabulous clothes and draped with jewels. Dangling from one corner, a handful of tiny iron charms dangling from copper chains, three missing.

A brilliant blue mug beset with scores of tiny gems in a fractal depiction of riches raining from a pearl moon. The surface of the glazed and fired clay is polished to a mirror sheen.

A marble statuette featuring a sea eagle rising from the waves, its eyes inlaid with bronze flames, its talons blood stained.

A willow-woven tablet secures a bas relief of kingdom soldiers huddled around a dirt map, conversing and holding their weapons. In flickering light, it hums softly, like a distant conversation barely heard.

A frivolously thin linen jacket sewn with iron studs in the shape of saffron stems, slightly rusty. It smells strongly of the depicted herb. While worn, the wearer finds themselves extremely clear minded, regardless of their physical condition or alchemical impairment; this clarity does not extend to control over their body’s functions.

An ash-gray shawl whose fringes wave and flicker like living fire, warm to the touch.

A rich green linen tunic embroidered with a massive golden peppermint, the flowers made of threaded silver. It fills the air with the same smell, always fresh.

A thin chain made of alternating links of gold and silver and features a bloody daffodil wrought from rose gold.

A bronze brooch engraved with a pair of sandals, their straps broken and trailing. They hum excitedly when not in motion.

A thickly padded shirt featuring a stylized blackberry bramble; the berries at the hems are sewn with tarnished silver thread.

A feastbowl carved from a single piece of marble, edged in faces which on inspection always seem to be people the viewer knows and cares for.

A silk ribbon stitched with gold and silver thread in stanzas of a poem about dying wealthy.

The Winter Aristocrat’s Dinner: A framed painting of a thin, beautiful, long-haired person eating a luxurious feast alone at a table in the snow that is, at first glance, a wonder. Closer inspection shows shadowy figures shivering at the edges in the dark, left out. Whatever figures were once painted there are covered now by a soft, porous mold that peels away easily but seems endless.

An azure-lacquered tablet that has a moon-bent tree made from polished ironoak laid into its face, the roots of which entangle each other and protrude from the tablet to end in small spikes.

A deep purple linen shirt sewn with extraordinarily thin iron wire in the shape of a cloud-shrouded moon over the right breast. Between the wires grows a pale green mold, clinging to the shirt in flaky outgrowths. The wearer can always see the moon’s outline, no matter what it is hidden behind. In moonlight, the mold grows noticeably.

A tin brooch shaped like a lightning-struck tree, with a dozen forks of lightning made from carefully inlaid porcelain, some of them broken.

A small porcelain thimble chased in scarlet and has a crimson silk slip cover. The markings on the thimble itself are minute and depict a cheerful but strained proprietor hawking various wares from a cart.

A handtruck featuring a thick bronze pry at the base of a long ironoak handle with two stubby wheels. Tiny iron charms in the shape of hearts dangle from the spokes of each wheel.

An archaic keepsake box with trinkets from a commoner from a forgotten era. Although these items may have some cultural significance, the items contained in the box are generally commonplace for that era. It does signal that other potentially more valuable artifacts from this era may be in the vicinity.

A beautifully crafted urn that, if broken, releases a vengeful spirit

A writ of freedom for years of indentured servitude paid off.

A tear stained map of the local cemetery with an “X” marking a specific grave.

A letter from family thanking the recipient for the money they've been sending, but ma isn't getting better so they should come home to see her soon.

A child's toy and a note in childish writing "so u arnt lonly" with it.

A polished black lacquer music box, with a picture of a migratory duck on the lid and an inscription inside that reads, "Home is Wherever I'm With You." The mechanism plays a nasty dissonant tune.

A seemingly unremarkable stone that emits a soothing, melodious hum when rubbed, but only those with a pure heart can hear the hidden harmonies that convey ancient wisdom.

A letter with the following written inside "we only need 300 more gold until we can bring her back and live peacefully once again as a family".

A veil with delicate, hand-painted patterns that shift and transform over time, subtly mirroring the emotions and experiences of the wearer, revealing a narrative of their life's journey.

A long thick staff-like musical instrument made of multiple joined rattlesnake rattlers that functions like a rain stick.

A bottle of cheap rotgut booze, only a quarter of it remains.

A wooden hand with articulating fingers. You can't tell if it's a mannequin hand to be used by artist, or a prosthetic. Every time you look away, it seems like the fingers slightly change position.

An antique hookah that looks recently used.

An armband made from vampirized human flesh, bone, and small hematite stones.

A pewter belt buckle with a symbol of a grinning face.

A nearly translucent roll of old parchment.

A large, intricately carved stone bowl filled with a thick, red liquid that smells like copper and rotten meat. The bowl is etched with strange, serpentine symbols and is supported by a trio of coiled serpent legs.

A simple and unassuming clay and bamboo, free-reed aerophone resembling a cross between an ocarina, a harmonica, and a pipe organ. The khaen covers four octaves, in a diatonic scale.

A whistle shaped like a wooden bird.

A velvet pouch filled with brilliant blue sand.

A turtle shell bowl polished to a beautiful shine.

A talisman displaying the symbol of a prominent noble house.

A collection of sandstone tablets filled with strange symbols. If translated, the tablets discuss the coming of a great serpent god. A thousand and one souls must be sacrificed in the name of the great serpent in order for it to manifest in the material plane.

A fishing hook made from ivory and studded with red beads.

A bound cluster of porcupine needles in a bag.

A silver fork with a crescent moon engraved onto the handle.

A single stone and wire earring that hums a faint, relaxing tune.

A clay urn the size of a fist that is covered in undecipherable writing.

A small copper frog statuette.

A small holy symbol of an exotic xenian cult dedicated to Random Domain.

A small flute carved from unfamiliar wood, giving it an unusual sound when played.

An occult mask that covers both the face and the head. It consists of a crown made to look like gold, but fake, and a veil made of heavy leather with holes for the eyes.

A mask of white porcelain with high, dramatic cheekbones and striking, red painted brows.

An acorn-sized seed with a green and orange swirled pattern. Knowledgeable PC’s can determine that it originated from the Feywild but aren’t sure what it will grow into.

A rod of whittled-down, bloody dragonhorn that has been scrimshawed with blasphemous prayers to the Archfiend of Random Evil Domain.

A bundle of unopened correspondence of a prominent politician.

A burnished copper coin that bears the crest of a forgotten kingdom.

A one-gallon cask labelled “Skullbungle”, bearing the design of an exploding grinning skull on the top lid. This jet-black drink swirls with red highlights and is made by distilling strong dwarven spirits through a mash made of hallucinogenic mushrooms and powerful chillies. Staggeringly strong and harsh yet incredibly tasty. Imbibing the drink often produces soothing hallucinations, making this a popular drink among the downtrodden as well.

A leather wallet stamped with the symbol of a wagon wheel. It contains a full set of certified identification papers denoting that the bearer is a member of the wagon-makers and wheelwrights guild. The section containing the member's physical description (Height, weight, sex, race, eye, skin and hair colour) is completely blank and could be filled in by anyone with half decent handwriting.

[girlsfightingarena]

Colors Aesthetic

bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies.                               ( repost, don’t reblog! )

                            𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways

                            𝐑𝐄𝐃

wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / possessive love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets

                          𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖

community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams

                           𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍

marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grottos / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theater productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns

                          𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theaters / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces

                          𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art

Tagged by @unshackled-instinct

Tagging whoever would like to do this! Feel free to steal!

[demonsfate]

 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂

bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies.                               ( repost, don’t reblog! )

                            𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways

                            𝐑𝐄𝐃

wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / possessive love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets

                          𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖

community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams

                           𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍

marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grottos / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theater productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns

                          𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theaters / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces

                          𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art

                            𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways

                            𝐑𝐄𝐃

wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / possessive love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets

                          𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖

community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams

                           𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍

marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grottos / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theater productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns

                          𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theaters / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces

                          𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art

TAGGED BY . . . i stole this ! <3

TAGGING . . . feel free to take it too !