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#HELP I AM GOING SO INSANE OVER THIS
jennyandvastraflint · 1 month
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sing unspoken prayers with my lips on yours
Hrm, so I commissioned art from @rosenkranz-does-things again, this time about this very uh, gay fic. AND I AM GOING INSANE OVER HOW GODDAMN BRILLIANT THIS ART IS!!
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Aaaaah! After writing a fic quite recently in which Jenny kills someone to save Vastra, I felt inclined to commission Roz because just LOOK AT THEIR ART! Gosh the sheer SKILL in this! I love how vibrantly, agreesively red the blood is! It contrasts so well against the background, Jenny's clothes, and Vastra's face. Gosh, the way Vastra is so still and calm in her worship of Jenny and the intimate kiss!?? AHHHH this is just perfectly captured, and then Jenny's despair, her clinging to Vastra for dear life with her hand and gosh her facial expression!! Can we talk about her face! Because she looks SO hot with blood on it! Roz you mad genius! (Hey also, two of those splatters look a little bit like kiss marks on first glance, and it's driving me insane! (positive. VERY positive.) I don't know if it was on purpose or not, but omgggg) They're just everything to meee, and Roz you deliver every single time, you never miss! Just. AHHH! People, go commission Roz for beautiful art!
I'll be over here staring at this for one billion years now, byeeee <3
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stoopidstapler · 11 months
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SO IVE BEEN GOIN INSANE SINCE THIS TRAILER DROPPED. JUST. SIMON. SIMON. SIMON.
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deadscell · 3 months
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this is my gongeous wife with a nicotine addiction. i love her too much
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sochilll · 10 months
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Pippa Fitz-Amobi is made of guilt and obsession and gray morality and loyalty and checklists and a deep deep distrust of the police
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mothbutcher · 3 months
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buona sera senorita kiss me goodnight <3
im love u vito
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designernishiki · 11 months
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it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now
#I think on another level he was sorta saying like ‘hey kiryu. you’re making it extremely clear that you don’t trust me and my intentions#and I’ve been trying to show you- over and over again- that I’d do just about anything for you and your safety#but I can’t just let my mask fall off in front of everyone- I need to keep up the unpredictable morally grey wildcard act for both my sake#AND yours. because disguising my helping you as crazy random violent outbursts and weird stalker behavior#is the only way I CAN help you. do you think it would go over well with shimano or literally anyone else if I was outright helping you out#of the kindness of my heart and fondness for you? stop being so fucking dense and look past the crazy wacky nonsense for a second and#maybe you’ll realize that all I do at the end of the day- really- is help you and put my own life and reputation on the line for you.#I am an honest guy when it comes to my real values and when I told you I wouldn’t let anyone kill you unelss it was myself- I meant it.#I’ve taken a knife and a bullet for you now. can you REALLY not see through the act yet? am I REALLY that unpredictable when you think about#it?’#that was a longer explanation than i intended but. it was difficult to put into words#I basically feel like it could be read as him implying kiryu shouldn’t backstab the people who put themselves on the line to help him#and/or pointing out that he’s never actually done kiryu dirty and has stuck to his word protecting him in the ways he can#trying to say yeah all this is a crazy act and all but when it comes down to it you Can trust me#it really makes sense when you think about it that he’d have to help kiryu/show affection towards kiryu in unpredictable convoluted ways#at that point in time because. I mean. there’s a reason he was the only person who showed up to welcome kiryu when he got out of prison#and that’s because A) he sticks to his word and his loyalty to people he cares about and B) no one else had the balls or the batshit insane#mask to wear to ward off anyone asking real questions like majima did. because ANYONE associating themselves with the supposed#patriarch-killer was a HUGE NO-NO at the time. someone important showing up for kiryu and welcoming him back outright could’ve caused#all-out warfare probably. except majima. because majima was dedicated and smart enough to use his widely-feared wildcard persona#(that everyone tended to view as incapable of having any Real agenda to worry about) to his And kiryu’s advantage#does that make sense??? I feel like it makes a lot of sense if you get it to click in your head#kazumaji#majima#kiryu#yakuza#kiwami 1#yk1#rambling
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autumnoficarus · 7 months
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also can we just talk about the contrast between when loki is conflicted about their feelings for sylvie, how they smoothly speak on metaphors about love and daggers, they conjure a blanket to share with her, all rizz and no hesitancy. and then with don/mobius it's all adjusting the fit and stumbling over their words and soft reassurances followed quickly by declarations of how important mobius is to them???
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bengallemon · 2 months
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top 10 images that make me go insane
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cyberpunkboytoy · 6 months
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My DID-having ass is experiencing so much world-envy for the fictional country of Vaugarde I'm going to throw up
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"Hellfire."
Pairing: Monsignor John Pruitt x F!Reader
Summary: You are called first to receive everlasting life from the angel's blood during Easter Vigil.
Warnings: Spoilers for Episode 6 of Midnight Mass and all the content that comes with it. Language. Taking some liberties with how the angel's blood works uhhh hehe. Millie who's that AU. Going off of the stream of consciousness / dream-like writing I am trying so hard to stay out of my head and just write what comes.
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"Brothers and sisters,” Monsignor Pruitt concludes. “On this most holy night I come to you with good news. Not only the good news of the resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ who arose to forgive us of our sins after three days in the tomb. But, also the resurrection of ourselves."
He clasps his hands together in makeshift prayer, eyes sparkling an unfamiliar orange glow that you've never seen before. That of a feral black cat's eyes bouncing back light. The ones that hunt on the outpost of the island, all teeth and heat and hunger and sex and wild and and and--
Visions of nocturnal holiness.
"I ask you. Trust in me. And God will reward your loyalty heavily. Know that I would not ask of the ultimate sacrifice of your life if I did not have utmost faith in our God for the miracle he is about to bestow tonight."
The silence within the church is deafening. Not a soul rises for his offer, parishioners stunned to their seats. His eyes scan, searching for a familiar face. Finally focusing on yours.
“Please. [“____”]," his voice like liquid honey calls to you, echoing through the church. "I call upon you to take the plunge first, my sweet child. Show the good people of Crockett Island that there is nothing to fear. That there is paradise waiting for us all tonight."
He leaves his pulpit, descending down the steps towards you. His arm reaches out, using his slender fingers to beckon you to him with a "come hither" motion. White vestments flowing, covering his human visage as he moves, billowing out like an angel's wings.
Devils were once just fallen angels. Symbols of purity be damned.
He notices your trepidation.
"One moment of pain, perhaps. But an eternity of youth and love and worship in His name. We have been given a tremendous gift, sister ["____"]. Be brave.”
Beverly Keene remained tucked in the upper corner of the church, stirring the choice of death for this evening. She's always been a witch in your eyes; now the harsh comparison rings true more than ever as she concocts a deadly potion of sickeningly sweet liquid.
The smell reminds you of too hot summers and running against the shoreline as the waves lap against your ankles and buying popsicles at the general store and sticky raspberry juice running between your fingers. Familiar memories and tastes intermingled with rat poison.
“And so Jesus rose from the tomb, trampling down death. As will we. I am with you, and you are with me. There is nothing to fear."
Don't drink the kool-aid, the old adage goes.
But you wonder how vanilla and raspberry taste mixed together.
Jonestown redux is standing before you, with his hand outstretched for you to take; his body backlit by the illumination of hundreds of candles. You look up at him through your lashes, lips slightly parted. Your eyebrows upturned and eyes reposed.
"Monsignor. Forgive me, but I cannot," you swallow hard. Back yourself from that cliff, you have one leg dangling over the edge now! "For I have not taken communion as my sins have been too weighty, too difficult to ever be forgiven. I believe I did not deserve the body and blood of Christ at that time, which is selfish of me. Forgive me.”
John almost considers this for a moment, his thick eyebrows furrowing together as he stares down at you.
"There is no resurrection for me. I will die,” you state bluntly. Your words are finally registering. 
Back away back away, make distance between the cliff.
But he smiles, against your expectations. A tight lipped smile, his eyes kissing at the corners when his cheeks raise. Missed by the miracle of reversed age, not reaching the crows feet that reveal only when he's truly happy.
"My angel. You've taken more than enough of my seed in your womb, and down your throat. The blessing is already inside you."
His hand grazes your cheek, and Hellfire reigns down as the finality of his reveal sets in across the room. Hot and prickling at the back of your neck. High pitched buzzing of bees in your ears. Whore of Babylon comes to Crockett Island. Mary Magdalene weeps. Hundreds of eyes descend upon your form, fragile and ready to break at a moment's notice.
Hell has a special place reserved for you for tasting the most unholy fruits. You wear guilt like a halo.
John positions his index fingers and thumb underneath your chin, tilting it upwards. Your eyes dart away, unable to face him. For sure your very skin would burst into flames if you stared too long.
"Look at me," he demands. "Look at me, angel. Do not be ashamed.”
Oh, you’re more than familiar with this position.
Your eyes tilt back, big and yearning and scared yet wanting more. More of John, more of his smell on your bedsheets, more of his fingers in your mouth more of the salty bitter taste of his skin more breaking the boundaries between heaven and hell more more more more flesh more blood no sin no death no guilt.
Hell has a special place reserved for you in due time.
But real hell is living without him. You slip your hand into his, rising from the pew.
The church is silent, conversations about your unforgivable sin now hushed to murmurs. Somewhere in the distance you hear the gentle song of night crickets that intermingle with your delicate footsteps across decades old wood. A resounding creak and moan of the floorboards that echoes through the small church that makes it become an entity of its own, ready to swallow you whole.
Someone is crying, quietly muffled pathetically behind a cloth. A woman blesses herself using the sign of the cross as you pass.
A dead girl walking, and this is the sound of your funeral march.
Your toes bump into the first step leading up to the chancel. Guiding you by your waist, John spins you to face the congregation. Expressions of the crowd are unreadable.
Are you Joan of Arc or a witch about to be burned at the stake?
Blasphemy, blasphemy stood before your friends, family, acquaintances.
A light. The vision of John blocks you away from their watchful eyes as he stands before you, cupping your face within his hands. Your eyes lock together. Gently, he presses a chaste kiss to the center of your forehead. Lips just barely ghosting over your flesh. You tremble before him.
Bev stands behind you, both arms outstretched forward, bent at the elbow. You’re smart enough to realize she’s ready to catch you for when you involuntarily start seizing, your body putting up its final fight against the poison coursing through its veins.
Life. Death. Rise. 
A sob starts in your larynx, unable to burst fully to the surface The warmth of his hands removed from your face, now reaching for Bev's as he takes the small plastic solo cup of juice from hers into his.
"I am with you," he whispers as he holds the cup up to your lips. "As you walk through the valley of the shadow of death I am with you, and you will come out on the other side anew. Whole. Pure as a reward for your devotion to Him."
Raspberry and vanilla threaten to break the seal of your lips, the cup tapped against it. His other hand snakes his way up your back, weaving his fingers within your hair. The digits tug against your locks slightly, tilting your head back.
"Open."
Saliva gathers at the back of your throat.
You can't, you can't, you can't.
You cannot dare to lose the chance to miss another one of those too hot summer days where the children of Crockett island throw their books haphazardly into their backpacks basking in their first hours of summer vacation and the salty water clinging to your hair making it curly and sticky raspberry juice dripping between your fingers–
But oh the visions of him with and the way he whimpers into your neck when he thrusts into you, his hot mouth on your pulse point, the way his hand pin down your wrists forcing you to stay still. Murmured praises and bedroom hymns whispered as the moonlight coats both of your bodies in a ghostly blue glow. Was it truly ever living without him? No more hiding no more secrets you are his and he is yours. A boundary death cannot even cross–eternity is a beautiful thing to imagine.
A tear slips out of your eye, rolling down your cheek. The pad of John’s thumb gently rubs it away. Sympathy for the condemned.
"Drink."
And you do.
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loz-the-noob · 4 months
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Turnabout Ema Dropkicks a Child (Very real and true thing that happens in hit game Apollo Justice)
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mythvoiced · 1 month
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hiatus 🥺
saw Ferre's post from a few days ago and felt WELP might as well make it official on my end as well~ no worries or concerns, i am merely either working or completely devoid of any creative juices, truly, i stare at my fingers and dramatic music starts playing as i wonder where my writing has gone
i plan on cleaning up around mythvoiced while i take an official break from invading y'all's notifications, and that will probably entail a drastic cut on muses. DRASTIC! my deepest apologies to the people who i might impact like this (yknow, our lil threads 🥺) but i just think it's?? better to put those folks on ice that i can't wring anything out of anymore, those damn idiots DAMN IT gosh i haven't posted anything in here in what feels like ages i have lost TOUCH with the VIBES
but yes, thank you for your patience & pls have a lovely timezone TELL ME IF SOMEONE'S MEAN, I'LL FIGHT
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finelythreadedsky · 5 months
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having a latin vowel crisis
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if i say getocoded
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killa-trav · 1 year
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do you ever just think about how lando was too shy to ask seb for a photo at the autosport awards many moons ago and then on seb’s last ever gp weekend, was in the middle of the paddock with seb on sunday singing sweet caroline
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gingerbreadmonsters · 9 months
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have to go back to the embassy tomorrow and i would so deeply love to walk into the ocean
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