HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @dcschain / @charyka !! ♥︎
styofa doing anything

Discoholic 🪩

noise dept.

oozey mess

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TVSTRANGERTHINGS
hello vonnie

blake kathryn
art blog(derogatory)
Sweet Seals For You, Always
i don't do bad sauce passes

pixel skylines


JBB: An Artblog!

shark vs the universe
DEAR READER
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

#extradirty

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@charyka-a
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @dcschain / @charyka !! ♥︎

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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so uhhhhhhhhhh,,,,,,,, hi.
god, i promise i’m trying to run more than one blog. but it’s hard. if you’re into the dark tower or just want more tomfoolery, finding me at @dcschain is probably your bets bet right now.
A place of almost unimaginable power, chock full of dark forces and vicious secrets. No prayers dare enter this frightful maw, for spirits there care not for good deeds or priestly implications. They are likely to rip the flesh from your bones then greet you with a happy “good day”. And of the highest, these spirits in this hidden land of unmuffled screams and broken hearts offer up a power so vast that its bearer might reorder the Earth, to his liking. Now this place is called the Black Lodge… and I intend to find it.
by aliza razell
Niblits, Fresh Corn, 1948 ad

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Lee Friedlander, The Little Screens, 1960s
Hellboy II: The Golden Army (2008) Directed by Guillermo del Toro
No path can lead you there or back. You need to go alone.
Samuel Araya “Flammarion”

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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–Charles Baudelaire
it was a soft voice. it was the voice of doom. || RULES. ABOUT. VERSES. || triggering & mature content. written by matty. || est. august 2016.
DID YOU THINK THAT YOU COULD OUTRUN THE HOLY GHOST: a nyarlathotep playlist
Later he saw Jesus move from tree to tree in the back of his mind, a wild ragged figure motioning him to turn around and come off into the dark where he might be walking on the water and not know it and then suddenly know it and drown.
— Flannery O’Connor, Wise Blood
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* SHADOW TAKES ALL !
private / lovecraftian - based GAUNTER O'DIMM of tw3.
enneads.
closed starter for @charyka
Dan’s dizzy from the suffocating darkness. He can’t explain it–he doesn’t know–but there’s something powerfully wrong here.
He feels like he’s going to be sick.
He reaches for a stranger, not knowing what else to do. There’s something very, very wrong.
“–help–”
Todash will kill you. Todash will break your bones and suck the marrow. Todash will leave you stranded in the desert. Is Daniel dreaming? Does it matter? He grasps the man’s hands in his own taloned ones, and he yanks, and then they’re both there not there. So above, as below. They are in A Desert. The Desert, the representation of every desert Daniel Torrence has ever seen, heard of, read about. An apotheosis, if one would like to call it so. It is where the Necromancer
He peers at the boy. Walter grins.
“Hello, Danny.”

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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cajuncur.
Marion stiffened, if just for a moment, at that proposition. Mostly, the only people she ever brought back to her home were those marked for death, and while this was no ordinary man…if he was a man at all…there were lightning bolts in her veins, warning her in two different directions. If she turned him away, he could curse her…do any number of things. If she took him in, it could mean he felt welcome, and would come and go as he pleased through the graveyard of her home.
She was quiet a while, wrestling with what to do, until finally she turned away from him and started walking in the direction of home. “C’mon den…”
Monster knows monster, beneath the flesh. He has her same vicious appetite, the same need for blood, always the blood, always for it and with it. Snapped from the veins and let leak like a waterfall: whether she loves more the blood of men, and he the blood of worlds, is redundant, unnecessary for the understanding of the parallel.
When he walks, he casts no shadow. When he walks, his feet make no sound against the grass, dying autumn leaves, old remnants of lost time. A shimmering apparition: if one were to look towards them, they would see a woman walking alone, a raven lazily flying overhead, perhaps coincidentally in her same direction. Or if they were to look they would see a woman and a large black marten, crawling in the underbush beside her. But a man? No men. There are no men at all, in this party of two.
midwest gothic, really rural addition
you drive past fields of corn, right before harvest, dead leaves reaching towards the sky, wrapping around the fences and the sprinkler systems. no one dares to enter once the green leaves the leaves, lest they be swallowed up like the creatures they sacrifice. everyone knows a good harvest demands a sacrifice.
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