Oct 26, 2025
@lastsplashh
"yooouuu are going to die."
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@lastsplashh
"yooouuu are going to die."
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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@lastsplashh for agnes.
After being dealt its first hand, perfect poker face: “Go fish.”
― ; for @lastsplashh // [ starter call ]
DR. ONG'S OFFICE - and everything in it - is cast in the cutting green glow of his dimmed computer screen.
THE CLUTTER GIVES the impression that Dr. Ong has been at the university for a very long time, as persistent as an infection. Both a blight to decency and a boon to science, he's better known for offering insults to students rather than anything passing as help - Victor, as it seems, is a rare exception.
❝ I DON'T THINK I'd be useful for this. Even as a last resort. ❞ Seated behind his desk, the glare of the screen reflects off of his glasses, rending them opaque. He flips through Victor's papers - he raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the sketches, which seem more like demented science fiction than actual science. ❝ Fun. And look at you, in touch with your inner artist. But human anatomy is not my wheelhouse, ❞ he says curtly, a vague gesture to the coiled nests of helminths perched on the shelves behind him, suspended in jars of formalin.
𝙸𝙽𝚃. a dressing room within covent garden, in the aftermath of a triumphant performance. @lastsplashh,
IN THE SWATH OF TRIBUTE, HER DRESSING ROOM BECOMES A GREENHOUSE: overrun with the oppressive scent of flora and the hot sighs of admirers. as always, vedia blames the flowers for the flutter of her heart — a thing little more than an errant butterfly, she thinks; it cannot help the faint and rapid beat amongst such beauty. she rises only at the announcement of her visitors, hand falling from the delicate concave of her temple. introductions intermix with commendation, and her strength surges coyly. there is little antidote like concentrated affection.
and this, lord victor frankenstein. the surgeon.
"doctor," vedia extends a hand, left in a delicate hang for his possession. her fingers are exceptionally long, slender. despite the healthy terracotta colour of her skin, they lend the impression that they may ring like china if allowed to knock together. as though the bones beneath wish to be seen. heard. "a star of the theatre yourself; if only you had joined us on the boards. it would have made tonight all the more exciting."
@lastsplashh | liked for a starter
Callisto squints.
"I'm a little afraid to ask, because I feel like if I do, that's gonna get me involved."
Already exhausted, she sips the iced latte in her hand - knowing that of course she's going to ask, and of course she's going to get involved.
"All right, spit it out. Why the long face?"
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.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
fran from the apartment, irma vep of irma vep, i know someone already said emma frost but jean grey as well i think! also OOOH gillian from practical magic
Q. WHAT OTHER CHARACTERS COULD YOU SEE ME ROLEPLAYING AS?
DING DING DING DING TUMBLR USER LASTSPLASHH TAKES THE PRIZE not only did you name one of The Three with gillian owens (!!!) but fran? my beloved cracked mirror it makes me look the way i feel fran? my letterboxd top 4 the apartment fran? that's crazy work. irma vep i have never seen but from everything i know that's an absolute yes and the brief etchings of jean grey that i KNOW actually live in my mind perpetually and have influenced some of my nora take and part of a dove au ive got going on
@lastsplashh for val.
Oh, that’s not a fallen cable antenna; those don’t move. Joey loops back into the smoothie shop from whence he came. Far too casual. Like he’s avoiding un-forecasted rain. The sky is clear. Sunny with a chance of death.
Joey smiles and waves to the smoothieliers.
“I forgotta napkin.” He yoinks one. Doesn’t leave. His body frames the edge of their large storefront window.
Voice thrown to the sniper rifle on the roof of the building across the street:
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
@lastsplashh: i've been having these memories of my childhood.
someone's playing music, somewhere. there's some chatter. eden lays on their back in the warm afternoon sun, spread out on the soft grass.
they pass over the joint. because, like, ouch.
"that's - how do you feel?"