#(...it's been a year 😬)

[fistfuloflightning]

the long promised second piece for PRÆY FOR A GOD by @thesirencat

companion piece to this qijiu sketch, feat. the scholar and the war god ;)

[asterwild]

wet beast wednesday

ref'd from the katmai bear cams found at explore.org

I have to confess I'm not an avid bear cam watcher and can't ID most of the regulars, but if you know who this is let me know!

ooh cool, thank you!!

[screwpinecaprice]

Drink's on me.

[fizpup]

valentine, you're a horse ❤️

[tategaminu]

July 7th: Flowers

This is a redraw from 2023, which was also a redraw of a Princess Mononoke scene and also my first rayllum art ever.

[macchiatosdumptruck]

People will see two characters who are entirely devoted to each other and whose lives are intertwined in cosmic ways, and be like "what if they were just buddies? 😊" But then one second later go ape shit about a more popular ship with less than half the chemistry, but a dynamic that is considered more appropriate for the surface level, overused, interchangeable fandom tropes that have replaced any sort of genuine character interpretation

[la-pheacienne]

grrm* kills off sansa’s direwolf in the first half of book one, gives her her mother’s tully looks, has her being referred toas “little bird”, has her follow the seven instead of old gods, has her marry a lannister, disinherits her from winterfell, has her learning SOUTHERN + politics with LF, doesnt make her warg*

stansas: the red wolf is MY queen in the north because it happened in that abomination of a season.

Ahm. I might be in the minority in this side of the fandom because i don't actually believe grrm killing Sansa's direwolf in agot was meant to be a symbol of her being cut off from the north as opposed to her siblings, idk. Like if you want to see it that way you can of course, but this angle does feel simplistic and kind of boring to me.

The reason Sansa is highly unlikely to end up as QINT is not that she's not "northern enough", or that she's "too southern" imo (what does that mean anyway, these are pretty vague and slightly ontological statements which don't really fit into grrm's vision of Westeros imo). It's not even that she's not "magical enough". The reason is that she doesn't have a ruling arc. That's not to say that she doesn't have a political arc, she does, specifically that of a courtier, a political advisor if you will. I would really like to see Sansa in control of her life and an active player exerting actual political influence. But a savvy and cunning political advisor is not a ruler, because while the arc of a political advisor is primarily inspired by the themes of political power as a means of survival and influence (very individual-centered) a ruler needs to have a broader (collective) scope, a vision and a mission which exceeds both their personal interests and the pragmatic limitations of their rule. It's not that the characters who have a ruling arc in asoiaf are never confronted with these pragmatic limitations, on the contrary, the conflict between the ruler's vision/mission and the practical limitations they face is at the heart of the "ruling is hard" premise, which is so central in asoiaf. But you do need the larger visionary aspects to be present if you want a ruling arc to feel meaningful and substantial for the reader of a high fantasy narrative such as this, aka you need someone who 1) has somehow been chosen by their people (yes even in a pseudo-medieval setting a ruler can be chosen), 2) based on specific attributes this person has (their particular skill, disposition, character, determination, bravery and most importantly their vision), 3) in order to face a specific task at hand that is particularly challenging. As I said, the originality of this work is precisely the fact that these characters who would be textbook one-note heroes in any other high fantasy narrative, are really struggling in their role here, face conflicting situations and sometimes fuck up because they can't align their abstract ideals with their reality. Ruling is hard, we get to see every aspect of this in a story that values realism and internal conflict ("a human heart in conflict with itself"). But we shouldn't get side-tracked by the pragmatic elements of the story and confuse an arc centered around survival and individual ascension to power with a ruling arc. A ruling arc in that context is not just about the specific character's survival or well-being or growth (unlike what fandom often believes), because ruling is not a reward for individual struggle, it is not a prize, it is not a token. A fulfilling ruling arc is about what the characters can do for others, what they do for the world around them, what they want that world to be, how they try to implement their ideals and contribute to a structural collective change. "We must fight the good fight". This is high fantasy with strong romantic traits, it's not Succession and it is not Magnificent Century. It is definitely not Game of Thrones, a show that treats its characters as mere players in a fight for survival and domination, while completely erasing the progressive, even revolutionary political aspects of some arcs in the book. In Game of Thrones, it's only fitting that it is in fact Sansa who becomes QINT. She struggled, she suffered, she won, great. It's all about her. There is no large, collective scope to be found here. The characters that had that scope were shown to be delusional and got punished for it.

But in the book, these core elements of a ruling art are just not present in Sansa's arc and I don't see them being present in the future books if we ever get them. And that is why she's not going to become QINT, not because of her dead direwolf or the color of her hair.

Last observation: I am talking about a fulfilling ruling arc (fulfilling for the reader), and this might raise some questions. Yes, in a story that values realism and internal conflict, characters don't always get "what they deserve" in universe, and their arcs can't necessarily be considered "fulfilling" from an extradiegetic perspective either. There is nothing particularly "fulfilling" about Rob and Cat's fate from the outside, and they definitely don't "deserve" what they got in universe. So it is true that character progression doesn't necessarily need to be "fulfilling" in the sense of "satisfying". It does need to be meaningful and coherent though, and it does have to serve as a vehicle for a broader message. That's what I personally qualify as "fulfilling", "earned" or ""deserved". There was a reason why Cat and Rob had to die, this didn't happen randomly just for shock value. In the ruling question, yes, characters will not end up as rulers in the end just because they "deserve" it for being decent and brave people (ruling is not a reward). That is true, things don't work that way. But the one that ends up as a ruler will not just get there randomly, while the characters that were preparing themselves for that role in universe end up dead, just because "realism" or "subversion". Their role and final position needs to hold meaning, it needs to feel truthful and substantial and make sense. This is a fictional world, things don't just happen just because. The author didn't spend thousands of pages showing us characters struggling to rule at a very high personal cost just to cast them aside in the end because "nobody gets what they deserve oops sorry". That's just a cheap Game of Thrones cop-out.

tl;dr: yes Sansa is not going to become QINT but not for the reasons you mention.

[mirensiart]

Oough now that my birthday is over, I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who send well wishes, a cute photo or drew me something! 🥹💖

I didn't celebrate my bday irl today cause my mom's health (who's been really bad since last year) got worse, so I just spent my day chilling with her in the hospital (she's fine now!)

Which I don't mind, but you know, it was nice to see all the messages and nice wishes over here 🥹💖 would've been a very sad and boring bday without y'all!

So thank u all so much, truly!! I still have a lot of bday wishes on my inbox and I will reply to them in the morning, but again, thank you!

[mammonsfeatheraccessories]

possession

summary: a demon has come to visit you in the middle of the night. how lucky are you?

pairing: lucifer/gender-neutral, AFAB reader

genre: smut

cw: consensual fear play, mild degradation, religious undertones in some places, lucifer’s demonic features (including tongue/genitalia) and mentions of the blood/violence demons are capable of (but not toward reader), oral sex (reader receiving)

***

the lights blink, more than they flicker.

slow and deliberate, staring down at you as if you had, in some unknown, grave way, disappointed them.

the air was colder, too. it yoked the warmth from your flesh and left you too chilled to properly shiver. your pillows, your blanket, the soft loving nest of your bed were suddenly suffocating, scratchy and tight and you wondered how you’d ever been able to sleep there. you untangled yourself from them, gasping for air that turned to ice in your lungs:

the lamps gave you one final, lengthy glare, before the light was snuffed out, and not even the moon could reach in to guide you.

footsteps replaced the rhythm of the lights; they clicked despite the carpet beneath them. they were meant to be heard. you were meant to be frightened.

they stopped at the edge of your bed. suddenly, the ring you wore on your left hand glowed a harsh and striking blue. it sought permission, or perhaps even approval, it’s brilliance puffing like peacock feathers in the black night.

the quick, assuring jerk of your chin was all that he needed.

“didn’t anyone ever tell you?” cold fingers danced over your exposed ankle, before forming a tight and painful coil. a rough tug yanked you to the edge of your bed. “uncovered limbs invite the monsters into your bed.”

now that he wanted to be seen, he gave off a gentle glow, almost angelic in the way he lit up the room. how strange it was to see him handle you so roughly; his strong hands were built to be clasped in prayer. how awful that his eyes sliced you to pieces under his knowing gaze; they were so beautiful when gazing at the heavenly skies.

his beauty almost soothed you. he was meant to be looked at. created to be adored, but then broken down to be feared. his crimson eyes were framed by his thick, dark lashes. they were the color of fresh blood. his lips, stern-set but sweetly pink, were parted by the sharp points of his fangs. his face. his lovely, perfect face, marked only by the diamond etched onto his forehead — how was it possible for it to twist with such fury, the way it did now?

but that was where it ended, his similarity to the angels.

for next there was the curve of his onyx horns. from experience you knew the tips were sharp as needles. they would draw blood, even on accident. they were not meant to protect the demon — they were meant to gore. to gut. to hunt.

the feathers of his wings were said to contain an immense power, bringing an exacting savagery to any hex or curse or potion even the weakest sorcerer might conjure. but you couldn’t imagine him letting a single feather fall without consequence.

spread before you now, the span of his wings enveloped your vision, the frame to the exquisite portrait of his nude body. once divine and entirely wicked, your eyes could not help but wander from the prideful lift of his chin to the gleaming expanse of his chest. his skin looked so soft. so soft, even stretched over tight muscles, cold blood and eons of unveiled rage.

he must have kept all that in his dick. it demanded respect, swinging heavy between his thick thighs, the bulbous tip shining a pretty metallic teal, darkening indigo to black as it reached the base. the underside was scaled. it looked smooth, oddly vulnerable. the valley of bumps that formed over his shaft were fun to traverse with your tongue. he was already erect, impatiently so, and it was the one tell in the whole scene, the crack in the facade of your mock corruption; damn it, how he had missed you.

your hands trembled, sought creature comfort in the sheets bunched in between your fingers. he tugged you even closer to the edge of the bed and spread your legs wide.

his nostrils flared, his pupils constricted. your cheeks warmed up in shame, already knowing where this was heading. “this excites you. i can smell it.” he clicked his tongue. “humans are vile. predictable. and worst of all, they are weak.”

and so he went to prove it.

you were wearing shorts to bed. you were pretty sure you’d worn panties, too. now they were gone. you hadn’t heard them tear, you hadn’t felt the slide of them down your legs, nor had you lifted your arms for the removal of your shirt, but you were exposed, needy, and utterly humiliated in a matter of seconds.

“congratulations,” he spoke, eyes to roaming over your form almost distractedly, petting your thigh before sinking to his knees. he slipped his fingers between your legs, coating them in your juices. “you have one of the most powerful beings in all three realms kneeling before you.” a smirk overtook his features as you watched him play with the mess you made, eyes catching yours to mock you. “aren’t you proud of yourself?”

you couldn’t speak. his skilled fingers found your clit and coaxed it to come out and say hello. “so cute,” he sighed, circling it with his thumb. “i hope your pussy is as obedient as you are.”

shit. your legs tried to close, flames licking a little too hot in the pit of your stomach. he’d be pissed if you came this early, not when he’d traveled such a long way.

but you couldn’t move at all. he’d paralyzed you — when? you hadn’t heard him cast any spell. you could only watch him, wide-eyed and nervous when he let his tongue unfurl before you.

you considered it the most demonic thing about him, both in its appearance and what he made it do. it was long, navy and pointed, slick where he’d allowed saliva to pool and drip over your pussy.

he was every bit the monster in your closet, coming out to devour you whole, his fangs glinting brilliant and evil as he teased you with their proximity to your most vulnerable place. he turned his face, reaching under you to pull you closer to him, legs draped over his shoulders. the tops of his teeth gently grazed the inside of your thigh, a simple reminder: he could kill you from here, kneeled between your legs like a supplicant.

but then his tongue soothed over the spot, even though he hadn’t bitten down. he sucked kisses into your skin that were maybe a bit too reverent for a demon trying to steal your soul. he caught himself and firmly corrected it, sinking his nails into the fat of your thighs. they were more like claws, and you gasped at piercing sensation. it made you so much wetter, and him so much cockier, the fragility of a useless, desperate human making his mouth water.

“look at me,” he demanded, and your body complied without thought. so you could move, as long as he willed it, similar to the way you could control him under your pact. how odd. how freeing. “you’re mine,” he said, eyes flashing something ancient and primal. “i don’t kneel for just anyone. you understand that, don’t you? nod. let me see that you understand.”

you nodded.

“good human,” he grunted, then finally lowered his face.

ah. ahh. the lights came on again when he tasted you the first time, then shut off with a bang. his tongue dipped inside of you and moved, unnervingly dexterous and all-knowing, dragging your slick juices to your clit to suck it the way he knew you liked best.

lucifer was a methodical demon. he knew nothing other than to give his very best. which was why it was so hot that he sometimes lost himself in you, dragging down by your hips to bury his face in your cunt when he was supposed to be teasing you. it was hotter still that he’d turn around and blame you for it — he could do no wrong, after all — clearly you needed to be punished — clearly you’d have to try again, and don’t cum this time, be good for him —

his tongue could reach places even his talented fingers couldn’t. it was your downfall every single time you did this. by now you’d learned that in this act alone, lucifer would purposely set you up to fail because he liked it when you did. you’d know the moment he’d grown too frustrated at not being inside you, because suddenly his vicious tongue would lash out with such ferocity it made your very atoms submit to him, twisting, and curling inside you as he lapped at your g-spot, how the fuck-

maybe he’d lost too much focus or your own power had broken through the barrier, but your hips flew up when your orgasm finally crashed through you, painting his clever tongue as your walls pulsed around the wiggling muscle. you clutched his horns and rode his face until it was too much, and it wasn’t until you caught your breath that you realized you’d both failed this roleplay, but it was going to be your problem.

for he was still kneeling between your legs, glaring at you, annoyed.

“i see you have yet to learn your place,” he chided, drawing himself to his full height. now he towered before you, monstrous cock bobbing in front of your swollen mouth.

“i think it’s time you kneel for me.”

[kirby-the-gorb]

[bungeepuppet]

thinking about how illumi 100% trusted hisoka to help him and instead hisoka was going to betray him and kill killua to send him into a rage <33 the only thing that stopped him from throwing away a 3+ year relationship was the fact using nanika ended up having no risk 🤪🤪

[polydamnory]

Redactober Day 5: Avior

I can’t draw men lol I triedddddd but I don’t think I succeeded. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very proud of this design, but I don’t think I executed it quite the way I wanted.

Also, do not expect me to participate in even most of the days for this, I only have like 3 of the guys designed and I really struggled figuring those 3 out (again, I cannot draw men).

Anyways, here’s my fancy pretty boy who definitely knows more than you do and is not afraid to show it! I love him!!!

[llatimeria]

for some reason (adhd rabbithole I don't even remember how I started upon) I ended up on the List Of Solved Missing Persons Cases from 1950 to 1999 Wikipedia page and just started reading through it in chronological order and man the 70s were a fucked up time. Basically every entry in the entire 70s decade is Bundy, Gacy, Argentina's Dirty War, the Chilean 1973 coup, Unknown Serial Killer #1, IRA, Suspected Bundy, Unknown Serial Killer #2, Suspected Bundy, Chile, Unknown Serial Killer #1 again, Gacy, Gacy, Gacy, Gacy, Bundy, Argentina again, Gacy and I'm barely even exaggerating

[doodlingwren]

☝🤓 What if 🤨🤔! I was back 😨🤯 after some months 😞😤😲... ahahah jokes 🧐🤣😂... unless 😳👉👈

[runawaymun]

Goddamn every time I reread more of LOTR I’m like Tolkien really missed his calling as a horror writer. I wish he would’ve taken a stab at it just once. Just for me.

[baelonthebrave]

I’m sure it’s been said a million times before but it never ceases to amaze me how eddie really has to be talked into dating women. like he has to have a heart to heart with buck and a sit down with bobby and hen and chimney side eyeing him and he has to bully himself with this ideal mother figure he wants to give his kid. it’s like watching me talking myself into going to the library to study no one is holding a gun to your head my man you don’t have to-