#And then the promises of the next life

[redeemed-wren]

.

[leucoratia]

My favourite loser scientist (we are legally married)

Handplates!Gaster by @zarla-s (thank you so much for this AU it has given me life for the past 6 years)

[martyfive]

the cycle ends here

[triona-tribblescore]

FASHION BABY~

(Yo-Ho-Ho) A Ninjas Life For Me

First: / Previous: / Next:

[ethosnap]

Thinking about the conversation etho had immediately after joining the 4Gs

Etho: "I'm a terrible teammate"

Scott: "As long as you don't betray us"

Etho: "I mean I've been betraying pretty much everybody this... (reconsiders) but I'll do my best"

And then shortly afterwards

Etho: "Let's keep this on the down low a little bit as well, because... mhm mhm, let's pretend like it doesn't even exist"

He clearly isn't ready to commit to the team, so I'm curious to see what'll happen when more people start dying. Will he pick a hill to die on, or will he cling to whoever has the best shot at winning?

Either way, at the moment, the 4Gs seem like yet another alliance of convenience and not a serious commitment. He's okay with selling his loyalty for 'more options'.

[floskywalk3r]

Another incomplete drawing, and Joel came out weird, but I had to get it out there. I was gonna die if I didnt

[vanes-lawlol]

woahh ur taking art requests! awesome!

can i get some step 3 art of tamarack with pigtails or a ponytail! her hair is super pretty so i think itd be nice to see her with other hairstyles ^^

Thanks very much for the request! Very sorry for the very late reply, but here is my take on those hair styles! And just felt like drawing her in some outfits. Hope this suffices!

[starryluminary]

Ridonculous Race but Noah is friends with Owen part 9: Teamwork makes the dream work!

Don't you LOVE IT when Noah gets to play the stupid game? Don't you LOVE IT when Noah and Owen work together and Owen isn't left to do everything himself? Don't you LOVE IT when they mutually support each other and care enough about each other to give it their all??? Personally I love it when that happens

No transcript cause there's no dialogue. Instead have scrapped doodles for this part that I refuse to leave in the jail of the IbisPaint canvas

[traumawhomst]

The Songbird

Yandere Adoptive Fae King Dad & Child Reader

Part One

King Solaris was in a foul mood, today marked three years since his youngest daughter left to go study with the Northern Sea Witch and he missed her terribly. While three years is not much long to a fae, for a father it seemed an eternity. His court was as it always was, laughter and screams, dancing and bleeding, the same faces, the same smells and he was bored of it all.

“Father,” said his eldest son, watching his father’s tail lash back and forth as he sat on his throne, “might I suggest that you might go for a walk? How long has it been since you’ve been in the crossroads? Surely better to patrol them then stay to stew in your restlessness?”

The King sighed heavily, his flame orange cape draped over the left side of the throne. “Your sister hasn’t written yet,” he said, eyes still on the writhing mass of his court in front of him. His hand moved from propping up his chin to covering his heart, “I should go and see her.”

“Father,” said the eldest son, struggling not to implore the sky herself, “She has not missed a single day of letters, we both know that it will come. Stop sitting like a house cat and find something to take your mind off it until it comes.”

The King sighed even more loudly because he knew his son was right, with a flick of his wrist his cape turned into an emerald green hunter’s jacket standing up. He turned to face his son, seeing the crowd in the reflection of his eyes. His son was taller than him now and it brought a great pride to him. “I leave you to watch til I return my son,” he said with a slight head bow.

His son fully bowed his head, laurel green curls falling past sharp black horns, his hand over his heart, “Thank you for the honor father,” he said.

Solaris couldn’t stop a soft smile thinking of the same boy he brought home all those years ago. He reached out ruffling his sons hair, laughing at the slightly annoyed look his son gave as he stood up height again.

“See you soon father,” said Callan, a touch more dry than before. The King laughed again, turning and completely disappearing from the court.

It had been a while since he’d been in the cross-lands where human and fae territory overlapped. The human area changed from time to time, no one knew where the crossroads would be, and when that would change. When he reached the other side, he found it to be in he same place it had been about fifty years, he counted the years in a tree nearby. It was an early summer day where all the birds and insects were singing together but they knew well enough that the King was not in a fair mood and so went silent in respect.

The King stalked forward hands in his pockets as his mind wandered over the state of the forest, feeling how much closer the humans had settled nearby. He could smell them, even this far away and it irked him more with each passing second. It was odd for the boarder to stay for so long, usually half the time it had been here. He hadn’t cursed a town in quite a while. It might be a good way to bring back respect the humans seemed prone to do.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of a thin reedy but full hearted singing. He clicked his tongue out loud, listening closer to realize it was a human whelp that was singing.

A child should know better than to be loud when the forest is silent. Where is it’s guardian to keep it safe? Or do the humans think we so weak to not show our teeth?

It was an easy task, show himself and play with them a bit, see if they were smarter than their parents. Maybe he’d turn them to a songbird since they seemed to love their voice. A lesson to neglectful parents about teaching your child to walk around the forest alone, as if they owned it.

He did admit that the child did have a rather sweet voice, and he had thoughts of shaping them something into more than just a simple songbird, maybe one that could also speak and mimic. Something he could put in a glass birdcage and listen to when he was bored.

The child was bent over in the dirt, singing some old folk song, hair loosely back dirty and sweaty. Who knows when they last had a bath, the King scoffed internally. Their clothes not much better much too big, covered in a thick layer of dirt. It all only strengthened his resolve to turn them to a songbird they would be treated much better than they were currently.

He stepped into the forest clearing, the air around them both growing thick and wild, a smell of hot summer grass hung like a cloud. The King watched motionless with a smile as the hunched figure froze in place, smart child to know when they were outmatched, no grand heroics or disrespect. The child lifted their face, and the King was oddly pleased, it was cleaner than their hair and he could that the child had spent most of their life facing towards the sun. Their eyes looked the same as a fawn caught in the sight line of a wolf, but their mouth was turned into a hesitant smile.

The King cocked his head to the side at the child’s smile, before he could say a word the child spoke.

“Hello,” they said, their voice soft with a slight tremor but a distinct note of hope, “what’s your name?”

With those simple four words, the Solaris knew that this was to be his third child. A neglected songbird, but with a quick wit and curiosity that spoke of greater things than their tiny village. He wanted to scoop them up, and tell of all the great things they would see and do. But this was not his first time bringing a child of his own. So he smiled as he knelt to be closer to the eye-line. of the child.

“You, songbird, may call me, Solaris, may I know what you to call you songbird?”

When the child’s face brightened, any hesitation was gone, this child was his and he couldn’t wait to bring them home.

[scoundrels-in-love]

Deanna is the fridged wife from the tragic backstory of your good ole adventurer, and they meet in frigid wastes. Except this time, it's her story, and coping with the decisions made by this person, to return what was lost to this world, though she was at peace. And, yet, she came at his call.

The setting, the word choice, everything feels painfully symbolic and I really can only applaud the whole thing.

[queerprayers]

Hi! This advent I really want to honour my faith rather than just celebrating christmas in a secular sense. I found your post about advent and the liturgical new year inspiring, and I was wondering if you could point me towards some ideas or resources for advent practices or ways to go about worship specifically for this period - everywhere I've looked just talks about lighting candles, which I'm not able to do in my current housing. Do you have any suggestions?

Thank you for your blog and everything you write here, and I hope you have a wonderful new year <3

Happy Advent, beloved! Candles are great (including fake ones or felt/crafted ones)—or you could recreate a similar weekly/daily thing, like hanging another star in the window. But that's not your only option. Here are some thoughts! (I also said some similar things last year you might find interesting.)

One of the most meaningful things about my Advents growing up was the fact that it was visibly not-quite-Christmas. We put up our tree maybe a few days before but we didn't decorate it until Christmas Eve. We didn't listen to Christmas music till Christmas—we listened to Advent music. We put our nativity set in the window, but gradually—we would set up Mary and Joseph traveling to it, and I remember waiting to unpack the baby Jesus until Christmas Eve. (The wise men were on the bookshelf until Epiphany.) I've put a painting of the Annunciation on my altar, but Christmas stuff will wait. 

It's very important to me to make each season distinct materially. The things around me, the music I listen to, the books I read, the prayers I say, change tangibly—in Advent and Lent especially. My emotions come and go, what I'm thinking about is different every day, but it's Advent because I am doing Advent—and not yet doing Christmas, no matter what the music in the grocery store or the parties I'm invited to tell me. (I don't refuse to find joy in them, I'm just conscious about the fact that I'm in a different season. It's not as big a deal to me as the Lent/Easter divide, though, which I will defend with every part of me.)

I love liturgical colors for this reason, too—my church isn't very extravagant and mostly looks the same throughout the year, but the altar cloth is a different color. I know exactly what season it is just from that. (Our Advent is blue to honor Mary, but most people's is purple like Lent with maybe a pink Gaudete Sunday.) My home altar also changes color, so I have that visual in my room as well.

So do it on purpose, candles or no. Maybe wait on a few Christmas-y things, like ornaments or music (don't worry, Christmas has twelve days and then you can keep doing it all through the Epiphany season if you want). Make it Advent, whenever you start! 

Historically, Advent traditions have been very similar (or identical) to Lenten ones. The Orthodox church calls Advent the Nativity Fast. It's been a penitent preparation. Things we may associate with Lent, like going without things or structured prayer, can find a home in Advent as well.

Secular celebrations and consumerism have affected Advent as well as Christmas, with countless calendars and just in general by filling our lives with Christmas themes that might make us forget Advent has its own themes. (To be clear, I support anyone celebrating Christmas—once a religion evangelizes/colonizes/rules, it has no right to accuse people of appropriating its holidays. I am simply talking about how the cultural practice differs.) Advent has themes of peace and love and hope, but it's got more specific themes than that, scarier stuff than that. It's about Christ's coming in the Incarnation, but it's also about Christ coming all around us every day, and Christ's promised future coming.

Spend some time with Isaiah, spend some time with meditations on Mary (I just read some of Catherine of Siena's words which are here as a reading for March 25.). From the poem I posted, you can tell I spent some time with Joel last year. Here's the Revised Common Lectionary daily readings for these seasons—you could start a habit or do it for a season or explore some passages every once in a while. You can find the Book of Common Prayer's traditional Advent prayers here (The Collects >> choose Traditional or Contemporary language >> Seasons of the Year). The ancient "O Antiphons" accompany the Magnificat starting Dec. 17 (here's a booklet with commentary & Latin chant). Forward Movement has several podcasts, if you want to pray daily while commuting or taking a walk or right before bed.

There are a million Advent devotionals out there—you can find one from an author you like, or search your/a denomination + "advent devotional" or "advent prayers" and you'll probably find something. For some social justice oriented ones, I've found Red Letter Christianity's Reflections from Bethlehem (by Palestinian authors), Justice Unbound's Boundless: An Anti-Colonial Advent Devotional, and the UCC's Abolition Advent Calendar. Cole Arthur Riley (Black Liturgies) is doing an Advent series on her Patreon. Jan Richardson posts art and poetic blessings throughout the year.

In terms of books, I recommend:

Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas

Preparing for Christmas (Richard Rohr)

Celtic Advent (David Cole)

WinterSong (Madeleine L'engle & Luci Shaw)

Advent for Exiles (Caroline Cobb)

If you want poetry: Accompanied by Angels (Luci Shaw). 

I'll tell you a secret—most devotionals are meant to be read every day, but no one will know if you don't do that. You can start them at any time and read as much as you like whenever you like. Don't not start one because you don't think you'll be regular about it. 

And of course, you don't need a book to say "Advent" on the front for it to be an Advent book—or music or anything else. I'm about to start God Hunger: Discovering the Mystic in All of Us (John J. Kirvan) which I picked up at a book sale but it's on the Internet Archive! I'm drawn to poetry and Marian hymns in this season, and things that talk about the end of the world and prophecy. Whatever Advent is to you, surround yourself with it—and anything you're just starting to think about, you can explore.

The beautiful news is? The years spiral on, and Advent returns. Every year we're confronted with it, and every year I never do exactly what I wanted. But I've found some stuff to bring with me, some books to reread, things I know further my practice and things that don't. And when the spiral returns to this distinctive place of waiting for something already in our hearts, of hoping for something we don't understand, of inviting in someone who has already snuck in like a thief in the night, we can try again.

So happy Advent, and may yours be visibly, tangibly, purposefully Advent. May you be the impractical kind of hopeful and the holy kind of scared. Christmas is a miracle slowly being tended (rather than Easter's miracle erupting from the ground)—not that there's no blood, no surprise, but that for nine months Life itself grew quietly. So keep watch. Make your life a womb, make your Advent a narrowing toward the humanity God enters. Tend the darkness and bring in some light—a candle is just a way to do that, but there's so much light in the world. Here's to finding it.

<3 Johanna

[zosonils]

an aspect of shadow's trauma that i've been thinking about a lot since the sa2 replay is how fucked his perspective of gerald must be after everything, especially assuming he was family to shadow just as much as maria was [which i do every day]. the man who raised you, created you from nothing but tissue samples and energy and hope, the man who could have easily decided you were a simple thing to be used and yet welcomed you into his family as easily as his own granddaughter, who treated you as a person when so many others treated you as a lab rat or a weapon or another soon-to-be-failed prototype, in a moment of unfathomable despair, decided you were to be a tool that would carry out his final plan. perhaps treating you this way was another symptom of his mental breakdown, perhaps deep down he's always seen you as nothing more than a thing to reach his goals with. you will never know, because he is dead. every comforting memory you have of him, every time he encouraged your curiosity or stayed with you during a test he could have observed from afar or told you how proud of you he was, forever tainted by the thought that it could have all been a lie. a variable in an experiment, a means to an end. how would you ever trust anyone ever again man i'm in shreds

[poliodeuces]

miscellaneous mhyk doodles

[palskippah]

Hi! @hyperfixatingonbowuigisohard had this idea of Mr. L but preggy and I loved it jsdisd

I know nearly nothing of this game, but here's some ideas anyways for it!

-Mr L does his little presentation number, turning around, balancing his weight on one foot, and almost giving Bowser a heart attack when he clearly was barely keeping his balance, fearing that his husband would stumble and fall.

-Bowser immediately recognizes him, and Peach mutters to herself that Mr L reminds her strongly of someone, but she's not sure who. Bowser looks at her in disbelief, not sure if she's messing with him or not.

>Mario doesn't recognize Luigi at all at first, and Bowser genuinely asks him if he's an idiot. That's clearly Luigi! Same hat (a bit different though) and his overalls (although darker...) and that's his mustache! (looking as dashing as ever, by the way), and he's exactly as pregnant as Luigi! (Mario signs that Luigi isn't the only pregnant person in the world, and Bowser gets exasperated).

>Bowser keeps trying to convince Mario to not fight his expectant husband (AKA, Mario's brother!), and even if it wasn't Luigi, the man was clearly very pregnant, how was he going to fight him?!

>Mr L overhears and takes it personally, jumping into battle. He loses, of course. And when he's on the ground, tired and out of breath (from what Bowser's just sure is just the baby tiring him up, because Mario was really tame on his attacks), the koopa hands him a Shroom Shake so he feels better, and Mr L angrily accepts it and then sends Bowser straight to hell. When he tries to stand up and fails miserably, he lets the koopa help him to his feet, and then sends him to hell again and leaves, to work on his Brobot. (I can't remember what else happens during that fight asdkaj)

>I can't remember how Mr L leaves after the first battle, but imagine he's waddling very slowly away and Bowser's like 'Babe?? Luigi?? Please come back :C' and Luigi is literally within arm reach (especially for Bowser), but he's also very angry and telling the koopa weirdo (AKA, King Corny, King Incompetent, Mr wrappedaroundyourhusbandsfinger, King Bootlicker) to back off or he'll kill him. And well, Luigi is very capable of doing anything, and this is a brainwashed, evil Luigi, so the koopa isn't taking any chances. And the 'Green Thunder' is even more cranky because Mario didn't even break a sweat and Mr L was all huffing and puffing when the battle ended. The whole waddle away, when he wasn't insulting Bowser, Mr L muttered to himself about the stupid huge baby that didn't let him do anything and the horrors of motherhood and pregnancy.

-Mr L doesn't care for the baby, because he just came to existence and found himself heavily pregnant. He doesn't know this baby; he doesn't feel anything for them! But still there's the muscle memory or maybe it's the feelings that Luigi has for the little thing or something, because sometimes Mr L would find that he had been stroking his own belly or resting his hand on it. He'd move his hand away as if burned, and quickly look around hoping none of Count Bleck's other minions saw him showing such weakness, feeling embarrassed.

-Normally Bowser is all over Luigi to be of assistance for anything he may need, to, y'know, make his life easier now that he's pregnant. And Luigi is always glad that he has his husband right there to take care of him, but that is not the case with Mr L. He's angry that the idiot koopa thinks that he needs to be monitored like a baby, when he can take perfectly good care of himself! But also, he claims so and all, but is clearly struggling.

>Like at some moment he presents his brobot control remote (or something? How does he even summon that robot?) and then accidentally drops it. All of them, Mario, Peach, Bowser and Mr L stare at it for a few seconds. When Bowser makes a movement of going forward to pick it for him, the green one swats him away, he can pick it up himself, thanks fucking very much. Cue Mr L doing the pitiful preggy crouch while Mario and Peach pointedly don't look (after he yells that they can stop staring!) and Bowser tries to get closer to just pick the damn thing himself so Luigi can stop straining himself (getting yelled at in return).

-On Super Dimentio form, know that brainwashed Luigi (Mr. L) and Dimentio don't give a single shit about the baby, the first obviously having the set goal of being of assistance to Dimentio or whatevs, and the late one wanting to fulfill the prophecy. But well, Luigi sure does, so he subconsciously makes sure to protect his bebi Magma. The new form is huge, but the baby is still normal sized, it's just that Luigi made sure to give them some extra padding because it looked like they'd need it to be safe.

>By the way, the idea of one side of his face being a crying Luigi and the other being Dimentio is directly from @galaxygermdraws' design of Super Dimentio which is so cool :'''v

>Super Dimentio form may have only some physical characteristics of Luigi and only Dimentio's mind controlling it, but Luigi has been pregnant for many months now, and he can't help muscle memory, so the Super Dimentio form waddles like he does, and maybe Mario, Peach and Bowser would find it funny, if they weren't so horrified by the whole ordeal and the huge hands trying to squish them like bugs.

-As soon as Luigi is out of the Super Dimentio form, he's lying on the ground and wiping the streak of tears from the only cheek that has them, while wondering aloud why is he crying and on his side on the floor, and the next second after that, he's wrapped in Bowser's arms and Mario's holding his hand and Peach is touching his face, all of them fretting over him, while Luigi doesn't know what has them with such worried expressions, or why Bowser's weeping so much.

-If before Bowser was all over him, since the whole Chaos Heart ordeal he doesn't take his eyes away from Luigi, neither does Mario, who's glued to him for long weeks until he can feel that his brother is going to be alright.

>Anyways, baby's born, they're all happy yey :D Also pls look at that paper Magma I drew, that's my best drawing up to date.

ALSO alternate thing where the Chaos Heart remained with the baby in some weird way, but they don't notice because she's literally just a baby but she has the potential to destroy the universe, but Magma never does because she's a chill girl her whole life who doesn't have reasons to unleash the doom of the universe JSJDK silly idea in the same way that Luigi -the bestest guy around- is supposed to help destroy everything (??? or something like that I read somewhere? Maybe it was a headcanon aksdladk)

Thanks if you read till here!

[kennahjune]

Teen Dad AU

Tag list: @live0rdive @y4r3luv @jonesn4coffee @sofadofax @jackiemonroe5512 @sensationalsunburst @scarlet-malfoy @l393ndjean @asspirin-s @fandomz-brainrot

Tag list is open until I finish this series so feel free to ask to be added!!

.

Steve Harrington had a son.

An actual son.

And his name was Louie.

And little Louie Harrington was Steve’s pride and joy.

But there was a problem. Steve was 17. 17 years old and with a son.

It’s fine.

Martha Timbley was the mothers name. “Was” because after she gave birth and dropped Louie off with an extensive apology, her parents packed everything up and took her to New York.

So Martha Timbley was the mother, until she had to leave.

Then Nancy might’ve been, but she met Louie after they had already broken up. Nancy was content with simply knowing about Louie’s existence. Steve wouldn’t hold it against her, really.

Louie was Steve’s pride and joy, as said before, and he loved to talk about him to people.

Except Steve is 17. And the only friends he has are a bunch of 8th graders and his ex girlfriend and her new boyfriend. 99% of which don’t even know about Louie’s existence.

So Steve didn’t get to talk about Louie as much as he’d like.

Speaking of the baby Harrington, there was a soft cry from Steve’s bedroom. Steve, who had been in the bathroom getting ready for a shower, rushed in to pick up a now crying baby Louie.

“Hey hey hey, it’s alright baby it’s alright. What’s the matter honey? You hungry? I bet you are, huh?”

Steve loved talking to Louie. Which makes him sound pathetic. Louie’s only 6 months old at this point in time. And for him to be Steve’s favorite person to talk to?

That’s just kind of sad.

But the point still stands.

Steve carried Louie carefully downstairs and into the kitchen. Steve never put Louie down while making the bottle, gently bouncing on his feet and rocking back and forth.

The bottle was easy enough to make. Steve took it into the living room and sat on the couch with Louie in his arms. Little Louie drank the bottle right up to the delight of Steve. His big brown eyes stared right at him while his little baby hands curled around his ears. Steve chuckled quietly.

Little Louie had Steve’s eyes, much to his delight. But he had a mix of his and Martha’s hair, curly and mostly brown with blond highlights— like Steve’s— but had a ginger tint to it that reflected Martha’s firey curls.

Louie finished the bottle and Steve burped him gently. It was nearing only 5 PM on that Tuesday in August of 1984, but Steve felt himself growing tired and worn with exhaustion. Louie was a sucker to put to sleep and to keep asleep, often waking in the night with screams and cries and needing to be held in order to fall to sleep.

Which was fine with Steve. Well— the holding part. He didn’t really like the screaming and crying part but that was to be expected with babies of Louie’s age.

Steve liked holding baby Louie during the night. But he often feared that he’d roll over and crush the boy. So, Steve let Louie sleep on the bed with him while surrounded by pillows at all times.

It was around 6 PM now on that fine Tuesday. Steve finally plated up a small dinner for himself of pasta. He let Louie gnaw on a couple of noodles while Steve rocked him gently.

It was nearing 7 when Steve finally out Louie down for the first time in nearly 3 hours. Louie wasn’t asleep, not quite yet. But Steve tucked him in and surrounded him in pillows as if he was.

Steve turned the radio on and turned it down real low. He let the soft tunes of some country song lull little Louie to sleep.

Louie fell asleep clutching a small bear Martha gave him. Steve was upset that she couldn’t be in Louie’s life. Even if there wasn’t anything between the two of them Louie deserved to know his mother cared. Steve sighed.

As much as he wanted to collapse on his side of the bed, he refrained.

Instead, Steve pulled out a duffel bag from under his bed and set to work. His parents would be expected home in two days, and he already knew what the outcome would be.

They’d enjoyed their trip to where-ever-the-fuck for the past 7 months, they’d made sure Steve knew how much they didn’t miss him over the phone when they asked about the house and neighbors more than him.

But that’s fine. It’s whatever. Steve didn’t need their approval. He’d stopped caring about it after sophomore year; when he’d won his first game with the winning shot and they hadn’t bothered to say anything outside of “you should be doing that all the time”.

So really? Fuck them.

But they were currently Steve’s only means of housing.

So he’s kind of fucked.

But he packed the duffle bag nice and tight. He packed the bag with his clothes and a blanket and moved to pull out a suitcase he still had from his first (and last) trip with his parents when he was 9.

Into the suitcase went most of Louie’s stuff; clothes, toys, extra bottles that weren’t going to be needed until Thursday. And then he packed one of the smaller pockets with his important things; birth certificates and the papers showing that his car was in fact his.

He already had a diaper bag with the rest of Louie’s stuff. He kept it packed all the time for when he could convince Nancy to babysit for him. Like tomorrow.

Tomorrow, Steve would have work from 9 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon. Not ideal but he needs the hours. Nancy would be over by 8:30 with a promise of watching Louie.

Steve doesn’t know how Nancy hasn’t clued anyone in on Louie’s existence. But as much as he wanted to question it he didn’t fancy pushing his luck.

With the bags packed he set them aside by his door. He’d put them in the car tomorrow when he left for work. But for now, he all but collapsed on his bed. He had the vague feeling of Louie wrapping his little hands around his finger before he officially passed out.

…

First part is officially out!! I’m working on my s3 steddie part 4 behind the scenes but that should be out soon as well. Expect part 2 of this sometime in the following week.

Second Part:

[starfish-spencer]

Whumptober day 2: "Trust issues"

Falling in love with her was never part of his plan.

Previous drawings: 1