#CHEWING ON THIS...............

[meistoshi]

they told you not to look down

you never had vertigos, but now, now you're on top of the world. everyone's under you. no more worries. no more problems. you're at the top, and it's great. you can help everyone from here. it's great.

the sun is scorching hot. the nights are the coldest. a gust of wind, you'd go down, down, down. an infinite fall.

but it's okay. because everyone will come to save you now if you fell, right?

. . . right . . . ?

the fall itself's not the thing that scares him, never has been. it's always what gets left above. if there's nothing above, if everything is down, down, down ...

oh, he could learn to embrace it.

oh, he could learn to love the fall.

oh, he could learn to crave it.

because it means there's another climb to be made. the pinnacle is breathtaking, it's everything he wants, has wanted, could ever want. but having it is only half as satisfactory as those last grueling steps to the top, no matter the prize.

the apotheosis is almost sobering.

everyone always told him he needs to slow down. now there's nowhere to go. so he's stopped. it's great.

there's a long way down. there's nowhere to go. there's only one way to go.

a nation has watched him purposefully leap off a very literal tower, in a fit of heroics, in a trajectory towards a very literal ground of, what was it, concrete ?? asphalt ?? he was caught then. a gust of wind, he'll be caught again. he's been caught at lower heights. someone's always caught him. if he doesn't fight the momentum of this infinite fall, he'll be caught again.

what's the harm in not watching his step, here, at the apex of everything ?? he made it here once.

& oh, he loves it here.

but the climb was heady, & the detox from it makes him ever - so easy ... to ... just ...

[xxxdragonfucker69xxx]

[mumblesplash]

comics as an art form make me insane. they’re so difficult to do well. there’s so many different ways to make sequential art work and most of them are deeply unintuitive. onomatopoeia that feels completely ridiculous to put down often reads seamlessly. panels on a page become a fractally nested image composition challenge that’s only possible to lose because if you do a good job no one will notice. you have to direct the readers’ eyes on a specific path across the page but also account for the fact that they won’t follow it. comic time isn’t linear. if the order of events isn’t crystal clear the story becomes incomprehensible. sometimes you need to do this on purpose. all this for a medium almost universally considered less effective than animation and less respectable than plain text. even its own name doesn’t take it seriously

[porcelain-rob0t]

on identity, healing the inner child, fursonas, and cringe culture

[httyd-art-requests]

here's an ask to post whatever you want, even something that's not related to what you normally post :3

I've been holding onto this ask and witing for the right moment

Do you guys wanna guess which recently revived fandom has been consuming my life lately?

You can't tell me this wouldn't be the perfect crossover

[notquiteaghost]

"it's okay, i can peel back the layers of you until i find the soft and gentle core of you you've had to work so hard to hide"? no. no, it's okay, i know you're hollow; i'm here anyway. you don't have to pretend it isn't masks the whole way down. whatever face you want to wear, i still love you. i don't need you to be good or unflinching or the antonym of violence. if i did, i wouldn't be here. i wouldn't ask that of you.

[xylographica]

sunlight

[thelonelynindroid]

When violent characters are gentle and tender & when gentle characters are violent and unhinged

[officialspec]

my beautiful princess with a disorder

[hollycircling]

Now Abel kept flocks, and Cain worked the soil.

[bananakeiky]

So like. These guys.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Pit Bonnie learns being a FNAF parent is hard…

[unfrozenpeas]

its definitely permanent marker

[noodles-and-tea]

Twins in time au.... Would Fiddleford act as a sort of father figure to Stan? Since Filbrick obviously SUCKED to both Stan and Ford and Fidd is more than definitely missing HIS son, and of course Ford has grown to love him but they're still BROTHERS.. Maybe they could act as the father/son the other is missing?

ABSOLUTELY!!!!

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.