#idk how else I should tag this

[psychedelic-nya]

the big miserable four

[raynecloud06]

@sillystringstar I hope you enjoy this silly little doodle of your silly little guy

It was fairly low effort, only took a few minutes I think, but he still came out pretty cute imo

[shitnpiss]

Gosh it's been a while since I've had time to look at stancest stuff.

I feel like im at my sexiest when looking through really old stancest art (2015-16 (there were a few even from 2014??? People were shipping the stans when one was only a theory, that's fucking awesome)) and archiving it in my secret stash on my computer.

Heck, same when I'm saving the current/new stuff to my stash 👀

Keep making awesome grunks kissing <3

[shepscapades]

[Pt 1] [Pt 2] [Pt 3] [Pt 4] [Pt 5] [Pt 6] [PART 7] [Don’t Let it Reach the Heart]

Nobody Anymore Nobody Anymore

[This comic is part of my dbhc au, following the chaos and panic that ensues after Doc and Xisuma try to get Etho back online at the start of s9 after a very rough s8 finale that leaves him a little. broken. It's set to the vibes of Joywave's Destruction. This part concludes this comic, but this moment doesn't end here: Don't Let it Reach the Heart will be the title of the fic that will follow the end of Destruction!]

[bunnieswithknives]

Obsessed with his brain

[technically-human]

Hi i'm absolutely in love with the reverse au!!

I want to know, in this verse does edwin still confesses to charles? if so how is it different? i feel if he did he would end it by apologizing, you know, religious guilt and all

There’s a train that goes through Hell.

Its journey starts in Wrath, and it departs already full of souls. It took Charles far too many years to realize that there were separate, more spacious wagons that demons could board. Not that he could understand why anyone, hellborn or not, would want to get into the damned thing. He certainly hadn’t.

Actually, Charles couldn’t recall ever boarding the train. As far as he could tell, he just appeared there one day, and had spent the next tortuous decades trying to get out. It was part of the torture. Getting out was entirely possible. More than that, it was necessary.

The train had no regular schedule that he could discern (not at first, though he had always been good at finding patterns, and was eventually able to crack it) but it would make quite a few stops before finally returning to the Wrath ring. Souls inside the train were already angry and far too close to each other (close, so close not even air could squeeze in) but when they got really violent was when the train made a stop.

Getting out didn’t mean you were free, no matter where you managed it, be it Sloth or Gluttony, Pride or Lust. No, as soon as the train finished its journey, you would appear back inside, in Wrath where you belonged, suffocating once again, getting ready to claw your way out for the millionth time.

Because if you didn’t get out, The Conductor would get you.

If he thought about it calmly, Charles could probably say that he got out of the train more times than not. Still, being caught by The Conductor once was bad enough, as there was no coal in Hell, and something had to serve as combustible. Souls could not burn to death, and the whole journey always felt longer than eternity when he was caught. Once it was over, he would be inside again, and fight with more desperation than before, not caring who stayed inside so long as it wasn’t him.

He couldn’t understand why anyone, hellborn or not, would want to get into the damned thing. He certainly hadn’t. But as the souls pushed and bit and clawed and punched their way out, Edwin boarded the train. And that wasn’t even the most groundbreaking revelation Charles had that day.

ko-fi

[ancientbygone]

I SEE HER FINGERS BENDING BACKWARDS TWIST AND TURN AND TIE THEMSELVES TOGETHER BECKONING BEHIND HER BACK WITH FINGERS DRIPPING RAINBOW PUDDLES SINGING TO ME “COME AND DRINK OF MANY WATERS”

[adhdandcomics]

perhaps the most important question i’ve ever asked:

does anyone have tips for people trying to stop being chronically late to everything in the world that aren’t weirdly judgmental and aggressive or flat out lies

[biblically-accurate-dca]

au where moon fills in while sun is "on vacation" and nothing bad happens

[tubbytarchia]

Hi hi!! I accidentally spent way too long on this, but the animatic was so good it FUELLED me... Here's a screenshot redraw as a lil gift :] Sorry grian isn't very birby lol

OH HE IS VERY BIRBY WHAT DO YOU MEANNN AHHH I wish i could draw bruises and stuff like you, I totally skimped out on that but ahh this is sick!!! Oh it's so lovely and oh it hurts so much haha. Thank you so much, it's such an honor for my work to inspire anyone, this is so cool!!! AHHHYH your art is so pretty!! I love the colors and Grian's face says it all hnggg

[fiendishartist2]

im trying to figure out how to draw him

[vampyre-kin]

Damn shawty, your haunting eyes, unique nose and janky teeth have bewitched my mind, body and soul.

[hawnks]

My neighbor makes tamales. She brings over a bunch of them all at once. I’ve never had a tamale before (I know, I know), so I look a up a tutorial video. I imagine Sara in her downstairs apartment, soaking corn husks, kneading dough. I’m not much of a cook myself, I can’t offer her anything in return. It doesn’t matter. Every once in a while she stops by with another big bag of them, tells me about their fillings, the day she’s had, how her mothers doing.

She doesn’t know that some days I forget to buy groceries, or forget to eat altogether. She doesn’t know that food has always been a sacred, scary thing to me, that every time I open up one of those husk wrappers, steaming and full, it saves me a little.

The woman running the soap stand at the farmers market doesn’t have any customers, so I ask her a million questions about her process. She tells me she learned the old fashioned way, from the farmer down the road. No one would ever talk to her because she was so mean, except the soap maker. So the farmer taught her everything she knew, how to patch a roof, how to raise a goat, how to make soap and stew and blankets. She rubs lotion into my hands. It smells like lavender and warm earth. Yesterday my knuckles were so dry, they cracked.

In the downpour, three different cars pull over, ask me if I need a ride. I’m just a block away, I’ll be fine, I assure them. They still linger before driving off.

At the bus stop, I talk to a woman who tells me her woes. She’s smiling, but near tears. I pull out the tiny, rose quartz heart that’s in my pocket. I carry things like that with me, nicknacks, stickers. Trinkets I can hand out like trick-or-treat candies. She asks me, inevitably, like they all do, “Why do you have this.”

Because my neighbor makes tamales — but I can’t say that. “Just in case,” I tell her.

[bonicedemandarina]

Uhhh here u go vat7k fanart to start the year!!!

Sorry it looks so messy it was supposed to be a lil sketch but it got out of hand very quickly

CLOSE UPS

[i-make-fun-of-spn-characters]

Take my "How much of an eeeevil hardcore stan are you" uquiz

According to MEEEEEEEEE

[todayisafridaynight]

journalists underestimate the magnitude of my addiction and how far i'll go for the bit