#it is time to do the eepy

[stealingyourbones]

Luke 24:46: “Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead.”

Original Art and MANY other versions of my art below

[masterattendanthuang]

happy pride everyone i offer this to yall

grub exclusive before i go eep gnight

[timethehobo]

Just a lil sweetie. Don’t hurt him.

[dustykneed]

oh.....old married spones...... the old men yaoi ever

[skeletonlover69]

what did you think they were doing (•ิ_•ิ)

[uwuinhell]

When your identity issues collide with your feelings of being unwanted ;p

Oops! Loops angst /personal vent!

Only doodle cuz. eepy.

[mikichko]

⛔ this blog is 18+ !! minors and ageless blogs please dni ⛔ blame this tiktok. unedited. soap x fem!reader.

it starts off with shaky footage, the background blurring as the camera moves. a little more shuffling before the phone settles at the ground level focused on your beautiful baby girl bracketed by johnny's thick legs.

he sucks his teeth, pointing a finger accusingly at the camera, "I'll tell ye one thing lass, the stubbornness? not from me"

the girl gurgles, kicking her feet happily at the sound of her father's voice. soap lets out a soft sigh as he strokes her chubby cheek with a single caloused finger, "jus' like yer ma aye birdie?"

another set of kicks and a giggle as she pushes herself into his touch. he looks at the camera again, "been trying to teach this one to crawl, and she's full on refusing." soap sighs, hoisting birdie up onto her socked feet, "loves to bloody stand but won't even take a chance to crawl." birdie begins to bounce, cooing excitedly as she stretches the developing muscles of her knees.

"i can hear ye now, blaming me, a devoted da, but i swear she's just being outright stubborn." soap picks birdie again, "look I'll show ye, see here I'm going to put her in her crawling position," birdie looks happily at the camera as her dad maneuvers her around, "but look at how she gets if I let her go"

birdie stays for a moment, eyes wide and observant as she looks around from her new vantage point, before inevitably beginning to fall. she falls ever so slowly, her little muscles trying their best to stay up, before you hear the dull thud as her tiny little forehead makes contact on the floor. behind her soap opens his mouth in a silent scream before rubbing both hands at his face.

birdie breathes heavily as he hoists her back to sitting position, "birdie, is nae a plank sesh! we're trying to get ye to crawl! how're you 'sposed to walk if ye cannae crawl yet?"

birdie giggles at her dad, small hand grabbing at his face. soap catches her hand between two fingers and lowers his face so that her tiny hand is holding to the scruffy side of his cheek. she coos at the next texture, hand moving between patting and rubbing. soap nods, "aye aye, I know it's hard but ye got to do hard things to get to the good things. cannae have you givin' up so easily. gots to get you crawling before ma gets home."

birdie pays him no mind, focused solely on the contrast of the smooth skin and the scratchy beard. soap closes his eyes for minute, smiling gently before rubbing his face against her hand. finally his eyes flutter open, looking over at the camera

"miss ya. cannae wait til you're back with us."

[0vergrowngraveyard]

villain au redesigns!!

so far in my efforts to revamp this, they’ve gotten worse! these two need to be separated!

[pixie-inkk]

A fun art trade I did with the wonderful @tomahachi12

Toma is a definite mood 😂💜

[princescar]

She did 90 in a school zone

(Inspired by this, alt and close up under cut)

[bananatemilkshake]

Lil fella in da void

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

oup… 🥣

[timethehobo]

Just wanted to draw him in a turtleneck tbh. (Also I should count how many drawings I have of him now lol)

[snailfen]

the rather energetic meeting

[not-so-casualenjoyer]

Simon (trying to be) casual about the mask

By that I don’t mean he’d take it off whenever you asked. Of course not. You have to have very, very special privileges to see his face, and even each of the 141 members practically had to pry it off him once he agreed to let them see.

Simon’s mask is what makes him Ghost. It’s what makes him able to slip into work mode. It’s what holds him together when he needs it and what lets him block out everything else and pretend it’s never happened. The mask allows Simon to assume another identity.

He puts it on at night after his nightmares, when he feels like the world is crumbling down around him. It holds everything together, making sure his scars won’t tear apart at the seams, letting him find reprieve in his second skin.

The mask is an essential, immovable part of who Simon is. Who Ghost is. And he doesn’t take that thing off for just anyone.

Simon is an intimidating, bloodsoaked, unadmittedly sad, broken man. All these things, coupled with lesions on emotions beat into him by his father, make for a not so smooth approach to communication.

By which I mean, almost none at all.

Which isn’t a fault of his own. He likes to shove everything down, and almost nobody he knows is willing to risk his temper enough to dredge it back up again. So he gets to keep it locked away in a tight little bottle. He’s never had to express himself, communicate with another person, explain the reasoning behind his sometimes irrational actions (and he is not willing to admit it may be akin to the fact that he doesn’t quite know why he does them himself sometimes).

But when you came around, it jolted his entire world.

You, little firecracker you, who doesn’t flinch when he glares or snaps and pushes him to explain until he wants to scream his tar-soaked lungs out in newfound frustration.

You’re so different. You don’t fear his wrath. You meet it with a firm hand and a possibly more stubborn attitude. The team has never seen someone who can go head to head with Simon, and they don’t think they’ve ever seen him get so irritated either.

You push him until he snaps, spitting his reasoning and thoughts to you, explaining with a growled “I don’t know, okay?!” when you push him too far. You bend him on topics that make him itch until he breaks, and then you soften. You lower your voice, sweeten your tone, comfort him with words that make his stomach churn with how kind they are, and drag each word of explanation and processing out of him with coaxing gentleness.

You learn more about him than he intends over time.

You learn about the scars that cut through him–his mind, his heart, sometimes his flesh body. Sometimes when you look at him, he thinks you can see them, the slashes and cuts that mangle his body. His gnarled heart, his twisted mind.

That doesn’t scare him the way it would if it were anybody else. It doesn’t scare him because no matter what he shows you, you always come back. You always learn more, and you always show him that syrupy, worried look whenever he bears a new mark to you, physical or not.

So he wonders, in spite of himself, what would you think of his face? His cleft lip, his scarred cheek, his cut brow? What would you think of his eternally crooked nose, his drawn brows?

He hopes the scars on his face won’t stop you from giving him that sweet look, because none of his scars have before.

Simon isn’t quite sure how to integrate his bare face into the equation.

He wishes he didn’t have to go through all the muss and fuss, could just take it off with no overdramatic theatrics. He just wants to rip the bandaid off as quickly as possible.

So, that’s what he does. Saunters into the rec room one day while it’s just you, completely maskless.

He casually walks to the kitchen counter (despite how he thinks he might be having a heart attack from how hard his heart is beating against his ribcage) to make some tea.

You glance over your shoulder when you notice his presence, and–

“...Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you forget your mask?”

He turns the knob on the stove to light a fire under the kettle.

“No,” He grunts.

You blink at him, speechless, for lack of a better word, trying to process this situation and the face in front of you.

It’s almost surreal, seeing it all come together. Those familiar eyes, the glance of jaw and lip, his light brows, furrowed down. Now connected with the rest of his face, a crooked nose and a gnarled cheek, lines in his forehead from scowling so much.

“What?” He mutters from his spot at the counter, seeing how you’ve twisted around to stare at him over the back of the couch.

“Nothing,” You say quickly, turning back to your phone with a grin.

a/n: haha hey guys sorry i fell off the face of the earth! i do that sometimes ANYWAYS gonna try to write some more 😭 i have little thing in the works rn but it takes me at least three days to start writing literally anything beyond a base idea so

[indilaras]

it's mira loving hours <3

(you check the clock. all the numbers have been replaced with 'mira loving hours')

Aro and Ace colors bonuses: