#it's very late and i'm very very tires

[druid-for-hire]

[images ID: three images of a comic titled "one must imagine sisyphus happy" by druid-for-hire. it is a visual narrative beginning with someone with wrist pain (depicted by bright orange nerves) working at a drafting table. the reader is shown the same wrist as the person uses it for many everyday tasks such as carrying a grocery basket, pushing elevator buttons, typing, and doing dishes, until the pain dissolves all the panels into chaos. the person then performs several physical therapy exercises until the pain subsides. they sit back down at a desk with their laptop, sigh, and begin typing. a small spark of pain reappears. end id]

a fun little piece i made during the semester and submitted into our school comic anthology! (which you can buy at the Static Fish table at MoCCAFest in NYC ;] ). it's about artists and injury

[krysmcscience]

Call this the Whoopsie AU (it's barely an AU)

I mean. Narinder never explicitly SAID the Lamb would stay dead... :3c He probably should have been more specific. >:3c

Part Two:

Well. The Lamb tried, but...sorry, Nari, the crown hates you now. Shouldn't have been so quick to lend it out, I guess. :D

Aaaand Part Three:

'Isn't he just adorable?' -The Lamb, probably, while their followers smile and nod and internally scream at the brand new hellcat they now have to share living space with...

Anyway, nothing says 'Dead To Me' like following a person around to loudly remind them of how dead they are to you. Right? Right. Narinder's got this all figured out. <:]

[welcometogrouchland]

All the DC gotcha4gaza prompts I've completed since my last post! Donations are over now but there's still more art to come, so stay tuned!

[sceletaflores]

A Small Favor.

part one!

pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader

summary: the stress of his new job is taking a toll on mike. he did such a good job helping you out, so you decide to repay the favor.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: 18+! MDNI! oral sex (m!receiving), vaginal fingering, handjobs, heavy on the praise, munch!mike always.

authors note: the heavily heavily HEAVILY requested part two is finally done. (quite literally wrote this instead of listening to my bio lecture) i still can't believe that fic has gotten so much traction, i hope this one measures up! it got waaaay more angsty near the end than i thought it would hehe also i decided to include everyone commenting under part one requesting part two in the taglist of this fic so you're welcome lol mwah <3

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It had been one week and three days since the couch incident, which is what you’ve lovingly taken to calling whatever happened between you and Mike. One week and three whole days of Mike dancing around you and the elephant in the room.

The morning after the couch incident he practically ran out the door taking Abby to school when you tried to bring it up. The next time you attempted to have “the talk” he stuttered out an excuse before retreating to the safety of his bedroom, so you gave up.

You know that there’s something between Mike and you that crosses the line of just friends, you both felt something change that night, but getting him to face his feelings and actually admit that will take work.

It's another night of sitting on Mike's couch mulling over what to do about the whole situation when you hear the front door open. You're shocked at first, usually you're asleep by the time Mike gets home. Sure enough when you check the clock it reads 6:33 in bulky red characters. Apparently, time flies when you're obsessing over how to get your friend turned complicated-accidental-one-night-stand to admit they have feelings for you.

You try (and fail) not to listen in on every move Mike makes in the kitchen, fighting to keeping your gaze trained on the TV as he makes his way to the living room.

In your eyes peripheral vision you see him begin to make his way to the couch, but he hesitates when his eyes fall on you. He awkwardly hovers between the two rooms for a few seconds until he takes a breath and walks over to the couch.

Mike sits next to you on the couch with a soft grunt. You wrestle with the need to look at him fully, but you can see out of the corner of your eye he's taken off his work boots and vest. His hair is sticking out at weird angles, curls frizzy and unruly. Your hand twitches against your thigh with the want to run your fingers through them.

You can feel your heart beat faster, struggling to sit still in the thick tension surrounding the two of you. You flick your eyes back to the TV in a vain attempt to focus on anything other than Mike.

Eventually, you lose the fight with your screaming inner monologue and chance a sideways glace in his direction. You're beyond surprised to find him already looking at you.

You stare back, a deer caught in headlights. The dim light coming from the TV highlights his eyes. Mike opens his mouth to seemingly break the silence but he stops himself short of actually speaking. You can see him fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt.

It’s silent for a beat before you decide to speak up.

“Hi.” You say, it's a whisper but you might have well just yelled with how it cuts into the air between the two of you. Mike lets out what might be laugh, it sounds forced. "Hi." He replies stiffly.

"Home later than usual." You point out, fidgeting with your nail. Mike's home a little after 6: everyday, him being home 30 minutes late is odd.

Mike nods, he lets his head fall onto the back of the couch allowing his eyes to slip closed as he does. "Yeah," He replies, the position of his head allows you to get your greedy fill of his sharp jawline. "Jobs been hell."

You don't respond, but you know. Mike's been haggard recently, and not just because of the couch incident. The bags under his eyes have gotten worse, he's been forgetful, not to mention how much more neurotic and paranoid he's been.

Mike has been a wreck these past couple of days, and you want nothing more than to help him feel good. If not for just a few minutes.

You take a chance, and move to let your hand rest over his jean clad thigh. Mike tenses up immediately but doesn’t move to run or push your hand off.

"I could help you,” You say quietly, forcing yourself to keep eye contact. Mike's wide eyes flit rapidly between your eyes and lips. “Help you relax…” You trail off, voice barely above a whisper.

Your offer hangs heavy in the silence that settles. Mike just stares at you, after a while you start to regret making such a bold move. There’s an apology’s on the tip of your tongue, but when you start taking your hand off Mikes thigh he quickly grabs your wrist.

Your eyes snap back up to meet Mikes. His pupils are blown out, black encompassing warm brown. His tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip.

“You can...” Mike says simply, guiding your hand back to his thigh. Only he places it much higher up, high enough that you can feel the rough metal of his zipper brushing against the tip of your pinkie. "I need it." He breathes out desperately, eyes big and pleading. You allow yourself a second to just watch Mikes face before you start to move with a purpose.

You snake your hand lower, finding the already hard length of his cock through the rough material of his jeans. Mirroring what he did to you those ten days ago, you start to grind the heel of your hand against him.

Mike shudders, eyes fluttering shut at your touch. You can physically see tension slowly exit his body, leaving him slack and relaxed enough to sink deeper into the couch cushions.

The sight of him at ease and comfortable lights a fire in you. You feel a deep primal need to care for him, to make him feel good.

Patience wearing thin, you reach for the button of his jeans. Even in your arousal induced haste, you take a beat to appreciate the swell of Mike's cock pressing up against the denim. If this was any other time, you'd want to draw it out. To tease Mike until he can't take it anymore, but now is not any other time.

You pop the button to Mike's jeans, dragging the zipper down swiftly and pulling the flaps of his jeans open to frame his lewdly tented boxers. You can hear Mikes breath hitch, unable to keep from squirming under your intense gaze. The thin material leaves nothing to the imagination, the length and girth of him on display. There's a growing wet patch near the tip that's turned the light blue fabric dark and slick. An ache starts deep in your core, anticipation making you feel warm all over.

Slowly, you tug his boxers down enough for his cock to spring free and smack up against his stomach. "Ah! Shit," He hisses, hands balling up into fists by his sides.

Mike's dick is perfect. A nice length and girth you know will have your jaw aching in the best way later. The tip a soft pink color, and steadily leaking a stream of pre-come.

"I want to blow you," You say softly, getting close to Mike so your lips brush over his ear with every word. He shivers, mouth dropping open in a quiet moan. "Will you let me?"

Mike nods his head frantically. "Please," He pants, chest rising and falling quickly. "Please, I want it."

His begging is music to your ears.

You slide off the couch, kneeling between Mike's spread thighs. His straining cock makes your mouth water in anticipation. Holding the base in your hand, you lean forward to lick a board stripe from root to tip. Moaning at the heady taste and velvety feel of him on your tongue.

"God." Mike groans at the feel of your tongue.

You pull off with a slick pop, breaking a small thread of saliva trailing from the head of Mike's dick to your lips with your tongue. You lave over the tip, looking up to find Mike staring at you flushed and dark-eyed. You keep the eye contact as you sink back down, beginning to build up a rhythm.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Mike raise his hands before hesitating, and dropping them back down to the couch cushion. You can tell he wants to touch you, but he’s unsure of himself. You take his hands in yours, and place them on the top of your head.

At first he just sort of holds your head, overthinking what to do even with your permission. You’d laugh if you weren’t so busy preening over the feel of his unfairly big hands holding your head delicately, like he might break you.

“Fuck, your mouth…” Mike whispers, his words trailing off as he watches your lips work over his throbbing cock. His confidence grows, finally allowing himself to run his fingers through your hair and gather it in a loose fistful. Your moan of encouragement has him tightening his grip just a touch.

“Jesus,” Mike breathes quietly, you give him a lick underneath the head of his cock in response. "Fuck. Feels so good.”

You hum in response, working Mike's cock faster to draw out more of those whimpers that he can't hold in. Hollowing your cheeks and sinking down towards the circle of your fist still holding the base of his cock with wet, slick slurping sounds.

Mike's noises have gotten progressively louder by the second, you can feel his pulse beating wildly against your tongue through the vein running up his cock. You know he's close, and you're desperate to make him come.

You give him one long languid suck, swirling your tongue over the head as you pull off. His cock is slick with your spit, pulsing warningly. You use the wetness of your saliva as a makeshift lube to start stroking over him slowly.

"How's it feel, Mike?" You purr sensually,

When you sink back down, you don't break eye contact. Mike's eyes roll back into his head, the way his lips part on a sharp gasp, how his back arches off the couch, how his fist tightens even more around your hair.

Above you, Mike grunts, "Oh fuck, baby," His back arches, a rough gasp torn from his throat. The hand in your hair tugs sharply as he chokes out, "Gonna come, shit, gonna fucking come."

Mike shouts hoarsely, hips stuttering as he starts to come. His cock gives one final twitch in your mouth before he pumps load after load of warm come into your mouth. You moan loudly at the taste of his release coating your taste buds, swallowing what pools on your tongue routinely.

You continue to work your mouth over his cock, bringing Mike through the aftershocks of his orgasm, reveling in the broken sounds he keeps making. You lave your tongue over him savoring the taste of him, until he's tugging at your hair to pull you off his sensitive cock.

"C'mere, c'mere." He whines desperately. You’ve barely come up for air before Mike is bodily dragging you into his lap and kissing you like he needs it more than air.

His hand darts down your body and into your sweats. Mike moans in your mouth at the feel of your lacy panties absolutely soaked with your arousal. He wastes no time in finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over it with his thumb drawing a loud moan from your lips.

"Shit," You exclaim, nails digging into Mike's forearm. Your hips buck up into his touch, chasing his touch. "Mike..." You whine, needing him to do more.

"You drive me fucking crazy," He whispers roughly against the side of your face, sliding his pointer finger through the slick wetness of your folds. "I can't stop thinking about you."

“Oh god, Mike.” His fingers feel amazing, rubbing you in all the right places, his words lighting a fire in your stomach.

Mike gathers your wetness before pushing his thick middle finger in your tight heat. Your own moan gets drowned out by his guttural groan at the feeling of you clenching down on his finger.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He moans, thrusting his finger in and out of your aching pussy slowly. "You're so perfect, so perfect for me." Mikes lips trail kisses down your jaw as he adds a second finger into your dripping pussy, brushing against the spot inside you that sends white hot sparks of pleasure zinging up your spine.

"How's that feel?" He asks roughly, throwing your earlier teasing back in your face. You moan wantonly, hips moving grinding down as you ride his fingers in earnest.

Mike angles his hand in a way that lets his fingers thrust into you, hitting your g-spot all while the palm of his hand grinds into your clit

“I’m gonna come, Mike,” You whine desperately, hips stuttering as you tip over the edge. “I’m coming.”

"Yes, come for me." Mike whispers, lips brushing over your cheek.

Your chest heaves as you come down from your orgasm, collapsing against Mikes chest. You're an absolute mess, thighs shaking and sweat dripping down your back. A hiss escapes your mouth as Mike eases his fingers out of your twitching pussy. "Sorry." He whispers softly, kissing the top of your head tenderly.

You allow yourself to lay on his chest with his strong arms around your waist, keeping you close. So close you can feel his warm breath puffing out against your neck.

You don't want to let it, but reality sets in. "Are you gonna run away in the morning?" Your voice is so quiet you don't know if Mike even heard, and you can't force yourself to look up at him.

It takes him a second to register your words, you don't have to look at him to know he's wincing. "I," Mike starts, trying to find the right words. "I don't know." He admits, lips brushing against your hair.

The anger mixed with shame and embarrassment is quick to come, you scoff pushing off Mike's chest so you can go home. "Of course." You spit bitterly.

"Wait!" He rushes out, arms tightening on your waist to stop you leaving.

"What?" You bite out bitterly, whipping your head around to stare daggers at Mike. It backfires on you almost immediately, forcing you to stare into his big sad dumb eyes. He falters, mouth opening and closing as he fumbles to say anything.

You can't help that the look in his eyes tames your anger ever so slightly. The way he's silently pleading with you to stay, his brows drawn in concern and lips pulled down in a frown. Your steely resolve crumbles pathetically.

"What?" You repeat quietly. Mike flounders for a second more, before he finally gives in. "Please stay." He exhales softly, hands planting themselves on your hips, giving them a light squeeze..

Maybe it's your shitty resolve, maybe it's the post orgasm afterglow clouding your judgement, maybe it's the earnest look in Mike's eyes that keeps you from pushing out of his grip and out the door, but you just can't bring yourself to leave.

You stare back at him wrestling with your thoughts, but it's a losing game and you know that.

"Okay," You whisper slowly, settling yourself back down into his lap. "I'll stay."

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i could NOT figure out how to end this, but maybe i could do a part three? would literally anyone want that?

taglist!

@ebodebo @yuenity @mfdxz @mikeschmidtgf @lee-inthebox @sunny-deary @ncqari

extra taglist!

@ballorawan740 @slasherluvrrr @importantgalaxyrunaway @iwantsleepplz @theaterhoefornewsies

[martyryo]

his biggest sin was having blue hair and pronouns.

[deoidesign]

quick traditional piece for fun ^^

[redcheekdays]

In baseball, the "Shot Heard 'Round the World" was a walk-off home run hit by New York Giants outfielder and third baseman Bobby Thomson off Brooklyn Dodgers pitcher Ralph Branca at the Polo Grounds in New York City on October 3, 1951, to win the National League pennant. The game was seen by millions of viewers across America and heard on radio by millions more, including thousands of American servicemen stationed in Korea, listening on Armed Forces Radio. The dramatic victory to secure a pennant was intensified by the cross-town rivalry between the Giants and Dodgers and by a remarkable string of victories in the last weeks of the regular season by the Giants, who won 37 of their last 44 games to catch the first-place Dodgers and force a playoff series to decide the National League champion. (x)

m*a*s*h s09e06 a war for all seasons

[ell-arts]

The Veil  |  Chapter 10  | No Rest for the Undead

Chapter Summary: The Ghost Gang find themselves in a compromising predicament.

-

Finally, a ghost with actual fingers for me to draw! :D

I am very tired, but so glad to finally get this baby out. I might hop back into the chapter tomorrow to fix some errors I may have missed, but for now, enjoy!

I am very, VERY curious over what you guys will think of this chapter.

[inkdov3]

Join the Kinito family today, and unlock the power of KinitoPET!

[liltaireissocute]

fem!Cullen and fem!Dorian

i redesigned Dorian's clothes and armour because i never liked how he's dressed in game

[manasurge]

Just a bit of lore relevant vent art (with terrible proportions bc apparently I mess that up horribly when I'm tired ugh. Watch me regret posting this tomorrow. The head size is already driving me mad bc it's too big, and I can feel myself wanting to abort this mission already) of Mourynn just, lying down on top of one of those large elevated Pale Tree roots far above the Grove (and far away from everyone else), and during the time between the early years and before the Personal story. Caithe is gone (Destiny's Edge), Wynne is gone (bc well, y'know...), even Faolain is gone (bc of Caithe in DE), and she's just feeling miserable, lost, and alone. (Her hair is in between her sapling hair and the Zhaitan hair, so it's grown out a bit bc she's depressed, and she's meant to be in the new outfit she designed, but I'm in the process of redesigning it a bit, so I've made a few tentative changes for now. Her collar is now just an extension of her clavicle leaves which can be put up like a collar, or can be draped down over her shoulders or back)

[luciolefire]

Can we just slow down with the preemptive Earthspark Season 2 hate? People are making huge assumptions about the entire story based on a 30-second trailer and a few (not very good) leaked episode synopses.

The season hasn't even started to release yet. Maybe give it a chance before you throw it away.

[stellorc]

for sketch ideas, would you consider doing someone trying to make visas laugh and succeeding or failing as you see fit? Alternatively just visas sitting down and thinking

she's laughing bc she deserves it <333

[lifes-pinata]

Duck and Mytho, A Relationship Analysis

BY POPULAR DEMAND (10 notes and 1 prompt by a blog I follow and admire)

Duck and Mytho are obviously so very important to each others stories. Without Duck, Mytho would have remained a heartless doll forever. And without Mytho, Duck would have remained a simple bird. The story cannot exist without Duck, and up until the last few episodes, Mytho remains her primary motivation.

Which is why is was so surprising to me that the way their relationship resolved was so..... Unsatisfying.

Now when I say that, I am not talking about Siegfried and Tutu's resolution, which remains one of the most touching scenes of the show. I am specifically talking about the relationship between Mytho and Duck.

For the first 14 episodes, Duck and Mytho's friendship was a slow but steady burn. Duck is an anomaly in Mytho's small world. Even heartless, he doesn't quite know what to make of her. "Fakir and Rue don't say things like that" he says in episode 3, when Duck reacts to his hurt hand.

Duck, as a person, represents something Mytho never encountered even when he was Siegfried. Her simple, straightforward kindness is so different from Rue's desperate, grasping love. Fakir's poisonous protection, and even the blushing, tittering classmates that never dare to speak to him.

And even though Mytho can't express it, I think it's really valuable to him. Early on, Duck is the only person capable of making his loneliness disappear. Not Rue or Fakir, who he's known for years (which he says to their faces oh my GOD) but Duck. The first request he makes is that she stays a little longer.

The entire first arc Duck continually proves herself to be trustworthy. Once Mytho returned to school after receiving the feeling of fear, Duck tackle hugs him, saying she looked for him everywhere. She knows about Princess Tutu, and is the only one who listens to him. Who doesn't talk over him. She brought him an umbrella when he was waiting for Tutu. He values her opinion enough that he asked her opinion on gifts to get someone. And yeah maybe he could have asked anyone, but we never see him seek someone out until the Raven's Blood kicks in.

In episode 14, Mytho says to Duck, straight out "You're the only friend whom I can tell everything." And then? They never interact again? Huh???

Well. That's not entirely true. There is one more scene where Duck and Mytho interact, if you believe that Mytho was lucid enough to truly count it. Episode 24, where Mytho has fully succumbed to the Raven's blood, and as a result has turned into a raven himself. He runs outside, after being hidden away by Rue, and finds Duck. And what does he do? He asks her to dance, just as he did on the day of the fire festival. But this time, Duck doesn't answer. She backs away from the monster he's become, just like everyone else.

To its credit, that is a resolution, but it still doesn't sit right with me. It feels too bleak in a story where hope overcomes everything else. A spot where Drosselmeyer's tragedy wins.

The thing is, I understand why they did it this way. One thing I have always appreciated about Princess Tutu is that there is no wasted time. Even at the beginning of the show, when it seemed lighter and sillier, every episode contained important information. From the very beginning, they were building to the finale.

The second arc of the show is even more this way, there is no wasted space. Where would they even put Duck and Mytho interactions? Duck is reckless but she knows better then to approach Mytho when he's actively trying to rip out the hearts of their classmates. If anything, trying to shoehorn interactions would come across as forced, and could even cheapen their interactions in the finale.

But as much as I love the scene where Mytho realizes that Princess Tutu was a duck. I also wish he had a moment to realize that the duck was Duck.

Because Princess Tutu performed magic and returned heart shards with her beautiful dancing.

But Duck did the hard work of being human. Of living and loving and trying and failing and getting back up.

It was Duck who saved the town in the end.

And it was Duck, who was ultimately forgotten.

[ghostwaffleheimer]

It's the oh-so-scary autistic trans guy the government wants to fearmonger you into erasing, he's a registered organ donor (he donates other peoples' organs).

I decided years ago that I was going to live, if only to make sure that the name I died with was the name I wanted to be remembered by. I'm not where I want to be yet so I live in defiance. One of the tenants of my faith is the freedom to offend (within reason), and if my existence is found offensive then I'm just exercising that. But they better be willing to give up their own right to exist if they want to get rid of mine.

[dragonzart03]

Okay for some reason deerkin are just REALLY cool to me :]

And you may be wondering "Dragon, do you think that just because you're technically supposed to eat deer?" NO.

Deer are some of my favorite animals and, sure, they look appetizing sometimes (courtesy of my wolf theriotypes) but they're also very majestic 😌

So to my deerkin friends, you're very cool and I will not eat you (probably /j)

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