#that is between you and god

[xamitras]

For many of years I had this tradition of drawing Wirt and the beast once a year to see how much I have improved, then depression hit in 2023 and couldn't continue, but it left so really amazing art in the process

[inbabylontheywept]

I was walking out of the Walmart today, and a car passed me, and I got this incredibly vivid impression. It wasn't really in words, but if I had to put it into words, the two key points would be

a). I needed to watch that car and

b). That I needed to be careful, because the driver of the car was a massive bitch.

It kind of took me by surprise, because I really had no reason to be beefing with that car, and I also hadn't really had an impression like that since I was religious, which was in my teen years. Right? It'd been a decade since I had a little voice whisper in my ear, and I'd basically written it off as nonsense.

Anyway, I watched the car, because The Spirits or whatever were very insistent that I did. Car drove fine, went into the parking spot, inched forward, and right when it should've just stopped, the driver gunned it for some reason and it ran into the curb and cracked its bumper.

So, the driver got out, and she went to the front of the car to check that yes, she had cracked her bumper, and then she turned to look at me. The parking lot wasn't empty, but we were the only two people standing in that row, and I'd probably been staring at her for tenish seconds now.

She demanded very angrily to know why I hadn't warned her of the curb. And I could have said I didn't know you were about to gun it or is it my job to help every stranger park, or even could you have even heard me, inside your car?

And all of those would have been fine, but I was really, really busy digesting that I had somehow communed with Mormon Jesus again for the first time in fifteen years, and that the communion had mostly been there to let me watch someone park badly (?), so what I responded with was:

"Because it was foretold."

And I can't tell which would be funnier, if she went silent because there's not much to be said to that, or if she went silent because in Utah, she might actually believe me, but we parted ways without more words.

I'm still kind of digesting this myself, actually.

[adriles]

they are Cancelling me for dealing with my grief as best i can . also for the vicious war Crimes

[v0idwraith]

quite frankly idgaf what Luigi Mangione’s politics are, he actually did something to make a change and that’s more than most people can say

[hinamie]

subject, specimen, spectacle;

should i say that you're dead?

[umblrspectrum]

i love learning cursive just to write text for exactly one character

[rcxdirectrix]

My gift for @jaylestial for secret solenoid @secretsolenoid-revived ! Drew a scene from their fic “Steady as We Burn” in Ao3. Not exact depiction but close enough. I hope you like it! ;u;

[lilislegacy]

i’m just gonna come out and say it

if luke comes back in a future book, i hope percy is taller than him now.

[itseghost]

very straightforward redraw because this quest and this whole scene have been ON my mind.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Trapped in a vicious cycle of pining? Try gay sex! (More things to learn over at Tiger Tiger!)

[paper-lilypie]

an offering from a god

[thoughtsandmusingsandideas]

Furina, who while devoted to the creator, knows that they are not all powerful nor all knowing- after all, they still referred to her as Focalors, they still treat her as an archon and one of their acolytes.

Furina, who regularly questioned her faith and her loyalties- after all, she was attempting to fool the Heavenly Principles, the loyal attack dog of the creator, but at the same time, why didn’t the creator try and stop the prophecy? If the creator had the power, and truly loved all their humans and archons, why let Fontaine drown?

Furina, who when an impostor appeared, received the same order as every other archon- hunt down the imposter, the heretic who defied their revered creator, and destroy them and their treasonous behaviour.

Furina, who during the search, wondered if she would be hunted down with the same vigor if others would learn of her duplicity.

Furina, who found you in a grotto only able to be accessed underwater, who saw the way the creatures of the sea attempting to help you patch up the wound in your side, spilling golden blood, and realized her faith was misplaced with far more ease than any other archon could have mustered.

Furina, who helped her creator heal in that grotto, apologies soft and regretful on her lips. She should have realized sooner; After all, she knows how easy it is to impersonate a god.

[keferon]

Imagine you got turned into a mech and teleported to the middle of the Quintesson attack on Cybertron. But the catch is - all the characters whose Transformers toys/figures you own are in your squad and they are on your side.

If you have two Megatrons or like three Ratchets you can have all of them. Can't wait to see if someone's squad is just them and their 200 Bumblebees

[seiwas]

cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry

bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.

there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.

but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.

your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.

the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.

he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?

heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—

he gulps.

it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—

(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)

the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).

it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.

he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.

bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.

you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.

"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.

as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.

as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.

as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.

his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.

you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.

“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.

your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.

he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.

but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.

he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.

there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.

your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.

then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.

he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.

five minutes, huh?

like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.

[capesch-arts]

The difference with these two is that I genuinely think Arthur can change the KiY whole Larson and Yellow would still be barreling down the stairs together.

I think I'm gonna choose one of these two to make a fully colored piece on Kofi for December for you Jarthur and Yellow/Larson freaks.

[daily-capochin]

[Day 23]

Orders