#their different horns and ears and bend crooked tail

[somepunaboutspace]

Had the undertale brainworms (as one does) and wanted to design the very improbable scenario of Chara absorbing Asriel's soul instead of the other way around

Rest assured that they are beyond kind and accommodating to monster! Really can't say the same thing about humans however

[saturniidae-served-cold-art]

Mutant Twilights

[Id: 4 of the same drawing in different colors. It is a drawing of a distorted version of Twilight Sparkle, with a crooked branching horn, a dragon-like beak, donkey ears, a long neck, round body, spikes down her back, and a dinosaur-like tail with a star-shaped club on the end. She is sitting in a cave, crouching and bending her neck to fit because she is so large, and looking to the left with a dull crooked smile. The original image is colored in dull shades of purple-gray, brown, and a bright blue, the second is bright magenta, bright purple, and dark teal, the third is bright seafoam green, cyan, and lavender, the fourth is berry red, light pink, and bright blue. /end id.]

[nervously-spouting-poetry]

Writing request... perhaps Demon Ethan and Lex making out/cuddling? I'm a ho for your Demon Ethan AU we all been knew 👀👀👀 thank you 🥰

HAPPY FUCKGIN BIRTHDAY BABEY! This one’s for YOU!! I can’t resist writing these two idiots... ever. Wrote the makeout session (despite having Zero experience), so you Better enjoy 3k words of bullshit. 

From what little Lex had managed to put together about the reality of being in a relationship with a creature from the depths of hell, she was fairly certain there were worse demons she could’ve been snuggled up on the couch with.

Not that she would’ve snuggled up with any worse demons— she’d probably whip out the salt and the bible her mother kept somewhere under the liquor cabinet at warp fucking speed if any of them tried it— but the point still held steady as far as she was concerned.

Not that she was concerned about much at this point. It was Ethan’s doing, really.

Bastard.

It was like he was trying to be adorable on purpose, which just wasn’t fucking fair. Like. At all.

Wrapped up in a gentle embrace, from where she lay on her back, Lex couldn’t exactly see the demon in his entirety— but that didn’t exactly matter to her. After all, she could feel him all around her. To anybody else, it would’ve been terrifying— helpless with a demon’s chin on their shoulder and the feeling of breath on their neck— but Lex Foster was hardly anybody else.

After all, this was just Ethan.

With every breath he took, his chest rose and fell beneath her. His arms were slung casually around her middle from behind. His tail— god, that fucking stupid cartoon-devil tail— was wrapped neatly around her ankle, the end of it flicking contentedly back and forth, and when Lex shifted her weight, a sharp set of claws moved with the utmost caution across her ribs and brushed up against her hands.

A low noise resonated through the air. A growl.

A demon growling wasn’t normally something to be taken lightly. The noise was nothing short of bone chilling— a lingering threat that there was a monster that possessed unthinkable power keeping her pinned in place, reminding her that no matter what happened, she was still inevitably in the clutches of—

Oh, who the hell was she kidding?

Stretching slightly before settling back down, a snicker pulled from her in response to the disgruntled noise. “‘M not getting up,” she reassured as the wings she could see out of her peripheral vision threatened to fold over her. “Believe me, it’s been a long as hell day— I’m staying right the fuck here.”

“Good.”

The arms around her middle pulled her a little closer against him— close enough that the sensation of him breathing was even more noticeable— and those wings fluttering on the edges of her vision curled inward just enough to cover her legs.

“...you’re warm...” He added after a moment’s pause, his chin coming to rest on the crook of her neck.

Lex huffed in response. “You’re basically a human space heater,” she grumbled in mock annoyance, “so it’d be hard not to be—“

His grip on her tightened, turning her words into a startled yelp as he changed positions abruptly. The wings curled around her rustled momentarily, the tail practically knotted around her leg like some sort of anklet squeezing at her with a little more pressure.

“I ain’t human anymore! We’ve been over this.” There was an almost whining lilt in his voice when he spoke, though it was clearly playful in nature. “Last I checked, humans don’t have wings... or tails, or—“

There was a pause, followed by a grunt— his arms momentarily uncurling to brace himself against the cushions— before a pair of sharp, hardened points lightly butted against her back. “—those,” he finished.

Lex hummed softly in response. “Right,” she agreed, bringing her hand down to fiddle with his claws— how the fuck is he always so careful with these?— she found herself biting back a grin.

It was a struggle to keep her tone disinterested. Gaze fixed firmly on the dingy ceiling, Lex inclined her head to press her cheek against his.

“...which makes you inhumanly horny.”

An offended scoff wound up from his throat— his chest bouncing beneath her. “Hey,” he huffed, “not all the time—”

His protests were cut short by Lex flipping over abruptly— hands pressing down against the membranes of his wings under his arms. 

And there he was. 

There he was, with those blue-gray eyes fixated on her. With his hair falling messily across his forehead in a nest of curls that were usually styled back with what had to be six tins of hair gel. His pupils were rounded— large like those of a contented cat— and as he raised his eyebrows and shifted under where she’d unceremoniously pinned him, Lex raised a hand and flicked one of the short, sharp horns curling up from his skull. 

“I don’t see you getting rid of those anytime soon,” she remarked, unable to keep a smug lilt out of her voice upon realizing that his cheeks had darkened despite the playful scowl on his face.

“I thought you said they were cute…” 

Fuck.

Ducking her head to hide her blush, Lex gave a small cough. “I said they were annoying.” Again, she pressed her fingers against one of his horns— the one on the right— though this time, she curled her hand around it and lightly trailed her fingers down to the base of it, scratching lightly. 

His breath hitched. 

A moment of silence fell between them before she dragged her nails through his scalp, and instantaneously, it was broken by a low, thundering purr that made Lex snicker. As much as he was supposed to be some terrifying creature, it was pretty easy to turn him into putty— the easiest way coming in the form of scratching the base of his horns. 

Her fingers fiddled with his curls. 

“Because they turn you into a fucking lawnmower,” she finished, the familiar, vibrations that came with the noise enough to make her relax a little more against him— her ribcage buzzing in a way that made her feel warm all over. 

When he spoke, his voice was a little slurred, purrs— demons fucking purr, god, he’s such a dork— interfering with his words, causing them to jumble together. “...a cute lawnmower though, right?” He asked, head tilting slightly. 

In that moment, she knew her answer should’ve been a soft yes. 

His hair was fluffed in a way that made her want nothing more than to play with it, his lips parted slightly in the wake of his question— sharp fangs adding a contrast to the softness of his expression— and when he blinked, his pupils seemed to expand even further. 

A yes would’ve been the truth. 

Humming softly, Lex carefully laid herself down on top of him, freeing up her other hand to lightly skirt along his jawline. “...I’ll think about it,” she murmured, unable to keep a teasing look from flitting across her face when he leaned his head against her hand and gave an offended noise. 

“You’ll think about it?” He echoed, wings rustling as they slid into place over her back like a secondary embrace. 

Maybe living blanket was a better term for what he was. The folds of his wings settled neatly over her— surrounding her in his hold as she cocked her head— face inches from his own. When he was this close, it was easy to pick out the little differences in his features from the ones he would’ve had if he were human. 

His mouth extended a little more on either side to accommodate his fangs. His skin was fair despite the fact that logically, he should’ve looked like a fucking zombie, and when he swiped his tongue over his lips, the end of it was broken into two points. 

She shifted her weight slightly. “Would you rather I just told you—”

“That I’m your favourite?” He finished for her, earning a sharp laugh in response. His crooked grin widened in return— and without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled Lex closer against himself. “Takin’ that as a yes.” 

“It’s possible.”

His tail flicked, tickling the back of her leg in a way that made her instinctively bend her knee. “I ain’t hearin’ no, Lexie.” 

She managed to hold her fake scowl for about three seconds. It was a futile attempt, really— with him looking up at her like that, that cocky look in his eyes turning soft when she lightly scratched the skin just under his ear, behind his jaw. 

The rumbling from his chest grew louder, filling her head with a pleasant emptiness. 

These were the moments where it was easy to fall in love all over agian— the moments that she stored away in the back of her mind and treasured there, pulling them out when shit went sideways. It was there with the memories of sitting on the roof of a weatherbeaten jalopy and staring up at the stars— the only good part of living on an island. It was there with memories of cigarette smoke and lazy mornings, there with stolen glances and tender kisses and promises of forever… 

Looking down at his contented face as his eyes fluttered closed, Lex felt the warmth that had settled in her chest growing. 

God, since when had she become such a fucking sap? 

Yet another thing she could blame Ethan fucking Green for. 

Pulling her hands off his head, Lex ignored the little groan of protest that tugged from his throat in favour of locking her fingers together on the back of his neck and leaning in slowly. 

In the instant their lips connected, she couldn’t help but think that this was right. The kiss was gentle, a slow brush that changed to a press, then to a proper connection between them that left her shifting her grip to clutch the lapels of his jacket. She could feel his hands moving, claws lightly brushing against her sides and causing her to hum into the kiss even as she pulled away to breathe, breathing in the smell of worn leather and cheap cigarettes— the smell of home that had always been a part of him, right from the start. 

His wings pressed a little tighter against her back. His chin angled upward, and although he didn’t say a word, the absolutely whipped expression on his face spoke volumes. 

Lex didn’t resist. 

Kissing Ethan was never like fireworks— not right away, anyway, no— it was more the lit fuse, slowly burning brighter and brighter until—

His tongue slipped into her mouth. 

—sparks shot through the back of her mind. 

The kiss deepened, turning hungrier— needier. Their noses bumped together. His fangs clacked against her teeth as she returned the favour, drawing a shaky breath from him as reward. Her hands roamed, slipping under his jacket and skirting hesitantly across the fabric of his shirt— his own moving to squeeze her shoulderblades. The two moved in tandem, falling into a rhythm— the warm feeling in the back of Lex’s mind changing from fireworks to a steady fire that made her lean farther into it, looking for more yet wanting nothing to change, wanting time to slow down or freeze entirely. 

Her eyes fluttered closed. 

She could almost believe time had stopped, if it weren’t for the steadily building ache in her lungs from lack of air reminding her that time was, in fact, creeping forward. 

I need to breathe.

Pressing her hand against his chest, Lex moved to pull away, though before she could even take a breath in, the sound of a door swinging open caused them both to spring apart. 

And then there was pain. 

A yelp pried from her throat before she could help it— body jerking backward in an instant, hands coming free from under Ethan’s jacket to press against her lip. 

It only worsened when he pulled away, their eyes snapping open at the same time and settling on each other in tandem, Lex’s pupils blown wide and Ethan’s thin, animal slits. The door went completely ignored by both of them— Ethan’s hand moving to concernedly touch Lex’s cheek. 

“Shit, Lex, what—” He started, though before he could get another word out— 

“Are you bleeding?” She interrupted, lowering one hand from her face to reach for his, though… something warm dripped down from her lip when she did. 

Silence fell between them for a moment. 

Lex’s eyes tracked to the blood dribbling from the corner of Ethan’s mouth, then down to her red-stained fingers. 

...maybe there’s a reason he’s always so damn careful.

The thought barely had time to cross her mind before the wings that had been flipped up around her folded downward, the demon they belonged to attempting to sit up despite the fact that she still had him mostly pinned under her. “Shit, Lex, I’ll— I’ll get’cha a bandaid or somethin’ for that, I— I didn’t mean to—” 

When he tried again to stand, Lex carefully slid off him, still keeping one hand on her face, flicking the other in an attempt to wave him off. 

“It’s fine, Eth, it’s not that much blood— I don’t think you went all the way thr—”

“Blood?” Hannah’s voice cut into the conversation suddenly enough to make Lex freeze— halfway standing, in the act of following Ethan toward the bathroom— and turn her gaze to where her sister stood by the front door. 

Right. The door. 

How the fuck was she supposed to explain this?

She almost envied the fact that Ethan had managed to shoot off to rummage through their scant medical supplies. Opening and closing her mouth a few times, Lex tried to find her words to explain why the fuck Ethan had managed to bite her lip. “It— It’s fine, E just slipped a little, Banana,” she explained, “w-we were— we were just—”

“Kissing,” Hannah finished for her, bringing one hand up to press against the side of her head— fingers dipping under the side of the hat that never seemed to leave her. Her brows drew together, and for a second, a look of sage understanding crossed her face. “...Webby says accident.”

The spike of tension that Lex had felt left her in an instant.

She’s used to him now.

Nodding, giving a sheepish chuckle, she carefully sat back down with a sigh. “Yeah, totally an accident,” she agreed, looking up in time to see Ethan fiddling with a pack of bandages as Hannah settled next to her. 

Her brow creased. “I dunno if a bandaid’ll—”

“It’ll stop you from bleedin’ all over th’ damn place.” 

“I’m not bleeding all over the—”

Breezing past Hannah, Ethan shook his head and gave a little growl in the back of his throat, crouching in front of her. “Bullshit, you’re bleeding— fuck, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Ethan.”

“I’m serious, I didn’t want to hurt you— god, maybe we should’a kept the fuckin’ contract.” His claws made quick work of the bandaid’s flimsy wrapping, pulling it off in a smooth motion— though pulling the little adhesive tabs off seemed to give him a little more trouble.

Lex couldn’t help but smile through the slight stinging. It was almost cute in a way, seeing him so worried— his tail thrashing to and fro in his panic. 

What a fucking dork. 

“Ethan,” she tried again, using her free hand to squeeze his knee, “don’t worry about it, it doesn’t hurt that bad, and it’s just a little scratch.” 

Watching as he finally managed to pull off the tabs, Lex couldn’t stop a fond expression from settling on her face when his eyes met hers.

“Lemme see?” 

“I can put on my own bandage, E…” 

Even as she protested, Lex lowered her hand and tilted her head to allow him access to the split in her skin, a mock-annoyed huff rolling from her throat. His touch was feather-light on her face, though she couldn’t help a small wince when he settled the flimsy cotton pad against the scrape. 

“Sorry—”

“Ethan, if you say sorry one more fucking time, I’m killing you again.” Sitting upright next to Hannah, she rolled her eyes and raised a hand to poke at the bandage. “You’re overreacting.” 

Ethan’s nose wrinkled. “I’m not—”

“You are,” Hannah piped up from where she sat, swinging her legs. 

“You totally are,” Lex seconded, playfully kicking him in the ankle when he stood and shot her a tired looking glare. The lashing of his tail didn’t slow, causing her to roll her eyes and offer her hand in an attempt to guide him to the couch. “C’mon. Looks like someone needs to simmer the hell down— Hannah, why don’t you pick a movie?”

“‘Kay!” Hannah chirped as Ethan sat down next to Lex, the three of them shifting to better sit side by side. It wasn’t the largest couch, and having a winged boyfriend did make it a bit of a tight squeeze, but it gave Lex an extra excuse to lean her shoulder against his. 

Which she totally did. 

While Hannah pulled the remote out from between the cushions, Lex took his hand in her own and gave it three quick squeezes. “‘M totally fine, Eth,” she promised, leaning her head into his neck and humming in contentment when he returned the gesture. 

“...okay,” he grumbled, “though I should’a been more careful.”

“What happened to you being a bad boy? Demon straight from hell, remember?”

Leaning forward to allow his wing to settle behind her, Lex bit back a grin as Ethan rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, fuck you, I can be a bad boy from hell and still respect you. That makes me way better than those fuckers that use it to like, hide their fragile masculinity.” 

Lex snorted in response, opening her mouth to shoot something back— though she stopped when Hannah tapped her knee. 

“...no kissing during it,” she instructed, sternly, her gaze flicking from her sister to the demon sitting beside her. 

Lex’s face turned red. “Hannah—” She started, though she was cut off by Ethan’s lips grazing her cheek in a soft peck. 

“Hey!”

“Movie ain’t started yet, Split!” Ethan defended, raising his hands in surrender. “She’s fair game until then!” 

Like magic, that warm feeling was back, and even after the Netflix loading screen shifted to whatever Hannah had thrown on, it didn’t fade. 

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Ethan’s tail had snaked its way around her ankle. Or maybe it had something to do with the clawed fingers laced with her own. And sure, it might’ve had something to do with the sneaky pecks to her neck Ethan pressed to her skin— pulling away whenever Hannah turned to shoot him a dirty look. 

Though in all honesty, Lex could pin the feeling on one thing completely. 

One person. 

Namely, one Ethan Green. 

[theofitzgeraldsing]

The Road  Chapter One Augusta, Georgia MAMA D Mama D called on all the ancestral spirits from before slavery time and way back before Africa was Africa, and the world had a name.  She called back using her strongest meileke, oils, and herbs, reaching into the dark recesses of her spirit, something she didn’t often do, turning her insides out, and offering them to the ancestors in return for their intervention. Grey clouds swarmed above Mama D’s cabin as she prepared her poultice of mustard seed and High John the Conqueror root.  Dogs howled and scratched at her door, possessed and curious all at once.  Something was going on, something that compelled all of Augusta to sniff, snort, and acquiesce to the powers of the ancestors.  Swallowing up towns, and gobbling down mountains, angry fog rolled over Georgia like a plague or wildfire.  This was serious.  It rolled on like thunder and made a sound like a rushing river crashing over rocks, knocking down trees to the stump and pulling the Earth.  This was no time to be lounging around.  Mama D's old alley cat Simon was slinking about scurrying at shadows, hoping to catch a mouse, or a mole, or a spider.  Mama D was always going behind, cleaning up messes, and righting wrongs.  When a husband abused his wife it was Mama who stared down centuries of pent up anger, rage, and male domination. Mama said, "somebody was always trying to get somebody else under the heel of they shoe," and that she was the "leveler of wrong doing."  Folks knew Mama was real in her walk and real in her talk, she didn’t mix business with pleasure, and she didn’t cotton to ignorance or suffer fools.  “Just be straight with me and we’ll be alright.”  That’s what Mama always says.  Everyone near Augusta, or far from it, knew Mama was the person to see and who could help when no one else could.  Mama could heal the sick, locate lost loved ones, or mend family feuds and quarrels.  "Sometimes folks don't know what's good for 'em, and have trouble getting out of their own way, so you have to lead 'em in the right direction like a horse to water.  Just like a horse they have to realize that they are thirsty for themselves." Now Mama D wasn’t really my mama.  She is my grandma and Miss Easy, Mama D’s sister, is my great auntie.  I've been with them since I was born.  Miss Easy and Mama D say I was a blessing sent on account of He knew He was gonna take my real mama away.  Don’t ask me about my daddy.  My mama wouldn’t tell who it was and Mama D says she has no idea who my daddy is.  Now I look in the face of every man I meet on the road, or in town, for some resemblance, but it seem like they all favor me and I get confused.  So, I just stopped looking.    Mama D said that was probably best cause if my daddy wanted to know where I was he would of found me by now, and ain't no sense running behind, looking for something that ain't looking for you.  Once I thought Reverend Prichart was my father but then I saw him pick his nose and eat a bugger, right then I decided even if he was my daddy I didn’t want to know about it.  Soon after that is when I quite looking altogether cause you don’t know if you gonna meet up with a fool or a saint.  I decided to just mind my own business and let well enough alone.  It’s better that way.   Mama's current mission was a secret to me.  Sometimes I could tell, by the ingredients she used in her potions, or the posture of her body as she mixed the concoctions.  If she was making a love potion or trying to bring back a lover that had strayed, undo what was thought to be a curse, a hex, or fix money problems.  This was something different.  Everything was laid out on a large bench in Mama's place but it was laid out in an organized manner and Mama kept going over it like she was taking inventory and she'd make a note in her book.  She carefully measured the roots and the liquids from the hundreds of bottles that lined the walls and stacks of crates in the corner.  Mama went to her shelf and took down her bible, the large one with the gold letters and the foreign language on the front that Mama said was Latin and Hebrew, looked like chicken scratch to me, but it must of been what she said it was cause she took care of it like it was a new born pup or an ailing kitten.  She placed it on the bench and thumbed through the pages adjusting her glasses on her nose to be sure she was reading the right verse and on the right page.  Then Mama D did something that in all my times spying, and peeping, and sneaking around I had never seen her do before.  She took an envelope off the shelf, took out a piece of paper, unfolded it and threw it on the ground.  Next, my mouth stood wide open, I couldn't believe what I was seeing, but Mama stood over the paper, lifted her skirt, squatted, and peed right there on top of it.  The stream of urine continued, so it seemed, until a minute or two passed.  A large puddle, with the paper in the middle, sat in the corner and Mama spit on it after she adjusted her skirt and then sprinkled it with what looked like sage, but could have been anything.  It was green and leafy. After that Mama dripped candle wax, blew out the candle, and headed for the door before I knew it.  I crouched behind an old barrel as Mama headed up the crooked, well worn path to the house, briefly pausing and cocking her head like she heard a whisper in the distance or a far off howl.  She headed into the kitchen to the washbasin and called my name at the same time.  "Lady!"  My feet stood still and a wave of fever flashed across my forehead.  What should I do?  Go in the front door?  Pretend I didn't hear?  "Lady!"  The front door seemed the only option.  Mama opened the door before I could.  "What are you doing sneaking around out here?"  "I'm not sneaking Mama.  I saw a doodle bug back by the privy and I was trying to catch it before it went deep in the woods."  Mama cocked her head looking into my face.  "Girl what did I tell you about running behind doodle bugs, and salamanders, and what not playing around by that Johnny house! You gonna find out what I'm talking about soon enough.  Keep on you hear."  I was hearing Mama but I wasn't listening.  It was as if I was having an out of body experience and could see the wheels turning in Mama's head and see what she could see in her eyes.  She was looking straight through me.  She knew the truth and knew I wasn't out chasing doodle bugs behind the Johnny house but peeping into her business, not minding my own.  The ringing in my ears met up with a cacophony of horns, drums, and bells like the complete opposite of a Chinese water torture, not subtle but bold and brazen until it felt like something reached down in my throat and just pulled the words out, "I'm sorry Mama I was outside spying through the window looking at you in your shack and watching what you did with the paper and squatted and did your business on top of it, that's what I was doing Mama!"  Mama starred at me unchanged, just like she could see again all that I was thinking and not saying.  "Well I hope you learned something," Mama said.  "It's a fool that don't smell his own self and thinks his tail don't point straight down to the ground just like everybody else's."  When Mama said that instead of slapping the taste out of my mouth, I knew God answers prayer, I had learned my lesson for the moment.  My curiosity was still high and my mind would not let me turn loose the thoughts, visions, or imagining that invaded my mind like termites invade the fallen branch of a tree.  What, or who, was Mama fixing?  I was feeling guilty for sneaking around and nosing about, but I still wanted to know. Why was she still closed mouthed and secretive?   Mama was born right here in Augusta, right here in what is now her place we call her shack.  Her mother and father were escaping the mud of Mississippi and all of the memories it held.  My great grandparents, Tom and Pearl, were slaves on the Percy plantation, had been born there, lived most of their lives there, until a war declared that they could come and go as they pleased and they pleased to get up and leave from there as soon as they could.  The old master looked hurt and surprised that they didn't want to stay, "After all I've done for you?  Fed and clothed you, took care of you when you was sick."  He failed to remember the part about, "I beat you when it suited me and worked you from cain't see in the morning to cain't see at night.  Raped your friends and neighbors, was father to many of your relatives and sold them for a profit when I felt like it and just because I forgot all about that part doesn't mean that you did, and never mind that it may not have been Christian, but justified in my mind because I said it was so and I had the bible to back me up."  He had a very selective memory.   He never stopped to consider all of the things he had received in return, or the countless number of times he had been nursed on his sick bed, cleaned, and bathed, and fed, and fawned over, his children nursed at the breast of a slave, suckled, while the slave's children cried from hunger and the absence of its own mother's touch.  No mention of his fields that were planted and harvested, his home cleaned, floor boards polished, silver shined or brass brushed and rubbed so they could gleam in the candlelight to impress the guest that came from as far away as Mobile and nearer than Natchez.  No mention of his wealth that came from cotton raised on the bended and broken backs of slaves.  Fertilized with their blood, sweat, tears, and marrow of their bones.  None of that was ever considered.  Only what he had done for them, and how they were ungrateful and with their thanks and gratitude.  Most of the slaves left quicker than the bat of an eyelash, or the strike of an overseer's lash.   Mama's parents packed their belongings, a ragged quilt, one spoon, one plate, one saucer, a cup, the things they shared between them, a milking stool, an iron pan, and a bible.  Their belongings were tied in small bundles, strapped to their backs or loaded in the creaky, rickety wagon that was pulled alternatively among them.  They walked and walked and occasionally hitched a ride from strangers passing by, going the same direction, splitting off and going their own way, or when they felt a need to part.  They walked nearly all the way from Mississippi to Georgia and found this spot that a recent immigrant, Erwin Palmer, from somewhere over in Europe had decided was better than where he came from and tried to tame the land, tilling it, and farming it.  Having never been a farmer or ever lived on a farm, milked a cow, or shoed a horse, this presented a challenge for him.   Luck, opportunity, and providence met when my great grandparents arrived.  Grandpa Tom showed the man how to sow in the spring and harvest in the fall.  He showed him how to shoe a horse and milk a cow.  Granny Pearl worked right along with them knowing a thing or two about using a hoe and a shovel to till the soil.  They shucked corn and snapped peas together during the harvest, working from sun up 'til sun down, eating together, sleeping together in the one room shack that was now Mama's work shack with the raggedy quilt they brought from Mississippi hung across a rope used to divide the space and provide a teeny weeny bit of privacy.  This went on for nearly two years until the man from Europe stepped on a nail that went through his foot and into his heel bone.  By the time the doctor came in from town to look at it, it was too late and the man had to have his leg cut off near up to the knee.  Grampa Tom and Granny Pearl nursed and cared for him until he started hobbling along on a wooden leg but his spirit was broken and he spent most of his days looking at the wall reminding Granny more of a lost bird or a wounded lamb.  "You know it's a sin to rebuke what the Lord has given you.  You're still of this life, you have to live in it.  Don't look and see what you lost, look at what you still got." Granny tried to lift his spirits.  "What have I got?  A tree stump for a leg, that's what I got!"  He started to drink distilled spirits, and cussed, and mostly felt sorry for himself until Gramps and Granny sent a telegram to somebody over in someplace called Germany or Austria or Prussia or somewhere, and told them that the man was in poor shape and needed some help.  After the telegram, a telegram arrived with some money saying a ticket had been purchased on a ship to England and to get him on it quickly.   Grampa Tom could only get Mr. Palmer to the depot to catch a train up north.  He wasn't too happy about going and he let Grampa Tom and Granny Pearl know it.  "What the hell did you think I came here for?  If I wanted to go back to Scotland I could have damn well stayed there!  I don't need a black son of a bitch like you getting in my business."  They knew it was only the man's anger and feeling sorry for himself that made him talk the way he did.  His insults were ignored as they did what they knew they had to, to keep their friend alive, to keep him from harming himself.  They said their goodbyes at the train station and when he handed Grampa Tom an envelope and told him to do what he wanted with the land, Grampa Tom was confused, unable to read Grampa Tom put the envelope in the bible for safe keeping.  Grampa Tom, Erwin Palmer, and Granny Pearl never saw each other again but every now and then a card or a letter would arrive addressed to Mister Tom and Miss Pearl.  Gramps and Granny, both being illiterate, had to ask the postal clerk to read it to 'em and tell 'em what it said.  The clerk read the letter but bristled at reading and addressing them as Mister and Miss, however being a show off he wanted to read as best he could and so he did.  It was about a year after the man left that the first letter came and it said, "Dear Mister Tom and Miss Pearl, I've arrived here in Scotland at my brother's poor excuse of a farm and it is even drearier and grayer than the place I tried to escape when I met you in America.  My brother and his wife, bless their souls, have tried to make a life as best they can by raising sheep on a patch of land that seems to be nothing but jagged rocks, desolate gravel, and dirt not fit to grow potatoes.  When I left Georgia I was heavy in heart, and I'm sorry for all of the mean and unkind things I said.  I am also sorry that I stole the rabbit foot that use to hang by the door of the cabin, but I had to take with me something to remind me that I had once been a man of independence and courage with hopes and dreams of independence and freedom.  Free from things, some of which I have forgotten and abandoned.  I've never stolen a thing in my life but I hope that you will forgive me.  The train ride to New York was difficult, being on my own without the kindness of friends or the family that I considered you two to be.  I experienced the cruelty of one human being to another and I never hope to see again.  I met a man traveling to New York to meet a banker to discuss the sale of some property.  On the passage across the Atlantic we were met with rough seas and by the time we docked in Liverpool I looked and smelled like the beggar and pauper that I was.  Standing was trouble enough and the seas knocked what semblance of balance I had out of me for nearly the first day until I got my sea legs.  My brother met me at the dock and although he didn't say it, I could see in his eyes the pity he had for a man that wasn't a whole man anymore in spirit, or in body, but a troubled soul lost, tortured, and broken.  I'm telling you this, but you already know it is true.  If it hadn't been for the kindness, love, and caring of the two of you I could not be writing this letter today.  For two years I lived in my own self pity and I will say that I have been twice blessed, and a lucky human being to have a loving brother with a kind wife and a gentle soul to love me when I didn't love myself.  When I first returned if I wasn't at the local pub drinking the fine Scotch whiskey this country is known for, wishing my sorrows away, or laying in the bed looking at the wall, I was feeling sorry for myself, hating the world and everyone in it.  Scotland, for all its dreariness and confined thinking, I was able to see some beauty in it.  My brother, an adventurous soul, I guess it runs in the family, decided to try his hand at breeding horses in a way that only a Scotsman can do, insisted that I help out in the barn and in the corrals.  "Get your arse out of the bed right this instant,” snarled only the way that a brother could snarl at a brother.  I felt no brotherly love of my own and much more pity for myself.  "Kiss my ass!  I'll do what I damn please and get out of the damn bed when I damn well feel like it."  My brother lived up to his promise as I underestimated the strength of a man that labored from sun up to sun down, whatever the weather or whatever his state of mind or physical condition healthy or no.  With one swoop I could feel the plank floorboards under my back as I felt the knuckles of his hands, hard as stone and cold as ice, connect with my flesh and bones.  After his encouragement and the exchange of words that any man should be ashamed to call his own brother, negating the legitimacy of his birth and my own, his children's birth, and the chastity of his wife that has shown me nothing but kindness and patience, I felt the shame of my actions and my own self pity.  A wave of shame also crosses my face when I think of the unkind way that I spoke to you Mister Tom and treated Miss Pearl before I left.  I hope that you will find it in your hearts to forgive a man that had forgotten his manners.  I can't thank you enough for showing me the kindness and affection I didn't show you.  My only hope is that the gift of the one hundred acres can express my gratitude and allow you to forgive me in your hearts.  I'll never forget the time I spent sweating in the Georgia sun and enjoying the kindness of two loving souls.  If I never see you again know you are forever in my prayers.  Your brother in life and forever, Erwin Palmer.

[anyu-blue]

If anyone needs or wants inspiration for what to draw or write or generally be creative... Here's my growing list of things I want to draw/create, and just don't have time or capacity for.

Some are specific to characters or ideas I have in different fandoms, but the pose ideas or whatever may still be of use (and I'm too lazy to filter or expand anything, really, so it's just the whole list as it is in my notes. Enjoy)!

Statue in a rotunda like the statue of David, but more church like with yellow lights. Statue is feminine. Curvy hips- arms outstretched, but fingers going into batwings? Think Sinbad goddess. Make huge. People, if in imagine, v small.

Music that makes me miss what I don't have (wings, tails, sharp teeth, things I can't stretch or swish) and, for a moment… transformed. (Sharax blue remix)

Peacock clay mosaic

Born of love, not convenience.

'Cursive' no

Ribcage and spine with blue heart and/or butterfly and/or roses and/or thorns

Rung/Kup dancing

Maw walker reaching out to draven (who has been critically wounded (soulbind)

Leg It (video game animation idea- frogs legs/human legs/2d platformer black and white)

Their Third (poly comic- third is very calm/stoic/will do anything for them/hard to break into, but is adored by the other two bc they get to see how broken their third actually is)

Vamp female smells .of blood funny

You have rainbows inside of you

Very round faces mermaid

Champion/Maw Walker gently lifting a cleaning dredger's hands and rescuing them from the castle. Dredger getting a crush.

I am my scars (stylized font and Illidan simplicity design)

Horned skull profile. Gold on the tips of the horns

I want to be nothing (me a gender/nonbinary flag behind back while walking towards camera, head tilted up and away, sad/forelorn)

3 part series- Tevs in full suit. Wolfiey in half(norman style) suit with ears, me awkwardly in dress with suit top/tie?

Rod railed by Kup (exp pays off)

Nick from Zootopia in a suit

Jazz, finger on lip, sorta floating, looks Through shades sideways. Stary bg

Bendy (I will bend you to my will/bend to my will)

Fluttershy keep calm

Zelda leaning over railing (blood of the Goddess)

No fax given (fax machine in bg)

Pho- sho/sure (bowl of Pho in bg)

Hand connected to spider web?

Black and White- man with white hair, black suit said to be corrupted, but most innocent man in the world- easily flustered. Woman with black hair in white dress said to be the most innocent/sweet woman in the world, but is actually depraved and not easily flustered.

Image of someone who is scarred (Possibly grey eye), licking teeth? Resting their chin on their hand (fingers splayed out- palm down)

Caption-You know… I'm actually quite fasensted by scars… they are so much more than most people will give them credit for a lot of the time. They can tell multitudes of takes and stories- not least of which that those who bear them survived. And that is beautiful. Now of course I also have a fascination with eyes. They are the windows to world's and souls I'm many rights, but they are also quite beautiful and as diverse as their hosts, if you care to look close enough. Then there is the teeth. Fangs and canines and molars oh my! Shiny, crooked, straight even rotten can be fascinating. The scars of these bones never fade even with time. And lastly, but certainly not leastly.. hands. The beautiful, wonderful, fascinating appendages many use in almost all day to day tasks. I cannot properly capture why I find them so beautiful, so I hope this pair speaks for itself.

SketchUp Google

Bodyvisualizer.com

https://magicposer.com/

LOVE: Champion atop manticore flying down on Ze’sar- his arm upraised

Mirrored: comic? Dragon Age Inquisition inquisitors (Joran and his exact opposite- rude, not friends with the advisors, no mercy basically) respond to the same event on their dimensions, a circle where time magic is being experimented with. Both jump into action as a circle member accidently completes a spell (killing them) which rips open the dimensions and each Inquisitor falls through (twisting at the last second) and closes quickly.. blink of an eye and they're in different dimensions.. basically unaware of the swap until their respective advisors act differently than they expect/don't recognize them. (Solas, Cassandra, The Iron Bull) Challenge is to get home… another mage will need to be sacrificed- bad one doesn't care.. Joran does. Joran being the sweetheart that he is brings a weird kindness and peace to the alternative dimension… the other guy causes unrest, but all are determined to get him home.. possible mission to close a rift.. save/leave an innocent victim. (Joran’s team saves them anyway, despite the orders otherwise bc that's what they're used to, don't tell the big guy)

°peacock- coming into story. Called Missing colors. Not ashamed of the colors born with, but always missing.

°Troll staff- rise song. Wide stance. Angle at knee/foot looking up, magic from staff, facing opponent opposite. 

° Zant noticing being noticed by Ghira. Zant  closing his eyes and smiling a sweet, toothy grin with his pointy teeth  Ghira epic frown when noticed the teeth wide eyes like… wtf????

Black and White.

° Zant walking along (maybe with bag of groceries) little music note~ with kitties following him (see http://theot3rulesofhyrule.tumblr.com/post/174661195751/imaginezant-imagine-zant-petting-a-cat-for-the)

° Tarot Solas- profile- holding a vehan.. draped over his arm/knee in a simple- very flowy dress, her face not seen. Sphere simple bg with little patterns along edge. Colored.

° the real Xander. (Like his portrait) No color. Arm out- just punched and cracked a wall or something. Remember multiple arms- super cool angle.

° Xander smiling. Need to figure out teeth. No color

° Solas laughing? Add Nightelf teeth bc combining headcanons/two loves is awesome. Colored

° Shal'dorei male portrait. Colored. Have fun with it.

° Joran, because I miss his cute face. Laughing, preferably. Black and white. Remember the tattoo thingy. (Use own face for reference if necessary, and old drawings)

°concept art for Xander’s world. Long blue-black buildings fading to grey, rainy, lone figure in gray hoodie and sweats. Light in BG, dark in foreground. Painted feel

° Windwrath portrait. Head slightly tilted up, mouth/lips barely parted. Eyes closed, single green tear falling down left cheek. Need to figure out how to line first and share both line art and colored piece. Remember her horns. Good reference. Blue-grey background- like Shal'dorei skin.

°Shal’dorei- fel overtaking idea, sad/scared with quote like (never fall)?

° demon thing. Wip is on DeviantArt. Make it more dynamic- maybe looking up ish. Maybe reaching up. Maybe no legs- torn torso- ribcage long spine instead??? Greys, soft gold's, and soft reds for bg- grey forefront. White/light shining down as he rises. Wings need some depth. Make his skin look real/ beautiful. Take your time. It's going to be a beautiful piece. Colored.

°Zant at his computer with piggy tails… and an undercut. (Lightly colored) It'll be cute. (Maybe bonus Ghira 'ded’ or laughter or both)

° Zant hair down versus hair up- undercut under the portrait hairstyle you've already given him. Probably a bun, not a pony tail.. unless really long.. Colored.

°Zant with long hair. Straight on, but with Head tilt and shoulders /. Black and White. 

°Inspired from Desi’s version of Ghira with lovely lips- in makeup. Purple lipstick and maybe pink/blue highlights. (Add little sparkles off to the side) make him a model. Add a fedora if you'd like. Ghira only- Colored

°Empathy. Do something similar to what you were working on for so long (DeviantArt). Blend blend blend. Make her real. Colored.

°Zant- turning with either long or medium hair with normal expression on his face- or maybe with wide eyes in surprise. Hair must be splayed as he turns- did it quickly. (Bonus fist panel Zant looking off in some direction, then head turn (zant!! In corner?) Ghira with heart eyes or similar surprised/blushy expression. Zant is lovely). Colored Zant.

°Moira. Smiling at viewer at an angle, possible blood at corner of her mouth with caption 'show no/your Mercy’. Maybe have mercy wings in bg.

°carrot and/or potato with words “I'm rooting for you” - t-shirt design

°Angry roaring naga (like the empathy open mouth monster, but from the side, hands down, palms up, but open claws and threatening)

°Silgryn.

°Anubis- comic. modern. Very dark skinned man someone runs across. Finds out it's the old god. They ask what he's doing down here and not in afterlife. Too many heavy hearts- not of guilt but of sorrow. So he does what any good god does.. fights for what's right (image of protest against modern slavery/police brutality/etc)

° Dragon Age Inquisition- Joran (my Inquisitor) side view- on his knees at the end of trespasser reaching out with his good arm (cursed arm limp in lap, fading to ash), open mouth calling after Solas who is walking away with a hurt look on his face. Both possibly have tears going down their face. Insert quote about friendship or something Solas said.

° Joran- angel

°astronaut painting the stars (opposite if the astronaut vaccuming the stars)

Butterflies (one dead-on with half light half dark colors in BG)

Roses

Peacocks/feathers

Dragon portraits with people hands (claws of course)

Mermaids

Braided hair

Ballet dancer(s)

Shadows

Planets?

Perfect hearts (overlapping ring, half and half, two overlapping)

Pupper portraits

Kitty portraits/silhouettes

Leaves

~