Trying to figure out how to draw Enot

My friend mentioned Godmode

so

here we are

(My lil sis requested the last one fjsnd—)

Bonus Inv doodles:

freaky creatures

I love godmode, but I'm kind of disappointed they didn't opt for individual single art, so just for funzies I took a stab at making my own

photo credits from left to right: ryan sitkowski, joe cotela, justin hunt

It was always something. If rent wasn’t overdue, then the lights or some other bill was. If all the bills were somehow, miraculously paid, then there was no food in the fridge. That was always the worst; five grown men in an apartment not having food meant cranky bastards causing fights for no reason and throwing blame around when they were supposed to be making music together or doing something productive in the way of finance. The band was, for better and for worse, each other’s rock. They were brothers, and no amount of fights or stupid, petty act of passive aggression would break them. But stress? Well that was another thing in and of itself. 

Dennis, though he had preferred to be called by his dozen or so other nicknames, was the first to get tired of having nothing but a joint and an apple and old milk in the fridge. He knew that they were going to get paid soon, as it was easy in the somewhat dying metal scene to get gigs, but until that happened, they needed to eat and cover the rent now.  For that reason and that reason alone, Dennis was applying to a part time shift at a gas station. It was only temporary, as his intention was to work long enough to cut a check that could cover back due rent, then quit. 

Huffing as he walked, his cigarette habits having damaged his lungs enough to struggle a bit with long treks, Dennis made his way to the bus stop, saving the gas in the van that they used to lug their equipment to gigs. He sighed as he planted himself on the bench, pushing jet black hair out of his eyes as he relaxed, ready to daydream the time away before the bus came. It was then that he heard a muffled sound from behind him. Nosy, curious, and lacking a sense of modesty, Dennis turned around the glance at the ally behind him. He found a girl there, digging through large black garbage bags. She no doubt lost something, but the alleyway was so dark that he doubted she’d find it. 

It was either that, or she was dumpster diving, but whatever the case, Dennis was too nosy not to know what it was. He moved his way towards her after launching himself off the bench, a smirk on his lips as he pulled his lighter from his pocket. When he was near enough, he flicked it open and held it out to her. “ What are we looking for?”

THE AIR IS EERILY SILENT AROUND THEM ⎯  at least for the first hour. somewhere through the snow filled landscape, the young girl seems to get comfortable around him. or at the very least, uncomfortable with the silence. he's not sure which one it is nor does he get much of a chance to think about it before she's laughing at her own jokes and tossing out another. he lets her get a few more out before forcing himself to speak. not to shut her down, no, just to . . . add something to whatever the hell was going on. interacting with people was hard. " how do you know so many . . . jokes ? " / @imunities

[ CONSOLE ] sender asks receiver to stay the night because they don’t want to be alone and they end up cuddling.

"Of course." He had said it far too quickly, not a millisecond of hesitation. He would do anything for Nancy Wheeler, and staying the night after everything they had gone through was a small order. He knew neither of them would admit it, but the long nights along added up to be more and more terrifying. Every bump in the night had a different meaning now, and it was impossible to know which one of them might be the next victim.

Not to mention, poor Nancy had been pulled into Vecna's curse. He still didn't fully understand why Vecna hadn't claimed her as a victim then - he was sure she didn't understand it either - but it wasn't like he was complaining. He just wished that Max hadn't been claimed either. But he could only imagine the fear that Nancy felt because of that. Much like himself, she was good at hiding what she was really experiencing. Putting on a facade and being tough. But Vecna had touched her mind in a way the rest of them didn't understand.

Much like that creeper in Nightmare on Elm Street, Freddy Crouton or whatever his name was, he was sure that Nancy was terrified to close her eyes and wake up again in the clutches of that monster. They had been so certain they had defeated him in the Upside Down, but that earthquake was no earthquake, and Will had clearly still felt Vecna's presence. He was still out there, and who knew what would happen. Of course Nancy didn't want to sleep alone.

Steve had been a proper gentleman, though. They had stayed up watching a movie for a bit, him sitting on the far opposite side of the couch. They'd gotten ready for bed separately, and now that night was here, Steve had promptly decided he would sleep on the floor. He would have taken the couch, but that would defeat the purpose since Nancy's fear would make it so she wouldn't want to be alone in her room. So the floor it was. Grabbing a blanket and a pillow, curling up against the carpet of her bedroom.

He had been slightly hesitant when she had told him that he could come in bed with her. He glanced at her with wary eyes, his brain fighting so hard not to provide flashbacks of the nights he had spent here with Nancy during their relationship. Not even necessarily the sexy times - though those of course popped up, too - but the nights spent helping her study with flash cards. Sitting and talking and laughing until he had to sneak out her window.

But again, he could never tell Nancy no, and so he had proceeded to get into the bed with her, glad he was still pretty fully clothed. At least enough to be in basketball shorts with a t-shirt, even still wearing his socks. He was trying to keep his distance, until the younger had pressed closer to him. His breath hitching, heart beating slightly as he stared ahead at the wall, willing him to not pay too much attention to what was happening. "Nance....are you sure this is a good idea?"

@curlpower

@ask-a-merchants-garden, continued from hence ask.

"Hm..Oh! si it is, but not in the way you may think amigo! All sugar here is made from grown and harvested Sugarcane, we no longer do the Smokestacks since the Re-Wiring.

[Stands a tad more rigid until shaking himself from his stupor and refocusing on the topic at hand.] ... ///

It was a bit odd to eat a cake in the Zones, and for a moment Zacharie hesitated as the other pushed the plate towards him. The...years here had made him somewhat averse to sugar, even if he never really was hungry.

To be fair the first few times he had indulged with Sucre...well, the ramifications of that particular bit were not best pondered upon. But it did mean that he would be hypocritical if he suddenly decided that he was diabetic.

So Zacharie did what any sensible person would do. He picked up the entire slice, regarded it critically, tilted up his mask, and shoved it into his piehole.

"Prfehty gfoord johrb." The other Zacharie - no, Martinez or Zachie, for simplicity's sake, blinked. Zacharie rolled his eyes, and swallowed. "̴P̵r̷e̷t̴t̷y̷ ̴g̵o̷o̶d̴ ̸j̸o̴b̴.̶ G̸o̵o̷d̷ ̸u̶s̷e̵ ̷o̴f̷ ̸a̸l̶l̶ ̶t̸h̵a̵t̴ ̴t̸i̸m̴e̶ ̷o̵n̵ ̷o̵u̶r̵ ̸h̵a̴n̶d̵s̷.̷ ̷Y̶o̸u̷ ̵s̶h̴o̸u̷l̶d̸ ̸t̵r̶a̴v̸e̷l̷ ̵o̶u̸t̸s̴i̶d̵e̴ ̴y̵o̷u̸r̸s̵e̶l̸f̵ ̸-̸ ̸m̷a̴k̴e̶ ̵a̸ ̴s̷m̴a̴l̶l̵ ̴f̴o̵r̸t̵u̷n̶e̴.̶ M̴a̵y̷b̴e̷ ̶a̵ ̸M̴a̶r̵t̷i̷n̸e̸z̷ ̷P̷a̴t̶i̶s̸s̵e̷r̴i̴e̴ ̴f̷r̵a̸n̸c̸h̶i̷s̶e̷ ̵a̴s̵ ̷w̷e̶l̴l̸.̸"

The cake was velvety. Was that the right term to use? It tasted...well, sweet. Maybe not enough - an eyelid, unnoticed, twitched at that thought.

He hurriedly put the plate down.

"I̶ ̶p̶e̵r̸s̸o̵n̴a̴l̵l̶y̴ ̷d̵o̵n̷'̴t̸ ̷h̷a̶v̷e̸ ̵a̵ ̴m̸a̶r̸k̸e̵t̷a̸b̴l̵e̵ ̴n̶a̴m̴e̴;̸ ̵o̷u̶r̸ ̶s̸h̵a̶r̸e̴d̵ ̶t̸r̷a̷d̷e̸m̶a̶r̵k̷ ̴s̵e̵r̸v̷e̴s̷ ̵i̸t̷s̷ ̶p̵u̷r̸p̵o̵s̶e̷ ̴a̵ ̴b̸i̵t̶ ̷t̸o̵o̴ ̶w̴e̷l̶l̸.̴" he said, "B̴u̶t̴ ̶t̷h̷e̷y̶ ̴u̸s̵e̸d̸ ̴t̴o̶ ̷s̸h̷o̴r̴t̷e̸n̸ ̶m̴y̸ ̶U̴R̶L̴ ̶a̴ ̵b̷i̶t̷.̸ N̴o̶t̵ ̷a̷ ̶g̴o̵o̶d̵ ̵l̴o̷o̷k̴ ̷w̷h̴e̴n̵ ̸y̷o̸u̴ ̴g̵r̸o̶w̷ ̵o̴l̷d̴e̵r̵,̴ ̸b̷u̷t̸ ̴l̶e̸t̷'̵s̴ ̶g̸o̵ ̸w̵i̶t̵h̸ ̶t̸h̶a̵t̷.̸"

And as for travel...

"It̷ ̴h̴a̵s̷ ̷b̵e̷e̷n̵ ̴a̷ ̴w̴h̴i̵l̷e̷.̴ ̵T̴h̵e̴ ̸l̷a̵s̸t̵ ̴I̴ ̸r̷e̷m̵e̸m̷b̵e̸r̵ ̸w̵a̶s̵ ̶d̴r̸i̸n̴k̸i̷n̸g̴ ̵q̵u̴i̶t̷e̸ ̶h̷e̷a̸v̸i̴l̴y̷ ̸t̸o̵ ̶e̶s̸c̴a̷p̶e̸ ̶s̸o̸m̵e̸ ̶q̵u̶e̶s̴t̷i̴o̶n̶s̵.̴" he said, rubbing his chin. Maybe he might have stocks of tea in his bag for this. "B̵u̶t̵ ̴a̸ ̶f̸e̷w̷ ̵j̸a̷u̴n̶t̵s̸.̸.̶.̵ ̶w̵e̸l̶l̵,̸ ̸C̵h̵i̴c̷a̴g̵o̸ ̴w̵i̶t̸h̸ ̴a̴ ̸c̴i̶t̸y̵w̵i̵d̴e̵ ̶A̶I̸ ̶s̶e̴e̷m̶s̷ ̶t̵o̵ ̶b̸e̸ ̸p̸o̵p̷p̸i̷n̸g̴ ̸u̷p̷ ̷q̵u̴i̶t̵e̴ ̶a̶ ̵b̶i̷t̷ ̸i̷n̸ ̸m̵y̷ ̴m̵e̸m̶o̴r̷i̷e̷s̸.̷ ̵O̷r̵ ̷t̸h̸a̷t̵ ̶p̴o̸s̴t̷-̸a̶p̶o̶c̵a̶l̷y̶p̸t̷i̴c̸ ̶e̸a̸r̷t̵h̷ ̷w̸h̶e̸r̴e̴ ̷i̶t̷ ̶w̷a̶s̷ ̶i̸n̵ ̴t̴h̶e̸ ̸g̷l̵a̴r̷i̶n̵g̴ ̷s̷u̴n̸ ̶p̸e̷r̵m̶a̴n̵e̷n̷t̴l̶y̴.̷.̶.̶"

⤷ ✧ @stcrmhund said, ❝ does this look nice on me ? ❞

she had planned on ( admittedly feigned ) petulant indignation that, rather than coming to her himself, he had dispatched tolya to fetch her to him. ( though, really, was she more indignant on tolya's behalf or on her own? ) she's yet to figure out why he's here in this particular shop, of everywhere in the town he might have chosen to wait, but she does not look too closely at the apparent sense of such things. though she might have asked, the question is gone as quickly at the sound of his voice as her prepared petulance is.

elia cannot say how he knows it's she who entered the room, and perhaps he doesn't, for he stands before a mirror without seeming to so much as glance in the direction of the door. with a quick look around, she snatches something swiftly, surreptitiously, from its rack, holding it behind her back in her right hand as she half walks - half darts the distance between them. she purses her lips in an ever-futile effort to resist a smile, and her free hand grasps at the front of his shirt to tug him both around to face her and down so she can kiss him. smiling against his lips, she sweeps the hat held behind her back around to place it, askew, upon his head.

it's a flamboyant thing, the height of ridiculous, bright red paired with peacock feathers tucked into the brim that are far too long to be remotely practical. she laughs as she pulls back, looking him over as if evaluating in order to finally pass judgment on his question. ❛ better. ❜

⚠️ // bite my muse ( can specify where )

:)

I thought you didn't like women, she says against his mouth when he kisses her, bullying her up against the bathroom wall until her back's against the tiles and he's pressed just about as close as he can get.

I don't. You don't count, he snarls. His mouth on hers, his voice coming from higher up, behind the glasses that keep getting skewed when their noses bump together. You barely count as human.

She bites him then, for the insult or for the lie, her blunt human teeth sinking into his lower lip, and it's only then that he finally shudders and presses his hips against her, his body reacting even if the rest of him recoils.

You smell like him. You taste like him.

So do you.

Alex--the Corinthian--whoever he is, grips her jaw in his hand to keep her still. Brushes his fingers just under her eye (focus on that, think about that and about him and not about her), ignoring how wet his face is. He can't tell if he's crying or just starving. It doesn't fucking matter, anyway.

I want something in return, he tells her, mouth at her throat, then lower, lower. He's biting more than kissing on the way down, sinking slowly to his knees on a filthy bathroom floor that will ruin the knees of his trousers. Once his mouth is occupied, his eyes speak for him. You let me into your dreams. I get your eyes.

     𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽 [2/𝟸] 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶, 𝙹𝚄𝙽𝙴 𝟹𝟶𝚃𝙷, 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙴𝚃𝙾𝙽 𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙻, 𝙴𝚇𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙾𝚁.

     Smoke billowed into the dark sky, a grey monstrosity gaping its maws at the stars. It filled the air with the scent of charcoal and sulfur, hair from the corpses below sparking in the flames. Nele reached back to retie the bandana covering the lower half of her face, wiping her hands on her thighs before she bent down to haul another body into the fire. This was one she recognized more than most, though she’d never gotten to know her well. Marseline. Too young. Her features are nearly unrecognizable, half her face chewed to the bone, though even if she didn’t reconize her, the supple youth of what remained was enough to know it was too soon. Nele knelt, lifting her stiff and heavy torso to pile it over her shoulder, a low grunt escaping her as she stood. It was odd, how little she felt, how the smell of burning bodies didn’t make her stomach turn. She was encased in ice, her warm center put into hibernation, and she couldn’t recall exactly when that had happened. She’d been so young when it happened, but she’d lived some before, so why did it seem so far away?

     Because it was. It was a faint shadow in her past, so indiscernible she forgot it even existed. So pale, she was able to burn the dead with no reaction. She knew it wasn’t right; she knew she was supposed to feel more, but she simply… didn’t. A light sigh was the only reaction given before she tossed the young woman in with the rest, eyes squinting against the harsh smoke as she watched her torn clothing burst into flame. And then, she did feel something. White, hot anger to match the fire — because how had they let this happen? And yet, didn’t it always come to this?

     Nele wiped her forearm over her furrowed brow, her gloved hands and shirt decorated with smeared blood, the crimson on her neck glistening as it mixed with sweat. A crunch behind her; the sound of a footfall, and she turned her head, peering over her shoulder to see who was approaching. Most of the others had taken a break — and most of the others preferred a different clean-up job — but Nele had kept working, because sitting still, even for nourishment, wasn’t an option. She’d keep moving until she was spent, until the idea of sleeping on the crowded mall floors seemed a bit more enticing. Until the rage leapt into the fire with the corpses. Until she could breathe. 

     “You happen to bring back out anything from snack time?”

@deceptivemorals asked: - 11. for lazy morning sex  - "you're so beautiful like this." - ( g-spot ) one muse is teasing the other with their fingers, fingering them and making them squirm

the demon-witches body stretches, a long and languid motion; the high thread count sheets feel like nothing she's ever slept on in her life and she's already disappointed that she'll have to leave the warmth of his bed soon.

"you're so beautiful like this."

the rumbly voice of the Original meets her ears and Ruby's eyes flutter open, finding the warmth of the bed extends to the dark brown eyes she meets with her own. he actually doesn't look disappointed that she's still there, which surprises her. "you're just tryin' to butter me up for another round before i go, huh?" she teases with a smirk, rolling toward him to steal a kiss and run her hand up his bare chest, as his own settles on her hip and he rolls until he's half laying over her body and letting his hand wander as it pleases. deft and knowing fingers dip between her legs and find her folds already wet, and she spreads her knees as he nudges them apart with his hand and sinks two fingers into her, curling them expertly as he takes his time working her up.

"not the worst idea, if i do say so," Elijah answers as the kiss breaks, and he stares down at her as she squirms beneath him, her breath coming in short, tight gasps. he works himself to his knees between her splayed thighs as his fingers bring her closer and closer to climax, and Ruby rides the blissful wave he takes her on to the very last moment... when he stops and removes his fingers, resulting in a frustrated growl from the demon-witch. "what the... fuck, seriously?" she begins, but he's not done, and the smirk on his face says so loud and clear. Elijah then lines himself up to sink inside of her slowly, and the expression of pleasure and bliss settles back on her features again. "that's more like it," she barely whispers, tugging him down until she feels the comforting weight of his body on hers and her lips can find his again in a deep, needy kiss. they have nothing but time, and they steal every last moment of it, relishing in the slow and lazy pace they set, drawing out their morning activities until the sun is much higher in the sky and he's taught her what it feels like to fly.

🌿 / thoma <3

accidental mistletoe.  i'm hella late but (ФωФ)✨️ !   @kusatta  ♡

she'd caught sight of the mistletoe before he did  —  just a quick glance,  before gaze would return to the male next to her.  footsteps come to a halt when the two would be in a position under it,  and not wanting to let the opportunity slip,  idle conversation is abruptly cut short with a call of his name.       ❛   thoma.  ❜

turning to properly face him,  dainty hands cradle his face before he could even give a response  ( though any word from him wouldn't fall on deaf ears,  of course ) ,  not giving him much time to realize why either.  he's pulled lower just as her chin tilts upward to better face him.  a strange act when from the maiden who seldom touched others without proper reason to.  he's brought closer and closer,  actions stopping only when within breath's length of their faces.  it's a delicate hold,  one that treated him with great care,  one that would allow him to easily pull away should he wish for it. 

thoma didn't seem to be the sort to mind getting too close,  an assumption made based on prior interactions,  so there's no harm in verifying it firsthand,  no ?   caramel hues stare intently,  observing the details of his visage given the proximity,  not wanting to miss any sort of reaction that her actions might illicit.  a flutter of dark lashes follows,  and hakuno closes the gap,  planting a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose.

—pulling away after,  an overdue explanation given with a simple gesture upwards.       ❛   sorry,  i hope you didn't mind that too much.  it's bad luck to refuse a kiss under a mistletoe,  apparently.   ❜       so it was really all for his sake,  is how she would justify it  ——  but perhaps her own personal desires had influenced the choice to take the chance the plant had presented.

for now,  her curiosity is satiated.

@crimsontroupe replied.º

what if we don't. what if we put it back

"what if we repeat that"

crimsontroupe replied.º

what if we don't. what if we put it back

"what if we repeat that"

crimsontroupe replied.º

what if we don't. what if we put it back

"what if-

Recollection pulls itself from an old corner of her mind to the days her mother used to comfort her at the strange sounds heard rampant through the night; it's the house settling, dear, it's not a monster. It's nothing to be afraid of. She'd taken it to heart, and refused to give creaks and groans any mind since then, opting instead to play ignorance as her weapon, to shun the sounds and resist the urges that begged her gaze be brought 'round her shoulder, to spot the shadow creeping at the end of the hall. She has been less successful at this strategy in the last few days, finding the smell of rot and musk and fresh dirt so pervasive that she couldn't help but allow her curiosity to get the better of her. Stupid mistakes, the kind dumb girls in horror movies make, inching towards the closet in response to the sound of dripping water, imagining the hot steam of breath on the nape of her neck and not just brushing it off, instead seeking out the source. This is not how you survive a scary movie.

Long had she been plagued by what she supposed could be best described as some sort of telltale heart syndrome; guilt gripped her, paranoia too, and they made for a deadly mix. A dead friend's arms reaching desperate from the floorboards as she attempted to sleep, a memory of the blue air of the other world she'd been caught up in, a feeling of smoke filling her lungs and a burning, a sharp pain on her palm ... all of these sensations were normal and rather natural to her by now. She had developed a numbness to the torturous memories, a thick skin to the nightmares. But as of late ... the feel of everything was different. Not entirely tangible but not as clearly self-manifested as before. She wondered, at times, perhaps these were elaborate tricks. Perhaps she was being watched, again, toyed with like some sort of prey. That brought about a sensation of anger and terror that overwhelmed her so sincerely that she had little voice to articulate it.

Perhaps the exhaustion makes her less nervous about the other's words, or perhaps she only hides her skepticism and distrust as some kind of strategic methodology; whatever it is, she takes in the words with a somewhat stoic expression, as the stranger speaks:

@antigodeus, asked: ❝ i need you to come with me. ❞

" You ... who are .... "

She begins to look behind herself, stopping as her chin reaches just before her shoulder and she can see in her peripherals an empty hallway. But she knows, she can feel it, something is there. She returns her gaze to the stranger, eyes narrowing, mouth agape. She's not sure who to trust, but the thing at her heels feels far more harrowing a choice than that which stands before her. A strained action, but she nods, takes a step towards them and forces herself not to look back down the hallway.

" What's going on? Who - are you? "

i made you cum, don’t ignore me.

"Oh, is that grounds for me not being able to get pissed at you now? Damn. Didn't realize that was in the contract when I agreed to have sex with you." Eddie huffed, rolling his eyes in a dramatic fashion he was so good at. "Next time I'll read the fine fucking print." He hissed, slamming the door in Richie's face. Yeah, he was pissed, and any of the Losers knew that while Eddie was pure and sweet, he also had a fire that raged under his skin. Especially when he had felt wronged.

And right now? He felt like he was allowed to ignore Richie. He often got play mad at Richie, the two of them bickering in a ridiculous back and forth flirtation, but it took a lot for Eddie to actually lose it. Right now, he was ignoring Eddie because of the news that Richie had dropped on him. Sure,it had come after an absolutely mind-blowing orgasm, but now he realized that had been used to sweeten the blow.

Richie had told the press.

Eddie shouldn't have been as mad as he was, after all, Richie was the one in the spotlight and it was his career that would potentially be impacted. But Eddie had made it very clear when he had moved out to LA, when they had finally labeled their relationship, that he didn't want to be in the spotlight. He wanted to stay low. He didn't want headlines with his name in the tabloids. Richie had told the public before he was ready, so yeah, he was pissed.