Let Jesus fill you with the Holy Spirit.

I'm so going to hell for this.

_{I blame Kloxy Woxy for this, cause I never would of thought of this without this contest.}

OH DEAR LORD!

Artists ramblings: I was just at a Gallery art show earlier today and was inspired by these beautiful wood block prints. Originally i intended to have another small girl cutting off this ones arms but I couldn’t quite get the look rite so i opted to draw this instead. I rely enjoy the simple background as it adds to the mood of the picture in my opinion.

there's like 50 different ways i wanted to go with this :(
this'll have to do
18+ for future junk and gore.
hmmm junk and gore >_>

edit: I think i wanna have so much fun with this contest XD

They are huge... bombs, aren't they?

.

Only way to get there

Beverly had jumped out of the girl's pocket from mere feet up, but those seemed like miles. He had been successful in keeping Flynnarill from harm but both his right legs were crushed, his rear even more hopelessly than the other. The pain was agonizing enough, and the humiliation drove him to plead to be helped away and out of sight. The struggles of being made four mere inches tall had been brought home full circle to him, but at least they were all now free of the Collector.

The healer Umeiko was summoned to him, a Horesewoman they instinctively feared as much as anyone counted her as a close friend. The cost of her labor was usually far worse than the injury itself as bones were willed together to unsplinter, nerves to reconnect as flesh and bone moved at her command. The experience alone was enough that it was well heard of for some to choose death rather than face a healer's touch.

Immediately the pain overtook him, giving no one time to prepare for the Son of Cheron's double-chested, curdling shouts that ripped out beyond control. The pain had from the beginning been an engulfing temptation for in the past the stress easily summoned a chaotic rage which sought to destroy everything both dear and hated. Years of training and experience had allowed him to place the chaos on an upper shelf deep within him at the cost of it's greater strength. He could live without fear that a moment might spark the danger of it, but this pain, this torture was so much more than he could ever hope to bear.

It called to him and promised him relief he knew it would completely provide. In seconds he felt it was his only option to survive, the only thing he wanted and desired. His will was crushed to dust and his mind erased by the pain and it was only moments before he would succumb into it completely. Within his shouts, however, Flynnarill had heard his plead for her to tell him what he needed, what he knew in his hearts. Remind him, give him the anchor, for the sake of everything! She leaned in close to him and spoke the very words he simply had to hear.

"Amin mela lle, come back to me now."

A point of intersection. A matter of perception.