#HERE HAVE SOME FEELS

[notinmyvocab]

[merriemarvels]

If the cards had fallen in a different direction, Talia Josephine Wagner would have grown up in a mansion full of children just like her; the offspring of heroes, the stuff of legends. A roll of the dice, a twist of fate, and -- instead, she was alone. A single bundle of trouble in two buildings full of adults with so much on their plates it was a wonder she'd been born at all. But lest that make her past sound sad, it was the only life she knew, and she wouldn't have changed it for anything. She had dozens of aunties and uncles of all stripes; heroes, sometime-villains, Avengers, X-Men, even Excalibur and Alpha Flight.

But one stood -- metaphorically, at least -- head and shoulders above the rest, practically from the day she was born. It was almost as if he'd decided to make up for lost time, past mistakes; whatever the case, one could rest assured that if she wasn't in the care of one of her parents, TJ Wagner could be found perched on the arm or in the lap of one Logan 'Professor W' Howlett. He called her his 'favorite niece'. Even her parents considered him a third parent.

Once, he'd shooed Wanda and Kurt off for a much-needed date night without their sweet but rather energetic six-month-old daughter, only for them to come home to him gently swaying to country music with her perched on his arm, her little three-fingered fist closed around his thumb. The picture still sits on his desk, though the girl has long since outgrown being held and danced with by her favorite uncle.

She'd nap on his chest while he lectured older students about battle tactics or geopolitics; she'd be right at his hip as he drilled them in the Danger Room. He'd let her pick the movie, even when it was his turn. She wasn't exactly spoiled… but he had a lot more time on his hands, running the school, than her parents did as active members of their respective teams. Wanda had to hold down the magical end of things; Kurt had risen to his former spot as squad leader.

A little girl could get lost in the shuffle, without someone to make sure she didn't.

Later, much later, when the past had come to haunt her, she'd cried, wishing he could see her now, wishing she knew if he was proud of her. And somewhere out there, even though it's singed and the glass had to be replaced, a picture of a man dancing with a little blue baby still sits on a desk, waiting for her to come back.

[auburniivenus]

Ichigo showed up at Orihime's doorstep with snowflakes in his orange hair & a faint blush on his cheeks. He had spent days rehearsing what he'd say, what he'd do in this moment but now that it had finally come, his mind just went blank-- especially as she opened the door and his brown eyes fell upon her stunning figure. She was so breathtakingly gorgeous, even though they'd been together for a while now, he could still scarcely believe she was his. That she loved him just as much as he loved her. "Hey-- " He held out the bouquet of heliotrope flowers, his face turning redder. "These... These flowers... They mean eternal love. I thought they'd be a good way to express my feelings for you and to ask you if..." He paused, nervousness making his hand tremble slightly as he reached into his jeans pocket to retrieve a small velvet box. "If you want to spend this Christmas and all the ones to come with me?" Ichigo smiled, eyes full of love & admiration searching hers. "Will you marry me?"

YOUR   LIPS   DON'T   LIE.   Within   the   confines   of   her   own   domicile,   the   solitary SYLPH of   her   demesne   stood   perched   amidst   the   culinary   crucible   of   her   kitchen.   The   aroma   of   her   creation,   an   omelette   assembled   with   the   tender   care   of   an   artist   bestowing   life   upon   canvas,   perfumed   the   air,   a   fragrant   symphony   of   pine   and   cinnamon   that   imparted   the   secrets   of   the   season.   She   contemplated   the   profound   silence   that   encompassed   the   evening,   a   lone   odyssey.   A   wisp   of   emptiness   caressed   her   heart,   as   ephemeral   and   delicate   as   a   snowflake’s   gentle   kiss   upon   the   frosted   glass   of   time,   yet   she   harbored   no   yearning   to   cast   her   shadow   upon   her   companions   or   to   intrude   upon   Ichigo’s   familial   abode.   She   sometimes   abhorred   the   concept   of   being   a   burden,   a   specter   in   the   luminous   exuberance   of   others.

As   she   conferred   the   final,   loving   flourish   upon   her   modest   banquet,   the   clarion   call   of   the   doorbell   cleaved   the   silence,   presaging   unforeseen   revelations.   With   her   auburn   wispy   locks   unfurling   like   the   fiery   train   of   a   phoenix   in   graceful   descent,   she   wafted   to   the   entrance,   her   soul   infused   with   curiosity.   Upon   flinging   open   the   door,   a   tableau   of   wonderment   bloomed   upon   her   visage,   as   resplendent   as   the   aurora   borealis   adorning   the   velvet   night.   There,   at   the   threshold,   stood   Ichigo,   an   enigma   covered   in   the   wintry   embrace,   his   arms   cradling   blossoms   that   seemed   to   have   captured   the   vernal   essence   of   Demeter’s   own   gardens.   “Ichigo,   shouldn’t   you   be   with   your   family?   I-It’s   Christmas   eve.”

Her   mane,   now   bejeweled   with   the   delicate   filigree   of   snowflakes,   were   as   a   diadem   of   heaven’s   souls   bequeathed   by   the   nocturnal   winter   herself.   Ichigo,   whose   legitimate   place   was   undoubtedly   woven   into   the   familial   mosaic   of   his   own   abode,   stood   before   her   with   a   surprise   that   outshone   the   splendor   of   the   cosmos.   With   a   query   that   hung   in   the   air   like   the   Sword   of   Damocles,   he   sought   her   hand   in   matrimony,   a   proposition   as   unforeseen   as   a   rose   courageously   blooming   amidst   the   alabaster   snow.   “M-Marry   you?   W-What?”

A   solemn   tear   of   rapture,   a   scintillating   orb   of   purest   glee,   sortied   from   the   perimeter   of   her   caramel   orbs,   etching   a   shimmering   trail   upon   her   visage   as   a   silent   ode   to   the   euphoria   burgeoning   within   her   bosom.   No   longer   would   she   face   Christmas   Eve   nestled   in   solitude;   instead,   she   would   be   encompassed   in   the   loving   embrace   of   Ichigo   and   his   kin,   not   merely   for   this   consecrated   night   but   for   all   the   Christmases   that   destiny   would   lovingly   entwine   into   their   shared   chronicle   of   existence.

Before   the   utterance   of   consent   could   grace   the   air,   before   a   whispered   ‘yes’   could   take   flight   from   her   lips,   she   engulfed   him   in   an   embrace   that   melded   all   the   love   and   luminescence   harbored   within   her   essence.   Their   embrace   was   a   citadel   against   the   tempests   of   the   world.   And   then,   with   a   fervor   that   spoke   volumes   more   than   any   sacred   vow,   she   sealed   her   assent   with   a   deep,   impassioned   osculation,   a   confluence   of   spirits   that   sang   of   pledges,   and   a   future   drenched   in   the   eternal   vermilion   hues   of   undying   affection.   “Y-Yes.   I   always   dreamed   of   being   your   wife.”   A   whispered   against   his   lips. @orangeshinigami

[pyramultimuse]

@lostxndbroken Ambrose and Diaval [Familiar]

Every graduation, it was tradition for all the witches and mages would choose an animal familiar. These familiars were no ordinary animals, they were magical companions. They lived much longer than their normal animal counterpart and after being chosen would be able to take human form as needed. Their main task was to assist and guide their master or mistress, adapting to their magical skillset as well as making sure they are safe.

These familiars come in a wide variety of species: Felines, canines, foxes, birds, reptiles, amphibians. Usually, they are chosen when they are young or as eggs for the magic wielder to raise and bond with. But some animal species are more desired than others. Diaval was unfortunately not one of those. He was a raven familiar that had been with the magical university for a few years. Those who graduated either wanted something attractive and beautiful like the furry creatures, or creepy like the scaled animals. The other birds were owls or falcons, beautiful and dangerous. No one wanted a blackbird.

It had become disheartening for Diaval. Each year all he heard were insults, everyone thought he was a common crow. A dirty and stupid bird. This year there were a few particularly cruel people graduating. Diaval was with the other familars, he had preened his feathers well to make them look glossy and beautiful to look the most presentable. But one witch who he thought might choose him created a tiny flame and set his tail feathers on fire. He cawed out in panic and flew away, disoriented he hit the wall and dropped. The witch and her friends bursted out in laughter mockingly as the raven rolled on the floor to desperately put the flame out.

Diaval managed to save himself from injury but he looked quite the mess now. With the laughter and cruel jests towards him still coming the raven decided to just stay on the floor and hopped over to the furthest corner of the room away from those people. It was best to keep his distance and be safe, maybe next year he'll be chosen.

[tawnysoup]

Finally now that the comic is fully public on comicfury, I get to share it with all of you here, too <3

If you enjoyed, please consider supporting by buying a PDF of the comic on itch.io: https://tawnysoup.itch.io/home-in-the-woods

[gibbearish]

love when ppl defend the aggressive monetization of the internet with "what, do you just expect it to be free and them not make a profit???" like. yeah that would be really nice actually i would love that:)! thanks for asking

[hinamie]

subject, specimen, spectacle;

should i say that you're dead?

[oars]

[cj-the-random-artist]

Is this my best comic ever?? Nope. Do I think I characterized either of these two particularly well in this comic?? Not really. Did I spend an unreasonable amount of time on it to the point that it would be a waste to not post it?? Yes, yes I did.

I really committed to this one, spent a lot of time on those backgrounds and treated myself to ample suffering with the perspective, which is not my strong suit but I am happy with how it ultimately looks. Yay perspective and background practice!!

(Tbh I shouldn't talk like I think this one sucks, I think I've just been staring at it for so long that my brain has decided it's not good and it's actually way better than I think it is, and honestly I am quite happy with it. The artistic process really is something, isn't it?)

The inspiration was basically me reminding... myself... to take breaks sometimes... by drawing for several hour stints during my only little bits of free time. Which totally tracks. Probably. But I've been rolling around in my brain this idea that Lambert is a very uptight people pleaser and anxious workaholic, but Narinder, at least since adjusting himself to the circumstances (which probably took at least a century, maybe two) has discovered the joys of self care, and has made an active effort to chill tf out. This has not made him any less terrifying to the cultists (save for Lambert's closest disciples), nor has it made him friendlier to really anyone but Lambert (and maybe his siblings), but he sure has found some serious peace of mind. That said, I can't place what his motivations are here. Perhaps he is secretly concerned about Lambert's sanity, because he doesn't want them to turn into what he was, or maybe he's just trying to steal away some quality time with his one and only friend, but regardless of the reason, I spent too much time on this for nobody to see it, dang it.

That said. Enjoy this silly little comic that I spent way too much time on, and I hope this silly comic brings you some joy today.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Soup solves everything.

[captain-krow-drozdov]

Danny Is An Alternate Version Of Ra's Al Ghul And Flash Already Called Dibs On Adopting Him

Danny In All His Sleep Deprived Slightly Scuffed Up From A Fight Glory Is On His Way To Clockworks Tower To Hopefully Get A Nap And Maybe Some Homework Done When A Natural Portal Opens Up In Front Of Him And Proceeds To Unceremoniously Drop Him In The DC Verse Just Outside Of Central City Before Promptly Closing Leaving A Tired Danny Behind In A Run Down Abandoned Parking Lot.

It's Times Like This When Danny Regrets Putting Off Learning How To Make His Own Portals, Cause Now He Is Very Much Stuck For The Foreseeable Future And He Has No Idea Where Or When He Is. Luckily For Him However Central City Isn't Too Far Away, Unlucky For Him However Is That Once In The City He Realizes This Isn't His Dimension. He's Pretty Sure He'd Remember Something Called The Justice League.

So What Do You Do When Supernatural Bullshit Fails You? You Fall Back On Your Mad Scientist Roots And You Make A Portal Gun. So That's Exactly What Danny Plans To Do.

Unfortunately Staying Alive And Building Questionably Safe Portal Technology Requires Money And Supplies, So He Ends Up Wandering From City To City Doing Odd Jobs/Fixing Up Busted Tech For Cash Or Unwanted Electronics For His "Operation: Get Home" Needs. This Obviously Ends In A Few Superhero Encounter Shenanigans.

Though He Always Ends Up Back Near Central City, Both On The Off Chance The Natural Portal Will Open Up Again And Because Out Of All The Superheroes That Apparently Exist In This Universe The Speedsters Are His Favorite (Red Robin Is Solidly His Second Favorite Ever Since The Gotham Vigilante Gave Him A Large Coffee Filled With Enough Caffeine To Kill A Man).

Unbeknownst To Danny However Is That Every Hero/Vigilante He Has Encountered Has Come To At Least One Of The Following Conclusions; 1. Run Away Meta Who Is In Desperate Need Of A Good Meal/Adoption Bait. 2. Possibly Red Robin/Tim Drake Clone 3. A Good Kid But Could Possibly Be A Future Rouge If Left Unsupervised. 4. Did Bats Get A New Kid And Why Is He Here?

All Flash Knows Is That He Saw The Kid First And Therefore Has Dibs. Suck It Bruce.

Fast-forward A Few Months And Danny Gets Hurt During A Rogue Attack While Trying To Help Some Civilians Get To Safety (Old Hero Habits Die Hard (Ha Die Hard) And All That Jazz) And He Nopes Out Once Everyone Is Safe And When The Paramedics Are Busy With Other People Unaware He Left A Blood Sample Behind.

One DNA Test Brought To You By Paranoid Bat Concerns Of A Possible Red Robin Clone Later And They Find Out That Dannys DNA Matches One Ra's Al Ghul.

They Now Think Danny Is An Escaped Ra's Al Ghul Clone.

Memes For The Vibes:

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[happyheidi]

𝗑, 𝗑, 𝗑, 𝗑

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Being someone who read Under The Red Hood and came out with the firm belief that, for Jason, it's not about killing Joker, it's about Jason wanting proof Batman would choose him over the Joker (bc shelia chose the joker). Makes seeing any other media where it's all about just wanting the Joker dead is a teeny bit frustrating. to be honest

Jason could've killed the Joker himself, really, really easily. Jason kidnaps the Joker before the confrontation. I can't open my comic for a reference right now, but it felt like he had the Joker for quite a bit before the confrontation. He had him. He beat him up with a crowbar. He had every single opportunity to kill the Joker himself, but he didn't because that wasn't his goal. Make no mistake, he did plan for the Joker to be dead by the end of it, but do you see what im trying to say here

Edit: If I knew this post was gonna get 1000+ notes I would've tried to word it better or something, this was a rant I made on the way to the grocery store 😭

It's not about making Batman kill either. When Batman says he won't kill, Jason adjusts and goes, 'Let ME kill the Joker or kill me to stop me' instead. The test is all about Batman choosing him. The whole final confrontation is Jason's first death again. The parent, The Joker, and the explosives. It even ends with Jason unable to move as a bomb goes off right next to him again because the parent didn't choose Jason. And instead tried finding an option that'd benefit them and (consequencely) letting the Joker walk, again, lol, lmao <-in agony

[umblrspectrum]

infinitely funnier visuals in my head, likely because they werent subject to my actual skill level in art

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (page 82-85)

THAT LAZYBONES!!

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