#I guess since he’s technically there

[saint-felix]

I’ve been dead for a hot minute but here’s some unnamed dump for the masses

Sorry I’m mental I needed dad unnamed okay bye

Alt vers of drawing 1 and Uncropped of drawing 2 under the cut

[black-and-yellow]

[ruporas]

invisible scars (referenced previous talk here)

[ID: A colourless, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood talking about Wolfwood's scars. They're both laying in bed and topless. Vash lays on top of Wolfwood, playing with the rosary around his neck. Then, Vash kisses a spot on Wolfwood's chest. Wolfwood asks, "What are you doing?" Vash smiles sadly, "You got shot here. In the last town we visited. You didn't even bother moving."

Vash props himself up over Wolfwood, who frowns slightly. Wolfwood is quiet for a moment before he says, "You remember that, huh?" Vash grabs Wolfwood's left wrist and brings it to his face. "And here." He kisses another spot there. "When you helped free the hostages from that robber..." Wolfwood dismissively says, looking away, "Was a lucky shot." Vash huffs, “Don’t brag. Jeez.”

Half of Wolfwood's expression is shown, eyes returning to Vash who is now sitting up, continuing to say, "And..." Vash goes on and kiss Wolfwood's right palm. "You got cut here, even though that girl was aiming at me." A moment from the past flashes, of Wolfwood grabbing a knife aimed at Vash, his hand bleeding.

At present, Vash moves down and puts another kiss on Wolfwood's right shoulder. "And here, from watching my back." Another memory flashes of Wolfwood and Vash back to back. Vash looks back as Wolfwood grins while holding Punisher, bleeding from multiple gunshots in his shoulder.

"And," Vash combs up Wolfwood's hair to reveal his forehead, "Here." A final memory shows Wolfwood with a regeneration vial in his mouth while getting shot on his temple. The next panel is framed in blood with Vash at the center, eyes wide and stunned in horror. The next panel is a closed up shot of Wolfwood's eye, locked on Vash's face.

Back to present, Vash’s head is bowed down as Wolfwood raises a hand to his nape and says, “Spikey.”

Wolfwood looks serious and frowns as he says, "We talked about this. Those were my decisions. They're not there anymore. Forget about them." Vash looks very sad before he smiles ruefully and says, "I still see them. All the time." He leans down so they touch foreheads. Wolfwood’s sorrowful expression can be seen as Vash says, "You protect so much. I could never forget what you've done to me. And many others..."

In the last image, they're drawn more cartoonishly. Wolfwood sweats and asks, "You don't actually remember every wound, right?" Vash points at a spot on his chest. "Kuroneko left a scratch here 7 times." Wolfwood, startled, says, "Why the hell are you keeping count—" End ID]

Credits for ID here and here

[cuppajj]

"Once a lowly jelly worm with aspirations beyond anyone's belief, with a bit of magic (and perhaps convincing) it turned into something even stronger... finally, after rigorous training and a bit of dough, it has now achieved its dream and become a - dragon? That's a dragon, right? Whatever he is now, Jelly Dragon(?) Cookie is sure happy to finally have a chance to stick it to the cookies who once laughed at him!" - im being weird on my first crk post kasjhf look i love jelly wormy and i think he deserves to be a dragon... what if he went on a quest and cried so hard at one of the actual dragons that they made him one (air quotes). it was perhaps out of pity but more likely morbid curiosity to see what would happen if a jelly worm of all things got a little taste of power. like giving admin commands to a child on roblox

[triglycercule]

imagining this very funny totally amusing bit where dust (despite having a lot of pockets) makes horror carry a lighter for him (only because he can't be bothered to remember to bring one on him all the time) and horror keeps it in his head

but horror's a dick so everytime dust wants to smoke and he needs a light horror's always like "whats the password :3" (he actually said the emoticon i was the quotation marks) and dust has to guess. because horror changes it every time. and its never something predictable. and then he either just totally gives up on that cig or he has to forcefully dig into horror's head to get the lighter because horror's being a PRICK

now dust is shoulder deep into horror's eyesocket while horror is clawing and screaming and killer's just standing there behind them watching this unfold with that fuckass smile on his face (he can't get this type of entertainment anywhere else)

[sabertoothwalrus]

can you all please please please stop asking me to make a fionna and cake version of nico the catboy

[finnyinspace]

uh uh uh ghosts moment

[saturnaous]

funfact I’m extremely susceptible to timetravel shenanigans. aus save me

[mxrtified777]

he could not handle the 6 inch platform boots

original image 👍

[brekitten]

Bruce doesn't dream.

He never has, really - at least, not that he can remember. He never even had nightmares from the night his parents died. Maybe that's why; maybe he just subconsciously trained himself to not dream after that night, in fear of the nightmares that were sure to come. But the point is that he does not dream.

And yet.

The dream always starts out the same, every night, every time he closes his eyes and slips into the embrace of sleep. He's in a pitch-black room, one so dark that he can't see his hands even when he raises them right in front of his face. He knows, somehow, that he can walk for hours without coming into contact with anything - walls, furniture, anything at all to indicate that he was even in a room. Yet he knows that he is, although he's not sure why, as there really is no reason for him to know that.

The dream changes, after a while of walking. He knows that he won't find anything, no matter how far or how long he walks. This place is empty, desolate even. It fills him with dread every time. The change is never consistent, always bringing him to a different place each night.

(Once, it was a dusty old bedroom, one that made his heart ache, although he didn't know why. He had taken notice of the various space-themed decorations, the model rockets and NASA posters and stars on the ceiling. It was clearly a child's bedroom, but it hadn't been used in a long time. Another time, it was a darkened lab, illuminated only by the strange vials of green liquid lined along the many, many shelves. Bruce had wondered, after he had awoken, if it was Lazarus Water, but that felt wrong. It was something else. Something more. It had made him uneasy, and he got the feeling that something terrible had happened there. He didn't get a chance to investigate the gaping hole in the wall before he had been whisked away to another part of the dream.)

This time, he is in a brightly-lit white lab, and he has to blink stars out of his eyes at the abrupt change in lighting and color. He looks around; it seems like a typical lab, but everything is pure white, except for a green stain on the table. He can feel bile rising in his throat at the sight of the cuffs on the table, and though he still doesn't know what the green substance is, he gets the horrible feeling that it's blood. A lot of it.

He uses what little time he has to investigate the lab. There is an abundance of medical supplies, but many look unused, with the exception of the scalpels. The pit in his stomach continues to grow. Why were there so many? He reaches toward a vial of red liquid, wrong wrong wrong this is wrong, when the dream changes again.

Now he's in what is clearly a cell, except even the cells in Arkham aren't this bare. The only thing it contains is a familiar white-haired teenager, who is chained to the floor with cuffs that glow the same green as the vials of Lazarus Water that he's seen before.

Though Bruce has never learned his name, he has been in every dream, the one constant (besides the empty room, of course) in each one. The kid has never spoken, never done more than watch, but Bruce has always gotten the feeling that he was the reason for these strange dreams.

He knows that he should be more worried. If some kind of meta has managed to get inside his head, there's no telling what could happen. But he can't bring himself to be. Something is wrong, and it's not the teenager.

He can't help but think of his own children.

Something feels . . . off this time. The kid isn't looking up, isn't even moving - he seems limp, almost, as he kneels on the ground, weighed down by the chains keeping him there. Green blood - Bruce knows it's blood now, it has to be - drips from his still figure, pooling on the ground underneath him.

Bruce can't move. He desperately wants to, what could he even do? but it's like he's frozen in place. He can only watch as the teenager slowly, agonizingly, looks up at him, his bright green eyes dull and filled with fear and desperation and hope and -

Bruce wakes.

[erinwantstowrite]

@ the tags in the last ask you answered about Peter and Dick devolving into murderous tendencies if they don’t get enough hugs- I can only assume this is the root cause for Peter’s bomb affinity in the catwoman au 🙂‍↕️

DYING yes omg

[bobbinalong]

aosjk au cast. alternatively, the "let's kill ultraman" crew

[thecindercrow]

Like a Dragon Gaiden ↳ Substory: End of Destruction

[cartoonartistpng]

(Old post)

If Sonic and co. are aged down in the Classic games then…

[nat-20s]

my heart and soul for Jenny to crash into Rose Noble at some point and be like "oh hey! I'm your older sister!!" and Rose to be like WH-