#hi mehs!

[swamppossum]

I deadass have two crossovers for Star Trek and halo

Oh thank goodness, I'm showing Gunny the reboot movies and making him worse. We should all play in this space, i love watching things and putting guys in the things

I'd love to hear about your crossovers! Halo and Star Trek are so different thematically and universe-wise that making Federation and UNSC ships meet in some kind of slipspace/warp nonsense would be fun and eye opening to both crews.

[hollis-art]

ngl im not even a superman fan. i just REALLY like clark kent,,, (thank you, Smallville, for that.)

[keferon]

Guys they’re. They’re speaking doorwings

Tf one gave me Jazz with wings so now I’m giving you more of Jazz with wings~

[dilfosaur]

hot to go!

[hinamie]

alongside someone like you

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

Me: “They’re making a new Garfield movie huh? Meh, I don’t know if that’s going to interest me in any particular way-“

[technically-human]

okay now please doodle Charles and Edwin’s wedding. Also love your art it’s so cute and loveable in a way

Sherwani for Charles and morning dress for Edwin, yay

ko-fi

And you get a little headcanon/concept

At some point during their friendship, way before Port Townsend, Charles mentioned the tradition of wearing gold at weddings. He did so in a sad sort of way, as he had seen the pictures from his parents wedding, and knew her mum had not been allowed to wear a lehenga nor many gold accessories.

Maybe, as these things are meant to bring happiness to the couple, he mentions that as a child he believed his parents marriage would have been happier if she wore those things.

Edwin starts to collect gold items. He doesn't analyze the reason, but if a case offers gold as payment? Edwin is taking it. Charles thinks nothing of it, it's just one of Edwin's quirks.

After his revelations in Port Townsend, Edwin will eventually realize a few things regarding his gold rush.

And they will have a lot of gold jewlery for their wedding day!

[sesamebri]

yeah man gimmie the dead fish

[risibledeer]

he's not a wet cat.

also we collectively summoned the life series guys. jeremyism is scientifically proven now so... uh yeah

[onefr3ddieo]

[littlenimart]

like a dog, like a dog in the summer heat

[kar-krashew]

just bought a new vase! sorry ignore the lawyers in the back

[ID: digital art of phoenix wright and miles edgeworth. they're kissing, with miles leaning against a wall and grasping phoenix's face and hair as phoenix leans into him and grabs his side. they're surrounded by warm lighting. a table with a vase, a curtain, and plants slightly obscure the foreground /end ID]

[radiance1]

Alfred Pennyworth has in fact, perhaps, in the slightest of chances.

Picked up his Master's habit of collecting children as if they were on sale.

He was spending his time on one of those rare vacations he decided to take, it was nice, to relax with only the vague overhanging worry of something going wrong back at the manor that he's gotten very good at ignoring.

Only to come across a child bleeding out in an alley, heavily injured.

He would not be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try to help them however he could.

Such is how he acquired a child he later found to be a meta who whished to learn the ways of a butler.

---

Danny had escaped from a GIW compound, after having been handed over by his family a while after his reveal. He felt, completely and utterly betrayed, when it happened. His parents, while hurt, he was at least capable of actually seeing them do it, but never would he have thought Jazz would do so as well.

They did it so happily, that he wondered if letting him go really was the greatest thing to happen to this family.

He chained, muzzled, all the ways to bind him they pulled all the stops too, knowing how dangerous he was. He wouldn't have even done anything then, too stunned by his families apart willingness at handing him over to the government.

He hated them.

He hated them so much.

The GIW facility was a terrible, cold, unfeeling place. One where they drilled thoughts into his head again and again until he found himself unconsciously repeating them when his head felt empty, one where his body gained a new mark day by day and pushed through tests, he had no clue of even hoping to comprehend what they would gain out of it.

It was a cold, unfeeling place. Placed in a cell of white and nothing else, with low walls and chains binding his body in place until the time came for another experiment.

It was a room he grew used to. One he even held some kind of strange, twisted affection for.

It was a room that held a tiny piece of safety, of rest. It was a room that taught him to hate.

A deep, powerful, disgusting, twisting hatred that crawled from the depths of his cells, corrupting his blood and carving itself deep into his bones. Forcing it's out of his pores until it practically oozed from his flesh.

It drowned his mind, tainting each and every thought, every memory, every dream, every waking moment until he could feel nothing but hatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehate.

When he was taken out of that he could feel nothing, with the drugs swimming their way through his blood that snapped the thin string keeping him between a person and an emotionless puppet.

He thinks that's what the GIW thinks he is.

And when he was placed back in that room, he could only hate.

It was a cycle. Stuck between feeling either nothing or hatred.

He hated feeling nothing, it made him feel like he wasn't real. Like it snapped the thread that held him between what a real person was and a dream.

So, he allowed himself to drown deep into his hatred. Until the white walls of his far to small room seemed to fade, until whatever sound he could have heard became nothing but dull noise.

Until the passage of time seemed to become just a blink.

He didn't know what day it was, when he saw it. Saw them. He didn't know the time, the date, the day, the hours. He knew nothing.

But he could recognize his family. Recognize one of the objects of his intense hatred that he forced his thoughts too. The people who willingly gave him up just like that and one of the causes for his current life.

He didn't know why they showed him them, he felt it some sick, utterly cruel joke. A joke he didn't know the punchline for, a joke the universe sent his way to make his life all the more miserable.

There were multiple of them. Multiple clones of his family. Som within test tubes, some being pulled out from the tubes, some walking around in lab coats. A waste of talent, they called it in his dad's case, a waste of intelligence in his mother's, and a waste of intellect in his sister's case.

His original family was already dead, he was told. Replaced by clones, clones that took over the legal decision to change his guardianship. Clones walking around twisting and desecrating his family.

'At least it was painless.' One of the clones said, talking with his mother's face. 'Far more than they deserved for having keeping a thing like him' spoken by his father's imposter.

The drugs pumping through his system to keep him calm, to keep him feeling nothing was suddenly pierced through by an intense feeling of horror, hate and self-loathing.

He should've known it wasn't his family. He should've done more! More to protect them! To keep them safe! The could've still been alive if he just knew.

In that moment, watching imposters speaking, walking, talking, breathing, with his families faces. He exploded. Exploded with a power fueled by nothing but his intense hatred for every. Single. Living being in this goddamn facility.

He killed whoever stood in his way. Managing to get his hands on relatively newly designed weapon, an ectoplasmic scythe (that also apparently could revert into an everyday item). Which he used to rip and tear throughout the entirety of the facility. He got injured, of course, he couldn't dodge everything, but he didn't care.

A body stuck between life and death, incapable of fully going one way or the other no matter what happened. Gifted supernatural powers fueled by wrath and twisting hatred and a weapon made by man yet in the range of the supernatural.

They didn't stand a change. He killed them all. No matter who it was, man, woman, clone. He didn't, couldn't care. He could only kill, only maim, only hurt.

And that's what he did.

It was then, when the facility was blanketed with silence tainted by despair, death and hysteria. When previously white walls were covered by blood, and the halls turned into rivers of blood and corpses. That he broke down, the overwhelming hatred he felt replaced by relief then sadness then self-loathing.

His family didn't give him up! But they were killed. Kill because of him. He couldn't stand being in this place, anymore. His body felt as if it were moving on unseen strings as it walked through the halls, the scythe shrinking back what it was when out of combat, his mind too occupied by thoughts and feelings.

It walked through a portal, one to the ghost zone, and then promptly into another portal and spat him out into an alleyway. Which he then promptly collapsed and curled into a ball, curing the shrunken scythe in his palm and he was out like a light.

A few days after he woke up, he found himself growing attached to the human that found him in that alleyway. An old man, maybe, but a nice one. He didn't want to meet anyone, besides that man, so he turned invisible when anyone else come into contact with him.

Alfred Pennyworth.

It was a name he clung onto mentally and a man he clung onto physically as well. He wanted to be like that man, someone so nice and caring, someone who didn't mind that he turned invisible at the sing of another person, who let him cling onto him both invisible and not whenever he wanted to.

He did panic when he heard Alred saying his vacation was over, and such that he had to leave. He didn't want to be left alone again, he didn't know what he would do if he was left alone again.

Until Afred said we were going home.

We. As in, him plus another. Alfred plus Danny.

Home.

Heat blossomed in his chest, seeming to replace the constant, low hum of hate sitting beneath him skin.

Home.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 293

Jason takes a deep breath. He takes a deep breath, in for ten seconds, out for eight, and just takes a minute before looking again. Nope, there’s still the strange quartet of orbs in the box of what should be stolen weapons (What, the government had enough, honestly) that gave his workers the heebie-jeebies. 

Which is not the vibe he gets from them. In fact, he’s actually kind of concerned with how much he has to beat the Pit back with how quickly it lurches to latch onto the… Well they’re not gems, and he’s a little wary about touching them at first, but the Pit does seem to settle when he does.

Alright, he can deal with this. It’s not like he has several heads in a duffel bag that needs to be delivered or a tiny assassin child back in his safehouse (Seriously Talia, why was he the preferred babysitter?) or an entire gang in Crime Alley to deal with. It’ll be fine. 

…

He would like to curse out his past self, because there’s now four babies in his safehouse that appeared to have fucking hatched from the orbs. Goddamnit. 

[magikkittenz]

i bet spy's a big 'ol softie when you get down to it

[pandadrake]

idk some guy and another younger guy from the comics.

I temporarily lost my ability to ink so I decided to try something small and easy. Then ended up scribbling a bunch of other things.

Gabriel's outfit is pretty much a mash of his comic outfit and a jacket taken directly from ATSV concept art of 2099 fashion by Jesus Alonso Inglesias. I don't like coloring, but if I did I would make it really bright and obnoxious.

My impression is that Miguel's civvie fit is really drab and baggy by 2099 standards and is meant to hide his body shape. Either way it's a pretty funny contrast to his other fit which is skin-tight, bright red & blue and has all his muscles drawn in.

Miguel in the comics has organic webs which give him the power of being nasty-ass and leaving gross sticky stuff on everything he touches. I guess this is the inspiration for the top image (it's time stamped)