#you know what would be amazing?
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2deadkat · 7 months ago
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Nothing is more disappointing then reading the book where we see actual physical evidence of petunia and Thea hanging out together, but it’s the worst one in the series and their interaction is just them failing the bechdel test. And a poor utilization of their characters
can’t say this is a fun discovery for yuriville but it is what it is

Anyways uhhhh I hate Run for the Hills Geronimo, bad writing, bad utilisation of characters
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quadrantadvisor · 3 months ago
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Thinking about DP x DC Jason Todd being a revenant again. Here's my scenario. Jason gets called that by some ghost. He's like "what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He's heard the term before but he doesn't know any actual lore. He googles it. He scrolls past the Leonardo DiCaprio bear movie. He opens the wiki. Sees the words "animated corpse" and gets a chill diwn his spine. He starts reading the first section.
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He closes Wikipedia.
That night he has a nightmare that his family buried him, again, this time with precautions. He wakes up in his own grave, full of stones, too heavy to move, to scream.
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choccy-milky · 5 months ago
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sometimes you gotta lure your overly-studious ravenclaw gf into spending time with you đŸ„° 📚 ( from 'Every Teardrop is a Waterfall' by Kat_12739 on ao3, GO READ IT!!! the first story is about seb falling sick and still pushing himself/not admitting he's sick until he ends up in the hospital, the second story is about the birth of seb and clora's daughter and seb's reaction to clora almost dying in childbirth, and the third is about dealing with a fussy newborn lewis😭đŸ„čTHEY'RE SO GOOD AND SWEET AND SOMEWHAT SAD (not to mention beautifully written) so go check it out!!💖💖 )
#READ SO I CAN YAP TO SOMEONE ABOUT THEMđŸ™đŸ˜©đŸ’˜#the seb sickfic made me realize how much i needed barely functioning and sick seb (but him still trying to be tough)#theres also a part that cracked me up bc at one point seb is so sick he cant even see straight but he just thinks to himself:#eh its fine.... ill just ask ominis how HE functions without vision laterđŸ€· LMFAO#so stubborn...JUST LET CLORA TAKE CARE OF YOU MFERđŸ€șđŸ€șđŸ€ș#defs gonna be drawing more from it especially sick seb LMAO but also seb having a tea party with celesteđŸ„čđŸ„č#hogwarts legacy#sebastian sallow#sebastian sallow x oc#sebastian sallow x mc#sebastian x mc#hogwarts legacy fanfiction#sebastian sallow fanfiction#hphl#choccyart#also i was never planning on writing anything about clora giving birth or abt the kids so to be able to read it WAS AMAZING#THERES A PART WHERE SEB IS HOLDING CELESTE AND CRYING AT CLORAS BEDSIDE THAT I NEED TO DRAW😭😭#LIKE SRSLY seb being conflicted and not even wanting to HOLD celeste bc he doesnt know if clora is alive or not... IT WAS SO SAD BUT GOOD#i honestly dont know what seb would do if clora died in childbirth tbh.......i could honestly see him resenting celeste#esp since she looks so much like clora😭😭#LETS JUST NOT THINK ABOUT IT!😃👍#(still thinking about it)#like this line in the fic: “Sebastian hesitated; if this was Clora’s last gift to him he wasn’t sure he wanted it.”#😭😭😭ITS SO GOOD UGHHHHH😭 TY AGAIN FOR WRITING THESE💖IM SO TOUCHEDDD💖💖
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youngzjae · 2 months ago
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đŸ’đŸ’˜đŸ’–đŸ’—đŸ«°đŸ’“đŸ’žđŸ„°đŸ’•âŁïžâ€ïžâ€đŸ©čâ€ïžâ€đŸ”„đŸ€ŽđŸ€đŸ«‚đŸ©¶đŸ–€đŸ˜đŸ’œđŸ’™đŸ©”đŸ’šđŸ’›đŸ«¶đŸ§Ąâ€ïžđŸ˜˜đŸ©·đŸ’Ÿ for my beloved @loversmore đŸ€
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 4 months ago
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Happy Halloween! đŸ§ŒđŸ„©đŸŽƒ
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wandixx · 1 month ago
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"There is only so much you can for the dead" part 2
continuation to this, I should probably make an original title at some point
trigger warnings: graphic describtion of Danny's death
Moments of blissed, deadly stillness felt unfairly short. It was less than blink of an eye, less than a drop of darkness after he asked Team for the last time to leave and before he woke up, in exactly same state that he was when portal spat him out. He could barely perceive his limbs, and what he could, was consumed by agonising pain.
Fuck, he hated Death Days. Absolutely horrible experience.
His nerves were on fire, electricity dancing and burning across them. His veins and lungs and nostrils and ears and stomach and eyes and mouth and every little crevice of his body was filled with ectoplasm, like liquid fire and evaporated ice, drowning him at every attempted breath. He was crushed by an unimaginable weight, at the same time as his body exploded. He was just coherent enough to feel his bones breaking, cells bursting, his very molecules being rearranged and destroyed and rebuilt but not coherent enough to tell if his scream was anything louder than a whimper.
He was in the middle of the crowd that screamed louder than he could handle, as if every person who ever got to Ghost Zone used this exact moment to let out all of their anguish, hands dragging and pulling and squeezing and brushing at every inch of his skin. He was alone like no one was ever before, in silence that was deafening. He could be stomped to death any second without anyone turning his head, and so separate from everything that he could be only existing being.
He couldn’t help but wait for Death, merciless and brutal, whose twisted children invaded his bed time stories since he could understood words, whose corrupted children he was taught to hate. She was hideous and horrifying, but against everything, she was familiar and he wanted, needed, to see one intimate face in the situation that was so wrong, wrong, wrong. He waited for her to rip his last breath away so everything would stop.
If he had a scrap of himself that could feel worse, it’d cry when he felt her getting away from him, slipping between the fingers that were both tense and limp, impossible to control but possible to feel, broken and twitching. She was getting away but pain wasn’t lessening, maybe even getting worse, to the point where it was only thing that filled his brain.
And then it all stopped. No pain, not even any left over typical to how injuries worked, just a moment of weird pressure against his palm (just like the button), that soon stopped too.
He was in his human form, but in the hazmat he wore just before the accident. Something was wrong about it all. Something in his body made it feel like not his. Something in his chest was too light and too quiet and some intrusive thought made him want to claw on his rib cage until he ripped it open and realized what was missing.
Breathing seemed to easy, enough that he got lightheaded. It got a lot harder when he realized.
He couldn’t feel his core.
Before he managed to come to terms with that, there was a gentle pressure on his hand again.
And the pain returned.
*-*-*
Danny didn't wake up abruptly, with a choked scream and phantom burns. He also didn't wake up slowly, not in the nice, relaxed way at least, when the line between dream and reality is blurred beyond recognition. He woke up in pain, feeling like he wasn't even sleeping before, just
 somewhere else while his body was destroying itself again for what felt like decades.
It took some effort to connect with his body after he woke up. To be able to move even a finger. Even longer, to open his eyes. Actual ages to sit up without urge to scream.
After seeing the absolute wreckage of the room, he kinda wished it took him longer. It looked like a warzone. Electrical burns on the walls and ceiling, random puddles of bubbling ectoplasm eating away anything they touched like an acid, and what little stuff there was before, was almost all broken beyond recognition, either by whatever force was doing its thing during his death day show or ecto. When he looked at it a bit more, it seemed to go in spiral around him.
It was kinda sad that the cookies went to waste like that. He was curious who brought them in though.
Thank fucking Ancients that Team listened to him and nobody was there when the whole mess was going down. They would probably join him on the other side of the veil otherwise.
He saw it all only because of his ghost enhanced in dark vision (thank Ancients he stayed in the ghost form) because apparently his Death Day shorted out both main electrical circuit and the emergency one. Thankfully, according to his ears, it only reached this and rooms next to him, instead of the whole Mountain.
Fuck. He really hoped Robin gave him some sort of back-up back-up room because otherwise he was dead. Or well, dead-er.
He rolled out of the bed, barely catching himself from smacking on the floor like a sack of potatoes. Though some would argue he didn’t catch himself if only his face didn’t fall to the floor like the sack of potatoes.
Only then he caught sight of big, ecto-green circle that embed itself into the wall right over the bed. It had familiar vibes. Really familiar

He had to tell the Team about it yesterday.
*-*-*
M'gann was sitting on the needles, just like everyone else. Sure, Phantom asked them to forget about him and essentially ignore whatever was happening to him, but there was no way they'd actually be able to do it. Case in point, first time alarms about shorting out of the electrical circuit in the room. They run there so fast that they had door open to see what was wrong before the absolute onslaught of electricity and ectoplasm and something else turned off the alarms thirty seconds later. Truth be told, they couldn’t do much, not without risking becoming second ghostly member of the Team, they’ve been there and ready. Conner tried to come in anyway, with his invulnerability and such, but they had to drag him out when despite extensive dodging he got hit five times by the time he got two steps into the room. Also, there wasn’t really anything he could do to help.
So they just spent last almost twenty hours alternating between different things to keep themselves occupied enough to not fall asleep and distract themselves from quilt but not enough to not be able to drop it at the moments notice if it was needed. First plan was to nap in shifts if it was necessary but it quickly became apparent that sleep was impossible with how worried everyone was and when M'gann proposed to just shut down their brains with her powers, everyone got really defensive. Well, no was no. So they just sat, at the moment in awkward silence because every topic that wasn't Phantom felt too inane and every topic that was Phantom felt too
 just no. No name for why, just no.
M'gann was about to get up to make another batch of peanut butter and oatmeal snacks that took few minutes to make and could be dropped at any second, when Conner practically jumped in his seat, tilting his head to hear better. Robin perked up from whatever he was doing on his wrist computer at the same time.
"Phantom left the room!” they exclaimed at the same time, jumping out of their seats.
This head start didn’t matter by the time everyone ran or flew out to the corridor, racing against clock to the room where they left Phantom. It didn’t seems so before, but now M’gann just cursed their past selves for not waiting somewhere closer. There wasn’t really any place where they could stay instead, unless they set camp right outside his door, but it still. They should be there five minutes ago, like Wally, who obviously run off.
They heard Wally speaking before they’ve seen him.
“Hey, hey calm down. It’s fine, they’ll be there in a second, just chill. They’re right after me, whatever happened, we’ll help you in just a moment, you don’t have to run. You’re barely standing. Phantom, calm down”
M’gann barely made it around the corner and she thought she had seen Kaldur actually smacking into the wall. He brushed it off.
Phantom looked beyond rough. It seemed like Wally, who had ghost’s arm across his shoulders, was only thing holding him up. His feet were firmly on the ground, not in his usual way, when he looked just a breeze away from flying, but in this fully human way, which was unsettling. His face was gray instead of his usual almost tan, eyes wide and terrified.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered, not looking at anyone in particular “I’m sorry, I’m sorry”
“Phantom, it’s fine. It’s fine, we know about the room, it’s fine,” Robin said, trying to placate him. It didn’t quite work. Ghost was on the verge of hyperventilating, which was a bit weird to see on someone for who breathing was voluntary.
“It’s not about room”
“I’m sure it’s fine anyway”
“It’s anything but. I’m sorry-”
“Shut up and tell us what happened if you’re so sure we will be pissed”
“Artemis!”
“Portal”
“What about it?”
“Portal is what killed me.”
M’gann didn’t like how the whole situation looked before, but it suddenly became much worse.
“My Death Day made another one”
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cemetery-circus · 4 months ago
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I think Kinger could win against Jax. I think one good and solid "YOUNG MAN!" out of Kinger could startle Jax into being normal for like fifteen minutes, half an hour tops
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mewniemoon · 1 year ago
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Sequel to this. Cat dad time
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miguxadraws · 10 months ago
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did this just so i dont sleep without drawing anything today
demon and nun au by @spitinsideme
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aterfish · 8 months ago
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"And they don't know how much they’ll miss At least until you're gone like this"
other version under cut
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and a closeup for his ID:
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rosetterer · 5 months ago
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There is something about the thought of Buck taking Tommy's last name that just drives me insane
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asavt · 2 months ago
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[ Reflection ] About yourself.
Was listening to Shunkan Sentimental by SCANDAL at like 10 p.m. and stayed up until 4 a.m. to work on this. I didn't finish it right away tho, I still had to sleep.
Two extras below read more!
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purplecelestial-buddy · 6 months ago
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So... You guys know the amazing posters from the Korean Macbeth production?
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Well, someone (an artist) should do them but with Anthy and Utena from Revolutionary girl Uthena
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ohitslen · 2 years ago
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Promises
He should know better. 
Wolfwood has seen Vash make promises, or hear about the ones he has made in the past. He has also seen the end of each one and how every single time the outcome is less than what was promised. 
Vash likes to say embellished words, with a soft and determined voice that lures you into his hopes and dreams, it almost feels like a spell, as if he was calling for you to come closer and believe him. But Wolfwood knows better.
He believes in him, but Vash is much closer to being an idealistic dreamer than a realistic person like he is. He might not be aware of it, but his beautiful promises of a better future give people hope, a hope that is usually embraced with things like disappointment and abandonment. 
He doesn’t think that Vash does it with the intent of looking for any of those things. Far from it, he might even do the impossible in order to accomplish said promises, but life is too short and humans are too mortal for his wishes, so in the end, most of Vash’s promises end up being empty or they come to haunt him as a reminder of his failed vows. He admires the man, for his perseverance and idealism, but he also hates the man, for his stubbornness and lies. 
Wolfwood knows all of this perfectly to a tee. And yet, he has also found himself being drawn to his world. Because he also dreams of it.
A world in where his always present calls for love and peace exist, a world that is far more kind than what he might deserve, a world in where the kids can be happy and roam around without any worry in their heads, a world in where he can peacefully turn grey with age and his hands can shed the harsh callouses of his life. Who knows, maybe a world in where he and Vash can finally know the peace that was taken away from them, in where they can share the calmness that comes with the passage of time, indulging in every tick of the clock welcoming with open arms whatever comes their way without any fear.
It is a beautiful promise. But Wolfwood is a person that has to keep his feet on the ground, indulging in “what ifs” would only make things harder than what they had to be. He can’t have any ifs if he can’t make it through the now. And by the way he is carrying his present, he is doubtful he will even get to see a shed of that promised world that Vash tries to drag him into. So why mourn something he doesn’t even have, or will ever have for that matter.
He hates the way Vash seems to promise things so easily. His tongue silky and pliant, slipping divine words one after the other, promises way too big for what that barren world can actually fit. 
But when Vash talks to him in that holy voice of his, when he hears him say “It’s okay, everything will be alright, I promise” so gently right on his ear, while he holds his face so tenderly making him focus on him and nothing else, he wants to believe him.
He has seen the end of his promises. He knows how impossible they are. But for once, he wants to believe it too. Believe in that loving world that will cradle them both until they fall asleep, listening to the soft sound of the wind laughing while the moons smile upon them. 
So he allows himself to indulge in the warmth of his palms, leaning into the comfort of his existence, feeling the soft air of Vash’s breaths against his skin while their foreheads meet in a touch that feels like a hot brand that will melt him.
For an instant, he allows himself to be selfish and believe that maybe, that is how living in that world Vash so desperately fights for would be. Soft and warm, making him feel safe in the hollow of Vash’s hands where the world seems to fit so well. A world where the blue sky is a blanket that covers the love and care that is nestled in it like the one in Vash’s eyes. He wants to see that world.
For now, he will selfishly think that the world that fits in Vash’s hands is right there in where he is holding him, where his blue eyes are drowning in the light of the sunset dripping with love and care while looking at him, that the gentle touch of Vash’s thumb wiping his tears is the same as the kiss of that laughing wind in that distant future, where the smile of his eyes overcomes the smile of the moons.
He should know better. But he loves the thought of that world. And he hopes that Vash will get to see that world, because that gentle sight is more fitting for someone like him than the one of his violent world.
He promises to himself that he will do what it takes for that day to be possible. Even if the end of that promise will be empty for Nicholas, he knows it will be a full one for Vash. So it really isn’t that empty for him after all.
He hates his lies, and he hates how true they sound, but Vash’s embellished words are far sweeter than his bitter thoughts so they feel better on his insides, almost like a balm that cares for the wounds of his throbbing, painful reality.
He should know better.
But aren’t humans weak at the promise of love?
#yeah
.mm
mhm yeah#my thoughts were going crazy with this one. because WW crying is something that has me week on the knees#WEAK FFS#also the thought of him becoming bare and emotional at the hands of Vash makes me want to jump around until I pass out#think of it. he is afraid of him in a way. but he trusts him so deeply too it’s such a contrasting and little contradictory thing#more like. denial after denial but yk what I mean. because that’s the whole post#also as a fun fact. while on the making of this thing the line of “it’s okay. everything will be alright. I promise#it’s meant to be said by Vash to WW#but also I did it considering that a)Vash is saying it to himself as well and b)it’s something WW wants to say to Vash as well#they are both incredibly pained men and they know it but don’t adress it. so verbally saying such words to each other issssUUUEHWHAGAH#ah yes. the intimacy of being emotionally vulnerable with the person who you would trust your life to but never openly say shit to eachother#isn’t that such an amazing flavor? I won’t lie to you it’s one of my favorites#trigun#vashwood#vash the stampede#nicholas d wolfwood#trigun stampede#trigun fanart#wolfwood#nicholas trigun#nicholas the punisher#lenssi writes#lenssi draws#trigun 2023#trigun 98#because I did a mishmash on WW design bc this is meant to be TriStamp time skip in my mind#his eyes were originally their canon steel blue/grayish tone. but while doing the lighting the brown looked gorgeous#i couldn’t help myself so I left it that way. because there is something so beautiful abt his eyes shining like that in#the afternoon light while he becomes undone under the sunset ya feel me?#OHFUCKIALMOSTFORGOT another little detail. Vash’s right hand doesn’t have a glove and it’s on purpose btw you’re welcome
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uncanny-tranny · 1 year ago
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If somebody in your life offers to knit or crochet or, really, create anything for you, please be an active participant in the creation of the piece they are making. I adore making and gifting things, but nothing bums me out quicker than a person who passively just goes "okay," to my ideas about what I'm making them - it can send the message that they won't like it, or that they don't care, even if they're happy about my offering. The back-and-forth feedback is a great way to make sure that you are being gifted something that was truly worth the time, effort, expertise, and money that will inevitably go into the gift!
I know it's really hard to be an active participant, believe me, I'm an anxious ball of horror, but it will only do good for both parties to interact in this situation. It is a big deal to be offered a hand-crafted gift, but it's also something we want you to love and use, and that can only happen if you tell us what would make you fall in love with what we create.
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finemealprompt · 9 months ago
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DP x DC Prompt #83
Tucker loved going to conventions. He loved sharing the love of his favorite characters with other people who loved the same characters. Mostly, he looks forward to seeing the cosplayers who show up. And this convention is extra special. 
A cosplayer he follows online is going to this one! She calls herself Babs, and Tucker hopes he’ll run into her. Her cosplays are always insane and detailed! Maybe she’ll even be willing to sign some fan art he made of her cosplays if he asks nicely enough.
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