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#habit making
unholyhymns · 11 months
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still one of my favorite bits i ever got to commit was pretending not to know who jesus is when a street preacher was evangelizing to me. he was like "do you know who jesus is?" and i had so much time before my next bus and i wanted to know what would happen so i said no. and you know what. he had clearly never been told no to that question before because if i hadn't actually known who jesus was, his baffled and fumbling attempt sure wouldn't have told me. literally reversed the roles. now you get to stand here feeling very uncomfortable and wishing you could be somewhere else because guess what buddy, this is my bus stop, im early (and can catch like five other buses from this exact stop), and im now thoroughly invested in hearing about this mysterious jesus figure. you're locked in here with me. im eating the key as we speak. i will kill us both before i let you out of here.
very highly recommend this bit if you can pull it off and if you have time to kill
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daydreamerwonderkid · 2 months
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Somebody rescue Tim. He's seen too much.
You do NOT have permission to repost my art.
Meme reference under cut:
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smittyw · 8 days
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had a category 5 lesbian moment looping midwest princess for the past couple hours so i drew some stills from this vid
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nabtime · 4 months
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Better Watch Out
Danny had just started to feel like he was settling in with the Waynes. It had been... not ideal circumstances that brought him to the family in the first place, so getting used to not having to deal with all that mess was the first hurdle. The second being getting used to dealing with an entirely new- if more pleasant, mess. The Waynes, and Gotham by extension, were- to put it lightly- fucking crazy. He wasn't in Amity anymore and however much he'd thought it was the weirdest place on the planet before- he was absolutely rethinking that now. Where he had been one hero against a handful of villains, Gotham had a whole brigade of vigilantes against an army of villains. And they were... Bat-themed. For the most part. He'd yet to meet any of them, so he hadn't gotten the chance to ask what all that was about.
None of that was the point though. The point was that Danny had only recently stopped feeling like a fish out of water around his new foster family, and now the Holidays were coming. The Holidays that always served to put him in a sour mood. The Holidays that made him more prone to lash out and snap at those that didn't deserve it. The Holidays that, despite being Jewish by heritage, Bruce seemed oddly enthusiastic about celebrating.
(It reminded him, painfully, of Sam. He'd yet to be able to see here since everything went down and he missed her and Tucker something fierce. Which was maybe also putting him in a bad mood.)
So you really couldn't blame him for feeling a little tense about the whole situation. Not only were the Christmas decorations that smothered the Manor making him grouchy, but his grouchiness was also making a guilty pit form in his stomach. He was a moody teenager and adding trauma on top of that didn't help how caustic he could be- and adding fear on top of that made it all the worse. What if he saw Dick in his Santa hat, grinning and innocent, and he snapped? What if he saw Damian, stoic but loving, give Titus a shiny red bow-tie collar for the season and he made a caustic comment that went too far? What if he saw Bruce so much as smile at him while standing near the giant tree in the foyer and he saw green?
What if he ruined Christmas? Again? For people that didn't deserve it? Again? What if he hurt the people he cared about that had only ever shown him care and consideration? Again?
So Danny was just a bit tense. A bit on edge. And he was trying. Oh Ancients was he trying. To not be such a little bitch about all the Christmas stuff. But he had a limit. Bruce, being the rich socialite that seemed far too enthusiastic about family-centered holidays, did not have a limit. Every inch of the manor was covered in tinsel and holly and blinking lights and fake snow. Every spare moment was filled with different siblings being coerced into doing cheesy holiday activities, with Danny being the only one to attend every single one of them. (Cutting down a Christmas tree with Jason. Buying presents at the mall with Tim. Decorating while hanging from the chandelier with Dick. Caroling very badly with Stephanie. Making snow angels with Cass. Watching Christmas movies with Duke.) And he attended them all with a barely restrained snarl and a badly bitten tongue. The one time, one time, he'd told Bruce no- the guilt had eaten him alive (and dead) at seeing the man melt into the most pathetic kicked-puppy look he'd ever seen.
No grown man should ever be able to do that with his face. Danny never wanted to see that again.
In return, though, he had to face the Horrors.
The latest Horror being the worst he'd ever faced to date. A Horror that he thought he'd never have to face. He thought he'd slipped past this particular one by aging out. He was too old for this. He shouldn't be there. Damian, scowling and eyes filled with murderous intent, shouldn't be there. Dick and Bruce seemed to both be having the time of their lives. It was far too disturbing- and the continuous blasting of Christmas music and the overheated crush of a restless crowd only made it worse.
They were in line to see Santa at the mall.
It made his skin crawl. He was fifteen! Damian, the poor bastard, was also fifteen!
He could practically feel Ghostwriter laughing his ass off at his predicament. This was worse than getting stuck in a rhyming Christmas cautionary tale. He would 100% rather be stuck in one of Ghostwriter's cheesy poems than be stuck in the stupidly long line to see the fake mall Santa that probably didn't want to be there just as much as Danny.
But Bruce looked so fucking happy. Genuinely happy.
It was something he'd noticed early on about his foster dad. He smiled a lot and smiled big, but he rarely ever meant it. Now, Danny wasn't usually one to notice things like that. He got pretty wrapped up in his own problems and just- didn't have the skill to notice these things. Usually. But, well, being ghostly gave him a bit of an advantage. He could get a pretty good read on a person's emotions, regardless of what expression they wore. If he felt close enough to them. Frostbite had compared it to, like, family pack bonding. And he really, really didn't want to think about that further (why had it never worked for his parents? why did he feel so close to Bruce so quickly? why?) But, more importantly, he could tell that while Bruce smiled a lot, he rarely meant it.
But whenever Danny or his foster sibling begrudgingly participated in "family holiday activities" he smiled and he meant it. Bruce, fundamentally, was a sad man. Always grieving something. But here and now? In line to see his teenage children visit fucking Santa in the mall? He was smiling from ear to ear and his emotions, for once, matched. Yeah, there was a hint of mischief there, but it was overwhelmed by the giddy joy and excitement.
A suspicious amount of excitement... Like he was expecting something.
And then Bruce was leaning down between him and Damian and with a bright grin, he muttered, "I have a surprise for the both of you."
And even Dick, who had not stopped taking a stupid amount of pictures the entire time, paused to look at Bruce curiously.
"As I've told you both before," he said, looking over at Dick and back to Damian, "I know the real Santa. Met him a few times, saved Christmas with him a few others, and he owed me a favor for the last misadventure we had. So, I asked him to be here, for this one afternoon, for you guys."
Danny barely caught a glimpse of Dick rolling his eyes in the background. Oh, okay, so this was bullshit that has long been established. Nothing new on his account. That was something at least.
"Father," Damian interrupted with scorn and a promise of violence in his voice, "you are aware that this- Santa Claus creature- is fictitious, are you not?"
"Damian, chum," Bruce responded carefully, sincerely saddened, "why would you say that about an old family friend?"
And, poor Damian, looked two parts baffled and three parts murderous. Nonplussed and unable to even fathom a response to his father. He just stared the man down.
Dick huffed in exasperation behind them. "C'mon, B. Will you let that go already?"
Bruce furrowed his brows, eyes already taking on that faint sheen of kicked-puppiness, and looked back up at his eldest. "You don't believe me, Dickie? After all these years?"
Dick responded with a flat stare. Danny kind of wished he had popcorn for this moment. It was like witnessing a mild car crash. Nobody got hurt and it was still wicked to see parts flying everywhere. There was even a chance of things catching fire. Man was he glad he could just watch.
"Danny?" Bruce pleaded, turning to him with those sad, sad eyes. "Do you believe me, chum?"
And fuck how was he supposed to respond to that?
"I have it on good authority," he said, thinking of yearly fight, after fight, after fight, "that his existence is very hotly debated in the scientific community."
He could feel the questioning stares from Damian and Dick but he refused to look away from the innocently tilted head of his unfortunate foster father.
"Is that a yes?" and he sounded so sincerely hopeful. He couldn't crush the man's spirit. He couldn't.
But he also refused to lie and say he believed in Santa. At fifteen.
He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth, but eventually replied. "It's a hotly debated topic."
And Bruce just smiled that empty smile and patted his shoulder. "Thanks, chum."
He, again, ignored Damian and Dick's stares. If he looked at them, he'd break. If he so much as made partial eye-contact, he was gonna fucking lose it.
"Oh look! We're almost at the front!"
Danny was living his worst life. Officially. This was the bad time-line. Dan's future didn't even come close. He was going to go mega evil any second now and kill everyone in the vicinity and then himself. This wasn't happening and it wasn't real and Santa Claus can't hurt him because he isn't real.
But Bruce, the saddest man in history, utterly and sincerely believed that he was.
So Danny was going to sit on some random old dude's lap and pretend to care about what he wanted for Christmas and whether or not he'd been a good boy this year and he was going to force a smile the entire time and his soul might shrivel up and die all the way inside, but at least Bruce would be happy.
What the fuck kind of afterlife was he living.
And then it was their turn and Danny was forced to go up first because the alternative was Damian committing homicide in the middle of the mall while Dick and Bruce cheerily took pictures.
Okay. Just sit down. Spit out answers to any inane questions. Pose for picture. And leave. Simple and easy and completely unbearable. But- for Bruce- he would bear it.
But, damn it all, a chill went down his spine as he approached.
No. Absolutely not.
There was no way. But he examined the man sitting in the chair and the more he saw the more the sinking pit in his stomach grew. Full thick beard of snow white hair. Brown eyes filled with smug mischief and magnanimity. Thick red velvet jacket made for trapping in heat in extreme cold weather, lined with white fur that looked suspiciously close to trim on cloaks he'd seen in the Far Frozen. A not-quite-ghostly-not-quite-magic-but-something-in-between aura he often got around Gods and Ancients.
Fuck, but Bruce actually knew the real bonafide Santa Fucking Claus.
What, and he means this with a great amount of emotion, the fuck.
He sat down in a stupor and the man just placidly smiled at him, a twinkle in his eye letting him know that he knew Danny was currently experiencing new stages of grief not yet known to man and was just gonna let him ride it out. How nice of him. Because of course he was being nice. He was Santa.
Fuck.
He looked up at the man. Ghost. God. Whatever. And for a good moment that's all either of them did. Just. Stared.
Sorry, Santa, Danny's brain has suddenly gone on vacation. 404 not found. Please leave a message after the tone. Error. Sorry, there's nothing there. Please try again.
After a few agonizing moments he asked, "how? Do you know Bruce?"
And Santa laughed at him, the sound working its way into his bones and filling him with a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. It tasted just a bit like egg nog. Gross.
"Well," the man started, voice deep and rich like a good cup of hot chocolate, (whatthefuckwhathtefuck). "Why wouldn't I know a man like Bruce? Honorable, righteous, and very skilled. One of the best the Justice League has, if I'm being honest."
And then Danny's brain stopped completely. Because there was no fucking way Santa (FUCK) was implying what he thought he was implying.
But it all made so much sense now. His ears were ringing suddenly and the world was greying out but he was Seeing the Light.
"-nny?" Santa (FUCK!!) was saying. "Are you alright? Want to tell me what you want for Christmas now?"
"Hm," he said airily, still not all the way there, "I'm good, thanks."
And then he slid off the man's lap and walked back to his foster family in a daze. And he looked at Bruce (BATMAN!! FUCK!!!) and he slid a slow hand down his face, attempting to take the skin off it in the process.
"You alright, Danny man?" Dick asked, only half paying attention while he gleefully snapped pictures of a sullen Damian barely restraining himself from committing violence while stubbornly standing next to Santa instead of sitting on his lap.
"That's the real Santa, Bruce is Batman, and I'm half-dead," he replied bluntly.
Dick fumbled his phone in response and Bruce merely raised his eyebrows.
"That's an odd start to a 'three guys walk into a bar' joke there, chum," he said amiably. And Danny wouldn't have noticed the tension in his voice if he weren't ghostly. But he was and unfortunately for them all, it was now everyone's problem.
"Not a joke," he said. "I'll explain the dead part later but Santa outed you on accident."
"Okay, no," Dick interrupted, "we are not leaving the dead part for later, Danny, what the fuck."
"Listen," he said flatly, slapping his hands on either side of Dick's face and smooshing it to convey his seriousness while he spoke. "Santa is real, he's a God, and he's sitting right there." He emphasized with a sweeping wave of his arm in the direction Damian was stomping back towards them from. "We're leaving the dead part for later."
"What is all this about? Dead part? What is going on?" Damian demanded in rapid succession, growing more aggressive and persistent with each question.
Danny, already on his last fucking nerve, was gonna lose it. For real.
"Apparently," Dick drawled, disbelief and an unfair amount of derision in his tone, "that's the real Santa, he told Danny B was Batman, and Danny's now saying he's dead."
"What-"
Damian did not get to finish his sentence because that was the exact moment Danny finally snapped. Every bit of pent up tension and hostility, every bit of restrained Holiday fueled fury he'd been bottling up. Unleashed all at once because Dick decided to be an asshole about not believing him.
Danny snatched one of the giant plastic candy canes that lined the aisle of the queue to see Mall (but actually Real) Santa and gave a good swing in Dick's direction. Dick who had unfairly good reflexes and was able to dodge by jumping over the swing and landing back neatly on his feat.
"Danny?!" he cried, incredulous.
But Danny was no longer listening. Only reveling in the wild swinging of the candy cane and attempting to land a hit on Dick for being an absolute dick and finally unleashing hell upon the world and specifically his asshole foster brother. And maybe he put a little bit more ghostly strength in his last swing than he meant to, because when he finally made contact- he heard a pained off as Dick went down hard.
"Danny, please," he wheezed from the soft bank of fake snow he'd fallen into, "it's Christmas."
He screeched and continued his assault. "It's December 10th!"
And then, promptly; Bruce wrangled the candy cane from Danny's grasp, Damian pulled Dick from the floor, and they were all calmly escorted from the mall and asked politely to never return.
Danny really, truly, hated Christmas. And it looked like that wasn't going to change any time soon.
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eela · 1 year
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your home for the next year
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AITA for letting my cat play with her new toy?
I was brushing my cat... And collecting all the fur to throw out later ... and it turned into a ball ... and turns out she likes playing with it...
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AITA for letting her keep her own fur in a ball for her toy?
Okay, this does not technically meet the criteria for a postable submission because it's absolutely nonsensical to think you'd be the asshole for this--but it's like 4 AM and I've had a rough week and you've submitted an utterly delightful gif, so I'm letting both of us have this one. Everyone please enjoy the cat zoomies
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dannnnnnnnnnnnex · 2 years
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i really dislike it when people don’t understand perfectionism.
like, it isn’t always “person who has tons of motivation and spends a ton of time making this thing *just* right”
wayyyyyy more often than not it’s:
”I know that if I try to make this thing, it won’t be perfect, so I simply won’t try.”
which definitely sounds bad, right? but when you realize that it doesn’t just apply to voluntarily making art, then you realize how perfectionism is not at all a good thing in any context. 
“i know that if I try to work on this assignment right now, it won’t be good enough, so i’ll wait until the last possible moment so that I have something forcing me to do it.”
”i know that I should start going to the gym, but I won’t see any improvement right away, so I just won’t.”
”i know that i should brush my teeth tonight, but that won’t be good enough to undo the fact that i haven’t brushed them 4 days in a row, so I just won’t.”
perfectionism isn’t the uncontrollable impulse to make things “just right”. (although it can occasionally manifest as this.)
perfectionism is the absolute, psychological inability to accept the concepts of “good enough” and “better than nothing”.
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time-slink · 2 months
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out here playing dress-up
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friendlyfangs · 3 months
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Everyone's favorite sleepy guy
(he/they)
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lucabyte · 16 days
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Taking pride in One's own appearance.
#you people are becoming my guinea pigs for my finally learning how to communicate information via comics. a thing ive needed to practice at#also BLEGH. YUCK. andrew hussie was right candy makes you sick. this is a little too saccharine for me. yeesh. let me get back to the meat.#isat#isat spoilers#in stars and time#in stars and time spoilers#isat fanart#in stars and time fanart#isat siffrin#isat loop#sifloop#doodlebyte#'let me get back to the meat' i say eyeing something similarly sickly in my sketches. at least it's mildly tormented as a counterbalance...#you people have no idea how much im having to stay my own hand. oh i can draw miserable nudity but the most basic of fluff? visceral#anyway i dont know the logistics of picking up a glass eye or where loop got money (besides pilfering from siffrin) & ive previously drawn#sif with a vague blank middle-grey eye as either being scarred over or a blank occular prosthesis put in quickly at the nearest town#i dont know that they'd have a glass eye during the game but considering prosthesis are reccomended to keep the skull etc from deforming#id imagine it would probably come up postgame as something to do now theyre not on a time limit trying to save the country#plus i assume that having it gouged at by a sadness wasnt exactly a clean wound by any measure#all this to say. idk i just wanted to get some information across in comic form to Test my Abilities#and we're far enough down now to say my absolute most wretchingly sweet fluff headcanon that actually inspired this#which is that i think siffrin gets into the habit of not wearing the eyepatch around loop so they kinda match.#and as a signifier to the other that they're letting their guard down around them. vulnerability etc.#just kinda wearing it around their neck so they don't lose it
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stil-lindigo · 9 months
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ashes to ashes.
a short comic about the day Ash was born.
Ash's story
Red and Wolf's story
notes:
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--
all my other comics
store
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shorthaltsjester · 9 months
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the mighty nein - critical role
this is a place where i don't feel alone. this is a place where i feel at home.
#also with softer vibes. i offer They#every silly little brainheart found family deserves a to build a home edit#the mighty nein maybe most of all. thats my family#also the lyrics deliciously well suited to m9.#when jester pulls that. stupid tarot card for fjord. home or traveler. and there's a carnival wagon. and veth says Thats Us! . them#i just think about . the tower is their home the xhorhouse is their home the lavish chateau is their home the balleater. the mistake.#the nein heroez. veth and yezas apartment. the dome. fjord and jesters living room floor.#a bar with a silly name on rumblecusp#also like. the song has stone and dust imagery. gardens and trees.#the inherent temporality of life and love and how that holds no bearing on how greatly people can love. im losin it okay.#ive been making this edit for days straight with my computer screaming at me for trying to shove 143 episodes of cr into a 2min20sec video.#crying becuase. theyre a family do you get it. they were nine lonely people and most of them had given up on seeing their own lives#as something that might be good. something that might make the world a better place. and in the end they're heroes.#and it doesn't matter if no one else knows because They know they're heroes. and they wouldn't've believed that was true when they met.#rattling the bars of my enclosure. to be loved is to be changed#posted on twitter and want to get in the habit of posting here too bc.#general reasons but also bc . i have noticed some of the ppl liking/sharing it are also ppl who shit on my ops by vaguing about my posts#which is in general whatever but does leave a funny taste in my mouth.#critical role#the mighty nein#cr2#caleb widogast#caduceus clay#jester lavorre#fjord#veth brenatto#yasha nydoorin#beauregard lionett#mollymauk tealeaf#my posts
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saetoshi · 6 months
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itoshi sae can’t sleep well when you’re gone. he’s too used to the feeling of your warmth next to his on the bed.
he spends his nights lying awake, a frown on his face as he rolls around to your side of the bed. he gets a wink of sleep before his alarm goes off. his brows furrow as he contemplates throwing his phone against the wall. (he never does—he hates the thought of not seeing your face pop up on his lock screen more than going another day without sleep).
his phone buzzes in his hand, an incoherent grumble leaving his lips before he rolls out of bed. he glances at the screen, disappointment bubbling in his chest when he sees the text isn’t yours.
he goes through the motions when you’re gone—his eyes lingering a little too long on your bottle of soap on the shower’s shelves. his hand subconsciously reaches for your shampoo, his heart swelling when the fresh, fruity scent fills his senses. he doesn’t linger for too long when brushing his teeth, his eyes actively avoiding your missing toothbrush.
sae can’t stand going to practice when you’re away. somehow, he gets more irritable than usual. he gets pickier with the passes he gives—even pickier with the way his teammates receive the passes. it’s bad enough that his coach sends him home on days like these. (it’s even worse how his manager lectures him on the way home).
he expects emptiness when he opens the door to his apartment, a sour look on his face. he kicks the door closed, a loud slam echoing through the place, his eyes shut closed as he tries to calm down.
“what’d the door ever do to you?”
his eyes snap open, his head whipping to the side. his annoyance melts away almost immediately—the corners of his eyes softening the longer he looks at that grin on your lips.
“nothing,” he breathes out, kicking off his shoes in a hurry before closing the distance between the two of you.
a smile worms its way onto his lips when you stretch your arms out. he walks into your embrace, hugging you tight until you’re patting his back and telling him you can’t breathe.
he rests his chin on your shoulder, his eyes drifting to your suitcase next to the couch. “when did you get back?” he asks, his voice soft.
“not too long ago,” you reply, gently rubbing circles on his upper back. you chuckle when he pecks the crook of your neck, giving him a small squeeze. he huffs, his arms tightening around you before he kisses your clavicle.
“i missed you,” he whispers, the words muffled by the fabric of your shirt.
“i know,” you say, patting his back in a soothing manner, “i missed you too, sae.”
“don’t leave for long ever again,” he adds, pulling back just enough to look at you. he frowns when you laugh, bringing his hand up to flick your forehead.
“i was only gone for a week,” you grumble, rubbing the spot he flicked. your eyes scan his face, your brows furrowing slightly. “you’ve been gone for longer.”
“it’s different,” he murmurs, the tips of his ears flushing. “because we’re on different timezones.” (it makes ignoring the distance easier, he wants to add. but he won’t—not today, anyway).
you sigh, faintly shaking your head. he tsks, pouting as he rests his forehead against yours, “it’s not the same when we’re in the same time, but in different places.”
his hands gently pry yours from his back, the corners of his lips quirking up into the hint of a smile when he laces his fingers through yours. his eyes find yours, a soft hum leaving his lips. “don’t leave for too long ever again,” he repeats, his words hushed.
“it was just a week,” you murmur, your eyes softening in amusement.
“a week too long,” he quips, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. you open your mouth to reply before he cuts you off, “don’t ever leave for too long without me ever again.”
you puff your cheeks, softly sighing before you nod. “okay,” you say, shaking your head when he smiles. he can’t help the laugh that escapes his mouth when you call him a spoiled brat under your breath.
“good,” he says, giving you a quick peck.
“good,” you echo, leaning up to give him a peck in return.
a soft hum leaves your lips, your eyes warm as you gently tug him into the bedroom. (neither of you choose to say something about the way he grabs your suitcase as you drag him away).
he doesn’t complain when you shove him down on the bed, placing his head on your pillow before leaning down to kiss his forehead.
“i’m too old to be tucked into bed,” he says, his eyes following your movements as you pull up the comforter to his chin. (still, he can’t help the grin growing on his lips when you smack his knee).
“just go to sleep,” you say, hoisting your suitcase on his side of the bed to unpack. your eyes flicker to his, a teasing smile on your lips, “you look uglier with those bags under your eyes.”
“i hate you.”
“whatever you say,” you stick your tongue out at him.
“i missed you,” he yawns, his eyes struggling to stay open.
“i missed you too,” you reply, your voice full of affection when you glance at him.
“you better be here when i wake up,” he murmurs, yawning once more as his eyes close. there’s a smile on his lips as he drifts off to sleep, his heart lighter than it’s been for the week.
“i wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.”
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ruporas · 1 year
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asking and receiving (bonus below readmore)
[ID: A black and white, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood. In the first panel is a close up of Wolfwood's mouth as he says, "Vash". Accompanying it is a close up shot of Vash's eye, widen and cheeks flushed. Wolfwood presses a knee against the open space between Vash's legs and says, "Tell me everything you want from me." Wolfwood's face is equally as flushed. He continues to say, "I'll give it to you. Everything." As he talks, a wide shot shows the both of them in white space. Vash is sitting, leaning a little back with both hands pressed against the surface he's sitting on. Wolfwood is in his white dress shirt, stripped of the blazer. He's still leaning in with one knee in between Vash's spread legs, his right hand touching Vash's lips and his left hand behind his back.
The shot closes in on Vash's mouth and Wolfwood's hand against it, pressing down on the lower lip as he says, "You have to ask though. Go on." His hand moves down to Vash's chin, gently holding it. With a shy and uncertain expression, Vash hesitantly asks, "Um... K... Kiss... Please?" Wolfwood, without wasting a second, leans in and kisses him and indulges by pressing deeper, eliciting a small noise of surprise from Vash.
Wolfwood moves away from Vash first and with a smile, asks, "What else?" Vash tugs on Wolfwood's left sleeve, wordlessly budging Wolfwood to give him his hand that was still behind his back. In the next panel, Vash utters, "Hold me..?" He's holding Wolfwood's left hand with his own while his right hand is reaching for his waist. Wolfwood complies, moving his left hand to Vash's shoulder and his right hand continues to touch Vash's cheek. Wolfwood asks again, "What else?"
More comfortable now, Vash leans in to kiss Wolfwood. Wolfwood catches him immediately, pressing his thumb against Vash's lips to stop him before demanding, "Hey. Ask." Vash looks back in surprise and Wolfwood meets his eye with a quiet, insistent look. They're quiet for a moment before Vash leans in again and curtly requests, "Kiss. Me." Wolfwood says "Good", smiling as he lifts his hand away, and meets Vash's lips. In the next shot, Wolfwood had adjusted his position, sitting on Vash's thigh. The hand that was once on Vash's cheek has moved its way to Vash's nape, pushing away the collar of his jacket with his pinky. His other hand continues to grip on Vash's shoulder. Still kissing, Wolfwood asks again, "What else?"
In the next shot, Vash is starting to turn, moving Wolfwood with him. Vash asks, "Let me on top of you?" Wolfwood says, "Mhm" before asking again, "What else?" The next panel shows a close look of Vash's face. He's looking down, flushed and shy just as he had been at the beginning, but now, more decisive. Vash asks, "Wolfwood... Let me have you..?" A panel of Wolfwood taking Vash's hand into his, pulling it towards his chest. The next panel shows Wolfwood lying down where Vash had laid him. Vash's hand is on Wolfwood's chest, covering the cross of his rosary while Wolfwood's hand lingers against his, loosely pressing Vash's hand in place. He looks up at Vash with a shy smile of his own, flushed cheeks. He says, "All yours."
A panel shows a close up of Vash's tender gaze before he leans down to be closer to Wolfwood. The final shot is a front view of their positions, Vash's face turned away from the viewer; Vash is leaning over Wolfwood who's lying down with his right leg draped over Vash's legs. Wolfwood's left hand holds onto Vash's left arm. With finality, Vash says, "...Mine." End ID]
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[ID: A follow up bonus comic in a looser, sketchier style. They're laying comfortably in bed when Vash asks, "What was that earlier?" referecing to the start of the previous comic. Wolfwood glances away and says, "To get you used to it. Asking. And getting what you ask for. Since you're alwasy hesitant about it." Vash's eyes widen, tight lipped. Wolfwood continues, "Knowing you, it'll be a tough habit to break..." When he says this, Vash can't help but laugh, unable to deny it. Wolfwood slowly brings a hand to Vash's cheek and continues to say, "So I'll keep trying -- whatever ways I can... to get it through your thick skull." Vash takes Wolfwood's hand with his, kissing the the palm gently. Wolfwood's eyes soften and holding onto Vash's cheek, he leans in to try for a kiss. Vash says, "Hey..." before stopping Wolfwood's lips with the back of his hand, a smug look on his face, "Ask." Wolfwood's embarrassed and with little irritation, asks, "Really?" Vash smiles, saying, "You're in need of practice too." They pause for a moment, Wolfwood looking contemplatively, before he's leaning in again, asking, "May I please kiss you?" Vash looks him in the eyes and says, "Yes." The comic ends with a "chu", indicating an off-panel kiss. End ID]
#vashwood#vash the stampede#nicholas d wolfwood#trigun#trigun maximum#it took me so long to post this even after getting clarification about the maturity warning and stuff#bc i am so shy about it. SDGMKDSGMKSD I LIKE THIS COMIC BUT IM ALSO SO LIKE... AUGHHHH....#when i posted this on twitter though it was like... a few days after ep 11? ive always had the thought circling about vash deserving of#asking for things... and getting what he wants bc he never gets both. doesn't get the opportunity to ask and hardly does he get what he want#maybe the results can go in his favor but at some point along the way he'll still lose something bc nothing can ever go perfectly for him...#and he's usually the one begging and pleading with people to not. do something. it's not even asking at that point it's just straight up#please believe me. please trust me. please don't shoot that person. please don't kill anyone. please don't do it.#and wolfwood.... it was not always this lovey dovey ok. he wouldv noticed this habit miles away and they got into a fight about it the first#time they talked about it bc wolfwood is being hypocritical too. as he always is!!!! but i think as they get more intimate#wolfwood finds ways to make vash understand. smth smth insatiable want and love and desire for wolfwood that makes it much easier to ask.#wolfwood can also just be so compliant. sometimes. which is also an issue in of itself that id love to explore at some point#but he also just enjoys giving into vash fully and completely.#bc he loves him a lot. but anyway#i hope the id is comprehendible.... please lmk if there's something wrong with how im doing it asfdgkdsmgs#ruporas art
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birbwell · 9 months
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andreas
Image description by @anistarrose: digital art of Andreas Maler from Pentiment, as he appears in the first act. He's seated with his hands on his knees, and with a slight smile. The background is zoomed-in on a manuscript, featuring an illustration of a cow in a field, and some cut-off Latin text. End description.
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echobsilly · 11 months
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🔮 PICK A CARD : - ) 🔮
✨The 4 YEAR ANNIVERSARY Smile For Me Fanzine  is OUT! Based on the Major Arcana Tarot Deck, and lovely Fortune-Teller Carla 🌙☀️
> > > ✨You can download it HERE! ✨< < <
To the 23 AMAZING Artists who made this possible - THANK YOU!! This was curated by @se34r5  / @kiwicartwheels  and I, with HUGE planning help by @sanddall-asy  and the incredible site created by @fridgefeet ! Many helped in this project -- please check out the credits!
💐Dedicated to Smile For Me, the indie game created by @daylane  & @yugsly of @limbolanegames! 💐
Keep on smilin’!
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