#but trust me on this one ;D

[greatshell-rider]

Jerry battered away the soldier’s sword and whipped his sword back, knocking the hilt into their jaw and stunning them. He kicked them in the chest, sending them stumbling back into their fellows. In this close-quarters fighting, even that created a brief opening, a moment of respite, for Jerry to wipe the sweat trickling into his eyes and back up a few paces, give him some space—

His back hit Radio’s leg, and both jumped apart—Jerry nearly landing himself directly into the swing of another soldier. He barely got his sword up in time, yet the blow still jarred nastily up his arm. A second soldier joined the first, attacking him in tandem. Teeth gritted, Jerry gave ground slowly, all his attention focused on keeping them away from the dragon. If Jerry fell and they got their hands on him . . .

“Back!” he shouted to Radio, who still cowered uncertainly. “Move, dammit!”

The dragon scrambled away, clambering over rocks and squeezing between foliage. Jerry followed, managing to dispatch one of the soldiers only for another to take their place. At least the uneven footing hindered them as much as it did Jerry—for now. Soon, their numbers would overpower him, unless he could get that damned lizard to do something.

Radio hesitated as the trail narrowed into a tunnel carved through the rock. Jerry couldn’t tell if it was big enough for the dragon, but—he exchanged a fierce flurry of blows with one soldier and dodged a stab to his stomach by another—there wasn’t a choice.

“Go!” he bellowed, gesturing wildly, and Radio plunged into the tunnel with Jerry close on his tail, the soldiers following after with angry shouts—but jammed briefly at the entrance before forced into single-file.

The tunnel was short. Radio had to squeeze through a tight spot, then burst out into a wider area. Jerry crouched and scooped a rock off the ground, chucked it at the head of the nearest soldier, then hurried out, head swiveling as he took in their situation. Radio stood a short distance away, head craned up, forced to stop as the canyon trail came to a dead-end, sheer rock walls preventing further retreat.

“Fuck,” Radio panted, his breath coming short and panicky. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He whirled a circle, eyes darting wildly, and a growl rumbled from his chest. “There’s no way out!” He instinctively flared his wings. 

“Don’t!” Jerry yelled, but too late, the charm activated and magic crackled down Radio’s wings. Radio shrieked in pain, wings flopping uselessly down his sides, and he keened quietly, huddling against the wall.

Jerry cursed and started towards him, but checked himself, his training screaming at him not to turn his back on the soldiers racing down the tunnel. He jerked back around, scanning the tunnel exit, looking for anything he could do, could use, to slow their coming. On one side, a jumble of tight-packed dirt and rocks from a long-ago rockslide, with a crooked little tree growing sideways out of it, was his immediate best guess. But it was far too large for him to push over . . . for him.

“Radio, I’m sorry, but I need your help,” he yelled, running to the side of the rockslide and pressing his shoulder to the loosest-looking section. Radio staggered to his feet.

Pounding feet on stone.

“Radio!” The dragon threw himself over to Jerry’s side and roared, slamming his body against the rocks. His head snaked around and jaws opened to clamp down on the tree, ripping its roots free and throwing the whole of it down before the exit, bashing the head of the front soldier and forcing them to stumble back. A second later, the top half of the rockslide crumbled down, half-covering up the opening.

“Again!” Jerry threw his meager weight against the rest of the stones, Radio repositioned and did the same, and grunting and swearing, the two shoved more rocks and dirt over the opening, creating a shitty half-decent barrier that would give them a minute, two at best, before the soldiers managed to either climb over or dismantle it.

One minute to get out, or come up with another plan.

Jerry stumbled back, picking up his sword where he’d dropped it and wiping the blood and dust off it on the bottom of his tunic. He was jittery from nerves and excitement, and his head buzzed almost too much to think.

But he had to. “Okay,” he said aloud, forcing the words out, forcing the whirling thoughts in his head to assemble into something like order. “Okay. That was—that’s something.”

“It’s nothing,” Radio said. He sank slowly down on his haunches beside the remnants of the rockslide, staring at the barrier. “We’re stuck here.” He winced and clutched at his foreleg where it had gotten cut earlier, squeezing hard enough for blood to trickle down his green scales.

Jerry stepped forward. “Are you alright?”  

“I’m fine,” Radio said shortly. He was shaking. The strange beetle-like device stuck stubbornly to his shoulder sparked, and a twitch shuddered down his wing. “I just don’t see how we can survive this.”

“We’ll get it off you, somehow,” Jerry said, reaching a hand towards the device. As his hand neared, the pupils of Radio’s eyes thinned to slits and he snapped at Jerry’s hand, narrowly missing his fingers before Jerry snatched his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Radio snarled, and Jerry stepped back, eyes wide. Then Radio blinked and dipped his head, immediately contrite. “Sorry. I don’t know why I—why I did that—”

But Jerry hadn’t been scared. His heart was racing, sure, but adrenaline burned through his blood already. “No, I’m impressed,” he blurted.

The soldiers in the tunnel had paused at the roar, but now they resumed digging in earnest. Radio tipped his head at Jerry skeptically.

Jerry said hurriedly, “I am! Radio, I know you don’t know how to fight—”

“I don’t want to fight,” the dragon corrected. “I don’t like it.”

Jerry huffed. “Right. But, Radio, look at what you just did!” He gestured to the barrier. “Admit it or not, you can help in a fight! You can be scary.”

Radio scowled at the barrier. Two of the soldiers had begun poking their swords out over the top of the barrier, waving them in the hopes of hitting something, Jerry guessed. Moodily, Radio reached a forefoot over and plucked one blade, then the other, free of their owners and tossed them over his shoulder, metal plinking unpleasantly against stone. The soldiers shouted and shuffled backwards, though Radio did nothing more.

Jerry gestured with his sword. “See?”

Radio snorted, smoke puffing from his nostrils, but turned reluctantly towards Jerry. “Fine. I guess . . . there’s no other choice, is there?” He gave the stone walls a critical look-over, and looked longingly to the sky, so cruelly wide and opening.

“This is their fault,” Jerry said, nodding to the charmed device. “The wizard put that on you. They sent these soldiers. They’re here to drag you back. Put more charms on you.”

Radio growled, lip curling back just enough to expose some teeth, and for more smoke to trickle out.

“There is a choice,” Jerry pushed. “Either we let them do that, or we fight.”

“And kill them.”

“And fucking kill these bastards.”

Radio tapped his claws in a rhythmic pattern. “I can get behind that. Very well. What do you want me to do?” He grimaced as he said it, and admitted, “I don’t know what I can do.”

Jerry laughed. If he hadn’t been holding his sword, he might’ve started rubbing his hands together. He felt like Lani right now. “What can you do?” he marveled. “Radio, you’re a fucking dragon. What can’t you do?”

“Would you like a list,” Radio said acidly, “or . . .”

Jerry shook his head and pointed at the barricaded exit. “Here, try this. Use that fire and burn them to a crisp.”

Radio got to his feet and shuffled over to stand in front of the barrier, lifting his head to peer down the gap at the top. “There’s only three of them up here at the front,” he said doubtfully. “I can’t get them all in one blast, the others will move out of the way . . .”

“Trust me,” Jerry said. “I’ll tell you what to do next.”

“Right, trust the human,” Radio muttered, then took a wide stance and breathed in deeply. Jerry couldn’t help grinning as a warm glow brightened against the scales of Radio’s belly, then arched up his chest and neck, for a stream of orange flames to surge out of Radio’s maw and crash down onto the soldiers’ heads.

They screamed, and the fire faltered, but Jerry eagerly stepped up beside Radio. “Keep going,” he encouraged, watching greedily. “When it’s done, don’t wait. Break the wall down.”

Radio rumbled in acknowledgement and moved closer as the flames began to slow, pushing the tail-end of them into the tunnel. Once the last flame flickered out, he reared up and slammed his forefeet down on the barrier, crumbling the stones. A few more swipes of his claws, and a sizable hole emerged.

Radio stumbled back. “Now what?” he panted.

Jerry marched past him. “Anything gets past me—” No, nothing was getting past him. No one was touching Radio again. “Just keep breathing fire whenever you can. Stay safe. I’ll take care of the rest.” Jerry stepped into the passage.

“Just keep breathing fire . . . Jerry? Jerry! You’re in there too!”

“Trust me!” Jerry yelled without turning. He kicked aside an ashen corpse and sliced through the neck of a half-burnt soldier slumped against the wall, then stalked deeper inside, lifting his sword in greeting as the recuperating soldiers rushed him. In the tunnel, they were forced to come at him one at a time.

Where before Jerry had fought defensively, desperately, now he moved without fear. He smashed through the front soldier’s clumsy guard and jabbed up underneath their arm in a gap in their armor, then shoved them into their fellows. Listening to the growing hiss behind him, Jerry quickly backed away, passing the burned corpses from before. The soldier next in line swore and pushed past the one crying in pain, darting for Jerry right as—

Jerry ducked, pressing himself against a corner of the tunnel and ruined barrier a heartbeat before another blast of fire shot from Radio’s gullet, missing Jerry’s head by a hair and bathing the pursuing soldier in flames. This time, Jerry got a close-up view of the barbeque, and he sucked the stench of it down his throat and bared his teeth.

The screams ended before the fire-breath did, so there was that. Jerry was on his feet the moment it was clear again, and marching down the tunnel once again. Radio was right. He’d been lucky the same trick had worked even a second time, and only because that soldier had been too pissed off to think straight, but the rest would be cautious now. Even out of range of Radio’s fire-breath, his continued blasts would keep the enemy wary.

They were scared now.

Jerry sneered as he brought up his blade.

Good.

[no1deahow]

So it’s canonically implied that Modern au Dragon is a coffee shop chain owner, rides motorcycles and loves his son 😌

[ruporas]

captain's warm hugs! (id in alt)

[stevebabey]

personally love the interaction in the start of s4 where steve goes “ugh, you know i don’t do double vhs.” when robin suggests doctor zhivago. like ugh robin!!!! we’ve talked about this before!!! steve has a limited attention span and if robin puts on something too long, he will start shooting her with rubber bands

[edorazzi]

Page 31 of my Miraculous Mentor AU comic A Matter of Trust! In which Felix consciously experiences "friendship" for the first time and Ladybug takes a chance on Chat Noir! 🎧��

Index | Start | Prev | Next

Weekly updates each Sunday! You can also read ahead early on Patreon, and/or buy me a Ko-fi if you'd like to support my work! 💖

[tekitothemagpie]

[leafspiritz]

i have this pet headcanon that imogen actually inherited relvin’s eyes (but tinted by the moon). and when liliana looks at her she’s seeing a little bit of both the people she left behind 🌙

[triona-tribblescore]

First: / Previous: / Next:

First Impressions! :D

(Yo-Ho-Ho) A Ninjas Life For Me

[chinelacanta]

i love putting dragon in Situations <3

BIG FAN of the ‘dragon is xebec’s son’ but i can’t decide if i like it in a funny way or a sad way 😭. do you think dragon thought he’d lose his father’s love if he knew he was taken in by a marine. do you think he mourned garp’s favor when he also failed to be a ‘good man’ and turned to revolution, that he wasted garp’s life efforts in saving a child from evil and a life lead to a death sentence. do you think dragon grieves that he managed to disappoint both his fathers. do you think that when he held luffy for the first time he realized he was no different then xebec, that he’d condemned his child to the stake for the crime of existence, a life of loneliness if he lived, a forced marine career and shackled dreams from his only ‘relative’. hey man what if i cried real hard abt it

[mintymx]

North Blue Boys? More like North Blue Nerds >:)

[beanghostprincess]

That thing about being tired around your partner because love produces oxytocin and it promotes sleep because you feel safe around them but it's quite literally the monster trio canonically

[springsketches]

He doesn’t understand. We aren’t convinced of anything. And we aren’t stuck together. We’re one. Decided to make some fanart of my interpretation of the wild together. Idk if you could tell, but the wild is my favorite princess, ha ha.

[potatopassenger]

Collection of Zoro dealing with Luffy having all or nothing spatial awareness when it comes to him

But Zoro also has none...

+ Bonus Usopp praying for Zoro

[ruporas]

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]

[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]

[ohitslen]

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?

[xerorao]

Hug🫂 (Color Practice) Actually I painted this around last month and went about posting it here now lol