hi personal blogs!! if you see this blog following you it's because my own blog is attached to this one, you can follow me at @zickd !
DEAR READER

Discoholic 🪩

JBB: An Artblog!
cherry valley forever
ojovivo
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
we're not kids anymore.
AnasAbdin
Cosmic Funnies
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
KIROKAZE
almost home

Origami Around

No title available
dirt enthusiast
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

Janaina Medeiros
styofa doing anything
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Kaledo Art

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Australia

seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
@crosscursed
hi personal blogs!! if you see this blog following you it's because my own blog is attached to this one, you can follow me at @zickd !
thought you never wanted to fall in love.
@bulletblessed
HIS FIRST response is a sound halfway between a snort and a laugh, not enough of any of the two to be either mocking or amused. It dies after a few seconds, disintegrating between the four walls of this impossible shelter, moonlight filtering in through the tattered and filthy curtains that have never known washing and likely never will - one of the several mattresses creaking under their weight, springs threatening to pierce their legs but never actually ripping through the fabric. The stove corner in the other room (too small to be a proper kitchen, so well-used that it has almost earned the name by now) is littered with dirty dishes none of them had the will to make and the remains of their latest run into town, an empty paper bag nesting a few crumbs of dough and glaze. Faded bloodstains look at the opposite wall of the bathroom from the chipped sink and the edge-cracked mirror, right next to the heap of threadbare towels they fished from the closet earlier.
Funny, how a year ago all of this was unimaginable. Eleven months ago he was more ghost than living in this house, sporadically passing through, leaving little signs of his coming and going at all. Eights months ago he started leaving extra packs of cigarettes, setting up hidey-holes for whatever vials he managed to stash away unnoticed (they are all still there, close to the stack of the mattresses, behind the cables powering the stove, under the floorboards of the back porch), taking into consideration the idea of leaving long-lasting provisions in the pantry. Half a year before this night he came to think of this place as a refuge - not a home, not what he's been grieving for years and years, but a house at least. A spot to rest his head and hide even if only for a day or two before getting back on the road again, always hoping, always praying no one would find this little corner he reclaimed all for himself.
Then, four months ago, Vash walked through the door for the first time.
He isn't saying that's when he caught feelings, when his heart started tumbling down a steep he could've never imagined before; no, that came way before that day, before he turned and saw the other stand awkwardly in the middle of the living room, so tall and bright and still trying to fold into himself like one of the paper cranes one of the older girls at the orphanage used to make. What he means is - that was the turning point, an epiphany he couldn't ignore when it was shining in his eyes, sun-blinding. A shelter so carefully kept away from everyone's curios eyes, for which he fought tooth and nail out of sight, now so easily shared with the last person he should've gotten attached to.
Was it then that he knew? Was it then that his whole being reverberated through oceans of time and dimensions, an infinite ripple echoing between universes and carrying the knowledge that this happened times and times before and will happen times and times again, their lives forever intertwined with one another so tightly they can barely survive for long at the same time?
(It'll kill me. An' I accepted that so long ago.)
But there is no way he can say any of this out loud. Mere seconds have ticked by after that strangled laughter, and when he speaks - Vash's body pressed against his, his prosthetics laying close by - his voice is thick with sleep, rough and yet so sweet.
"Yeah, well. God's always got a different plan for me in mind."
(Even if this is no divine intervention. He has carved his way to this man over and over again with his own hands, and he'll bleed and draw blood to ensure he'll never lose sight of him.)
"Glad I thought wrong this time."
getting back into writing after not touching it for a while is really just sobbing while reminding yourself the bad writing has to come out first before the good one can resurface-
Hᴇ ᴛɪʟᴛs his head, whole body a question mark or rather a sharp angle; leaning over folded at the hip next to him, staring right into Angelina's guts as if that's about to tell him the mysteries of what's wrong with her. It won't: he doesn't understand the first thing about motorbikes except that they are supposed to be moving forward, and that she's currently not doing that. There was never any need to learn. What does he know how to fix one for when he doesn't even know how to drive.
What's more likely is that he's standing right in Wolfwood's light, thus not helping the case already made bad by playacting the stereotypical child (how much longer, what's that, is that supposed to be that way, why can't you do that faster), but perhaps it's excusable that he gets a little bit antsy being stuck in a place for an unforeseeable future. Rarely a good thing, what with his face being worth more than all the buildings in this place together.
That, and he's curious, and bored, and likes to annoy Wolfwood. Really, it's hard to tell which one is the most important one here.
He ends up sitting down on the floor next to him — if one can call controlled falling sitting, that is — arm propped up on his knee, chin in his hand.
"That's also what you said yesterday."
Big words for a man in hitting range of a wrench.
IF HE looks closely, really closely, he can see a vein thrumming on Wolfwood's temple and his grip on the wrench he just picked up tighten for a brief second. Yeah. He knows. And he isn't all too happy about prolonging their unplanned stay in this corner of fuckass nowhere, especially when the owner of the tools currently laying in a halo around the bike lingered his gaze on the two of them for a moment too long when they arrived. He wouldn't count on their luck for too long still. Give the lovely townsfolk a couple of days before they start suspecting and connecting dots they have no business connecting, and another couple before they decide to take matters in their own hands. He knows it all too well.
"And why'd you think it's that?" For now he is content with letting his frustration and barely contained annoyance on the oil-stained mess before him, feeling like a stupidly tiny detail is escaping his notice over and over again - kinda like a screw that fell off its nook without him noticing, but he doesn't see anything of the sort and he is running out of options. He's got another couple of ideas in mind, and it isn't up for debate that he'll stay up as long as needed to see if any of those is correct. No need to run stupid risks if they can avoid them.
For a few minutes he successfully manages to pretend Vash isn't around, staring at his every action and movement like the most nosy of kids, but it is only a matter of time before he snaps.
"Don't you got anythin' else to do?"
(Unfortunately, he knows the answer.)
@crosscursed asked:
"You call it a near-death experience, I call it a vibe check from God."
There is a moment of tired silence, the musician making a visible effort to decide whether he should honour the remark with a response at all. Ultimately, he simply shakes his head, returning to the task at hand.
"Insufferable," he whispers under his breath, wrapping another layer of bandage around the wound, a bullet hole shot straight through the priest's arm.
While the actual life-threatening damage had been already taken care of, the saxophonist deemed it a smart choice to dress the remaining injuries the man calling himself The Punisher had sustained.
He was sturdy, this one. Not sturdy enough, though, it seemed.
Could he leave Wolfwood out here to die? Naturally. Would Legato or Knives care? Most likely not.
And yet, he still found himself helping the other. Ugh. He could not even justify this one to himself with his usual pragmatic attitude.
He could not begin to explain how much the awareness of this perceived vulnerability irritated him.
"Now, stop squirming. You are only making things harder, for both of us."
HE FULLY knows the bandaging will become useless in approximately an hour and that by tomorrow there won't be any trace left of the injury, but he isn't going to tell him that - in the same way he has no intention of pulling out a vial in front of him. He is just glad the current situation didn't call for one, otherwise he would have had a much bigger issue at hand. No need for the guy to know any more of his weapoints than he might have already inferred. (Granted, he has always been good at hiding those; it is admittedly kinda harder to do when you're forced to share space in forced proximity, and there are no signs of it changing anytime soon; he's got one person to thank for all of this.)
"I don't remember askin' you to play nurse on me." He grinds his teeth as the bandage tightens around his arm a little too much, but he doesn't even have it in him to bitch about it for the sake of bitching. Hard to be in a good mood after getting your ass shot, no matter how he might've given it all back tenfold to the bandits that thought it a good idea to jump an apparently harmless priest and musician on their way to the closest town.
A shit idea all around, alright.
BALDURS GATE 3 PARTY BANTER PROMPTS LIST.
all of the following prompts are taken from party banter between the companions in larian studios' baldurs gate 3 (2023). there should be no spoilers! also, a disproportionate amount of these are from astarion and karlach. i'm not sorry.
I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, [ name ]?
You'll be as depraved as the rest of us in no time.
Friend of yours?
Were you always so sneaky?
If there's hope for me there's hope for anyone.
How are we not there yet? My feet are killing me.
This is what I get for trying to strike up conversation.
We're not going to have trouble, are we?
If we continue this way, we may get too close for comfort.
Don't get too comfortable. We shouldn't overstay our welcome in such a place.
Do you have pet names for each other yet?
[ name ]! Was that a joke?
You know what - that is not the easiest of questions for me to answer.
Given your own nature, are you really the one to judge?
You can read?!
I'm surprised - I expected you to turn your back once you got what you wanted.
I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.
Why stay somewhere safe and comfortable when we could be in mortal peril?
Can't say I love what they've done with the place.
I'm learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. Count me in.
At least you didn't tell me to 'be myself'.
You have so much to learn. Repeat after me: honey muffin, sweetie pie, sugarplum.
Nice to be in a crowd of normal people for once.
So [ name ], how is your sad, hopeless pining going?
You seemed a million miles away just then.
I fear I've been rather hasty to judge you, [ name ].
Ready to enter the belly of the beast?
Step one of starting a conversation: think before you speak.
I hear your relationship has taken on a new aspect recently…
All right, just keep it down. We're conspicuous enough without your hyena call.
Not one for roughing it, I see.
Why not have a little fun?
You're right, of course. Forgive me.
My money's on you, [ name ].
The echoes - listen! They're coming from three directions!
Want me to carry you?
Feeling at home?
Treat them right, or you'll have me to answer to.
Oh, darling, would you?
No doubt they found me too intimidating.
A girl could get used to this.
Now I don't know what to believe.
Well - yes, it was a joke.
I know that, too. It just wasn't funny.
And here I thought I rubbed you the wrong way.
Man, it's good to be home. First round on who?
Oh, I wouldn't actually leave. After all, where would you be without me?
You've quite the knack for finding the bright side of things, haven't you?
Well what would impress you, then?
Let's just stop this conversation right here, shall we?
Must've been an awful day for the people who lived here
You've clearly thought this through a great deal. I'm impressed and appalled in equal measure.
Sure, but think of the stories you'll be able to tell.
I never was scared of the shadows.
I know you're not really as heartless as all that.
I judged you wrongly. I'm sorry.
Are you charging for this sage advice, or is sticking your nose into my business just a hobby?
Pragmatism, thy name is [ name ].
That's ironic, coming from you.
We're either very clever or very lucky.
You do not need luck to survive, [ name ]. Not when you have me.
That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky.
Stop gawking at the decor. This place is dangerous.
I can't tell if you're joking.
So, what's it like caring for someone other than yourself, [ name ]?
You think I'm beautiful?
I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.
Yet another thing we have in common. We're two peas in a pod.
Is it so unbelievable that they would simply like me?
Use your words.
You gonna catch me if I eat a brick?
[ name ], I've heard you talking in your sleep.
Let's never speak of this again.
You can take a day off once in a while, [ name ]
Hey! Something bit me.
Cheer up. It might be all downhill from here.
I love a nice secret hideaway, don't you?
Think the bar is open?
This shit literally looks like those evil underground science labs in movies where they do unethical experiments on children
ℸ ̣⍑ᒷ|| ⍑ᔑ⍊ᒷ ᔑ ⎓⚍ᓵꖌ╎リ⊣ ᓵ||ꖎ╎リ↸ᒷ∷????
" You probably didn't even know it, but I am a fiddle player too And if you'd care to take a dare, I'll just make a bet with you Now you're playin' pretty good fiddle, boy, but give the Devil his due I'll bet a fiddle o' gold against your soul, I think I'm better than you "
indie Midvalley the Hornfreak from Nightow's Trigun
selective - mature - heavily HC-based
by Fae
rules - about
PROMPTS FROM FINAL DESTINATION * assorted dialogue from the 2000 film, adjust as necessary
in death, there are no accidents, no coincidences, no mishaps, and no escapes.
i'm moving on, [name].
[name], you dick!
let's go take a shit.
take a shit by yourself.
no, dude. listen, okay. listen.
we're about to board a seven hour flight.
you've already done that by walking off the plane.
now you have to figure out how and when it's coming back at you.
if you think you can get away with that?
remember the risk of cheating the plan.
you don't even want to fuck with that.
i'm never going to die.
i saw it. like. i don't know. i just saw it.
it was so real.
you must have fallen asleep.
stay below the speed limit.
wait a minute.
i'm having a vision here.
you're the next one man.
why'd you say something like that?
if you don't shut up, i'm gonna fucking kill you.
as far as i know, this shit can circle around and get us all again.
for right now, i'm the safest fucker in the world.
this gives me a rush.
it's gonna blow up.
because of you, i'm still alive.
so who's next?
why did they make him look like michael jackson?
don't talk to me. you scare the hell out of me.
what are you, god now?
that's a good sign.
i never thought anything could look worse than my yearbook photo.
how do you think i feel having to look at you all the time?
death is not the end.
you should be fucking dead.
you're the fucking devil!
that's right. you're next, [name].
i don't need it ever! get away from him!
i'm not dead!
i'll see you soon.
we're all on the same list.
you're paying for my trip.
i wish you were on that plane.
do you know what this is?
is there a problem, sir?
i fucking hated french class.
there's this pattern that's emerging.
nobody has control over life and death... unless they're taking life, causing death.
i can beat you.
well, we made it.
i got this feeling. a weird feeling.
i won't let it happen, okay?
it depends on which one of us is next.
you have a responsibility to tell me.
can you promise me that nobody else is going to die?
live it up, [name]. you got your whole life ahead of you.
i saw it happen.
you got this?
we'll go nuts if you start with this shit.
PUNISHER [id in alt]
@crosscursed | cont.
"Pʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ, ʏᴇᴀʜ. Mentally though? It's going to make all the difference."
Of course he knows. He's seen him knit his own flesh back together too many times not to know — and far more than he wanted to witness, with no end in sight. That's not the point when he balances on his lap, movements gentle and practiced. Usually on himself and much rougher than that — no need to be careful with himself, he's never had a concept of that — metal hand on his jaw to move his face to the side while he cleans blood and dirt off him, washes out a wound he doesn't bother sewing because it's already halfway closed, anyway.
In his mind's eye, he sees all the wounds he saw him take and heal overlaying over unmarred skin. In his mind, there is a second image superimposed over the one his eyes see; a map of scars that should be there. It breaks his heart to think how many more there must be. And how many of those he went through on his own. Sure, some surely were nothing special, but the point still stands. He knows how it feels to hide away somewhere and lick your wounds in silence when you could really appreciate a helping hand.
"Maybe I feel better, doing this. Ever thought about that?"
Not the reason why he ever does anything, but they are both stubborn, and if he cannot accept help for his own sake, then maybe like this, at least.
ALL THAT talking earns him a huff and an eye-roll, eyes darting to the side while the piece of fabric in his hands wipes off a few more dried bloos spots; nonetheless, he doesn't squirm under the touch, nor does he push him off his lap. Alcohol burns in his wounds even if now they are almost all closed, skin knitting itself back and time moving backwards on his skin, but if this makes Vash feel any better about the whole ass situation, then so be it. He isn't gonna endure it silently, though. Now that would be willdly out of character for him.
"Have. Still a waste."
But it wouldn't be Vash if he wasn't feeling bad about a situation he didn't cause, wounds he didn't inflict upon him, bullets his gun didn't fire. And while he understands this (or knows, at least; he cannot quite comprehend how this man is fine with carrying the weight of the whole world upon his shoulders and accepting everything as his inherent fault), he still sees no use in patching him up when all signs from their latest fight have already been almost entirely wiped off of him, the slate now blank once again.
" 'sides, that's rarely th' reason you do anythin'."
There; they can both be laid bare in front of the other. An eye for an eye, if you will.
one day. one day i'll have the energy to write a whole essay on wolfwood and his nonexistent sense of self and then it'll be over for everyone
"Fraternising with the enemy, I see."
"Shouldn't you be playin' in some shitty basement an' mindin' your own business for once?"
PROMPTS FROM PRACTICAL MAGIC * assorted dialogue from the 1998 film, adjust as necessary
sometimes i feel like there's a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn.
be careful what you wish for.
wish you could believe in me.
we have to banish him.
he wants me. just me.
what was that, [name]?
you know what? i wished for you, too.
let him take me.
the nudity is entirely optional.
it wasn't me, it was you.
we'll grow old together.
can love really travel back in time and heal a broken heart?
i think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean.
don't die on me, [name], please.
i bet we even die on the same day.
of course you're going to see me again.
hang on to your husbands, girls.
what wouldn't i do... for the right guy?
i have this dream of being whole, of not going to sleep each night, wanting.
i took an oath to uphold the law.
life is perfect.
don't do that.
i'd like to think so.
i have never asked you for anything.
i feel like i'm never going to see you again.
what are you doing?
i came here to bring in the bad guy because generally that's what i do.
sometimes when the wind is warm or the crickets sing, i dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for.
i just want someone to love me.
i want to be seen.
please do this for me. please?
hold on just a goddamn second. one step at a time.
that's how you came to live with us.
everything is just so blissfully normal.
i wish you could see us.
they like to meddle in people's love lives.
thought you never wanted to fall in love.
you're saying what i'm feeling is just one of your spells?
fall in love whenever you can.
when you find yourself the center of attention... it's not that they hate you. it's that... well. we're different.
you have the worst taste in men.
i was born with them.
since when is being a slut a crime in this family?
you ever put your arms out and spin really, really fast?
maybe i had my happiness.
you promised me that.
so what kind of... uh... craft do you do.
yeah. it's not real.
curses only have power when you believe them. and i don't.
all i want is a normal life.
that's the point.
yeah, well, you know. all relationships have problems.
that's what love is like. it makes your heart race. it turns the world upside down.
when are you going to realize that being normal is not necessarily a virtue?
well... it's what i want.
now that was me.
i don't want them dancing naked under the full moon.
the guy i dreamed of doesn't exist.
is that why they wanted to hang her? because she's a witch?
i don't even mind the beard.
there's a little witch in all of us.
what was that?
i'll tell you all you need to know.
one step at a time.
you think he's dead?
is he cute?
you came for breakfast? we're having pancakes!
what's wrong? cat got your tongue?
someday you'll explain this all to me.
hits you with the "wiwiwi"
WIWIWI
bites him bites him bites him bites h-
and what if he bites him back. what is he gonna do about that. get horny?
Wow, okay, SURE. Let's say you DID just watch me get hit by a car going 75 mph down this parkway road, fly through the air, hit the ground with a thud, and after a few seconds you watched me get up, brush off my pants, and continue to wander into the woods, unharmed. What are you even gonna do? Fucking arrest me?