Adivinen quien al fin dibujo algo? Wich means I'm back baby!
Its not perfect (like everything I made), but I just love drawing comic-like-stuff, I get to relax more. I dont try to do the lines perfectly or the super accurate anatomy (mostly cause I dont know shit about anatomy at all) and also get to be more simple in the colors, wich helps cause I struggle making colors a lot.
I missed drawing my babies...but why did I drawing them like that? XD I swear...I think I should have seen some reference cause I totally change the way I draw the Burger Babys which is crazy for me XD
Now...is this an AU, is this them as teenagers, why is Louise working on Aplebees? Well I didnt put an exact age for the guys here, they could be 16 or 19 I dunno.
This is solely based on this post from @zer0ogravity I lmao with this and totally need it to draw it.
btw I from Latam, I didn't knew what Applebees was until making this comic so if Applebees dont look like this sorry.
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Yeah that's how I feel about it too. There are so many moments of Marcille being touched by Laios's concern for Falin and his general competence and kindness that I think, especially with his attitude during her resurrection, the reminder that the siblings are very similar people, and their shared emotional state after Falin is taken away again (the railcar scene comes to mind) would really bring those two together in that way. (there's a lot of stuff on Laios's end but that's been analyzed a lot already)
yes!!! I like their dynamic a lot...I love the way their relationship developed across the manga and to me barring all shipping they feel like perfect platonic life partners, like the way them are all living together in the castle...and then when I put the Shipping Goggles on I feel like there's enough tension between them for it to go beyond that if either of them takes the step. I'm shaking in my boots
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Dean’s sitting at the kitchen table eating meatloaf when it all sort of hits – and he’s desperate to remember it exactly how it happened.
With his fork raised halfway to his mouth, a dollop of meat and sauce perched precariously on the tines, his eyes wandered over to where Cas stood by the sink in a pair of ratty pajama bottoms and one of Dean’s old t-shirts. (One of Dean’s old t-shirts, because once Cas gets his shoulders into them they never really sit the same way.)
He’s got soap up to his elbows, scrubbing methodically at the dishes Dean just dirtied, his brow a taught, concentrated line. He’s bringing the same kind of meticulous focus to the dishes that he used to bring to leading the armies of Heaven; that singular kind of attention, both unnerving and admirable. (Dean had once tried to explain that he didn’t need to wash them quite so vigorously, to which Cas had deadpanned, “Do you know how many food particles remain on the dishes you wash, Dean?” It quickly became his job, after that.)
It’s early July. About 6:30pm. The window over the sink is cracked, and the front door is wide open, letting the sound of cicadas and crickets drift in with the summer breeze. The sun’s starting to set behind the field, casting the world in that particular orange glow that has always made something in Dean ache. In the other room, the record player Sam got them for Christmas plays a beat up Janis Joplin record he’d found at a secondhand store in town. The opening chords of Me and Bobby McGee have just started, and the cicadas are humming, and the crickets are singing, and the sun is setting, and Cas is standing in old pajamas washing dishes Dean just used to make them dinner and –
Cas tilts his head.
This isn’t revolutionary. He does it a lot. A very ingrained behavior, some might say. But he isn’t confused, he’s reacting. To the song. He doesn’t react to music the way Dean wants him to, never has, but in his own way, it’s almost like he’s leaning closer to hear it. An infinitesimal thing. The smallest gesture. The corner of his mouth twitches, and Dean has never loved him more than he does at this moment: backlit by a summer sunset in their house in the middle of nowhere, hand washing dishes and listening to Janis Joplin.
Cas turns when the sound of Dean’s fork clattering on the plate sounds, but Dean just scoops him into his arms, chases any worries away with a kiss, and then another, and then one more for good measure. Cas laughs against his mouth, desperately trying to keep his soapy arms away from Dean’s dry clothes. “Dean,” he chides, squirming and chuckling, trying to extract himself from Dean’s grip. “I’m not finished.”
“I’ll get ‘em tomorrow,” Dean promises, peppering sweet little kisses down the line of Cas' throat. He hasn’t shaved in a couple of days. It tickles all the way down. “Love you so much,” he says, because he wants to. Because he’s so full with it he’s overflowing. Because if he doesn’t tell him right now, in this moment, and every moment after this one, he might die. He needs him to know. It’s vital that he knows.
Cas’ laughter warms, and he slides one soapy hand to the back of Dean’s neck, eyebrows raised in challenge when he shudders at the sensation. When Dean doesn’t immediately shoo him away, he slides the other soapy hand up Dean’s arm. “Dean?” He’s not worried, the timber of his voice is honey-smooth and light, but he’s confused. Not that Dean doesn’t tell him often, and loudly, how much he loves him, but to be fair this did kind of come from nowhere, so he understands. It’s just much too much. It’s not enough and it’s everything. It’s everything in the world Dean has ever wanted.
Janis Joplin is singing freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose, and Dean’s arms are loose around Cas’ waist, and he loves him, god he loves him so much, so he kisses him on one corner of the mouth, and then the other. Janis says, nothin’, don’t mean nothin’ hon’ if it ain’t free, no, no – and he rocks their bodies together, slow, to the beat of the music. Cas’ arms come to wind around his neck automatically, and his smile starts to sprawl into something reserved for only the really good moments. Wide and gummy and for Dean – and feelin’ good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues. He presses his forehead to Cas’ and they just sort of sway there like that, smiling at each other like this might be the last chance they ever get.
Cas says – “I love you, Dean,” just as Janis is singing, you know feelin’ good was good enough for me – and it occurs to Dean that he’s dancing in the kitchen with the love of his life. He thinks back to the longest, loneliest nights he spent staring up at the night sky, believing wholly he’d die bloody and alone on the backend of some random hunt, and how the smallest (but loudest) part of him had wished for exactly this. For someone to hold him and see him and dance in the kitchen with him, barefoot and covered in soap.
He kisses the tip of Cas’ nose, the lines under his eyes. Doesn’t realize he’s crying until Cas is wiping tears away with the pads of his thumbs and soothing hands through his hair. He’s crying, too. Laughing and crying and telling Dean he loves him, he loves him so much, he’s loved him from the first moment he saw him.
It settles in Dean then – really settles deep, and true, and good – that he was meant for this. He wasn’t born to be a weapon. Wasn’t born to be a son, or a father, or a brother. Wasn’t born to save the world or to end it – was just meant to dance. His arms were meant to hold. To sway them both around the cheap linoleum floor, to sling low around Cas’ waist and spin them both ‘til they were dizzy with it.
They laugh and kiss and Janis is saying – good enough for me and Bobby McGee – and Dean is thinking – Yeah. Yeah, it really is.
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OKOK HALLOO!! <33 sry this is a bit late i had to go out
How do we think,, mango would look as,, a warrior cat,, 🐈
A lot of their info is in the ref sheet, and idk what else to say other than they’re a bit cuckoo tbh ☹️☹️ and they’re based on a Great Potoo! Mostly js with the smile tho </33 my other ask probs had more on it i just forgot what i put lmaoo mbmb but tysm for the offer!! Have a great day <33
WEIRD LITTLE FREAKS IN YOUR AREA‼️‼️‼️
Warrior-fication under the cut:
“Potoo” is a rogue “cat” that wanders the clan territories and sometimes make patrols really fucking scared when they catch a glimpse of them, considering how elusive they are. You could SWEAR someone was there but when you go back to check theres just. nothing. nothing but a faint unnatural, alien, scent that lingers. Spooky! They’re basically the local Clan Cryptid™ that queens would use to scare their kits into not leaving the camp LMAO. Wether or not they’re actually real is up for debate among the clan cats.
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