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paper-ketch · 11 months

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Cucurucho versus — Tilin (and JuanaFlippa)

Oh, no, Cucurucho. You didn't sent them to hell. You just help them bring hell to you.

upcoming parts/comics/arts relating to this series can be found in '#cucurucho versus' tag!

ALSO! There is a 1-day poll on who do you want to see first (Tump or Bobby) in the next comic under the 'keep reading' (because i don't have the energy to work on both of them at the same time T_T)

Go vote!

+ this is what the code translates to btw lmao

#cucurucho versus #qsmp #qsmp eggs #qsmp huevos #qsmp tilin #qsmp tilín #tilin the egg #qsmp juanaflippa #juanaflippa #q!tilin #q!tilín #q!juanaflippa #qsmp cucurucho #tw gun #tw gun use #tw decapitated head #tw weapon #qsmp comic #tw eye contact

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gakoiart · 2 months

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Possessive behavior captured on camera.

(He's being taken as a hostage, but seems to like it...?)

#akeshu #goro akechi #ren amamiya #akira kurusu #tw gun use #p5 joker #shuake #sorry i cant draw #i cant draw 🔫 ok #my art #gakoi art

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labrat-heart-emoji · 11 days

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subduing the enemy

#ultrakill #v4v #ultrakill fanart #ultrakill v1 #ultrakill v2 #digital art #small artist #gun #tw gun use #artwork #illustration #drawing #artists on tumblr #labratart #if ur reading this hi i have a die young by kesha remix by russelbuck stuck in my head

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delopsia · 3 months

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from people you know to people you don't do not repost (reblogs are fine)

#lewis pullman #delgato's edits #miles miller #bad times at the el royale #tw gun use #tw gun

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thatdepressedtwink · 7 months

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The original toxic yaoi

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everglow-ing · 2 years

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RYAN GOSLING as 'SIERRA SIX' in THE GRAY MAN (2022)

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kogetaikid · 3 months

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TW!!!: GUNS

Bad move, Cowboy Starwalker looking ass

I should’ve use a yellow pen cuz *cough, cough* Undertale 💛YELLOW💛, but those damn things never work.

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flowery-laser-blasts · 3 months

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Drakken upgraded from Madagascar penguin to Lamball

Watching my bf terrorize tiny monsters, having an army of Lamballs at his disposal, and putting all of these poor critters to work... man, this game really is something huh. At least you can pet them :')

#wtf is this game for real #I dropped everything to sketch this out ugh #I watched sheep harvest the meat from a chicken's corpse #I had to draw Drakken with Lamball because this is just--- aaaaaa #palworld #kim possible #dr drakken #drakken #drdrakken #kimpossible #dr. drakken #lamball #tw gun use #flower's sketchbook

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socialc1imb · 11 months

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The shot. Part 2

(Part 1)

#social’s art #chonny jash #chonnys charming chaos compendium #cj heart #cj mind #cj clue au #tw gun use

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dakotameh · 1 year

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This was supposed to be done like 1 hour ago lmao

#mandela catalogue #the mandela catalogue #mandela catalouge fanart #mandela catalogue mark heathcliff #mandela catalogue cesar #tmc #tmc fanart #tmc mark #tmc cesar #mark heathcliff #cesar torres #alt cesar #fanart #drawings #analog horror #tw body horror #tw bright colors #tw gun use #his face be melting

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junkboxcorner · 11 days

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"Hunting Season" - 2024

[My Carrd]

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paper-ketch · 10 months

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Cucurucho versus — Bobby

Cucurucho, buddy, you simply can't handle the uber instincts of Bobby's uber chingon prowess.

see also: tilin (& juanaflippa) ao3 version (or check '#cucurucho versus' for more)

+ thank you @/tinylittlesimp for checking if the spanish dialogue is correct! ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ

bonus: explanation as to why the scanner didn't picked up the guns

/claps hand/

Okay, so.

The short explanation is that Bobby's front pocket isn't considered as in-game inventory, because the overalls is an attire, or it is considered as a Minecraft skin to be exact. The scanner camera only scans in-game-on-person inventory, or anything that shows you the inventory interface if you click on them, which is why the two guns bypassed the scan and remained undetected.

Were Roier and/or Jaiden aware of this? I'll leave that up to you guys' interpretation.

Also, there was an alternative choice to have Maxo be the one giving Bobby the guns, since he might be someone who probably figured that out one way or another.

But, I settled on Roier and Jaiden because it is quite funny to me if those two didn't knew about the loophole and didn't realized that they accidentally gave Bobby what he needed to wreck havoc in the afterlife (^^ゞ) + get revenge on that one time he died at the hands of the binary monster.

(Also, apparently according to the wiki, Bobby prefers the non-coloured sign because he likes the basic ones. But, he did have a teal/baby blue sign which he occasionally use.)

#qsmp #cucurucho versus #qsmp fanart #qsmp comic #qsmp cucurucho #qsmp bobby #bobby the egg #qsmp huevos #qsmpblr #tw gun #tw gun shot #tw gun use #tw violent imagery #tw implied death #this is the most effort i put in a fanart #q!bobby #q!cucurucho

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star-trek-shallot · 1 year

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Chekov: Can I ask a question, Keptin?

Kirk: Sure. Shoot.

Chekov: *pulls out phaser, shoots the ceiling*

Chekov: Can I ask my question now?

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bitemarx · 9 months

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original

silly guy hours

#lark oak #grant wilson #nicky foster #kiddads #oak garcias #close foster swifts #wilsons #dndads #dungeons and daddies #tw gun use #fanart #redraw

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outtagum · 1 year

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#same energy

CRIMINAL MINDS 1.06 CASTLE 2.18

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thylaseraph · 3 months

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JANUARY, 1995

It’s a shooting day and Dean’s ears are ringing with the pop of the .22 that’s growing heavy in his hands. At Bobby’s house he always has to wear earmuffs when he shoots; usually Dean complains because they look stupid, but right now his ears are so frozen he’s wishing he had a pair of his own.

He points the muzzle at the ground and shakes his head out, cupping a stiff hand to his cheek. There’s exactly zero blood flow happening in his face, and the cold makes each shot ring out so loudly he has to try not to flinch. And his socks are wet. Pretty miserable shit.

John’s on his way back from replacing the target, face grim.

“How’d I do?” Dean calls. Too loud, judging from the way his dad scowls.

“You’re blowing through ammo and you only got six on the page.”

Dean slumps. “Crap.”

“Yeah, it is. You need to get your shit together, I can tell your heart isn’t in this. You reload yet?”

Dean sniffles, even though he can’t feel his nose, either. “No.”

“No?”

“No, sir.”

“So get going. Show me you can do better.”

Dean’s fingers feel like ten useless icicles. He slides the chamber open and clink-clink-clinks ten bullets inside, then carefully closes the action. The Beretta is a testy bitch that jams constantly. Dad only trusts it for training and seems likely to chuck it soon.

He barely seems affected by the chill. Mostly he looks bored. “Go on and take a few steps forward. Ladies’ tee until you get ‘em all on the page, and then we’ll think about moving you back again.”

Dean’s skin crawls with embarrassment and he wants to protest—he could do better if it were warmer and if he weren’t so tired already—but obediently he moves closer to the target.

“Alright.”

He raises the gun and clicks the safety off. He’s probably more cautious with it than John cares, but he’d rather be safe than sorry.

The target is a sheet of paper with orange circles pinned to a stump surrounded by casings. He lines the center up in his sight and then aims a little lower to compensate because the Beretta shoots high. God, if Dean could get his hands on that ivory-grip Colt, he’d die happy.

He empties her out, gets about nine bullets on the page. Four of them land tight in the center. The stray shot is only because he overcorrected his aim at first.

He turns back to his dad with a grin on his face, feeling pretty proud. There’s a pleasant buzz of warm feeling in his nose and eartips along with the ringing in his ears as he traipses back to the ammo box. “Not so crappy, huh?”

John shakes his head. “Dunno where you learned to be such a brag.”

“What am I supposed to be, humble? Pass.” He squats by the box, breathing on his numb hands before delicately picking up the bullets. “Hard pass.”

“Being humble is what keeps you alive. Nine out of ten only seems good on a target that doesn’t move. It isn’t your best—or it shouldn’t be.” John’s silence is as unforgiving as his voice. Dean watches his words sink through the winter air like smoke.“We stay here until you can actually hit what you’re aiming at.”

Through no fault of his own, Dean’s mouth is suddenly letting loose the complaint he’s been trying to hold in. “Come on, give me a break, Dad. It’s freezing, and I’m tired, and I’m about to have frostbite on my carpal tunnel. I feel like I can barely pull the damn trigger!”

His father’s boots crush against the frozen ground louder than a gun. He looks up quickly, stomach dropping. Dad and his rifle make a stark silhouette against the cold white sky above.

“You don’t ever speak to me like that again. You sound like your brother, like some insolent child, not a man I’d trust with my weapon. I know I taught you better than this. When lives depend on you, are you still gonna be making excuses? Are you gonna be whining about the weather when it’s your bad aim that gets somebody killed? Is it gonna be the trigger’s fault when you get yourself killed?”

“No, sir,” Dean replies, heart beating in his throat.

“You’re laughing, you’re fucking around, I can see you’re not taking this seriously. You still don’t understand the stakes. Think about Sam—you know whose fault it’ll be if you can’t take care of him or the lives you say you want to protect?”

“My fault, sir. Dad, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. Don’t be begging for respect when you haven’t earned it. The only reason we’re still out here is you. You being cold and tired right now is on you. This is all in your control. Your life is in your own hands, nobody else’s. Do you understand that?”

His eyes are so heavy.

Dean nods and looks down, unable to speak. He is so stupid.

The dry air is hurting his head; he won’t be surprised if they get back to the cabin and find Sam with a bloody nose. Kid’s got a fragile sinus. The sooner Dean makes this, the sooner they can get back. He loads fast.

“Sam told me that you went hunting,” John says, tone slipping back to conversational.

“Yeah,” Dean says, grateful as he slides the clip home. “Bobby showed us how to do animal calls.”

“Being able to hunt and eat what you’ve killed is important. For when you have to keep yourself fed, but for building character, too. A hunter should be able to hunt.”

“And fish,” Dean adds. “Hey, we should go again soon.”

John nods, the barest hint of warmth. “My point is, everything you need to survive should be in your power. Your gun is your second most important tool after grit. Even when you won’t know if you will survive, you have to know that you can survive.”

Dean nods, and after a few seconds of silence, he supplies, “Bobby makes good venison chili.” He doesn’t mention that Bobby specifically said John was not invited to any of his suppers.

“You get one?” John asks. “A deer?”

Dean stands slowly, thumbing the safety. He doesn’t click it off, yet, and he keeps it pointed at the ground. Like Bobby keeps cussing him out about. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

Dean’s mouth is sour, the pit in his stomach is growing again, and somehow he’s sweating. John sounds like he knows the answer why.

Dean clicks the safety off and Dad doesn’t even look twice, just waits. Dean walks back to his spot and gets into position. Behind him, John sighs. He sounds so tired.

“If you can’t even kill a deer, how do you think you’re gonna be able to shoot things that look human?”

Dean aims at the target and tries to breathe. The freeze is in his lungs, now, January’s teeth seizing his insides so every inhale is sharp. The target wavers in his sight as he tries to keep his hands still. It’s just an orange circle. Just a tree stump. Just practice, so he’s fine.

He exhales slowly, finger curling around the trigger. He’s fine and he’s got this.

“I mean, what am I supposed to think, Deanna,” John says lowly, voice pinched with disappointment, “you tell me you want me to treat you like a man, but you can’t even—”

Dean fires, ten rounds in steady, thundering succession until the ringing in his ears drowns out the sound of the chamber clicking empty.

The target is in tatters. He thinks they all landed.

His chest is still tight, and raw, and like maybe something has shaken loose or broken free. With shaking hands, he zips up his jacket, and then he turns and walks to his father’s side.

“It’s Dean,” he says thinly. He clears his throat and adds, “Sir.”

John’s looking at him and Dean can’t make out what’s going on behind his eyes. After a moment he nods, and then jerks his head toward their gear. “Pack up.”

As Dean’s cleaning up—collecting fallen casings and discarded targets, and making sure every gun is unloaded and every safety is on because Sam always pokes around even when they tell him not to—John claps him on the shoulder. His voice is soft again.

“I’m just worried about you, I need you to know that. I want you to be able to take care of yourself and Sammy when I’m not around. This world is mean, and cold, and it’ll tear you apart. I can be hard on you kids…I push you too hard, I know it, and it still won’t be enough to keep you safe. And that kills me.”

John cups the back of his head. Dean meets his eyes and sees a world in there that he can’t begin to fathom. “You did good today, Dean, really good. I don’t want you to think I have any doubts—about how strong you are, and how brave. And I trust I can depend on you, son.”

Somewhere inside Dean, a knot loosens, like he’s finally been allowed to breathe a little. It’s good.

#repost from my old blog #trans dean winchester #transphobia #misgendering #deadnaming #parental abuse #verbal abuse #forced masculinzation emotional stunting meow meow meow #bound for the floor by local h released 1996 changing nothing in deans life but becoming a soundtrack #dean: i earned respect! john: if i push him hard enough he will kill so good :3 #ficlet #supernatural #trans dean #cw misgendering #tw misgendering #deadname #tw gun mention #tw gun use #mine

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