noon twins

(what’s up 2017 I haven’t drawn comics in 500 years but I still can’t stop drawing the Wonder Twins r.i.p. me)

This is basically a scene from “I’m Your Savior” (with some little changes) by the brilliant @queenofthecommunistcannibals. (Wolfies go and read it, it is A.MA.ZING :D It’s also the origin story of the cyberarm.)

modern greek mythology

i. aphrodite doesnt believe in love anymore. all she sees is sadness and hurt and tears from people all around her. why love love, when all it leaves is destruction in its path? you can find her in bars and cafes, listening to all the boys and girls, who loved and lost. you can find her crying late at night in bed. mourning all that loved and loved and lost.
ii. athena doesnt see reason anymore. she forgot about strategies and wisdom. she only sees world problems, people and animals dying at the hands of each other. she stands tall and shouts and shouts and shouts at all who would listen, but… nobody is listening.
iii. artemis is still a huntress. these days she hunts people and collects their bounties. rapists, killers, murderers. they never stood a chance before her. she carries guns and knives and mace, she lives by no regrets. she is a protector of girls. no girl in hurting will be ignored, the goddesses brother will calm them down whilst she destroys the boy who hurts them. but tell no one. she does have many regrets - the choices, the decisions she made, but does she try to be the best she can. she lives and breathes only for her bother.

Keep reading

Memory (Ford and Stan Pines) (Bonus?)

This is a sequel(?) of a stangst thing I wrote for @a-million-chromatic-dreams

Also I tried my hand at the Guilty!Ford that @skaleigha made I believe (?)

Stan grunted as he moved about the cabin’s kitchen, eyes glancing at the clock that stated it was now almost noon. The younger twin frowned as he looked over at the kitchen table, a cup of ice-cold coffee still sitting untouched in the place reserved for his brother to sit, as was an untouched plate of eggs and toast. Stanford always at least came up fro coffee, but Stan had not seen him once since last night, his twin giving a weak goodnight before shutting himself away in his cabin.

“What the hell Sixer…” He grumbled, placing the salmon he had finished cooking on the table before making his way to his brother’s cabin, knocking a little harder than necessary. “Sixer! Food’s ready, again.” His heart began to beat a little faster when there was no answer, Stan surprised to find the door was locked, but with an expert flick of his wrist with his trusty lock-pick the door swung open into the dark room. Stepping into the room Stan felt the hair raise on the back of his neck when the smell of blood filled his nostrils, the male immediately flicking on the light switch. Stanford was sitting on the floor against his bunk, the man’s right arm slowly dripping blood onto the wood below between the fingers clamped over the wound. “Sixer?!”

“S-Stanley?” Ford’s voice was raspy, tears slipping down his cheeks as his brother vanished for less than 30 seconds, returning with the first aid kit and a damp cloth, which he placed over his brother’s bleeding arm. The room was silent as Stanley worked as quickly as he could to stem the flow of blood, the wound deep enough to cause worry, but easily could be sewed up with Stan’s skill he had picked up over the years. 

“What the hell were you doing?!” The younger twin cursed, Stanford glancing away as Stan checked over his handiwork with a quiet grunt.

“Fixing a mistake…” He replied quietly, Stan’s eyes going wide in alarm as Stanford tried to curl in on himself, as if trying to retreat from his alarmed brother. “I was so close this time…”

“This time?” Time seemed to stop as Stan stared at his weeping brother, whose face was pale and sickly looking at the blood loss. “What do you mean this time?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I shouldn’t have come back, I should have died when I was fighting Bill.” The words spilled from Stanford’s mouth faster than he could stop himself, Stan listening in shock as his brother started to cry even harder. “I ruined everything and I want it to fix it…this is the only way.”

“You didn’t ruin anything…” Stan said, though Stanford seemed to not hear what he said, left hand searching for the blade he had used on himself.

“I brought Bill here, I nearly killed the whole town, I nearly got the twins killed, I drove my closest friend to insanity, I deserve nothing more than to die so I can atone for my mistakes!” Stanford screamed at Stanley in desperation, eyes flashing as his slender fingers wrapped around the blade he had come across in some long-past dimension. Hearing the clink of metal against wood Stan snatched Stanford’s wrist before he could drive the blade into his neck, wild and desperate blue eyes staring into determined and concerned navy. the two struggled for a few moments before Stanford eventually ran out of strength, sobs bursting from his lips as he sagged forward onto Stanley’s chest, left hand weakly grabbing at his shirt when Stan tossed the blade far from reach.

“Sixer, this ain’t the way to do this.” His voice was low and resigned, gently cradling Stanford close to him as he began to rub his shaking back in small circles. “Jesus Ford…why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“I-I was bothering…you a-and…I don’t want to l-lose you…” Stanford whimpered, his grip tightening on Stan’s sweatshirt as if letting go would be the end of him. “I’m so sorry…I-I just ruin everything…”

“No, you don’t. We both made our mistakes Sixer, don’t you dare put it all on yourself.” Stan frowned, sighing as he felt his brother weakly try to push himself away, though he didn’t get far due to the thick arms securely wrapped around him.

“If I had believed you…I wouldn’t have lost you.” His brother whimpered through his tears, Stan wincing at the memory of the night he had been kicked out of his house. “I ruined everything…and my greed nearly cost the lives of everyone in the multiverse…”

“Bill manipulated you Ford, that’s what he did.” Stan grit his teeth at the mention of the demon, his grip loosening so he could pick his brother up with minimal resistance, Stanford looking just exhausted as he was carried to Stan’s bunk. “He’s manipulated people before, you were not the first.”

“You would have seen him for the conman he was…” Stanford muttered before finally passing out, Stan’s gaze troubled as he removed anything sharp from his cabin and eventually took a seat at his desk with a sigh.

Oh Sixer, how am I supposed to fix this?