#sorry for flooding/long post

[punnifullife]

more robstar art but now ft. some batfam!! This doesn't even scratch the surface of doodles i'll be posting...still mostly robstar but now I got other plans involving the batfam hehe

[cosmique-oddity]

Phew, my last weeks of work are now complete >:)

I loved Dratchet and Ratchlock since the very beginning of my attachment towards Transformers, first TFP Ratchet…..but yeah….two of my favorites character….plus Keferon’s Mech AU…..I had to make my own thing about it.

A story….no…an illustration ! I couldn’t choose. So I did both :}

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That was not the first time Ratchet came back to his private lab angry, but this time, yelling at his superiors, and at the system, and basically at evverything that could be yelled at except the pilotd while leaving the manufacture, was certainly the last. He quit. That was enough,

you don’t win a war with feelings they said

well yes,

exactly,

but you win a war with soldier, and frying their mind before they have their first fight because you want them to be more perfectionned ? That was a little counter productive.

So he gave up. They are on their own now.

The lightly humming of his car was barely enough to keep him awake, it have been a long time since he last returned home, usually, he stayed at his work place, to have more time to sleep, but then, he was sleeping even less. An endless vicious circle, things were often like that.

But all of that was over for him.

He granted these young greenhorn with his experience, and what did they do ? Ignored his advices. Sending pilots to death. So now, he had himself out of the infernal machinery. This mindless waste of human life, even where this is what they tried to save was absurd.

In the middle of his quiet and late ride, he heard a noise. Rumbling, was it the engine ? As he stopped the car backroad to check, the noise wasnt stopping. Came from the sky, military patrol ? He raised his two tired eyes on the sky and saw a shining rail approaching his forest, falling fast. Not quintesson shaped, and with the gaze of an experimented biomechanist, Ratchet identified a mech.

At this moment, its violently crashed on the ground, behind the trees at maybe three or four miles away. No matter how hard he argued with the scientist sooner this day or how bad he wanted to say fuck to all of this death industry who killed young soldiers, he could do something for the one trapped inside the mech....maybe.... the man regained his car as fast as possible and urgently headed for the crash area.

Deafened sound of tires on the damaged road. Ratchet was already projecting, mentally stocktaking the tools he took with him, and lucky enough for the poor pilot, he quit with almost all of his material, and even if it was mainly mechs repairing material, he also bought some instruments which were used for the subtle neuromedicine between human and mech. Could adapt some of it and stabilize the pilot....then he may have the time to go home and grab proper materials. If there was life there was hope.

" bold of him to crash himself just the day i insulted all of his hierachy".

He frowned. Almost there.

The trees nearby were crushed and uprooted. A flickering pink light catched his gaze.

Almost immediately, the Ratchet analyzed the mech. It was different. He didnt know in wich country it was made but that almost looks alien. The curves and shapes, busted and burned on several places were demonstrating an incredible display of genius ingeniery he could just admiring. But time was not for being amazed on plating.

Someone was trapped there.

He stopped and parked his car in front of a fallen tree, rushing to the car's trunk, taking few indispensable objets, including some of them to help a safe disconnection between pilot/mech. In case he wasnt out already. And a crowbar, the cockpit might be stuck, seeing all the damages the mech has taken...

The sound of slightly wet grass under his feet was covered by a frenetic noise of aeration. Ratchet listened to it, while cautiously approaching the unknown mech. It almost sounded like a breath, but was certainly a depressurisation issue. The mech had fallen from so high on the sky....

The damaged plating were hot, probably from atmosphere friction. He raised his crowbar and his eyes followed the curves of the chestplates, searching for a familiar shape, that could lead him to the injured pilot inside. His gaze stopped on a deep wound, that might have cut through the cockpit.

The engineer stepped on the hot metal, his thick boots preventing him from feeling the heat, and he started searching for a hint....anything that could be a mechanism, anything that could open this damn mech !

Ratchet considered the damaged chest plate he noticed earlier. The surroundings of the wound were leaking bright pink, a very unusual color for fuel. Another of these definitively strange things about the mech. Again....not the time for that. Maybe if he could widen the gap, then he would be able to have an idea of what was going on under this armor.

He tapped the plate, -it was starting to cool down- with one of his finger. It was a very little tap, but the whole mech startled. A hiss of pain, recognisible easily by an emerite engineer-but-i-fix-people-too, it had come from the head of the mecha. Was this modele controlled from the head, like Vortex ? But Vortex was insanely huge for a mech, way taller than this one. He moved careful, noticing the shaking of his support.

"You hear me, kid ? Its going to be ok. You crashed in a safe area.".

He spoke in his medic tone, wich mean, of course brusque, serious, but also reassuring and calm.

He mumbled about the mech's features and tiny words of comfort while reaching for the head.

A red light, not regular and rather epileptic was coming from the head, and while he was almost there, on all four of his limb to keep balance, Ratchet saw it.

A spectacularly humanoid face, with sculpted nose and lips was tensed in a painful expression, frowning, but the thing who trapped his gaze was the two optics....

....staring back at him.

Mechs dont stare. Their eyes are glowing, oftenly to mimick human face, after all, human are pretty prideful creature, no point in piloting big ass metal titan if no one could tell these where their creation.

What human couldnt mimick with technologie, on the other hand, was the subtle expression between trying to evualuate a threat, his own injuries, and looking rather on the verge of death but also ready to tear any enemy's limb appart with its teeth.

With just one....very long....look at the other's eye, Ratchet was suddenly understanding what was going on.

Well....probably not but he knew what he had to save.

The pilot, the pilot he had to save.

The mech was the pilot.

He was the one he had to save.

He stopped trying to -certainly- open his chest. If it wasnt good for human it probably wasnt for living technology.

The giant technological humanoid seemed in a high distress, exhaling a lot of air from his vents, his eye still intensely staring at him and the engineer doubted his usual technique -including trying to make himself as small as possible- would work.

"Its going to be okay Kid. I can help you. There is nothing here that want to harm you".

He did his best to convey all of these emotions with his facial expression and gaze, still firmly watching back at him.

"the world better wait till im home and officially retired before killing me".

The mech's gaze -damn it was so more living than ANY human made machinery- seemed to soften a bit but still radiated with suspicion.

Deadlock had been in several bad situations. It happened quite a lot when a specie of giant aliens with tendrils tried to invade your homeland, and he was ready to it.

Trained to kill, and to do it efficiently.

And he was *good* at it.

This time was just another of these ‘i went too far in my excitation’ moments, and he has crashed on a random planet he hoped was not inhabited. He landed hard, and pieces of his ship must’ve been thrown near his location.

And now, now there was an organic like no one he ever saw, and the organic was on his *lap* and he had the kindest warmest eyes he ever saw.

And these eyes were directly looking at his own eyes, and the well named ‘Deadlock’ was starting to wonder if he finally had reunited with the Allspark. His pained and tenseful grin faded a little and he tried to move his head forward, searching a better point of view to watch the singularity in front of him.

Ow.

Moving hurt.

Some sound came out of the organic’s mouth, probably a language. He didn’t had the proper tools to decode it but the tone of the language was extremely….comforting ? Soft ?

This was scary.

He wasn’t used to be welcomed like that after a fight.

Usually it was either another fight, either the yelling of a superior, either nothing at all. But this actual living being was carefully examinating his chestplates, and he recognized the gestual of someone who was used to heal. A medic perhaps ?

He tried to move something, maybe a hand, to reach for the pale organic, to be sure he was real, but his body was rather uncooperative, from what he could say, one of his legs was missing, and a lot of wound were releasing energon on the ground he couldn’t saw.

The high probabilities of bleeding out and crash was an issue.

He let his head hang, too tired to watch for every moves of the organic, and barely aware of his environment.

There must be a big problem somewhere….

He confusely thought, while watching the stars.

Must be a bigger injury I haven’t saw……..

Ratchet saw the bright light coming from the alien’s eyes slowly fading, and cold swear ran through his back. Yet, he could still say the soldier was alive, the lights of his body were shining, not a lot, but it was enough. He looked at his first aid kit with disappointment. That wouldn’t be very efficient since the form of life he was trying to preserve wasn’t a tiny human. The nearest thing he could compare the Mech to was….well their own mechs, or eventually….Quintesson. An horrible mess of organic and technology. It was partially thanks to their weird constitution that Ratchet had been able to make sense with the ‘he is alive’ thought.

At this moment and with this material, he couldn’t help the kid, and didn’t possess enough knowledge to tell if he was even dying or not.

He had already an idea of what to do….to fix him, at least trying to, but it involved several objects he hadn’t right now. Leaving to search for these so called objects was risking to let an injured alone, he couldn’t take that risk. He was trapped with the mech, and had to hurry and find something. He stood and reached for more adapted material in his car, trying to find something…. Anything.

Surprisingly, the most useful artifact he came across was his electric screwdriver and a bunch of screw along with a long metallic cabke. A parallel between human stitch, with sewing threads and the material he had with him right now. He could manage something between human fixing and mech repairing, that was what the ‘bio’ in bioengineer stood for.

The kid would be ok. He would live and tell Ratchet why he fell from the sky, and maybe if he saw his friend Jazz….out there…….

.

.

—————————————————

:)) @keferon

(I swear I’m not insane, your AU is just kinda giving me infinite drawing stamina lmao)

[starleska]

Here to talk about the little cricket (?) dude you've been talking about, Lux I think his name is? Anyway I haven't seen such a accurate rubber hose character since cuphead and little fella is really cute! (Since he's from Dr Who I assume he's malignant in some way? Idk I don't really plan on watching it, I just wanted to comment.) Anyways, he's super charming and expressive, I like having him all over my dash :]

hahaha YESSSS gosh i am so happy that folks are so excited about Mr. Ring-A-Ding | Lux Imperator, even if they aren't fans of the show!! i'm biased as a long-time Whovian, but the episode Lux really is the best one we've had in ages, so i'd recommend it wholeheartedly 😉 let me give you a little bit of lore re: our new toony cricket fellow!! massive spoilers for the episode Lux and an ongoing plot in Doctor Who, so only read if you're interested 🥰 i hope this'll be useful for any newcomers who are interested in starting Doctor Who as well!!

HUGE LORE DUMP BELOW:

so!!! the basic premise of Doctor Who is: the Doctor is an alien called a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey. he travels the universe through time and space in his 'spaceship', the TARDIS (stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space), and his almost always looks like a battered-up police box. he often travels with 'companions': usually human (though sometimes alien!) sidekicks who help him solve space/historical-related mysteries. when the Doctor dies, he can 'regenerate': his body changes, saving him from death and giving him an entirely new appearance. currently, we are on the Fifteenth Doctor, played by the brilliant Ncuti Gatwa 🥰

now back in 2023, we received three episodes for the show's 60th anniversary, and things changed hugely. as the Doctor regenerated into his Fourteenth version, he somehow came back with a familiar face: that of David Tennant's Tenth Doctor (perhaps one of the best-known iterations of the Doctor). this is because of the return of a character who hadn't been seen since the 60s: the Toymaker, a godlike entity who rules over games 👀

The Toymaker's introduction started a shift for the show, which was almost always strict sci-fi, into a more fantastical, rule-bending realm. the Toymaker turned out to be a member of The Pantheon of Discord: a collective of gods whose powers are beyond the laws of physics and nature. normally, The Doctor faces off against sci-fi monsters and antagonists, but the Pantheon are far more powerful, and not bound to typical rules (though they do have their own). there are a few members we know are in the Pantheon (The Toymaker, his child Maestro, the God of Death Sutekh) and some we speculate are in the Pantheon (the fourth-wall breaking Mrs. Flood), but the episode Lux finally confirmed our newest Pantheon member: Mr. Ring-A-Ding, AKA Lux Imperator, the God of Light 😱 in-universe, Mr. Ring-A-Ding is a character from a 1930s-era cartoon inspired by Fleischer Studios, Disney's then-competitor (and the inspiration for games like Cuphead!). however, Lux Imperator possessed and brought to life Mr. Ring-A-Ding's form by travelling on moonlight into a movie theatre set in 1950s Miami, where he climbed out of the screen and sealed the movie-watchers into celluloid film. when the Doctor and his current companion, Belinda Chandra, end up at the theatre, Mr. Ring-A-Ding (as he is calling himself) shows up as a smaller, physical manifestation of a living cartoon, and pretends to be innocent...but he quickly reveals his true form as Lux Imperator 🙈💖

after some completely crazy fourth-wall-breaking shenanigans wherein Mr. Ring-A-Ding | Lux animates the Doctor and Belinda, trapping them inside of celluloid film, he reveals his new desire: to use the Doctor's regeneration energy and build himself a body. this is because Lux craves light, but has always been trapped in the dark. having seen it on a film in the movie theatre, Lux wants to use the power of the atom bomb to unleash the most devastating light of all. it's pretty insane 😂

and the end of the episode is...the Doctor exposes Lux to sunlight, which causes him to grow infinitely large and...dissipate, into space? along with light itself? we have no idea. it's utterly mad, but SUCH a great watch!!! so to answer your question: yes, he definitely was malignant at first, but he kind of gets one of the nicest endings i've seen for a Doctor Who baddie in a while? he's just chilling up there in space now, twinkling along with the stars. that's wonderful 🙈💖 tldr; Mr. Ring-a-Ding is both the name of a 1930s Fleischer-esque cartoon-character in-universe, and the name adopted by Lux Imperator, the God of Light. if you're confused, don't worry: that's all part of the Doctor Who experience 😂💖

[kwillow]

A little devil.

Mostly drawn because I got some asks about what an infernal Ambroys might be like -- I didn't figure people would be curious, but perhaps I should have known. Tumblr loves a tiefling...

(Asks and answers under the cut)

AUs that change up major aspects of a characters life are always tricky to solidify, because you need to consider which of their personality traits are inborn versus which ones were manifested or exacerbated by their life history. Even though I think growing up as this highly distrusted and stigmatized kind of creature could theoretically make him humbler or nicer, he wouldn’t feel much like himself. I would consider three traits to be core to an Ambroys feeling like an Ambroys: his ego issues, his need to be liked, and his difficulty empathizing with others. So let’s assume he’s going to be that way no matter what.

Being of celestial heritage, born of these powerful, once-worshipped (even if they aren’t any longer) beings, naturally exacerbates those personality traits. He’s got a big ego because he’s grown up being told he’s the gods’ favorite princess, but it’s also easily damaged because he can’t live up to those expectations, his preoccupation with having others’ adoration is fed by being guaranteed their attention like the Baroque version of child star, and he’s going to empathize with others less because he’s literally “not like them.”

Being infernal, these hated, feared and disliked creatures, would flip some of these things. Maybe instead, his ego would manifest as being something “special” but despised despite his capabilities. One can assume his whining about how “people just can’t handle me because I’m cooler than them” in this comic would be similar, but heavier on the “the world just doesn’t GET ME, MAAAN” and less on trying to be something other people want (because people don’t want him in the first place). Instead of fearing he’s less than people expect, he might instead be convinced he can be more than people know. Instead of being hugely egotistic on the surface with secret insecurities, he might scrape and act self-deprecating while secretly believing he’s above all that.

While normally, Ambroys can get away with bad behavior because people are inclined to believe he’s inherently good (including himself), this Ambroys would be told he’s inherently evil. While I think that could manifest as him being completely mask-off, because he wants to be liked, an infernal Ambroys might instead be more careful with his behavior. 

For instance, normally, Ambroys knows that people he’s just met will be on his side, and getting to know him well tends to lead to their opinions of him worsening, so he cultivates shallow first impressions and tries to play to what other people’s best impressions of him are, as well as resorting to cheap tactics like sex appeal to have the most shallow attention-grabbing persona possible. So, despite how I drew him, an infernal Ambroys might tamp down on the sexy bad-boy thing (knowing it would reflect badly on him and come off as “sleazy” instead of “dreamy”).

Leading from that, I typically describe Ambroys as “stupid,” but he’s like that not because of any inherent limitations to his intellect, but because he can coast through life without trying, so he never needed to develop any skills he didn’t want to. Eventually, in his older years, he struggles enough in his life that he develops things like “forethought” and “theory of mind.” This Ambroys would have to learn more quickly to demonstrate his best qualities to others, so he’d be cleverer and more canny.

Would he use that for good? Fuck no, he’s still an Ambroys. But his attempts at manipulation would be more calculated and long-term, rather than “just start going through my mansplain, manipulate, manwhore routine until I get the attention I want” that Ambroys does. An infernal Ambroys would know he’ll never have the majority of people on his side, so he might value making few, more valuable connections more. He’d focus his efforts on seeking useful allies and sucking up to them to try to get what he wants, instead of wasting his time trying to appeal to people who will probably never care for him. Instead of shallow surface appeal, he might focus on appearing more useful to key allies. He cannot be wanted, but he can be needed. Instead of trying to crowd-surf, he’d try to ladder-climb.

At some point in Ambroys’ life, the powers that be put him to use in the military. Ambroys normally views this as an aggravating burden (albeit fun at times, in the way that he enjoys hunting boars). Infernal Ambroys would be more gung-ho about it, in the interest of demonstrating his usefulness to powerful people and getting the recognition he feels he deserves.

You might notice that none of these behaviors are particularly “nice.” Ambroys can normally appear very friendly, if not terribly kind, because he assumes most people will like him, and that gives them value even if he doesn’t really think much of their inner worlds or emotions. Everyone is beneath him, so he doesn’t treat a noblewoman much better than a barmaid, barring some necessary rules of etiquette. Since most people won’t like an infernal Ambroys due to widespread beliefs about infernals, a demonic Ambroys wouldn’t bother with them. He wouldn’t even pretend to give a shit about most people. Instead glad-handing with the peasantry, he’d focus on people “on his level” (power-players, nobility, etc.) He’d appear much cooler in his manner with most people, perhaps shallowly polite but distant, shirking most social interaction because it’d be a waste of his time.

…Wow that was more words than I thought I’d be able to type about this silly concept, maybe I should cut that one off here. TL;DR: Infernal Ambroys would appear more humble, but be just as egotistical beneath. He’d be more asocial than Ambroys normally is, but work very hard to cultivate key relationships, being a more canny social player at a younger age. He would not really be any nicer, unless you’re in a position of power that might help him get the appreciation he feels he deserves.

I went into his personality above, so instead let's talk about FAMILY MATTERS.

To briefly summarize Ambroys' family situation: his father is an older nobleman who never succeeded at having heirs, and was "blessed" with one by a celestial because of his devout and goodly nature, who left Ambroys with him to raise. A few years later, that same nobleman had an oops-baby with a commoner woman -- that would be Charles (apparently Ambroys' dad wasn't completely infertile after all).

Perhaps, with an infernal, the whole Ambroys situation would be less a prayer being answered, and more a deal with the devil. A Faustian bargain to finally have the son he's always wanted.

Ambroys' dad is a good guy. I think he'd be kind to his demon son (he asked for it after all), but would keep him sequestered away, knowing the stigma they'd both face if he showed his his in polite society.

Charles entering the picture would also be... complicated. You go to all this trouble and sully your good name to have a demon baby, and then just have a perfectly good normal baby a few years later. Damn. A bastard child isn't great for your image, but it's more socially acceptable than the whole deal with the devil thing.

Rather than the normal dynamic of Ambroys being paraded about and Charles kept on the sidelines until he's proven himself, in this AU, Charles would be the son their dad favors at first, with Ambroys being the shameful secret. Charles is also still a good guy, so I think he'd try to be friendly with Ambroys, but would always have this pitying, condescending edge to their interactions (as opposed to normal Charles, who looks up to a celestial Ambroys as this perfect older brother he can never live up to).

Their relationship would be less turbulent, but an infernal Ambroys would resent Charles being the "good" son in the same way that celestial Ambroys resents him for being a rival. Instead of taking it out on him by being a petty bully, an infernal Ambroys might instead try to use him for his own ends, being a devil on his shoulder (ha ha), knowing Charles can navigate through the world more easily than he can. Then take out that long-bubbling resentment on him in a big way, once he doesn't need Charles any longer. They've still gotta have that Abel and Cain thing going on.

They might still become friends as kids, because I don't think Ambroys would be cognizant enough of his power quest at like five years old to decide she's below his notice, and Lou flouts social norms, perhaps including avoiding devils. They'd need to keep their friendship a secret, though -- her parents would probably not be so keen on their daughter's little buddy.

Though I don't think they'd stay close. Part of what Lou likes about Ambroys is that he shows a side of himself he doesn't to other people, which he does primarily because she's lower status and therefore "harmless," and he's also a major ditz who looks to her for advice and consoling because he doesn't "get" people (not that she does). His openness lets her feel she has this absurd connection to power, and command over that power, that someone of her status normally never would. It's intoxicating to her.

Since infernal Ambroys would be cannier, he wouldn't need advice from her. He also wouldn't want her to feel that she has power over him, which ruins that avenue of appeal. He might still appreciate their childhood friendship, being someone with few positive social connections, but grow more distant as he seeks more valuable connections later in life. Her insulting, abrasive personality would also be unpleasant and tiresome to him -- he would get that from everyone, as opposed to celestial Ambroys, who finds it novel and exciting that she's so openly rude to him (while still seeking out his company). I think she'd pick up on that and start considering him someone that can't handle her, just like everyone else -- and also, damn, not even a fucking hellspawn can tolerate her. That would be a wound to her ego.

Ultimately, infernal Ambroys wouldn't need her in the way that Ambroys normally needs her. Instead of ending with a bang of a big blow-out break-up fight, their relationship would end with a whimper of prolonged ghosting. I guess that's better for her in the long run.

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Transcript:

You’ve been a very naughty little fucking thing, Machine.

You killed... a lot. Pretty much everybody. Pretty much everybody you encountered, you killed.

That is why, with extreme prejudice, I sentence you to gay baby jail.

May you rust in there forevermore.

Your only source of entertainment? Twitch.tv/getgianni

Now if you’ll excuse me, I'm going to go bot on TF2.

Audio source

[qirarey123]

Can a ballerina truly fall for a punk? 😔

[squid-seraph]

with the memverse giving sanitized octolings a way to regain their memories, might there be a happy ending in the cards for Sydney and Riot?

They have a chance.

[svtskneecaps]

lukewarm take of the evening: y'all care too much about being ""outdated"". fellas this smp moves inhumanly fast. it is ok to CHILL holy shit CHILL. y'all are like "(posts BANGER ART) super late guys sorry" friend i am hitting you with a blanket i am snapping you with my metaphorical towel WHAT DO YOU MEAN SORRY. "(posts BANGER FIC) rip this is outdated now" WHO CARES???? I LOVE YOU, OK. ohhhh woe is us as the fandom at large for having MORE HAPPY PILLS ARC CONTENT oh no how outdated!! how could you be writing speculative fiction about how forever felt during happy pills :( slash SARCASM!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN!!!! THERE ARE SO MANY BANGER ARCS, WHAT, YOU THINK WE'RE COMPLAINING????? FOR GETTING MORE OF THE CONTENT WE LOVED????? oh no we're past the period where everyone thought green gay ninjas were like Dead Dead, my work is now outdated and noncanon :( WDYM. GIMME. A BANGER IS A BANGER IDC IF IT TAKES THREE MONTHS. you think rome was built in a day?? fuck you, baltimore, GIMME. my ass has been cooking a goddamn backflipo family fic since july when it was ALREADY outdated do you think i fear god??? "oh no, you're making an edit of slime's (attempted) egg murdering spree?? how could you, that was months ago it's irrelevant" SAID NO ONE EVER.

save your wrists kidlings ok carpal tunnel is no joke. CHILL!!!!! CHILL!!!!!!!! TAKE YOUR TIME SHEEEEEESH OK LOVE YOU <3

[an-na-ko]

I'm so sorry for your loss. I lost my cat of 16 years a few weeks ago. He was a stray that gradually became OK with being a house cat, and he was so loved. I hadn't been able to cry for him (my meds make crying a near impossible thing) until I read your comic. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

(I hope you don't mind a masterpost of replies! I know pet loss is extremely difficult for a lot of people, and I didn't want to fill up people's dashes with each reply, but know that each message means so much to me. We all love in such profound ways and losing our little companions hurts to a degree that is immeasurable.)

For the anons above, thank you for such a heartfelt message! One of the things that helped me through the worst of my grief was seeing other people who talked about their pet loss too. It made me feel so much less alone, especially in thoughts that echoed mine, but it also helped me see things in perspectives I've never considered.

I posted this comic in hopes that someone out there who needed it would feel seen and understood, and that it would maybe help process their loss. So it really means a lot to me to see that my comic has helped, in whatever way it could. I'm so sorry that we all understand this feeling, but I hope you never feel alone in missing the little lives that mean so much to you.

For anon above, I can't imagine how difficult that is. Lyra was a surrender, but it was very obvious from how well-loved, affectionate, and well-looked-after she was that her previous family had loved her.

I hope you don't feel like you failed your girl; there are circumstances that no one can control no matter what. Cats (and most pets in general) have an amazing ability that, despite language barriers, seem to know how much you love them, just as easily as we know how much they love us even if they can't say it. Your girl knows you love her. I don't fully know her circumstances or yours, but I truly hope you find that closure. 🫂

I haven't met a lot of people with cats named Lyra! I hope it didn't bother you too much to read such a painful comic about a cat with the same name, haha. I hope your little Lyra is healthy and happy, and please give her a little kiss for me! 🤍

thank you anons for reading my comic despite the heavy content, for connecting with it the way you did, and for the kind words! 🫂 I truly wasn't sure if anyone would want to read such a painful, raw comic about loss, but these messages really brighten my day. I hope your days are bright as well.

[sheila--e]

Beastars brain rot again. 👍👍 What a 🍈 we should kill him

[ko-fi]

[king-midas-fortnite]

Curse Time

There’s a harsh rumble that is felt through the ocean and along the deck of the ship before a bright light blinds you. When you open your eyes, you’re standing in front of an open window that is a few stories high, overlooking an ancient city you know no longer exists.

For just one hour, you can explore the place you used to call home when you ruled it as a King.

King Midas blinked several times through cloudy vision as the city came into view. Someone's voice from far away was just starting to grow more audible. They were saying his name, a woman. She sounded concerned.

"Midas! My love, what's wrong with you?"

His vision finally cleared. The woman was standing in front of him, a hand on his shoulder while her other palm was pressed to his forehead. She fretted over him while he could only focus on the long dark hair that sat tied up on her head, weaved into braids by strings of green ribbon. Her arms and fingers were decorated with gold bands, a white and green gown over her body with a gold clasp holding it together over her shoulder. Her skin was a lively tan, speckled with freckles, and her face...Kind, emerald green eyes with an intensity behind them that read to him as a wisdom beyond her years.

"Damodice..." The name of his queen slipped past his lips before he was fully aware he had remembered it. Seeing her face had dredged it up from the depth of his ancient mind.

She took both of his shoulders then, concern lacing every beautiful feature, "Midas, please. You're scaring me. You stopped speaking in the middle of your sentence. You've been standing here in silence--"

She was cut off as he pulled her into his arms, his face burying into her shoulder. His voice broke on barely a whisper, but there were no tears. His mind had not fully caught up, "Damodice, I'm so sorry."

She didn't say anything at first, wrapping cautious arms around him, too. Fingers carded in his long hair, she gently shushed as the King began trembling in her embrace, "It's alright. Tell me what's wrong, my darling."

Midas clamped his mouth shut. He hadn't a single idea what to tell her. She allowed him time to breathe, which he took gratefully. After a long moment, he straightened from her. Both of his hands, warm and unladen with gold, cupped her face. He smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, whispering against her skin, "I'm sorry, I did not mean to scare you. Merely light-headed."

"You do not sleep enough." She replied.

Some things never change, "I know, my love."

Midas pressed another kiss to her forehead as he tried his best to take stock of how he got where he was. He'd been in the atrium of the yacht, talking with Valeria while Tina, Brutus and Marigold stood chatting on the stairs. They'd all felt a rumble beneath the ship, there was a flash, and he'd heard a voice. Undoubtedly another curse. This one had sent him two thousand years into his past. It had sent him Home. It told him how long he had. How long was it? How much time did he have to--

"Where is our daughter?" The question again left him before he was even conscious of asking it.

Damodice hummed, having relaxed into his arms with her head resting against his neck, "ζωή is supposed to be in lesson, but I'm sure she's found a way to escape. Probably sitting out in the garden."

ζωή. The name that only he and Damodice had called their little girl. It meant life. He had forgotten, and this broke his heart.

"I'm going to go see her." He spoke carefully, trying not to allow any of the desperation he felt into his voice.

Damodice nodded and took a step back to allow him to pass, "Are you sure you're alright, Midas?"

"Yes." He lied before kissing her once more.

His lips lingered against hers until she pulled back with a little laugh and playful push to his shoulder, "Okay, okay. Go see your sunshine."

Midas took a second to truly take in her features, committing each to a more recent memory that he hoped to carry back with him. He smiled as he turned from her with hurried steps over stone floors.

"I love you, my king!" His queen called to him.

He stopped to look over his shoulder, "I love you, Damodice."

--

Marigold was where his wife said she would be. She sat out in the garden, her small frame crouched down while she stared hard down at a butterfly that seemed unaware of her analyzing gaze.

Her hair was as dark as her mother's, free falling over her at a length almost as long as she was tall. The ends touched the grass where she knelt.

Midas had stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. Immediately, there was a seize in his chest, an immovable lump in his throat. She was so, so small. And so alive. At six years old, he knew with tremendous anguish that she wouldn't be for much longer. There were not many days of her precious life left before he would take everything away from her.

Midas could not bring himself to speak. He had not laid eyes on her face outside of night terrors and disturbing dreams in two thousand years. He didn't know if he could take her eyes on him.

However, the decision was made for him when the butterfly took flight off the blades of grass and flit towards him. Marigold followed its path up and over her head, spinning around on her heels as large, golden eyes met with his.

His daughter’s eyes filled with joy as she ran to her father, while his own blurred with tears. He knelt down just as she reached him, crashing against his chest with small arms thrown around his neck, "Papa! That butterfly was blue, did you see? Like the sky!"

"I did, blue like the sky." He said, breathless as the air in his lungs started to feel like the sea. He hugged his daughter close, "My beautiful girl, my world..."

Midas began to sob in earnest, his knelt position falling to both knees while he held onto his child as if she were a lifeline. Marigold, confused and concerned, gripped the fabric of his gown with small fingers. Her tone came out so similar to her mother's, wiser than her few years, "What's wrong?"

Midas couldn't answer, once again at a loss as to what he'd even say. He simply cried while he held her. Minutes passed before she shifted in his arms, and he let her go. But she didn't leave, Marigold only took a step back enough to look him in the eyes. Hers were pricked with concerned tears of her own, but she reached forward with two small hands, and wiped her father's from his cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" She asked in a stern whisper.

"I..." Despite everything, Midas smiled, "I just missed you. So, so much."

"You're being silly," She said with a careful little giggle, "I just saw you this morning! Before lesson."

"Before lesson...I know, but," He took both of his daughter’s hands in his own, "There is just never enough time."

She hummed as if considering what he said.

Midas gave an airy chuckle, "Come here, my sunshine."

He brought her into his arms again. Marigold again wrapped hers securely around his neck and laughed as he easily lifted her up and stood from the ground.

--

He took his time walking through the open air halls, Marigold happily sitting up on his arm. Statues of different Gods stood between marble columns. As they passed each one, Midas would nod his head to them and ask, "Who's that one?"

His daughter answered enthusiastically, "Aphrodite! Artemis! Poseidon!"

As they passed a statue of Zeus, Midas kept up the game, but Marigold's face turned stern. She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly looking a lot like he imagined her mother did when scolding her for not going to lessons.

"You really don't know?" She asked.

Midas nearly laughed before struggling to hold his expression in mock-ignorance, "I must have forgotten. You know so much, can't you help me?"

"I suppose..." She narrowed her eyes at him in such a way that made holding back his laugh even harder. Then she sighed and papped her palm to his forehead, "But the King should know these things."

"Ah, but a king is blind without his sunshine." He said with a smile, bowing his head against her hand, "You are a most gracious princess."

That seemed to satisfy her need to discipline, and she smiled again, "That's Zeus. He's the leader. A king, like you!"

Midas laughed, and they continued on. He didn't care to spend any time thinking about how his impression of all these Gods would change over time. They weren't what was important. Though, the last statue was of Hades. He was depicted with a far more friendly appearance than he had come to know. Long robes like the one Midas wore now, rather than leather. No mask, laying bare a face that rested in a neutral sort of approachable.

Midas hadn't continued their game, stuck looking at the statue for a moment before Marigold papped his forehead once more, "Do you know that one?"

He exhaled a single laugh, "Yes. That's Hades, God of the underworld."

"Correct, you passed!" She exclaimed with both hands thrown above her head.

Midas smiled and brought her in to kiss her cheek. He was passively relieved that Dionysus hadn't been deemed important enough for his own statue in this hallway.

The two of them rounded a corner to enter the palace proper, and Damodice had been walking to meet them. Midas warmed at the sight of her while Marigold beamed and shouted, "Mama!! Papa forgot all the Godses names! But don't worry, I helped him remember."

"Is that so?" His queen laughed as they met, and she stepped to give Midas a kiss.

"Mhm!" Marigold nodded fast, "He said a King is blind without light."

"Without sunshine," He gently corrected, "Without you, princess."

"A princess can only help when she goes to lessons to learn." Damodice said, at first looking to Marigold with arms crossed, but then to Midas with an equally chastising look. He grinned at just how accurate his daughter's imitation had been.

Marigold groaned, "Papa, tell her how smart you said I am."

"The smartest in the kingdom." He answered with a smile to his daughter, but also a knowing nod to his wife, "But, your mother is right. You can only stay the smartest while constantly learning, ζωή."

A louder groan from Marigold, and she went limp in his arms. Midas laughed as he quickly had to adjust to make sure she didn't fall, "Ah, the drama! I'm not taking you back now, princess."

"You're not?" The two girls asked at the same time, one obviously more excited than the other. Midas looked between them before pulling Damodice to him with his free arm. He held both his queen and his princess in an affectionate embrace.

"I'm leveraging my authority to spend some time with my family." Midas whispered with his nose nestled into Damodice's hair. She smelled of the spices he remembered she'd carefully tended to. Her planters would be hung around the windows in their palace bedroom. Many memories of this place were coming back to him. He hoped to the Gods that he'd be allowed to carry them back when the Zero Point stole him again.

He heard Marigold giggle excitedly, bouncing in his arm while Damodice let out a resigned sigh. She wrapped an arm around the King's, smiling up at him in a sardonic sort of way, "I suppose that's fine. You really shouldn't make a habit of this abuse of power, you know."

"I know." He replied with a smile on his face so soft it seemed to strike his queen as unusual. She stared at him with a slight tilt to her head.

Damodice opened her mouth to speak when Marigold interjected with a tug to her father's ear, "Can we go back outside? I want to show Mama the blue butterfly."

Looking to her for approval, Damodice nodded with another smile. Midas turned and led the way back where they came. The weight of his daughter in an arm once again his own was something he knew would never fatigue him. He allowed the feeling of Damodice holding his other as they walked to soak through him. He knew they had little time, but he would do everything he could to enjoy being with them for as long as he could.

---

They'd gotten back to the garden, Marigold having demanded to be put down to find the butterfly. Midas and Damodice sat together on a stone bench to watch as she bounced through the grass like a cat after mice. There were several butterflies, but none the right color, and she moved on from them with dismissive huffs.

Midas' eyes were locked onto her. He’d have liked to keep her in his lap while his family sat together, but it was better this way. Watching her do what brought her joy for the first time in two millenia was a true gift.

Damodice's voice and her hand on his shoulder drew his gaze to her, "Midas, I apologize for repeating myself, but...Are you alright? You haven't seemed yourself this afternoon. Did something happen at your meeting this morning with the stratigos? Is there something I should know?"

Midas knew he could not let silence linger to fuel her worry. He turned to her and held her hand, bringing her knuckles up for a kiss, "No, my love. Everything's fine, I promise." He briefly paused, looking back out to Marigold. Internal conflict raged inside his mind.

He could not tell her. He wouldn't know where to start. Nothing he could say would make sense. She would only believe that he'd lost his mind and that her king was lost to her. As well, he did not know for certain that attempting to warn her and stop his horrific mistake wouldn't cause whatever it was that put him here to punish them in some way. However…what kind of monster was he to not try? How could he sit here and enjoy their company while doing nothing to prevent the atrocity he’d commit? How far into the pits of selfishness could one man descend to, to have the audacity to bask in the love of a life that he destroyed? This conflict made his body burn and his chest ache, though he did not show it on his face.

"I'm just tired, αγάπη μου." He smiled, a placid look to his features that she seemed satisfied with.

The two of them heard Marigold shout in high-pitched glee, both turning their eyes back to her. She bounded over with hands clasped in front of her, "Look, look! I got it!!"

They both leaned forward as she came to a stop in-front of them. Midas felt a devastating ripple through his body, a violent pulse in his mind and heart that he knew meant he'd be ripped from his family within moments. His queen and daughter were totally unaware as the little one opened her hands. A blue butterfly fluttered up from her palms, wings of broken crystals. The Rift Butterfly lifted itself in the air to fly clumsy circles around him. The two people he treasured most watched as it went, while he was stuck looking between the two of them. He was trying to memorize every detail as he felt the same fading in his mind as he had on the yacht.

They looked at the butterfly with an expected amount of amusement. It must have appeared normal to them, while the crackling sound of splintering reality filled the King’s ears. The seconds ticking by felt long, but not nearly long enough.

Damodice met his eyes, and concern came back, wiping away the calm Midas wished she could have kept for the rest of her life, "Midas?" She reached for him immediately with her hands on his arm while Marigold's touched at his knees. He picked his daughter up and pulled her up into his lap, once again using his free arm to draw his wife close. He held them both as tight as he could while he struggled to keep from trembling.

"I’m sorry, suddenly feeling lightheaded. I might lose focus again like I had an hour ago, Damodice." Midas spoke softly, knowing that if he raised above a whisper, his voice would crumble apart with the rest of him. His mind raced through everything he wished he could say to them. All the apologies he'd screamed at the feet of his daughter's golden corpse until his throat went raw. All the pleas that fell on the Gods' def ears. All the events he would give his life to prevent, but he had mere seconds left.

"I love you both so, so much. I’d give my soul for things to be different. I’m-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." He knew he'd lost his fight with composure, could feel his shoulders shaking with his breaths, and could do nothing about it. The King could just barely hear the voices of his wife and daughter, and felt small hands gripping his gown with warm palms on his cheeks, but he could no longer see them. Very quickly, other sensations faded, too, and everything went black.

-----

King Midas blinked several times through cloudy vision as the interior of the Marigold came into view. Someone's voice from far away was just starting to grow more audible. They were saying his name, a woman. She sounded concerned.

He turned his head up, and his vision finally cleared on Valeria's face leaned over him. Warmth registered over his cheek where she held his face, "Midas?! Oh thank God!"

She looked towards the staircase, hair sending embers down with the movement. They landed on him, but did not burn, "He's awake!"

Midas heard rushed footsteps coming from the stairs. He must have collapsed, Valeria catching him while the others rushed for water or some such thing. His head throbbed behind his eyes, and he had to shut them with a small grunt.

"Midas, κούκλα, are you okay?" Valeria was speaking softly, though with a frantic edge. One hand squeezed where she held his shoulder, the other smoothing over his cheek.

"I'm alright, αγάπη μου." Midas said with a placating smile. He moved to sit up, but the pain in his head flared, and with a hiss, he allowed himself to lean back into Valeria's hold in their lap.

Marigold knelt at his other side, "Definitely another curse of some kind."

"I am so fucking tired of these." Valeria gritted, nails pleasantly scratching over his scalp while she corrected his hair.

"As am I..." He pinched his brow against the pain, and finally sat up. When he opened his eyes again, Valeria was holding his crown out to him. When he took it to place it back on his head, he noticed a tremble in his hands. He ignored it as he stood with gentle help from the other two.

"What happened?" Marigold asked.

Midas looked at her and blinked, "I'm...not sure."

Valeria’s arm linked with his while she still made gentle adjustments. She tucked loose hair behind his ear, whispering so only he could hear, "You're crying, Midas."

The King brought his own hand to his cheek. There were indeed tears there. He wiped the moisture away, frustrated confusion running through him along with a profound, and impossibly heavy mournful sorrow. He had no idea why, "I had a dream, I think...I can't remember."

[phantomsies]

literacy, empathy and nuance are dead fucking arts and there really is no coming back from it.

[ehh-is-the-name]

Thoughts about the phones before I flood your dash with rbs of them:

I like to think that after the events of the finale 3GS and Mephone went back to mecloud and kinda just inherited the business in a weird way. Like it'd just become there's but I feel like big business decisions would fall more to shareholders and other seniors in the company, I digress. I feel like when they get I the grove of things and feel more comfortable with meeple as a whole (because they'd def change some shit) it would probably dawn on Mephone that they could easily get their screens repaired.

Though, that thought brought on the thought of if they'd really want to or not. I like to imagine that the thought just pops into Mephone's head and he blurts it to 3GS who has mixed feelings. Maybe it's the idea of surgery, maybe it's the idea of losing scars... I don't know.

Like, I feel like 3GS would be the type to not fully mind having his cracked screen since he's had it for like a decade at this point, and even though it cracked while he was doing something horrible, it still sort of reminds him of his fallen comrades. Sort of a "Yes, a new screen would be nice, but it also isn't necessary. Plus cosmetic repairs seem like a bit of a waste of time," type of deal. I don't think he would've fully grown out of all of his soldier teachings, even though he grew out of most. I don't think he'd fully even recognise that he'd have an emotional connection to the crack through the soldiers but would lean more on the "It's not the most efficient choice given we're still trying to figure out our next steps with everything" side of things. If I'm making sense.

Mephone, on the other hand, would more likely have that thought to even do it 'cause he's gotten work done on him before, thinking back to s3 when he got his screen polished. I think he'd start out gungho about getting his screen replaced since it just reminds him of the most traumatic day of his life. I say that, but I also think that his crack would also have an air of "but now I'm free" for him. So I don't think he'd 100% fully hate it, but generally wouldn't like it. That being said, I think after talking to 3GS about the logistics of it, it'd hit him that he'd most likely have someone he didn't create root around his insides. Like, theoretically, he could go back to the hotel and very politely ask Test Tube to do the operation for him, but he's already kinda made a promise to himself to not mess with them anymore. On top of that, if he's going to try to live his own life, he's got to get more comfortable with talking to "real people". At this point, I've kinda just imagined that he's talked to different objects who work with Meeple, but not in-depth, so there's still a lot of anxiety around others. That paired with being worked on by a stranger is an inherently vulnerable position to be in and would also dissuade him from getting his screen replaced asap.

I think after a while though, Mephone would get his screen replaced. Like, one day (after talking about it extensively with multiple engineers) he's like "I can't fucking take looking at this crack any more please help me". It's also like, although he's not running Inanimate Insanity anymore, I don't think the persona would fully go away and he'd feel self-conscious about it.

That or maybe I'm thinking about these goobers too hard.

[yuridotcom]

dw spoilers//

i didn't rlly like the ruby's mother reveal because I get how they're doing the whole "oh this woman who was made out to be really important turns out to be just some ordinary gal" thing but we have done that before, probably a good couple of times, and I wanted something interesting... just felt anticlimactic rlly

disappointing cuz I thought the first part of the 2 parter was rlly good but the 2nd part just didn't rlly satisfy what I was expecting idk

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

me when i first started this blog: post??? about other media??? NO. not here. no no no. it shall be STRICTLY witcher posts and the occasional personal posts. if it is truly a piece of media to which i am deeply dedicated perhaps i shall consider making. another sideblog. maybe i shall indulge in liveblogging on occasion. but that is the limit!

me now: lol. get house of anubised idiots

[sadisopodhours]

Sorry for arcane posting. Sorry that this blog has kinda become an arcane blog