#... Sort of

[diminuel]

Dragon knows that despite their man-hating reputation, the Kuja they rescued from a shipwreck doesn't want to kill him. But he feels he might die anyway if Wani keeps showing up in his bedroom like this.

I'm still trying to figure out how to shade boobs. Kuja Crocodile, who I haven't drawn in a while, for practice~

[sp0o0kylights]

Here’s the thing about natural—or unnatural, as it were—disasters.

Regular social norms go right out the fucking window.

In Tommy’s case, all it took was to see one news report, highlighting the burning husk of Starcourt, for him to turn to his girlfriend and ask “Do you think…?”

He didn’t bother to finish his sentence.

Didn’t need too—Carol immediately and instantly knew what he was on about.

They were in Tommy’s house, but that didn’t matter. Carol went right for the phone like she owned it (or like she’d been practically raised in said house given she’d known Tommy since he was seven, which meant she might as well own it.)

“He’s not answering.” She reported after a tense moment,

Tommy bit his lip.

“Think he’s still messing around with Wheeler enough to be at her house right now?” He asked, but it was a hail mary and they both knew it.

Carol rewarded his stupidity with a flat stare. “He’s not dating anyone right now, he’s person non grata with that hideous uniform.”

And for other reasons, not that either of them bothered to voice it all.

Tommy opened his mouth again, no doubt to ask something else idiotic in his growing panic, but was stopped by a finger held loftily in the air.

Carol expertly dialed with her other hand, before once again returning the phone to her ear.

This time she got someone.

“Hi Miss Maple, is Mindy home?” 

A pause, and then a rapid-fire back and forth took place, in which Carol:

Assured Miss Maple she was not at the mall.

Was happy to know Mindy was also not at the mall.

Made an appropriate gasping noise upon finding out Mindy had left only an hour before the mall had caught fire and could she talk to Mindy? Pretty please? This is so scary!

--Until Carol was finally connected to Mindy herself.

“No, I'm glad you’re safe.” Carol was saying, after another exchange that to Tommy, felt like some kind of over-complicated girl language where they both made soft reassuring noises until they finally got down to business.

Which in this case, was asking if Mindy saw Steve Harrington, their wayward third, at the mall.

“He was there.” Carol confirmed a scant few minutes later, frown slashing across her face as she hung up the phone. “She said he had the closing shift.” 

Tommy panicked harder. 

“What do we do?”

Carol, bless her, gave him the easiest answer in the world. 

With steel in her eyes, she calmly determined: “We go get him.”

They did.

xXx

Steve was not at the mall. 

One of his obnoxious children was however, and insisted Steve was both fine and had gone home. 

(As if anyone was ever fine after escaping out of a burning building.) 

Lucky for Carol’s temper and Steve both, that proved to be true. 

 “Hello Steven.” Carol greeted the second one of the Harrington’s double doors swung open. “You look like shit.” 

“‘Ro?” Steve asked in blatantly disbelief, squinting at her. 

Give how fucked up one of his eyes was, Carol wouldn’t be surprised if he honestly could’t make her out. 

Steve’s messed up face moved to the left with another blatant squint before he warbled out: “‘Tommy?” 

“Yes, yes, it’s us. Move over.” She flicked her hands into a “shoo” gesture, as Steve dutifully stepped back, allowing them in. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, somehow managing to sound normal for that one singular line. 

Carol beelined right for the cabinet with the medkit, while Tommy went for the fridge. 

“Taking care of you, idiot. How the hell did you get a black eye in a mall fire?” 

Or choke marks, or any of his other wounds she’d taken in at first glance, none of which looked to be a burn. 

It took a long, long moment for her to get an answer, during which Steve had trailed them both to his kitchen, confused but not fighting their presence.  

“Part of the building collapsed. I--there was--” He struggled for a moment, looking lost in his own kitchen. “A lot happened.” 

“No shit.” Tommy snorted, wrapping a  hand towel around an ice pack before dutifully handing it to Steve. 

“Put that on your eye.” He muttered, when all he got was a blank stare back. 

“Oh.” Steve stared at him, without moving. “Thanks.” 

With another loud snort, Tommy shoved it in his hands, then forced Steve to actually put it against his eye. 

An interaction that did not bode well for the state of Steve’s head. 

“Take that disgusting shirt off.” Carol commanded a few seconds later as she finished laying out medical supplies on the counter. Lined them up like little soldiers gearing up to ship out. 

Bandages, neosporin, alcohol wipes and various other little bits and bobs weren’t going to fix whatever the hell happened to Steve, but given his aversion to hospitals, Carol knew this was as good as she was getting. 

“Buy me dinner first, jeez.” Steve grumbled, but thankfully, complied. 

Or tried too, anyway--he seemed to be reluctant to take the ice pack off his eye now that he figured out that's where it should go, and equally seemed to be having issues raising his arms above his shoulders. 

Carol sent a pointed look at her boyfriend, then jerked her eyes in Steve’s direction when the idiot just stared at her. 

“Let me help you.” Tommy said a moment later, right before Carol decided to throw something at him. 

It took them both a minute, during which Carol rolled her eyes twice at their incompetence, but eventually they managed to get Steve’s busted torso out in open air, and the ice pack firmly back on his eye. 

Carol turned to survey the damage, and nearly dropped the bandages she was holding in shock. 

Tommy too seemed at a loss for words, eyes wide at the sheer amount of bruising. 

Steve was a mess.

More than, a mess--this was the worst state Carol had ever seen anyone in, and the fact that he was on his feet still was a fucking miracle. 

‘Staring won’t fix it.’ Carol told herself harshly, and she knew damn well Steve wasn’t going to fix it either unless someone forced him. 

Hence of course, why they were there. 

“Steven Harrington, did you run from the paramedics?” She demanded, as she finally picked her first weapon (a disinfectant wipe) and strode over to begin her battle. “There is no way they let you go looking like this!”

“They had other priorities.” Steve said defensively, then hissed as Carol got to work. 

“You should have been one of said priorities, idiot!” 

Tommy thankfully, had decided to make himself useful by retreating to the other side of the kitchen and pulling various items out of the fridge and pantry. 

Inbetween her runs for more supplies and hissing insults at how fucking stupid Steve was, Carol identified the makings of grilled cheese sandwiches--their little groups go to favorite. 

Which was good, because it both got him out of the way and meant they could get something in Steve’s stomach before she forced every pain pill she had down his throat. 

“I’m fine guys, really.” Steve protested, as if constantly repeating it would somehow make his words true. 

Carol stared deep into his watery eyes, before jabbing a finger into the center of the largest bruise on his side. 

“Carol!” He howled, bending double and away, panting harshly. 

“That,” She informed him with a pitiless stare, “was for lying.” 

Thankfully the damage wasn’t as bad as she first thought--it seemed to be mostly just bruises. 

Possibly a cracked rib or two, at worst. 

The worst of it was Steve’s eye, and of course, his head, because there was no way he didn’t have a concussion amongst all this. 

(Only time would tell how bad it was.) 

When Steve was as doctored up as Carol could make him, she promptly turned and frog marched him to his parents' overstuffed couch.

“Sit and stay sitting, while I clean up.” She ordered, not waiting to see if Steve would obey. 

She passed Tommy on her way back to the kitchen, a plate piled high with food in his hands. 

“Make sure he takes at least a few bites.” She added, low enough so only he heard. 

He nodded, and for the first time since the three of them had fallen out, Carol felt something in her finally relax. 

Figured it was likely the same for the boys, given their dynamic had always been something one step away from a normal friendship. 

(it wasn’t the relationship her mother had once accused her of having, though granted, they had tested those waters once, but something that sat in between ‘family’ and ‘mutual ownership.’ 

Losing Steve had carved something hollow in her and Tommy both. She’d put on a good show of not caring. Pretended it hadn’t cut deep. 

Getting even a taste of it like she was? 

Carol wasn’t letting him go again.) 

Cleaning up took a minute, long enough hopefully, for the pain meds to kick in, and she didn’t feel too guilty when she came back into the living room and collapsed on the couch, next to Steve (and thus putting him in the middle, between herself and Tommy.) 

He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned into her the second she sat down, like he’d been waiting for her to return. There was a pause, like he was bracing to be pushed off, but when she scooted closer, the tension left him in a silent exhale. 

“I missed you.” He whined softly into her shoulder.

She ran her nails through his hair, silently bemoaning the state of it. “We missed you too, Stevie.”

“I want to be friends again but,” Steve sighed, and Carol watched Tommy tense, staring at Steve with such intensity one would think Steve was about to announce whether Tommy would live or die.

(Honestly, her boys were so stupid sometimes.)

“We can't be mean anymore.” Steve finished. “Not me—but also not, not you guys.”

With an (unfortunately) adorable wrinkle of his nose, he added, “We were too mean.”

Carol rolled her eyes, but only when she was certain Steve was paying more attention to her sweater than her face.

“Compromise. I’ll only be openly mean to people who deserve it.” She countered, as Tommy finally relaxed.

“I can be nicer.” He agreed, slowly sinking down into Steve’s other side.

“Way less mean. No--no more pranks or insults.” Steve continued.

Carol nodded. “Not in public.” She agreed. 

She was not giving up her own personality in private, thank you very much. If that made her an asshole that was fine--it wasn’t like she hadn't been told she was nasty before this. 

“And I’m friends with Robin now. So you hav’ to be friends with her too.” 

“Buckley?” Carol made another face, and knew she fucked up when Steve instantly tried to sit up.

“Robin Buckley. She’s really cool, and--” He started, with that kind of stubbornness Carol knew all too well meant he’d made up his mind and would refuse to change it.

“Fine, fine!” She said quickly, though not without an eye roll. “You have got to stop adopting weirdos though. The kids are enough.”

Steve slowly laid back down. 

“You know about the kids?” 

“Steve Harrington, town babysitter?” Tommy said, something teasing threading through his voice. “Everybody knows, man. You give so many rides home your beamer has gained several bus themed nicknames.” 

“Huh. I hadn’t noticed.” 

“Of course you didn’t.” Carol snorted, before laying her cheek atop Steve’s head. Tommy cuddled up close to his other side, the same way they all used to before their parents started insisting their cuddle piles were “inappropriate.”  

(That hadn’t stopped them. Nothing had stopped them, until Steve had a crisis of consciousness while dating Wheeler. 

It was only half the reason Carol wanted to put her head through a wall.) 

“That’s what you have me for.” She informed him. 

“Yeah.” Carol could feel Steve’s smile, gentle and radiant as always. “Guess I do.”

A nice, perfect moment followed, the one she knew both her and Tommy had been craving. 

Steve, of course, was a creature who required constant reassurance because his awful, neglecting parents never provided any, and she was prepared when he fought against both his pain and sleep to seek it. 

“You guys promise to be nice to Robin? And Nancy, and Jonathan?” He asked it quietly, like he wasn’t sure what they'd do if they said no. 

“Oh God,” Tommy moaned, “I have to be nice to Byers?” 

 Steve stiffened once again, snapping out; “Yes--” 

“We promise, Steve.” Carol interrupted before Tommy’s giant fat mouth could ruin things.  

She moved a hand down to rub gently at his neck, a soothing gesture. 

Tommy, of course, wasn’t done, because Tommy was a moron. “Wasn’t he the guy Wheeler cheated on you with?” 

“We said we promise.” Carol repeated, steel in her voice. 

Tommy met her eyes over Steve’s head, and was greeted with the steel core of his girlfriend’s ‘do as I say or die’ personality. 

“Fine.” Tommy conceded with a pout. “I’ll be nice to fucking Byers.”

 In a mutter he added;  

“Not happy about it though.”

“That’s okay.” Steve mumbled back, seeming to have finally tired himself out. 

“Go to sleep, Steve. We’ll be here in the morning.” Carol told him.

It was a longstanding fear of Steve’s--that people just left in the night without saying goodbye. 

(Likely because his parents kept doing it.)

It didn’t take long, Steve was the kind of guy who fell asleep quickly. 

It was a nice mend to the hole Steve’s departure in her life had made. Carol hadn’t truly been looking forward to living her life without him. 

She’d get him back however she could.

Even if it meant being nice. 

(Carol hated being nice, but she’d do it, for Steve. 

Well. Less for Steve and more to complete the Tommy-Steve-Carol super trio that Carol had lived most of her life in, at least, but she wasn’t stupid enough to say that out loud.

Not now, anyway.) 

xXx

Close to a year later, Carol stood with her arms crossed, staring coolly at one Edward Munson, drug dealer extraordinaire and former (even if he was cleared) criminal. 

He grinned at her, the jerk.

With a supernatural slowness, she turned her gaze to Steve.

“I swear to God Steve you better housebreak him before you bring him anywhere near me.” She said, loud and clear.

Hadn’t she warned him about adopting more weirdos!?

Steve winced. 

“Come on ‘Ro, you promised not to be mean.” He wheedled. 

“I promised to not be mean to people who didn’t deserve it.” She shot back, as Tommy, wisely, stayed silent behind her.

(Robin, she noted, was equally quiet on Steve’s other side.

Normally this would raise alarms—Robin was quick to defend people if she thought Carol was being shitty and as a general rule was never quiet, but it would appear in this case she’d already clocked where Carol was taking this.

Smart girl.)

“Eddie doesn’t deserve—” Steve started but she cut him off with a blue tipped nail, shoved right against his lips.

“Not yet he doesn’t. But Munson,” She leveled her glare on him now, and let him feel the weight of it. “If Steve so much as says your name in a sad tone of voice, I will make your life into the kind of hell that Jason Carver can only dream of. Understand?”  

Behind her, Tommy cracked his knuckles, which was overkill and she’d get on his ass later for being dramatic, but presently she was too busy letting Munson figure out just how serious she was. 

Eddie’s gaze traveled from Carol, to Tommy, Robin, Steve and finally back to Carol in an assessment she frankly, hadn’t thought him capable of. 

She pushed him anyway. 

“I’m waiting, Munson.” 

In a somber tone of voice, Eddie replied; “It’s gotten. Very, very gotten.” 

“Okay, I’m lost.” Steve said, because, as always, he was the last person to know he was in love.

Moron. 

“Good. As long as we understand each other. Now.” Carol tossed her hair back with a quick snap of her hand. “Milkshakes?” 

“Robin--” Steve whined, no doubt wanting her to spell things out since Carol was refusing, but thankfully Buckley also seemed to realize staying quiet was the best course of action, and instead of answering quickly got Steve off track with a jab at his milkshake order. 

Which was of course, why Carol liked her.

(She wasn’t about to share that with Robin just yet. Integrating someone into a trio like theirs was delicate business—and she had a sinking feeling Robin might be sticking around, just like Steve and Tommy had.

As for Eddie Munson? 

Only time would tell.)

[justaladyiguess]

A slightly more believable TADC theory

Like the last one, take everything I say with a grain of salt. I’m just a lady watching a show.

One scene that stuck out to me in the new TADC episode was when Jax seemed to genuinely think that Gangle likes it when he's mean to her.

At first glance, it seems pretty counter-intuitive. Why would he think being mean to someone will cheer them up? But I think this whole episode casts a bit of light on his perspective.

There are a lot of indicators that Jax has some concern for the others. The aforementioned exchange is one of them. Then, in the bar, Jax makes the jab at Kinger right after Ragatha talks about her history with her mom.

This one could be read in a few different ways, but I see it as him trying to distract from the somber tones in her story. Especially considering this expression moments before.

And then he apologizes to Pomni about the president thing, something even Pomni thinks is odd. Granted, he does it in a semi joking way, but there does seem to be some sincerity behind it.

If you’re a bit delusional, you could interpret later actions as this as well. When Ragatha blows up at Pomni and apologizes, he jokingly asks for an apology. But then seems surprised that he got one. It’s possible he was intentionally trying to distract from the semi-harsh thing she said before.

And finally, while the Poacher's Paradise is pretty self-indulgent, the President Pomni adventure seems like a surprisingly genuine attempt to make a fun adventure. Everyone gets a character sheet and everything. Minus Pomni, but still.

But if he does care, why does he act like… Jax?

I think it’s for the same reason Ragatha tries to keep things positive.

Some people try to solve things directly. They talk to people about issues. Pomni usually does this, but that’s a post for another day.

Ragatha and Jax try similar approaches on the opposite ends of the spectrum. Ragatha tries to lift everyone's spirits by keeping them positive and avoiding the negative. But I think Jax tries to lift everyone's spirits by trying to keep anything from being serious. After all, if none of it matters, nobody gets upset. Either way, nobody is confronting the actual issues at play.

To get a little personal here, it reminded me a bit of myself. Sometimes I find myself acting like Ragatha. Trying to find the good side so everyone else can see it too. But most of the time it's just easier to joke around. It's a band aid solution, sure. But it lightens the atmosphere. Seems to make things better. Granted, I usually don't do it by insulting the people I'm trying to cheer up, but still.

In Jax's mind, the reason everyone is so miserable is because they take it too seriously. He says it himself multiple times. Granted, he's a bit of a hypocrite in this respect. He can take insults and banter, but being humiliated in any way tends to send him off the edge. But even Ragatha seems to be acutely aware that her up beat attitude hasn't done much to keep her happy.

Their similarities are further enhanced by the scene on the bench.

Their back and forth strongly implies that their motivations and facades are similar. While both assume the other has negative intentions, I don’t think either of them do.

I do think he’s partly a jerk who gets pleasure out of making fun of others. And his philosophy of not caring is probably mostly to protect himself from negative emotions. He’s certainly not a saint.

But I think it’s possible that he’s got dual motivations. That he thinks everyone would be better off if they stopped trying to be happy and just started doing what he does.

Not taking anything seriously.

But that’s just a theory.. a Digital Circus Theory! And cut..

…

And yes, I did get the idea from that “Funny Things” fan song by RecD.

[xd-max-xd]

The unsettling o_8

[carosbee]

As a teenager, a large reason that I'm not depressed is the idea that life can get better. I've been bullied for years; spent most of my formative years without an irl friendship but you know what? I do fine academically. And with that, if I work hard there's the possibility that I can get a good job and live a good life. Who cares if two secondary schools hate me? Will they matter as I begin the 40-50 years-long grind? Will they matter in the middle or the end of it?

Absolutely not.

I'll hopefully be doing a job I'm passionate about; in 30-35 years time I want to be owning a house with someone I love a lot.

So much of my continuing to live is based around my future. Currently, as a teenager, I'm on the free trial version of life. It has its own difficulties but the thing that sucks the most is that most of the options are locked. What can I do but work hard academically and unlock as many options as I can for adulthood? I can do nothing now but study and make sure the doors don't close for me.

I get to be more free as an adult than I ever did as a child and I think more kids need to know that. as a high schooler part of what made my depression so bad was being told over and over again that it was the most carefree time of my life. while I was trapped in an abusive home + amongst bullies at school + in a body that wasn’t right for me. opportunities to be carefree don’t end when you turn 18. you can be more you than ever as an adult and that’s such a gift. I know ‘it can get better’ is an annoying thing to see over and over when you’re as trapped as I was back then. and I know that if you’re still a kid you deserve to be free right this second. but it can and will get better and this is not where life stops being interesting. promise

[diminuel]

The Maternity shoot Dragon and Crocodile did when Croc was pregnant with Kite was A Choice™.

A couple of months ago, @mangyraccooon left this comment on my comic about Dragon experiencing sympathy symptoms when Croc's pregnant: "If Crocodile ever did a maternity shoot it would be him holding dragon from behind (Basically the whole shoot would imply dragon was the pregnant one)" and I couldn't help thinking about what finding that pregnancy shoot would mean for the kid. X'D

And since it's always funny to draw Kite (especially when she can bother Sakazuki) I made a little comic~

[scribescrawls]

Silly Tarnma AU where back in the day before the war, Deltaran Medical Facility had a Sexy Medics Calendar Fundraiser for the hospital featuring the staff members. Damus got a copy because when they were both at the Jhiaxian Academy, Skids bought more than one to support the hospital but didn’t know what to do with the extra copy and gave one to Damus who actually did need a calendar and wasn’t going to say no to a free one.

Fast forward four million years later Tarn still owns a copy of that calendar and he may have used it for self servicing inspiration throughout the years. Each month features a different medic, but there’s one that he spends particularly more time looking at that makes him feel some type of way even if the calendar is now out of date. The page features a medic jet standing over another bot, wings proudly flared in a domineering stance. The jet’s long legs are artfully displayed leading down to one of his pedes stepping on another bot’s closed modesty panel in a suggestive way while the jet pulls the leash connected to the collar wrapped around the “patient’s” neck with one hand as the other hand is transformed displaying the medic’s tools.

Tarn goes to Delphi prepared to threaten/blackmail the new CMO there and his brain goes blank and short circuits when he sees the bot in front of him. I know Cybertronian calendars wouldn’t match Earth ones so they would have different month names and breakdown of how they section off time, but essentially the only thought currently in Tarn’s head seeing Pharma is the equivalent of ‘Mr. January?!?!!!’ Tarn’s HUD is blaring notifications about engaging interfacing protocols and he’s doing everything in his power to override any commands to ensure his panels stay locked. Tarn was not prepared to see the bot who has featured in many of his risqué dreams in real life ever. This is not helped by the fact that when Pharma speaks he’s just as sharp tongued and sounds even hotter than Tarn’s fantasies. Hot dom!medic jet is real and Tarn has no idea how to handle all of that lol

[caellekae]

Finally done after 58965326907467911235 crashes for dealing this art alone wtf 🥲

[surrexi]

oh this is like when i'm existentially upset and i sit in my own apartment on my own furniture and sob "i want to go home" into the ether

When my toddler is truly distressed to the point of crying, they usually start out with "I want my mama!" or "I want my papa!" depending on which parent is not with them at that time (which is psychologically on the nose as it is). But after they have been brought to the desired comfort parent of the moment, they usually find this did not solve as much of their suffering as they require, and end up just sobbing: "I want! I want!"

And I don't know but, maybe that never goes away. Maybe every once in a while we all just need to allow our inner toddler to sob against our shoulder crying "I want"

[weevile-mantis]

Deltarune traditional art [filters is why it looks weird]

can't be fucked to draw digital art rn!!!!!

[the-derpy-duck]

Because a new life series is coming out soon I’m drawing little guys™️

I like him a normal amount. A very normal amount. I’m normal.

[comickergirl]

Was trying to describe Esquie to someone and the point of comparison we arrived at was 'Baymax from Big Hero 6' and I just...

...it kinda works, is what I'm saying. XD

[indig0trolls]

Gonna post these in batches of three, the first of which will go up at 4pm today (june 20th), 72$ for each pair for the first 12 hours before they're listed individually for 45$ each.

[bloom-me]

IS THIS FUCKING PARTY INCIDENT??????? pls tell me im right i recognized the table but i might just be delusional

Doodles of scenes in a sans x reader fanfic my friend was narrating to me

Guess the fic

[pointmetotheundertow]

Will was never going to fall in love with anyone.

But he did.

And it can’t be wrong, can it?

It’s just… wrong to have hope. Because Will can’t be loved back. And hope is a dangerous thing. It has wings that cut and a mouth open and starving.

And when Mike’s right there, looking at him like he’s special and smiling so openly, Will kinda hates himself for looking back. Just a little.