#little bits of lore for my boy

[quibble-auk]

@thebrokenmechanicalpencil

Part two is done!!!!!

Here’s part one!

Next

I had fun with this… I might even pick it up again from where I left off, I’m enjoying the two. And we still don’t know what happened to Sunstreaker.

I also didn’t proofread this one too much to please pardon the grammar and if certain parts feel kinda weird.

—

The music resumed, the notes slicing through Dropmix’s mind like a blade, forcing clarity. It hurt for the briefest moment, but he was quick to allow it to surpass his programs. A low, resonating hum of strings filled the silence, a familiar numbing buzz filled his head. Battle programs disengaged and anger dulled.

His fist was still raised.

Cometeater was still struggling beneath him, hissing ferally, claws raking at Dropmix’s armor in a desperate attempt to escape. Their legs scrambled to find a perch or vantage point. His armor had yet to press down in submission, as he glared challengingly at the towering mech.

Theremin had been the one to introduce him to this song.

Dropmix’s vents pulled in a slow, controlled breath. He forced himself to register the details of the room again: the dim lighting, the scattered supplies on the floor, the faint scent of disinfectant, and the underlying tang of energon—his own, dripping from his wrist. His grip around Cometeater’s throat was firm, too firm.

This wasn’t the Pits. This was his medbay.

Cometeater wasn’t his opponent, he was a patient. Someone Dropmix was meant to care for.

The red and black mech took a moment to select a nice long song, just as a precaution. He loosened his grip on the other, no longer risking strangling him, but still tight enough to ensure he would not get away easily. Comet was still hostile, still challenging. Something told Dropmix that he probably wouldn’t until he had been put in his place. He wasn’t sure if that was his old programs or his actual thoughts on the matter.

Regardless he made direct eye contact with the smaller being for the first time since his arrival to the room. Dropmix’s expression was carefully neutral, collected, and unbothered. Cometeater’s plating was fluffed further, vents pulling in sharp, uneven breaths, his eyes burned with defiance. He wasn’t backing down. Not yet.

It was a soothing song, written in a language that Dropmix never had the chance to learn.

Dropmix exhaled slowly. He couldn’t let this escalate further. This was already going terribly. Embarrassingly so. He hadn’t lost his composure like that in a long time, at least not by accident. He needed to regain control of the situation. He needed Comet to calm down.

Holding him by the throat probably wasn’t the best way to go about that but Dropmix couldn’t afford to let him go and let him cause even more chaos.

“Are you done?” Dropmix asked, voice even, measured. He loosened his hold just a fraction more, giving Cometeater the option to either submit or lash out again. He was hoping for the former.

Cometeater snarled, flashing his fangs at Dropmix. His eyes flickering dangerously and confidently, “Get off.”

Theremin had promised to teach him the words eventually. They had never found the time.

“Cometeater, I am not here to harm you or Sideswipe,” He began. Comet’s demand didn’t count as an answer. It was still challenging Dropmix’s authority. To listen would be to submit and the gladiator knew better than that. “I am a medic, I don’t hurt people.”

There was a silent “anymore” when Dropmix momentarily paused, his eyes still bored into Comet’s “This is my medical bay,” My territory, my rules.

“I’ll give you two options,” he was still giving Comet a chance to choose, to be in control, “You can either calm down so we can have a talk like civilized mechs, or I can sedate you and you can spent the rest of your time on this outpost unable to defend Sideswipe.”

The green being stilled at that, a storm of emotion flashing across his face. His plating twitched, like he was considering trying to lunge again, but Dropmix could see the hesitation creeping in. The words had struck a nerve—unable to defend Sideswipe. That was the last thing Cometeater wanted.

Dropmix knew that.

He also knew that there was currently an absent member of their trio. Sunstreaker was nowhere to be found, that would only make Comet’s positiveness of the remaining twin stronger. It was a weakness begging to be exploited, all attachments were. The red and black mech had known that and had still fallen victim to the same trap, more than once now.

He didn’t move, didn’t tighten his grip or loosen it further. Dropmix gave Cometeater time to think. That was the key. Control wasn’t about brute force; it was about patience, about knowing when to push and when to wait. If the medic wanted to get what he wanted from this he would need to play the long game. The concept was far from foreign to him.

That's what had always set him apart from other gladiators, what kept him alive for so long in the arena. He could control and dominate without painting a massive target on his back, he just needed to be more subtle about it.

“…Fine,” Cometeater spat, voice begrudging as his narrowed eyes finally looked down in submission for just a moment. “But if you so much as look at him wrong, I’ll tear you apart.”

Dropmix huffed a quiet breath. “Duly noted.” He would expect no less from Cometeater. The larger mech released the smaller being and cautiously stepped back, keeping his hands visible and easy to track. He may have gotten control of the situation but it was still fragile. One wrong move and they could be back at square one.

Cometeater dropped to the floor, landing in a crouch, his eyes never leaving Dropmix. He was still tense, his plating shifting and twitching, but he remained where he was. He continued to analyze the medic standing before him.

Said medic looked down at the ground where the supplies he had gathered was now scattered, some of the items looked partially damaged from the fall. Dropmix gestured vaguely at the floor before crouching down to start picking things up. He would have to sanitize some of the equipment that had fallen out of their containers.

It also gave Comet a window of opportunity, a chance to attack. Dropmix would seem to not be paying attention and it would be easy to dominate him from his crouched position. He didn’t need to look up to know that Cometeater was considering it. He could practically hear the tension in the air, feel the way the smaller mech’s frame shifted ever so slightly, muscles coiling like a spring just waiting to release.

But Cometeater didn’t move.

Good.

Dropmix took his time, deliberate in his movements, showing neither fear nor hesitation. He gathered the fallen supplies, brushing off any debris and setting them neatly back in the box. A test of patience. A game of control. Comet was significantly less likely to strike again, Dropmix was in the safe zone… for the most part.

“As I was trying to say before, you and I both have our secrets, we both know each other's—to an extent,” He spoke calmly and slowly, allowing Comet the time to put the pieces of the puzzle together to sort out what Dropmix’s secret was. He was giving Cometeater something to exploit, sure, but the creature would also know that Dropmix had information just as valuable. “I also happen to know that you are most likely injured like everyone else who came in. I’m a medic who already knows about…”

Touchy subject.

“...That. Your exposure would remain the same, as would mine. I don’t need details on anything that's not crucial for me treating you,” He continued, carefully gauging the reaction of the other. So far he seemed to be treading lightly enough to not warrant another outburst. “You can’t protect SIdeswipe if you're dead and ignoring injuries is a great way to get yourself killed.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you?” Cometeater bit back sharply.

Dropmix may have smirked if it had been someone else. He knew better though, obviously Sideswipe was also on Comet’s list of things he’d rather not talk about. “I would.”

That response must have thrown Cometeater off, because his eyes flickered in hesitation, his scowl wavering just slightly. He quickly regained composure though, anger settling back into his posture, “So what? You expect me to believe that you're some ‘good doctor’ now? Why would you want to help me?”

It was both a challenge and a genuine question, one that he had every right to ask. Dropmix shifted the weight of the box in his hands, coldly staring down at the creature “I want you and Sideswipe out of my medical bay. I can put you in a hab-suite once I know that you're not going to randomly collapse in one of the hallways and make matters worse.”

To Comet, it would look like Dropmix was just being territorial and stand-offish. Maybe even taking his role as a medic seriously, they did need more space after all. In reality, he could care less if he was in the medical bay. Dropmix just needed him far away from Jeopardy.

“And how do you plan on helping? You don’t know anything about me,” Cometeater spat out defensively.

He had a point though, Dropmix hadn’t the slightest clue as to what he was. He didn’t really want to know at this point, he just wanted him gone. “I know enough, I can figure out the rest.”

The medic moved to place his box on the nearby counter, he didn’t miss how Comet’s plating flared and his posture tensed when he got closer to Sideswipe. Once the box had been set down he looked over at the creature, “Even better idea, you tell me what's wrong and we can skip the entire physical examination. Then we can both leave faster.”

After a few brief seconds of silence, Cometeater finally huffed and shrugged, rolling his eyes like an immature teen. “Fine, yeah. Just don’t try anything or I’ll—”

“Tear me apart? I’m aware.” Dropmix cut him off, and briefly glanced at his still openly bleeding hand. Comet must have severed a fuel line considering the flow hadn’t slowed down in the slightest. He looked back up at where Cometeater awkwardly stared at him,

“Unfortunately, I’ve got to patch myself up a bit before we can get started,” he was careful to make his tone sound less like an accusation and more like a simple statement. He walked towards the door, opening it but pausing before he stepped out completely,

“I do want the lights on though,”

[momomallowart]

Happy birthday Tomura ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔっ🎉🎂

He is loved more than he knows 💗

Alt version + close-ups 🫶💗

[twinklingwatermellon]

also I think it’s time for a little Elly Lore Update because I feel like I mention so many people on here and y’all need to understand who I’m taking about when you attend the virtual sleepovers 😌

[slasherflicks999]

I am the only one remembers Crosshatch Creepypasta. Look her up, I felt like she is one of most forgotten Creepypasta characters. I do miss some digital and gaming creepypastas. TwT

She is like female Ben Drowned lol.

i swear i feel like i saw her on amino once in middle school or something she looks SO familiar but not enough to confidently say i knew who she was before now

SHE DOES LOOK SO COOL THO i appreciate i appreciate :o any BEN adjacent character honestly gets an automatic nod of appreciation tho LOL

if you have ever played or heard of the game OFF…. her design reminds me a lot of it

so hyped for that game to come to switch btw TOBY FOX IS GONNA BE ON THE SOUNDTRACK IM DEAD /POS

[spookitordukeit]

Kyanos-

Deep, blue, abyss, consuming, cold, danger, slow, watching, slinking, confident, chasm, excited, thrill, laugh, grip, taunt, play, prowl, straight, coo, obsess, arctic, alone, ploy, smile. The slow dilation of a predators eyes. The black overtaking the iris and leaving only the barest of whites. The stop of a heart as you see the peaking of eyes from behind a tree when you thought you were alone.

Rust-

Smothering, following, stalking, watching, heat, corrosion, mind, latched, insistent, pursuit, slow, drawl, easy, false, games, leading, unconcern, tease, questions, lure, trade, assurance, sweet poison. An orange Spotlight that cuts through the darkness. Never leaving you no matter how far or how fast you run. Keeping you perfectly within the circle of its beam. Wind whipping past as you run in the dark.

Vinum-

Calculate, silent, observe, at length, tracing, iron, click-clack, sharp, time, hmm, intellect, question, keep, possess, tired, age, restraint, hush, obey, wait, watch, obliterate, whisper, wrapped around, manipulate, shift, change, favor. Tilting of the head. The slow curl of an open hand around a throat. The oppressive thrum of red that fills your mind.

Kopi-

Quiet, seeing, notes, grip, sealed, kept, gold, skcret-skr, slouch, glow, pillow, heartbeat, static, silent, safe, hidden, sigh, gloves, humming, soft, closed, loose, flowing. Stillness in the swaying field of yellow grass. A figure standing against the light of the setting sun. A sighing body curled atop a pile of pillows in the quiet of a dark room.

Black-

Gruff, teeth, dark-water, black-ice, sharp, crossed, hmpf, bared, tension, metal, rend, trap, protected, folded, pressed, thought, disinterest, bulk, winter, dreary, narrowed, rapids, quick, snap. Standing in an open field under a rolling storm, sky tinged blue-gray as the thick rolling clouds rumble above. Feeling the vibration in your chest with hands clenched into fists at your sides.

Grim-

Quiet, stalk, watch, slouch, silent, chase, behind, hum, knowing, wrapped, keep, no escaping, shh, learn, curiosity, intriguing, lead, trap, nudge, encourage. The reluctance of accepting a caged warmth within the dangers of a blizzard. The trembling of a mechanism taken apart only to be gently put back together. The soft whisper of a voice that leads you down the winding path even when it ends death.

Edge-

Straight, wish, frown, away, tall, stood, firm, snap, sharp, drag, collar, mine, leave, brace, chill, provide, whip, tapping, rhythm, impress, point, claw, press, heat, suffocate, tension, rip, imposing, gravity, silent, lean, scrutiny, loyal, hate, begrudge, kneel. A tight coil with the threat of springing, held in place by an invisible hand. Sweet words hissed with desperation at a rabbit gripped too tight within a palm.

Red-

Snark, defy, anger, boil, burst, goad, trick, lead, downfall, hostility, rage, hot, blind, heavy, pin, suppress, growl, smother, slow burning, huff, animal, sharp, satisfaction, grin, death, bloody, release, hurt, heel, command. The explosion of a match lit knowingly and tossed into the invisible killer if a gas leak. The grinning of bared teeth of an animal willingly muzzled, seconds from being let loose.

[glass-trash-bab]

Augh I love my dnd character so much. I love him so much. And I love all the characters from his backstory that the rest of the party doesn't know yet.

I have so much love for them and I can't even form a coherent thought.

Also hi mutuals I'm sorry I haven't posted shit all yeah. I'm knee-deep in this dnd hyperfixation and almost everything I'm drawing is revolving around that.

[quibble-auk]

@thebrokenmechanicalpencil

I finally finished the little blurb with Echo and Cometeater. Idk if I got your guy right in this, I just kinda winged it. I swear Echo isn’t usually this awkward, but he’s kinda still messed up and Comet is not helping.

Anyway. I want them to be friends, or at least friendly, but you can tell me if I’m wrong. That may just be me… but of everyone on the base (other than my medics) I feel like these two could chill.

The start is… idk it’s something. I was struggling with how to start it tbh. I gave up. Same with the end.

—

Echo didn’t really know what to do while he waited. Dropmix was supposed to be doing some more tests on his doorwing sensors to make sure everything was healing right but the medic was preoccupied. Even though Echo had previously scheduled the appointment he had been brushed off in favor of treating the mechs that had just come back after getting caught in a minefield—which he had no issue with. He despised having to come down to the medical bay.

Especially when Leoblast wasn’t able to come down with him.

It was nothing against Dropmix or Jeopardy—the older was gentle and kind, and the younger was sweet and innocent—he just simply didn’t like the medical bay. Not after the incident with Sunrazor. He had spent plenty of time in the medical bay both during the ordeal and afterwards. But he had to come get screened, again, just in case for whatever reason things weren’t healing properly.

Usually, Leoblast had always been willing to come down with him to keep him company, however the guardian was off on a patrol. So, Echo would just have to deal with sitting in the sterile room by himself for the time being.

Well, almost by himself.

Jeopardy had sat down a bot cloaked in a blue blanket when he stormed through. He hadn’t been able to offer much introduction, preoccupied with gathering supplies for Dropmix and unfortunate mechs who had detonated the landmines. He had muttered a frantic introduction before explaining to the smaller mech that he couldn’t go with Jeopardy into surgery. Echo hadn’t been able to hear if the mass of blue ever responded.

But the other mech in the room had yet to say anything and Echo would rather not bother him for the time being. Maybe if he was in a better mood he may have been able to muster up a joke or two to try and break the ice, but today he wasn’t up for it. He hadn’t been up to pulling a prank or messing around in awhile, Leo was starting to get worried.

Echo stared down at his fidgeting hands, doorwings flicking behind him as he hunched over in his seat. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft hiss of the medbay's ventilation and the low lulling of soft music that was ever present. Echo’s fingers tapped a twitchy rhythm against his knee as he stole a glance toward the other mech.

Cometeater.

That’s what Jeopardy had called him, right before disappearing behind the surgical doors with a tray of energon packs balanced in his arms. The name didn’t quite match the mech’s current state—bundled tightly in a blue blanket, helm bowed, and posture almost painfully small for someone with such an intimidating designation.

Echo’s doorwings twitched again. He hated awkward silence. It pressed into the back of his processor, static loud and itchy. The pale green mech clearly wasn’t in good shape either—so what was the harm in saying something? Even if Echo didn’t feel like talking, maybe a word or two would help pass the time. Distract both of them.

“It’s um… Cometeater right?” The Praxian began, tilting his head towards the other, “I’m Echo, Jeopardy introduced us a bit ago but…” He trailed off, where was he going? He smiled and laughed nervously, readjusting his posture. He wanted to kick himself, he used to be good at things like this. “We haven’t gotten a formal introduction I guess.”

Cometeater didn’t respond at first—not with words, anyway. The bundle of blanket shifted slightly, as though startled that someone had decided to speak to him at all. He blinked at Echo, eyes sizing him up for just a moment before he responded. The younger mech's voice was soft. Not shy, exactly—closer to something cautious. Carefully rationed. “Yeah… it’s Cometeater.”

Echo gave a small nod, eyes flicking to the floor again. “That’s… a name,” he said with a half-laugh, before wincing. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I just—Cometeater. It sounds… I dunno. Intense?”

The other mech just shrugged blankly. He really wasn’t giving Echo much to work with here. The sharpshooter smiled, trying to remain friendly despite the unease that was crawling through him. There was something about the way that Comet watched him that was unsettling.

The Praxian cleared his throat, trying to brush off the static curling at the back of his mind. “So, uh… are you from around here?” he asked, gesturing vaguely. “Base-wise, I mean. I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Another pause. Then, softly, “No.”

Echo waited, thinking there might be more, but that was apparently the whole statement. “Cool,” he said anyway, stretching the word out like it might fill the gap in conversation. “Got transferred here recently? I haven’t really been keeping up with the gossip on base recently, maybe I missed your arrival?”

Cometeater just stared blankly at him more, not a single tell on his face. There was no way to tell what he was thinking. The silence stretched on long enough that Echo was starting to believe that the other wasn’t planning on responding at all when they finally spoke again. Cometeater shrugged again and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “It’s complicated.”

When someone said something like “it's complicated” it was a very clear message to drop it. So Echo did. He nodded along, wing twitching slightly.

“…Yeah. I get that,” Echo said quietly, rubbing his thumb against his fingertips, fidgeting again. He didn’t push for more. He knew how much it sucked when people did that—asking questions like they had a right to your trauma just because they were curious. He wouldn’t be that guy.

He let the silence settle again. This time, it didn’t feel quite so suffocating.

Cometeater shifted a little beside him, drawing the blanket tighter like it might shield him from the room, the war, the universe. His eyes weren’t on Echo anymore, instead fixed on a spot near the door, far off and vacant. The Praxian could see the mech’s clawed hands working at the hem of the blanket, tugging at the seams mindlessly. He would destroy the blanket if he kept doing that for too long.

Still, Echo didn’t press. Instead, he leaned back in his chair again and let his gaze wander the ceiling, counting faint cracks in the paneling that he’d memorized from past visits. After a few minutes passed like that, Echo tried again. Not with words, but with something simpler.

He reached into one of the little compartments on his hip, fumbling for a moment before pulling out a tiny hex-shaped stress puck. Tempestrift had given it to him when they were still just getting to know each other—a little comfort thing, something he could squeeze or flick or spin when his processor started spiraling or he got antsy while waiting for a target. Just something simple to forget or play with.

It was meant to be provide him with something to do to keep him from losing his mind with the endless amounts of waiting he was always doing.

The blue mech stared at it for a moment in his palm, then tilted it slightly toward Cometeater. “You want it?”

The younger mech looked over at him slowly. Didn’t take it. Didn’t reject it, either.

“I, uh… I know what it’s like,” Echo added, his voice a bit rougher now. “Sitting in here and feeling like your plating’s gonna peel off if you don’t do something. Even if it’s dumb. Even if it’s just a stupid toy.”

He tried to smile. It didn’t really land. His fingers absently flexed around the small fidget toy, his wings flicking uncertainty as he forced himself to remain still. After another beat of silence he slowly retracted his hand, heel bouncing on the ground as he looked away, “You don’t have to take it if you don’t want it. Just… Figured it would help.”

Echo couldn’t help but look at the edge of the blanket again, where a seam had already come loose. Cometeater slowly followed his gaze down, eyes widening when he looked at the minimal damage done to the fabric. For a moment, Cometeater just stared at the frayed edge—like he’d only just realized he was the one unraveling it. His claws froze, stiff with guilt. Then, carefully, he folded them into his lap. Not tightly. Not clenched. Just… still. A small effort, but Echo could tell it took some control.

“…Sorry,” Cometeater mumbled, voice barely audible. His optics stayed on the blanket. “I didn’t mean to.”

Echo waved the apology off with a flick of his wrist, smiling sympathetically. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not even torn yet. You don’t have to apologize. You’re fine,” He hesitated, leg still bouncing. “I used to pick at my own paint when I got bored, or I’d start to carve little notches into my gun. So at least with the blanket you’ll be spared a lecture on abusing equipment from Rumbleclutch.”

Cometeater didn’t smile or laugh at the sad attempt to lighten the mood.

The blue mech looked down at the puck he held, debating if he had made the right call or just blown this entire attempt to converse. He decided to focus on the small toy in his hand rather than his failed joke, smile falling.

The small puck that he had was far from anything fancy or nice. The paint had long since been stripped and it was notched and scratched, but so was everything since the war had started. Finding small toys like that had become rarer and rarer, but Tempestrift had gotten him nicer ones since then, he really didn’t need this one anymore.

He tried to offer it again, “You don’t have to take it, but I do have others if that’s what you're worried about. And it’ll help the blanket last longer.”

Cometeater looked at the puck again. This time, for a little longer. He didn’t reach for it, but something in his expression flickered—like a radio signal almost coming through, then fizzling back into static. His claws twitched slightly, and he shifted in his seat again, less like he was trying to disappear and more like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to exist in the space.

Eventually, with hesitant, almost mechanical motion, he extended one hand from the safety of the blanket and took the puck.

Not quite from Echo’s palm, not quite directly either. He scooped it more than he grabbed it, like it might burn him if he touched it wrong. Once it was in his hand, he immediately turned it over, claws tracing the worn edges and the uneven grooves. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes stayed fixed on it, brows furrowing just slightly.

Echo let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, wings settling just a little lower on his back. “Yeah,” he said softly, “it’s ugly, but it does the trick.”

Cometeater didn’t answer, but he didn’t let go of it either.

The music playing overhead shifted to something slower, almost mournful. Echo didn’t recognize the track, which probably meant Dropmix had added new music again when no one was looking. There was always something kind tucked into the playlists—old frequencies of home, long-lost Cybertronian lullabies, distant echoes of a world that didn’t exist anymore.

That was another reason why Echo hadn’t been fond of the medical bay. Not only did it mean he had to sit still and wait patiently but it carried a weight. Sure, people were healed here, but so many were lost as well. The music that was meant to soothe could easily become too reminiscent of what everyone had lost.

His leg continued to bounce as he waited, after a moment of glaring at it from beneath his blue visor he managed to get it to stop. Instead he ended up fidgeting with his fingers, running his fingers over his thumb over and over as he waited. He hated waiting. Waiting for a target, for his team to respond, for someone to come rescue him, or for medical attention. It made his thoughts way too loud, then he would get distracted and people would get upset.

But sitting still and doing nothing had always made his plating itch. That was nothing new, it wasn’t somethin he had picked up from his time with Sunrazor—unlike his inability to have a solid conversation with someone. Echo had always needed to do something, otherwise it drove him crazy. Both Rumbleclutch and Leoblast argued that his inability to do nothing was why he was always getting trouble. Tempestrift said it made him reckless but fun to be around, made him more spontaneous.

Echo missed Tempestrift.

The door hissed open suddenly, pulling the blue mech out of his own thoughts. Echo’s doorwings snapped taut for a second before settling again when he saw it was just Jeopardy—the young medic’s expression taunt as he moved through the entrance with a datapad tucked under one arm, some smudged energon drying on his plating.

“Sorry for the delay,” the medic said, a little breathless. “Dropmix is still busy trying to resync someone’s fuel pump, but I can take you back, Echo.”

The sharpshooter blinked, stood slowly. His joints cracked louder than he liked. “Oh, yeah it was no problem, I didn’t mind waiting.”

He really shouldn’t lie to Jeopardy, but he hated to see the younger mech so distraught. Echo really didn’t care who saw him, it was the same either way. Despite what Jeopardy thought he often provided just as good of care as the more experienced Dropmix. He didn’t give himself credit. Echo smiled as he rolled his shoulders, wings flicking as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Jeopardy gave a warm glance to Cometeater, Echo could see something more solemn in his gaze though. “I’ll be back in just a moment, this shouldn’t take too long”

Cometeater didn’t answer, but he didn’t shrink either. Just curled the puck a little tighter into his palm and gave a small nod. That was enough for Jeopardy. The medic looked back at Echo and motioned to the open door he stood in front of. Cometeater looked up at Echo as he began to walk away, eyes widening as his hands clenched around the small puck.

Echo hesitated. Then looked back down at the green mech. He didn’t need that one anymore, Tempestrift had given him other ones, it still didn’t mean some part of him fought against parting with it. “You can keep it,” he said, nodding at the puck. He smiled, “You might find another use for it besides destroying perfectly good blankets.”

Cometeater blinked up at him, empty eyes looking over Echo once more before turning back to the object in his hold.

Echo hadn’t managed to learn much but he had confirmed one thing from the conversation. The pale green mech that had been following Jeopardy around for the past couple of weeks was an odd bot, but not a bad one.

[cornbread33y]

What kind of father would I be if I didn't redraw my son.

I def haven't forgotten about him and maaan what a glow up he's had! (old ones under cut)

[quirktwerp]

i come crawling out of my little hole, scroll for ten minutes, then hide away again for months until the cycle repeats itself.

[lmadsadness]

APOPHIS.

1/?

[skitskatdacat63]

misc lore drop day 27/?

One of the best irl Vettonso moments by far to me is that press conference where they keep one-upping each other about how long it takes for them to find the limit of a track. “Two”, “I do it in about one and a half” “one!” It's a great example of how they can be lighthearted and silly but still can't resist the perpetual one-upmanship. As I said in yesterday’s post, they’re basically bound to compete against each other, but are forced into a situation where they need to cooaperate more often than not to make life not constantly unbearable for them, and everyone around them. So they need to find little ways where they can get that energy out. Which is. Incredibly annoying to everyone else around them. Imagine you can’t get through literally anything(i.e. Card game, hunting trip, dinner, etc.) without them verbally, and sometimes even physically, sparring. To them, it’s a sport. To most everyone else, it’s insufferable. To those who know them well, it’s a mating ritual. I think those who know them well begin to recognize the increasing fondness and familiarity they have for each other in arguments, and are gushing to each, “oh my god, look how enamored they are with each other!” They would never admit it’s flirting, not one bit. To Seb, it isn’t flirting because he already flirts in way more blatant ways, duh. Fernando is like, “Me!? Flirt with him!? That’s preposterous.” 

Anyways. Cards. I was joking yesterday about how most of my ideas form from little details that I like to expand on. I do think it’s really fun to see how much of a deal and how much significance I can put into something that seems generally meaningless. So: cards. In the olden days(and I think still now actually, but I'm too American for that and it doesn't matter here anyhow), there were actually different suits used in different parts of the world, and even within Europe itself. I like that even though vettonso both exist together in the hyper insulated world of royals, there are still minor differences that keep them apart, and that they can argue over. Everything with them is deceptively complicated and convoluted. Fernando’s not just gonna bend over and let them play a game with Seb’s cards, huh!? That’s practically submission! We will use Spanish cards, and that’s final! It’s hilarious because both of them would actually probably both use French suited cards, but they’re of course going to find any way to protest that they’re actually not similar in any way, and are actually two incredibly different people(lies!!!!) So they spend longer than an actual card game would take debating with each other over what card suit they should use, Spanish or German. It’s more likely that Fernando would already know Spanish cards well and did use them, but Seb? They don’t even probably use German cards in Vienna, but he bought a deck and he’s going to use it no matter what. 

I'm just imagining him playing practice games with Mark in preparation before Fernando comes to Vienna. And Mark’s like “c’mon you both know French cards, why must we do this?” Uh duh, it’s my turf, I’m not gonna play by his rules!” “But aren’t they shared rules?” They eventually end up having to flip a coin to decide what deck to play with, because they always run out of time to actually play games. Though knowing them, they’d probably argue over whether to flip a thaler(HRE) or a real(Spain.) You KNOW Mark’s banging his head against the wall somewhere when they come up with that argument. It’s so funny because it’s a game to them like any other, and whenever someone else tries to cool down the situation, they’re both like “BUTT OUT!!!” It's a genunine sport for them to come up with some kind of new argument, over literally anything. 

[slimmestslime]

i keep forgetting to post kyn doodles from probably a month ago at this point

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than flooding

Big fat combat trick to pump all your excess mana into!

Cards used as example for balancing the modes:

[floral-hex]

going through old letters and cards today to see what I can throw away, mail I received when I lived in New York and never remembered to go through again until now, and I kept finding a) old school photos of my brothers, & b) letters my youngest brother wrote to me while I lived away from home, and… oof. I’m glad no one was around because I criiiiiiieeeeed so hard. Had to step away for awhile.

[ifjgh]

Bonus Poses

While I was designing the Main 8, I gave each of them a little side bust/pose/thing on the ref sheet. Decided to just throw em all on one post since they aren't high effort are super important, some of them are just silly.

[arolesbianism]

Management games my beloved I <3 tormenting lil guys for my benefit