asonofsoddensoil

[asonofsoddensoil]

The appliances.

They declare a simple term.

Enby rights babey!!!!!!

(If you’re using them, please credit me)

[asonofsoddensoil]

DO NOT TRACE/COPY/REPOST/EDIT MY ART

My yearly redraw of Tinselina has arrived!

[asonofsoddensoil]

In The Moment of Clarity all the Voices are there and they are all broken. The Narrator tells you to ignore them.

You can ask the Narrator why you shouldn’t listen to them. Maybe the Voices need to be heard. Maybe you are helping them.

However, if you do ask the Narrator that, it’s the Cold who answers to say you are wrong. He tells you that you always give them (the other Voices) too much space. He thinks it’s why you always lose.

The thing is, you don’t get the choice to stop listening in this route. You don’t get to make any choices. You refused to slay or save the Princess and ended up accidently giving away your ability to make choices.

The Voices talk and talk and talk. You can’t stop them. You can’t do anything other than move forward and let her out.

This fragment of the Shifting Mound has all of your will. All she wants is to be free.

LET HER OUT

In the Razor (the only other route where you end up with all the Voices) by the end everyone is talking all at once. It’s overwhelming and unhelpful so you do what the Cold advises in the Moment of Clarity; you silence them.

Again, YOU don’t get a choice in this… but this time the Long Quiet does.

They have decided that this needs to end. The Princess has become a murder monster and neither of you can grow further while remaining trapped in this cycle. So, they silence Voices and Narrator, and then they deal with her.

In both routes, YOU lose all choice, gain all the Voices and press the only option given to you while the Shifting Mound or Long Quiet do the thing that route has moulded them to do.

[asonofsoddensoil]

remember OTP manifestos?

anyways, here's one i made.

(please read the description & give my artists some love!)

[asonofsoddensoil]

i know the lonely is more commonly associated with the vast, but i REALLY like buried/lonely together, actually.

seperated from any possible human contact by tonnes of unfeeling dirt, and you can't even move or try make a sound lest your lungs be filled with more wet earth than they already are..

also, graveyards are buried coded and those can be very lonely places, just saying ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[asonofsoddensoil]

I think Radio and Kirby should kiss each other

Grumpy old man x energetic little lad

[asonofsoddensoil]

Hey TBLT fans, what do we call Kirby/Air Conditioner? Airvac? Kirbcon? Neither of those sound right to me but they're all that come to mind

[asonofsoddensoil]

haven’t posted any art in a bit sooo

FEAR WHEEL

(btw yes the dice is purposefully all snake eyes, just clarifying)

[asonofsoddensoil]

Here are some solo shots of my coffin of The Buried display in different levels of lighting. Eventually, I'd like to build a better one and maybe get some fog pouring out of it or something, but I'm pretty pleased with how it looks.

[asonofsoddensoil]

Tinselina but she's modeled after a biblically accurate angel. Still all organic

[asonofsoddensoil]

He doesn’t know what the flag means 😭

[asonofsoddensoil]

[asonofsoddensoil]

A Pragmatic and surprisingly comforting perspective about the Trump 2nd Presidency from the ACLU

***Apologies if this is how you found out the 2024 election results***

Blacked out part is my name.

I’m not going to let this make me give up. It’s disheartening, and today I will wallow, probably tomorrow too

AND

I will continue to do my part in my community to spread the activism and promote change for the world I want to live in. I want to change the world AND help with the dishes.

And I won’t let an orange pit stain be what stops me from trying to be better.

A link to donate to the ACLU if able and inclined. I know I am

[asonofsoddensoil]

Note I wrote to myself: Radio says something Radio would say. Blanky replies with something dark and unsettling. Comic gold.

[asonofsoddensoil]

(un)Familiar Faces

It never occurred to Lampy until becoming human that he never had a face to put Radio's voice to. Some things were lost in the switch between machine and human, but some features of their old faces remained. The Air Conditioner's "moustache" (now truly one) and frigid expression? Still there. Kirby's eye bags and thick unibrow? Still there. The gap in Blanky's teeth and round nose? Still there. Even Toaster's reflective face had brown eyes and a soft smile, and they were also still there. Everyone else had a face that he could connect to the appliance they used to be. But Radio? He had no face, and it never bothered Lampy.

At least, it never bothered him before. Now it bothers him a lot. It's unfair that he has to be Nico and Radio has to be Danger, unfair that unlike with the others he has to start over from scratch with Radio.

When he looks at the man who now calls himself Danger Rose, there's very little to connect this man to the radio he once knew. Looking at him as he is now, his feelings are almost always teetering between strangers and old friends at the same time. They're all so far from what they were that none of them recognized themselves in the mirror when they first saw what they'd become. There was never that mouth that curls up with mischief when Danger thinks of doing something crazy, but now it pours out with Radio's laughter as if it always did.

Even his voice isn't entirely the same as it was before. His voice sounds clearer coming from a throat than a speaker, but he... misses? Yes, he misses the way it used to crackle with static. And he misses that not-face so much so that he almost sees it when he looks at Danger hard enough. Not that he stares, at least he doesn't think so, but it's hard not to with that blue and green eye piercing into his soul when they meet each other's gaze. Especially when the way he looks at him sometimes makes Nico warm in a chest he still isn't used to having.

Maybe he'll get used to it. Maybe, he starts to think as he recalls their lives as appliances, it's not just the change that has brought on these feelings. Becoming human didn't turn Radio into someone else even though they are all now something else, just as it didn't turn Lampy into someone else. Even now, all Nico needs to know for certain they ever were something else is to look in the mirror and see that lichtenberg scar and remember why he got it.

They've all had to make major adjustments. Tony isn't used to her own face being the only one others see when they look at her, or Casper having such long hair to hide behind, or Kirk being about to see so high off the ground, or Aaron being able to turn his head to look anywhere but forward. Even Danger said to him in a private moment he still holds close in his mind that it's difficult getting used to having a face that can be so much more easily read. Getting used to each other's new faces was always going to be difficult because none of them are used to having flesh or blood. Maybe he only sees him differently now because he is seeing him through new eyes.

He just wishes seeing his old friend anew didn't stir so many feelings he doesn't know what to do with.

[asonofsoddensoil]

suburbia is special because you can link/give it a domain to literally any of the entities.

like think about it. of course there's the obvious lonely unchanging and empty sprawl of houses, isolated and locked in their own little worlds until the quiet burrows into your ears and turns you into a shell of yourself.

but why stop there? what about the endless repeating expanse of sameness, vast stretches of flat concrete under a flat open sky, making you feel so small and insignificant standing upon it?

or, perhaps, the way someone always seems to have their eye on you? personal security cameras and neighborhood watch pages are all the rage these days...

now take that to its logical conclusion. think about why your life has been arranged in such a predictable and bland fashion, think about who benefits, what webs of systems are supported and strung together through white picket fences?

the streets do all look the same, and that just makes it even harder to remember where you were going. all those roads and cul-de-sacs spiraling across the neighborhoods. hard to tell whether that street was there yesterday. they all look so similar.

perhaps it's the residents themselves. you have new neighbors. these strangers don't seem quite right, uncanny somehow. but you get used to them, as always. until one day you have, again, new neighbors. what happened to the old ones? you don't want to know.

when it gets dark, everything is drenched in shadow. it's quiet hours out, and there's no streetlamps to reflect the dying light. something could be lurking. anything could be lurking. no one can see you waving for help.

you could be trapped, as well. wanting desperately to leave but feeling as though that hope's been buried by the fact that you've never known anything else. there must be a world outside, but strain as you might you cannot catch a glimpse of it, and it chokes you.

we all know landlords aren't really all that regulated. corruption runs rampant in real estate. how many infestations are hiding in the walls of foreclosed houses? what's eating away at the pipes and ceilings and floors, spreading, multiplying, unseen until the foundations finally collapse?

but maybe the houses themselves are alive, twisted mockeries of shelter, creaking and groaning in such a human way you could swear the walls were flesh and not plaster...

police keep the streets all nice and clean and picture-perfect. but is that really what's going on? or are they bored and hunting for something to do, someone to follow and harass? is the mirage of stability worth thinning the herd for?

these places seem so peaceful, but sometimes if you do a little digging you'll find blood money underneath. what does that factory on the outskirts do? what's with the gates, the guards, the secrecy? surely they aren't making anything designed for violence and slaughter. surely it isn't their industry keeping the whole town afloat...

prefab houses may be easy to build, but they aren't always the sturdiest. fires spread quickly, floods collect easily on the pavement, tornadoes fling debris through windows. one disaster, and suddenly the uniform buildings are left crumbled and desolate.

and how about the pollution? the stench of gasoline fumes and six-lane highway strips, the way nature is pushed out to make way for these places that aren't much good for humans either. suburbs necessitate the near-extinction of anything natural. those dandelions in the cracks? unlicensed organic material. there's no place for them. maybe someday there will be no place for you.

and in the end, of course, so many live by themselves. so many might miss phone calls, text messages, visitors. sometimes, when people die in the suburbs, nobody notices anything until the smell gets strong or the newspaper is uncollected...

[asonofsoddensoil]

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a single person draw Nathaniel Beale, the snitch and best friend of Hezekiah Wakely. Also when I showed these to my non-tma knowing friends they thought they were ocs, I am taking that as a compliment.