#I have no consistent designs for these fuckers

[codacheetah]

Homunculus

[kheprriverse]

Upcoming Ballad changes 👀?

[gemharvest]

Haiiii all my sonas refs are done!!!! Woohoo!!!!

[darklordofthesimp]

Anything III (König x Reader)

Summary: A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

Requested by: Literally fucking everyone.

A/N: I was really fighting for my life with this chapter y'all. It's more to set up for the next coming chapters.

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Forced Proximity || Enemies to ?

Warnings: Graphic language, graphic description of PTSD, graphic violence, graphic description of gun violence, graphic description of injury.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

"That fucker needs to go." 

"He's not going anywhere, Simon."

The Lieutenant spun on his heel, reeling on Price with startling speed. He didn’t budge, though. Not when Ghost stopped only inches away and not when a finger rested on his chest- a warning. A threat. 

“Birdy’s my responsibility,” his voice was dangerously low and the Captain’s eyes narrowed. 

“And you’re all my responsibility,” Price’s words were slow and enunciated, spoken through gritted teeth. The heat rolling off his body was tangible, he was fucking furious. He was torn. “You think this was my fucking idea? I get orders from up top just like you do, Riley. They got their own plans in mind.”

Ghost inhaled sharply, dropping his hand to his side. Up top. If the rank has been anything, it’s been consistently shit. 

“When someone tears their own fuckin’ face-off, the plan needs to change,” Simon murmured, the images of the incident drifting across his vision. The man was no stranger to intrusive thoughts but these were particularly vivid, they splattered across the carefully cleaned plains of his mind- taunting him. 

“I know.” Price lit a cigar, his gaze trailing across the rooftops. “Been working on it.” 

“And?” 

“Baby steps, Simon. Baby steps.” 

_________

Inhale, exhale. Again. 

Bang 

Then again. 

Bang 

And again. 

Bang

One, two, three, the hole never widened; not even by a millimetre. The target stood strong and unwavering, and you were doused in hot anger. You’d selected the biggest one you could find, it wasn’t as tall as you wanted, but you supposed the chances of finding a nearly seven foot soldier on the battlefield were slim. 

You were grateful that the one thing that hadn’t changed over the recent horrors of your life, was your aim. You were still a sniper.

Bang 

You were still the best. 

“We got another unit comin’ in for their assessments, Birdy.” The range supervisor’s voice was loud over the speaker and you forced yourself not to jump. “You gotta clear out or pick another lane, mate.” 

Your eyes trailed over the aisles beside you. The rear of their booths were all open, designed for trainees to have an instructor standing over them. Those days of needing direction were over, as were the days of leaving your back vulnerable. 

The lane you had chosen was at the very end of the range, a locked booth designed for soldier’s shooting assessments. It was a bi-annual event, where your marksmanship was tested in order to deem you competent and qualified. No instructor, no target indications, just you in a locked booth with a rifle and a target. 

Now, it was the only place you felt safe enough to shoot. 

You heaved your body up, clearing your weapon before slinging it over your shoulder. It seemed that your time was up. 

As you stepped out of your haven and into the aisle, you tried to settle the anxiety in your chest. It was a burdensome feeling that only faded when you were looking down the sight of your rifle, plaguing your every move and every thought. It was all-consuming. 

A shot rang a few lanes ahead and you flicked your gaze up to the screen as you walked. They were half a centimetre or so off from the central aiming mark but the next shot was dead on. You snorted. 

As you moved to pass, you spared a curious glance at the shooter. 

Your body locked up. 

Right in front of you, lying on his stomach with those long legs sprawled out, was König. 

You seethed. You were suddenly overcome by a rage that, for once, did not wash over you with a flush of heat. Instead, you were cold. Ice trickled the length of your spine and your fingers went numb, pins and needles pricking at your nails. 

Your face stung at the sight of him. 

He was the reason you couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror anymore, he was the reason you looked like a fucking abomination. Your face was deformed and mutilated and here this fucker lay, his back turned to the world because he was not the one that got destroyed.

König ruined you and got away unscathed. 

You waited for him to take another shot, using the cover of the resounding gunfire to put down your rifle. He had no idea that you were there, he was entirely unsuspecting. He was vulnerable.

Before you could comprehend what you were doing, your body had moved to stand over his prone figure. You could hear his breathing, see the rise and fall of his chest.

 In, bang, out. 

They had chosen this fucking imbecile to replace you? He couldn’t even breathe right, everything was wrong. His form was wrong, his breathing pattern was wrong, his shooting was wrong, and he was not built to be a sniper. He was built to destroy with his hands, with no finesse, no pinpoint accuracy- just a bludgeon. 

There was no honour in what König was. 

Again, your face stung beneath the gauze. A reminder. Encouragement. 

You reached for the Glock strapped to your belt, cold sweat trickling down your neck.  König took a breath in and you flicked open the buckle. But he didn’t take a shot as you had predicted, and he’d heard the noise from above him. 

When König turned, you let him see you, just as he’d given you that mercy. 

Then you struck. 

Unlike before, König hadn’t been given the chance to kick the weapon from your hands before you descended upon him. A startled rasp ripped from his mouth as you dropped onto his body, bringing the butt of your firearm to strike his temple. 

His head knocked back, bouncing off the mat beneath him. 

How merciful, that it was not concrete? How gracious, that you didn’t grab his head and crush it? 

König groaned, his hands flying up to defend himself, stunned by the sudden impact. You knew that his vision would be spinning, a loud buzz ringing in his ears. You knew too well. 

But it wasn’t enough. 

You pushed his hands away, bringing the gun down again. You felt his skin render from beneath the metal, a wet thud echoing through the booth as you split the skin of his cheek. The blood made your eyes widen. It wasn’t enough. 

You would give him your scars. You would peel his skin from his bone. You would shatter him until he was unrecognisable. 

This wasn’t enough. 

König’s eyes flickered open, hard and betrayed. 

You knew that the element of surprise had run out, but you were not finished. You’d just gotten started, the purple of his cheek and the red dripping down his temple only marked the beginning. But you couldn’t overpower the man below you. 

When his hands gripped your biceps and he opened his mouth to yell, you pushed the barrel of your handgun past his lips until his teeth scraped the steel.

Everything fell still, his hands frozen on your body and his eyes wide. You hoped that he could taste the gunpowder, you hoped that he could taste his death. The sound of the safety flicking off resounded in the booth and the man beneath you flinched. 

His fingers shook against your skin, his breath rattling in his chest. 

König was afraid. 

And at that realization, for the first time in over a year, a genuine smile twisted your lips. The soldier’s eyes widened, his body twitching beneath yours, groaning around the barrel in his mouth. 

“How do you like it?” You whispered, the words a snarl as you leaned down close. 

König’s emerald gaze was steady on yours and you could visibly see him attempt to calm his breathing. In, out, in, out. He was breathing wrong, everything was still just wrong, wrong, wrong. You pressed harder on the gun. 

This wasn’t enough. 

He wasn’t bruised enough, he wasn’t bleeding enough. You moved your left hand to cup his cheek and his eyes flickered. König wanted to buck you off, he wanted to disable you, maybe he even wanted to murder you. You hoped he did, you wanted to see the same hatred in his eyes that you saw that damned fucking night. 

You wanted him to look into your soul and know that you were going to ruin him. 

That you were going to kill him. 

“You feel guilty?” You hissed, your fingers slowly digging into the skin of his cheek. “You feel bad for what you did?” 

König’s eyes softened. 

Don’t want your pity. 

Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. 

Finally, he hummed his affirmation around the barrel in his mouth. Your nails dug into the flesh of his face, dragging a jagged scratch inch by inch across his features. The man didn’t flinch, he didn’t move, and he didn’t make a sound- he only watched you. 

When you leaned in to brush your lips against his ear, he knew what was coming. 

Satisfaction flooded your senses, righteous anger gripping you by the throat and forcing the words that you’ve wanted to say for so long from your lips. 

“Your fight is finished.” 

König took in a sharp breath. 

You pulled the trigger. 

The sound was deafening and for a sweet, beautiful moment, you felt vindication. You’d  won. You’d bested him. The man that had ruined your life had gotten what he deserved and he needed to die, die, die. That was the only thing that would settle his debt, the only thing that would serve the justice you felt owed. 

With the simplest pull of the trigger, you had been avenged. 

Then, you realised that the blood that had sprayed aross the space between your bodies wasn’t his. It was yours. 

König was on top of you. The gun was gone, his mask was on, and your face was crushed. You couldn’t breathe you couldn’t think and the only thing you could feel was the searing pain of the knife twisting in your chest. 

No, no, no, no. 

This was wrong, this wasn’t what was meant to happen. Why were you back here? His hand was on your face before you could protest and you felt your head lift from the ground. 

“Even in victory, you are nothing.” 

Crack

“You will always be nothing.” 

Crack

You were screaming, you could hear yourself doing it but your mouth wasn’t moving. Your teeth were caved in, your jaw had collapsed, you felt as though your face had melted from the bone. Yet you could hear the shrieks, hear the wailing. 

The back of your head was wet, your skull felt like it was falling apart at the seams. The breeze tickled against your brain and your nerves were on fire. 

You were broken, broken, broken. 

“Birdy!” 

This time you could feel every crack of your head into the concrete. This time you felt your brain matter smear across the floor. 

“Wake up!” 

Wake up.

Wake up. 

You sat up with the gasp of someone who’d been drowning, clawing at your throat for air. Sweat trickled down your spine, the room was hot and the blankets were tangled between your legs but you were in your bedroom- you recognised it instantly.  

“That’s it, sweetheart,” a rough voice murmured from beside you. There was a hand pressed flat against your chest, firm and grounding. “Breathe.” 

“Simon,” you sobbed. The man hummed in response, his other hand rubbing your back with enough force to rock your body. He was trying to keep you rooted in reality, give you something physical, something tangible to hold on to.

“I’m losing my mind,” you gasped, your chest caving at the realisation. You didn’t know what was real or not, fact or fiction, tangible or imaginary- you lived on a plain of uncertainty. You were lost, you were broken and you were unreliable. 

Price was right. You had become a liability. 

“You’re late to the party,” Simon loosed a soft chuckle, pulling you close against his body. “I lost mine years ago, kid.” 

You relished in his touch as you tried to regroup. You were in your room, you were in your bed, it was the middle of the night and you’d had a nightmare. Your clothes were soaked, sticking to your skin uncomfortably; and you had the horrid realization that maybe it wasn’t all sweat. You sucked in a breath, scrambling to push the blankets from your body. 

“What-” 

You ignored anything that the Lieutenant might of said, scrubbing your hands over your limbs, neck and face. The sweat threw you off and you checked your fingers in the dim light for crimson stains. You couldn’t deal with it again, you couldn’t cope with more damage. You were already disgusting, you were already mutilated and scarred. Unloveable, untouchable, irreparable, irevevocable, irremediable-

No more, no more, no more no more no more-

Simon gripped your hands, tugging them towards his chest and jerking your body forward. You dragged in a sharp breath, eyes wide and frantic. 

“You didn’t hurt yourself,” the words were urgent and low, his gaze holding you still just as well as his grip. “You’re alright, Birdy.” 

You took in a rattling breath and his grip tightened. 

“You’re alright, kid,” Simon reinforced, that ocean gaze compelling you to calm your heart rate. He left no room for discussion with the way that he looked at you, there was no option to disobey. You pushed air into your lungs, following the pattern he’d set for you. “It was just a nightmare.” 

You frowned. “Only at the very end.” 

Not when you had been shooting, not when you’d been atop of your enemy with a gun in his mouth; that was not the nightmare. You’d felt vindicated, you’d felt insane but satisfied. During those moments in the dream, you were not afraid of König. You were not shaking, you were not whimpering or begging for your life. 

You were strong. 

Stronger than him. 

“How’d you know I was–” You cleared your throat. “How’d you get in here?” 

The silence that followed had you on edge, as Simon’s hand worked methodically across your back.  He didn’t answer for a long while and your thoughts began to sober. Why was he in your room? How had he gotten there? How did he know you were having a night terror? His quarters were nowhere near yours, he was in the hallway over, divided by thick concrete walls; he most definitely couldn’t have heard your screams.

“Someone tipped me off,” the words were spoken through clenched teeth and his minsitrations against your back faltered. Your chest tightened at the implication. “They thought I’d be better suited to come help you.”

“How-” 

“He’s down the hall, Birdy.” Simon interrupted and you could feel his fingers curl into a fist against your spine. “Everyone in this fuckin’ corridor could hear you.” 

Your breathing began to pick up and heat flushed against your skin, the blood boiling from beneath the surface.

“That doesn’t explain how you got in,” you rasped, gripping the blankets at your side. You needed to ground yourself, you needed to be calm. 

“He thought you were being attacked or somethin’ with the way you were yellin’,” Simon sighed. It wasn’t a direct answer but it was a good enough indication as to what had happened. 

You let your gaze drift to the door, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight before you. The hinges had been ripped from the wall, the frame torn straight from the brick. The door itself was missing completely, and as you slowly leaned over to get a look at the floor, your heart dropped to your stomach. 

Your bedroom door lay in pieces, the splintered remnants splayed across the floor like shattered glass. 

_

NEXT CHAPTER

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

Edit: I MADE AN UPDATED ONE GO LOOK AT THAT ONE IT'S BETTER I CITED MY SOURCES AND SHOWED MY WORK AND EVERYTHING

Ladies and Gentlemen, Bitches and Bastards, Witches and Wizards, Mothers and Fuckers. Esteemed robot enjoyers, I present to you a semi-accurate height comparison of Bumblebee across the multiverse (as of July 2024). This really helps visualize the truly staggering differences between universes, at least height-wise. Also, three of these characters are Canonically the Same Guy; guess which ones.

I spent way too much time on the chart in the back it's not even funny. I will probably make more height charts for more TF characters and universes in the future. Don't expect it soon though, because when I make these, I am fueled by pure I-Got-Bored-At-Work-And-I-Have-Decided-To-Fool-Around-With-Robot-PNGs, and that fuel supply is inconsistent at best.

Hey Fun Fact, Did you know that Generation 1 Optimus Prime is around 19 Feet Tall? Bet some of you already knew that. I have no ulterior motives for bringing this fact up, what are you talking about.

My height explanations are below the cut, because you couldn't shut me up if you tried.

In an order:

Gen 1 - ~10 feet (the wiki says greater than 3 meters so I rounded up to the first whole number because round)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~10 feet (He looks identical to Gen 1 so... the reason his photo looks weird is because I couldn't find a good full body photo with him standing straight up facing the camera so I put two images together to make the worst looking photoshop job you have ever seen)

Earth Spark - 10 feet (There is no confirmed height yet but using a screen shot of him standing in front of a barn door I was able to make a reasonable guess.)

Animated - 12 feet (I have no genuine source for this, I think this info is just someone's guesstimate, but it seems reasonable. He's a tiny two door mini car, how big could he be)

New Live Action - 15 feet (The wiki hath declared. Also do we have a name for this universe because we need one I don't want to keep saying like 6 words to differentiate this one from bayverse)

Bayverse V1 - 16 feet (This is like the first 3 movies minimum, I don't remember when he hits his growth spurt. also wiki my love)

Cyberverse - 18 feet (I'm gonna be honest, the only info we have is from a really shitty screen shot of a magazine. SO if any one has a copy of this book from the video below, a high quality scan would be greatly appreciated and I will kiss the ground you walk upon. Yes I found the video where the screen shot comes from leave me alone)

Bayverse V2 - 18 feet (movie 4-5 I can't remember which one, I'm not re-looking this up. I fucking love the bayverse tho, this is the only universe with concrete and consistent this-character-is-this-height info)

Aligned Cont. WF/FOC - 20 feet (video game info screens you god send, kiss me sweetly)

Aligned Cont. TFP/RID15 - 21 feet (I do not know exactly where these numbers were found, but I fully fucking believe them. Just by looking at these characters on the show I can verify these numbers in my mind. They made specifically this universe to be full of freakishly tall robots for some fucking reason.)

And for any one who doesn't know, the three tallest are the same guy. Like the 20 feet tall one and the 21 feet tall ones, same guy. The ones in three wildly different art styles and designs. Let that sink in...

I fucking hate the aligned continuity why is that one my favorite.

[lovelylotusf1]

Inspired by the lovely @wisteria-wisteria and her Pinterest roulette posts. I present to you an AU:

Lestappen - Coding rivals.exe

Don't know yet if I'll do anything larger with it so I'd love if someone adopts the idea! Give it a new and welcoming home!

Max Verstappen, a brilliant hardware engineer who is mostly focused on robotics, is partnered up to work with programmer and game designer Charles Leclerc. From the moment they meet, he despises his new coworker. Charles is everything he isn't - all smiles and polite questions, a laid-back attitude when it comes to his work and yet somehow constantly praised by others. The predestined programmer, they call him. Max thinks it's all very ridiculous.

But they need to work together to meet the looming deadline. Maybe they'll even learn to appreciate the other's company along the way...

Small scene after this universe's InchidentTM:

"Mr Verstappen. What happened?" His boss's cold voice greets him the moment Max sits down in the overpriced meeting chair. The board of directors stare at him, disdain obvious in their postures, but their faces are carved into polite masks.

Max glares at Leclerc, who is sitting across from him. Even now, he doesn't look like he gives a single damn about the situation he has brought them into, that unnervingly pleasant smile still plastered on his face. Max wants to wipe it off.

Leclerc is slumped in his chair, glasses askew and in his normal working attire consisting of a sweater thrown over a shirt. There is a small coffee stain on front of it, reminding Max of what brought them into this situation in the first place.

"It's just unfair. He pushed a glass of coffee onto the robot, so I pushed it back onto his computer. It's not fair, right?"

Before he can give further explanations, he is shot down, "Thank you, Mr Verstappen. What is your perspective on this matter, Mr Leclerc?"

Leclerc straightens and lets his eyes sweep over the room. Max doesn't miss the fact that he pointedly doesn't look at Max and a small pang of annoyance flashes through him.

Leclerc says, "Nothing. Just an inchident in the lab. We will have the code restored and the robot running by next week."

Max needs to remember all the self-control exercises he taught himself in order to not jump over the table, drag Leclerc towards him by his stupid oversized sweater and yell at him until that guy's ears ring.

Of course, he can say that easily. He just needs to write a few lines of code that the automatic backup hasn't caught. But Max will have to build the hardware from scratch, the delicate electronics fried beyond repair. Oh, how he would like to strangle Leclerc for that.

His boss is apparently pleased by this response. He nods. "Very well then. Get back to work and fill out the provided reports. I don't want to repeat this, the funding is already minimal and you don't want to make your budget even tighter than it already is."

They are dismissed and walk back to the robotics lab in silence, their steps echoing off the blank walls. At least it would be silent if Leclerc's annoyingly smooth voice didn't disrupt it, "I know you don't like me. But at least pretend that you do when other people are around. It will be easier if you let some of my charm work on you, non?"

That fucker has the audicity to wink at him and it is the most awkward thing Max has seen in his entire life.

Max almost snarls. He'd rather be caught dead than enjoy Leclerc's company.

(I don't know why a robotics guy would work with a game dev but just let me fantasize about my AUs without worrying too much about realism)

[thattimdrakeguy]

anything i see anything new on dc's bat-family it makes me wanna scream "WHAT THE FUCK'S THE MATTER WITH YA" and go after them yelling "FUCK OFF"

(not that bad actually. i'm pretty chill inside most of the time. i'm not what i used to be. a lot of it is performative, but a luke warm attitude towards something you have to say doesn't invoke passion, or anythign exciting that'd make anyone want to read it. not that many do anyways)

so many years of this and none of them get better. it's like it's trying to be pathetic

all those years of things you can research to be sure you get it right, and you fuckers couldn't be arsed to get your ass in gear and make sure all these fans that left have something to go back to?

now this dc server discord. my gosh, i don't think we're seeing the blue skies again. they're catering to a small pond of people, a wee group consisting of those that read panels, and pal around with fan fics and mash-ups that they created and pondered

not the stuff that had plenty of real people going out to the shops and ordering comics, that made them have a love and respect for the medium to the point they were fine calling themselves a fan back when it wasn't right in a cool kind of way in the eyes of many

now they're comics, it's not that serious. whoc ares that much in the end

and i guess i'll never seem like i'm not overreacting a touch

but comics used to tell stories that attached themselves to people's hearts and made them be seen and held, like finally i got something that i respond to

now it's who can rip off the fandom the best, and it's so easy to get content of the same marginal quality on AO3, and fan comics that don't need to blessing of bastard DC Comics

it's sensational the passion people can have despite that, whether or not it's for me. but all those hundreds of thousands of people missing a piece of their prior enjoyment because the 5 stan opinions repeated at nauseum is all anyone important at the writers station (not a real thing, i just mean writers) at the company is making them thing "ah yes, we're doing all right by them"

no you didn't, fucker, you scared the rest away with all the nonsense

now if you want more money you gotta try to earn them back

they think it's hopeless and practically pointless because comics are a dying medium, but they don't have to be. i'm sure it'll never to go back to what it once was, but you can still at least try to have a legacy as a writer that means something to people

when we used to have guys back in the day that could go and fuck around writing stories about peter parker's love life that didn't have much action that you would think the typical reader would desire, that could still effect someone in a way that had them stop and think about themselves, because a fraction of wisdom was hidden in it

now you get characters botched, bastardized, and secretly killed and replaced by those with the same names, and they can't even muster the sense to care. because someone laughed at a character being drawn at the wrong height, or another had a good reaction from people that didn't know the character as they thought they were writing their big magnum opus blockbuster for them

and i don't expect perfection, or the good old days to be possible to back to because they're the old days for a reason

but theirs's still the possibility and ability to go back and figure out the lost art of product control, and ravenous quality that can seep into people's spirits and give them a passion to constantly go back to issue after issue, giving your damn funky company a proper profit that means anything

no there they go ripping off little jimmy on twitter, stan account number 55, who's repeating what their pal jessica said on tumblr about bat-family member that got designated trope number 782 on the list, and that got the writer believing they did a job well done

you can do more

they're all just people, and i admire the fact they got to where they are. bless them for all the accomplishments they have. i can't take that way from them. but i'm also just a person who has what he has to say, and i think there's more to these writers then even they give themselves credit for

whining when people rightfully criticize your poor characterization and (even that's rare given the standards of today's comic fandom population) because it's your interpretation, when that's not how interpretation works

my man the money, and legacy you could create for yourself by doing the job, and research, and making something that actually comes across as a product worth buying could make you name live on for years after your death

comics aren't a large, marginally important industry, that all writers strive to join, but they're a passionate bunch that can make your legacy last for years to come

instead you'd rather sit on the bottom of a barrel being like everyone else typing out the same crap in 5 minutes a junior high student could in 2

batman has made billions of dollars from the excellence of others

and they'd rather sit down and take, what's not even a lot of money given that it's comics, and accept it, then make somethings of themselves, and perhaps with enough lucky make the company and business worth something again

there's no point in not trying

all they'd do is get more out of it with a bit of trying and effort, and passion and metaphorical sweat put into it

why should i read Tim Drake: Robin that can't even remember how Tim would talk about Damian right, and can't be fucked to not make his boyfriend look like a generic twink instead of himself, when i could go back and read something from about a decade before my own birth when it was good (if written by a massive fucker)

i've spent nearly a decade on and off criticizing comics, mainly dc and the bat-family, look at my blog name, it's 'ThatTimDrakeGuy' (yes that's how i personally spell it, with the capitalization), and all i've found are holes and tears in it since i've began back in 2015 when Rebirth was only news and headlines

and i've yet to see things get better when i read some classics and became aware at what was, and what could be

nonsense that people with enough passion to get their asses in gear to get the job and the assignments, with plenty of talents, especially the artists, my goodness regardless if they can remember what characters like tim or damian, and sometimes even easy to remember ass jason todd look like, they still have impressive skill, ability, and talent, that far surpases what the majority of the population on the whole planet can do

so it's not that they can't do it

it's that they don't try

often they try the opposite for quick cheap rewards, in the form of twitter stan brownie points "LOOK THEY HUGGED" "LOOK THEY'RE CRYING" "LOOK HE'S SO SHORT" regardless if that's thhe character, it makes sense, the story needs it, or it'll be remembered in years to come

give me and others a reason to come back

otherwise dc might as well die, which i hate to say, and don't mean all the way because of the jobs that would lose

but how else can i verbalize the general feeling and sensation it gives me, when all of that effort goes to waste with medicore at best products that won't be recalled months from now by any amount of peopel that's substantial?

you could go and be a legend in the field, or another turd in the bucket that's about to fly away in the wind to never be seen 'til their next splatty mess

quite sad and i hate it

and shit, with so many people acceptint it, and talking it up, the idea i can't even see a character i used to enjoy look like themselves at times is a wee miserable

how stupid is that when you think on it

how do you get to that point?

comics aren't serious

but the passion a lot have is

(never hurt anyone over it tho. those people are just wild, and not in a cool way)

[joshsindigostreak]

O, Pioneers

Chapter One

“We, a curious trio, picking, wandering on our way.” - Walt Whitman

Sam Kiszka x F!OC

What started out as a series of emails snowballed into Sam Kiszka having the one person in his field he could not stand to staying in his house for a few days. It’s only for a few days. Can he survive having her around him 24/7 or will Natasha Delaney end up being the one to foil all of his plans?

Authors Note: Hey y’all!! Sorry for leaving you hanging so long with this story I wanted to get the other three stories established before I got back to this just for consistency sake. But I do hope you like Sam’s story. I have so much planned for it ❤️ if you need to catch up on the Prologue you can read it here!

Disclaimer: *Set in the months prior to ISHIYE, so in the same universe but can be read independently. It’ll crossover the most with Running Through the Garden and there will be references to the other fics but not to the point of confusion. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2,793

Warnings: Some swearing but that’s it for now.

The Kiszka Estate as it was often referred to was truly a sight to behold. The grounds weren’t massive, but the Manor itself was a four-story English Tudor that danced the line of being over the top while reeking of Olde Money. The family had been living on this property for generations, and depending on what you thought of them it was either referred to as the Manor or the Compound.

Natasha stood in the circular driveway, her luggage sitting idly beside her as the Uber drove off, leaving her alone outside. She could tell whoever designed the house intended it to be visually intimidating, but it wasn’t working on her. 

Of course the mother fucker couldn’t actually pick me up from the airport, she growsed in her head. He did however, set up her Uber for her, so she didn’t have to pay for it, but it was the principle of it all. She squared her shoulders and picked up her bags, listening to the gravel crunch under her shoes as she approached the front door. 

As she ascended the steps to the Manor, the massive front door swung open to reveal Sam Kiszka. Natasha stopped in her tracks as she took him in. The Sam before her was significantly different than the last time she saw him on graduation day. His hair was still long, but looked like a professional had finally started cutting it, his forehead was frustratingly blemish free, and those Sanpaku eyes stared right through her as they always did. But the biggest difference was the surprising amount of facial hair on him. He couldn’t grow a thing on his face back in college, and any attempts were so patchy and thin that it was never worth it to even try. But now? Now there was a thick mustache sitting on his top lip, accompanied by an equally thick tuft of hair sprouting from his chin. The way his chin hair was creeping up his jawline, it was clear he was letting it do its own thing and not actively trimming it to stay in one spot. He wasn’t as willowy as he was either, having finally started to fill out. He looked so different yet so…Sam at the same time. He looked goo-

“I thought you said your flight was coming in at two, Nat?” 

Mood ruined. That smart ass tone was still ever present in his voice. 

“It did,” she replied flatly. 

“It's nearly 4:30 PM.” 

“I’m glad you can tell time, Kiszka,” she rolled her eyes and continued towards the doorway. He scoffed under his breath as she walked past him and into the house. 

“I’m just saying that keeping someone waiting like this is rude,” he remarked as he shut the door behind them. 

“Well it’s not my fault that it takes well over an hour to get from the airport to these…hallowed grounds,” Natasha gave him an irritated look over her shoulder, the sarcasm dripping from her voice. 

Sam rolled his eyes back at her, and the conversation he had had with his best friend Daniel a few days prior ran through his mind.  

“Just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be having a guest at the house this weekend, she’ll be flying in around 2:00 PM,” Sam threw out before taking a bite out of his bagel. 

Danny stared at him from across the little table they were sitting at. Every few days they’d have breakfast together before going their separate ways for the day, and on this particular Wednesday morning, Danny was taken aback by what Sam had just said. 

He leaned forward towards Sam and rested his elbows on the table, “you’re having a guest…at your house?” 

“Mmmhmm,” Sam replied, still chewing. 

“...and this guest is a girl?” Danny tried to not smile but his eyes twinkled anyway, “is there someone I don’t know about?” 

Sam finally swallowed and looked up at him, realizing how he made this sound, “Oh don’t get that look on your face this is strictly for professional reasons. She won’t be here for very long.” 

“Professional reasons,” the skepticism clouded Danny’s voice. 

“Yes. You know her anyway,” he added before drinking more of his coffee. 

Now Danny was even more curious, “I do?”

“Yeah. It's Nat Delaney.” 

The Wolf blinked several times at Sam before answering, “Delaney is staying…at your house?”

“Yeah it’s just for some of her own research. There’s an artifact she needs to get her hands on and I refused to risk it through the shitty mail system so she came to me instead,” at this Sam had finished his meal and sat back in his own seat. 

Natasha was a frequent subject between the two of them in college. She was the only student at that university to get better grades than Sam, which pissed him off to no end. Danny had no issue with her, as she was always nice to him and her exceptional grades didn’t matter to him. Even though his best friend bitched about it constantly, they were both still the top of their class. He also thought that a little competition for Sam was good for him. It wouldn’t keep him humble by any means, but it would keep him on his toes. 

“How did this happen?”

“We exchanged some professional emails and she explained her dire situation and I, just happened to be the solution to her problem,” Sam didn’t even try to hide the smug look on his face. 

The two friends stared at each other for a few minutes, but with entirely different trains of thought. 

“So is she just going to stay in one of the guest-”

“I’ve already got the corner room cleaned up for the most part, just have to get some of Jake’s shit out of it.” 

Danny had been wandering the halls of Sam’s house since he was 14 years old, and he knew exactly what room Sam was referring to. The ‘corner room’ was what they called one of the many rooms that was intended to be for guests, but over the years each of the kids started using it as a storage room given its proximity to their bedrooms. The proper guest rooms were on the first floor, just off the kitchen. The corner room was also a literal description, as it was at the end of the hall on the second floor. The corner room was also directly across from Sam’s. 

“Why that room?” Danny asked, his eyes twinkling again in curiosity. 

“It was the closest room I’d need to clean out and the rooms downstairs and who wants to stay in the rooms downstairs that my parents' weird friends use?” 

“Ok,” Danny said, elongating the letters and not believing a word that came out of Sam’s mouth but playing along anyway. “Are you going to put a chocolate on her pillow?” 

Sam gave him a look, “totally and I have so much of it around the house since you can’t eat it.” 

Danny frowned in offense, “I can eat chocolate, Sam and you know it.” It was a common stereotype that since Wolves were in fact, Wolves, that they couldn’t have chocolate like regular canines couldn’t. It also had been at the center of an incident where Sam’s mom had brownies left out on the counter and Danny dove in and shoved a corner piece into his mouth, and Sam panicked that he was going to get sick from it. But no, the young Wolf was fine. After that it became a running joke between the two friends.

“Anyway, she should only be here for a few days max and then she’ll be off to whatever it is she’s been doing,” 

“I’m definitely swinging by. I’m not going to miss the two of you kill each other.”

“I can assure you, Daniel, that she won’t be there long enough for that to happen.”

“Sure. I believe that. You couldn’t even go five minutes in Professor Reid’s class without snapping and correcting each other. Or all the times you started arguing in the library and nearly got kicked out for being loud. Or when you’d fight over that one bench under the will-“

Danny. It’ll be fine.” 

Sam was snapped out of his memory by Natasha’s voice. She had walked into the main corridor of the house, right next to the grand wooden stairs and the archway into the formal living room.

“So where in this palace am I going to be staying? How many bedrooms is there? Eleven? An even dozen?” 

“Seven. And your room is upstairs.”

She looked up the stairs to her left, noting the carpet that ran down the middle of the steps, the solid wood rail and banisters. The whole manor was the definition of ‘they don’t make them like this anymore.’ The family clearly spared no expense preserving the integrity of the architecture over the decades. 

“Lead the way, Kiszka.” 

She stepped back to let Sam get in front of her and before she could reach for her bags, long slender fingers curled around the handles. Sam didn’t say a word and began up the stairs, taking her heaviest bag with him. She stared at him momentarily, surprised by the gesture, but quickly recovered with the rationale that it was the least he could do at this point. 

At the top of the stairs Sam took a right down the open hallway that led down a corridor that split off in two opposite directions. He took a right and Natasha counted three doors on either side of the hall before Sam stopped at a final fourth door on the right. There was a door at the very end of the hallway, right between the final two doors on either side. 

Sam used his free hand to twist the doorknob, revealing the room behind it. 

The first thing Natasha  noticed were two nearly floor to ceiling windows on the wall that was opposite the doorway, flanking a large four poster bed. She followed Sam into the room and spotted another door on the far wall on the right, which she guessed was for a closet. There were antique-looking amber lamps on both nightstands, and as she turned to view the wall next to the door, she saw one of the most beautiful rolltop  desks she had ever seen, pushed up into the corner with a few bookshelves on the right of the desk leading back to the doorframe. 

It was another antique, and the craftsmanship and details in the wood was so intricate that it had to have been done by hand. She wanted to run over and push the lid back to reveal the actual writing surface and the little drawers for writing supplies. 

Sam's voice cut through your thoughts, “it’s not much but it’ll work while you’re here.” 

Natasha turned around and gawked at him, it nearly irritated her how privileged he sounded, “Sam this is a beautiful room.” 

He blinked at her, not used to hearing her verbalize positive sentiments. After a few moments of eye contact he looked around the room and asked, “so, where do you want me to put your stuff?” 

She pointed to the foot of the bed, where a small bench sat just in front of the frame, “there is fine.” 

As he situated the bags, she turned to walk over to the large windows. The view was almost better than the room itself. The lush lawn stretched out on the grounds below, a thick blanket of trees stood off in the distance, fencing in the grass. She looked to the right of the window and her eyes went wide at the sight of what appeared to be a small but ambitious garden. Several raised beds were lined up in neat little rows, along with a few ground-level beds off to the side. 

She looked over her shoulder at Sam who was still standing there with his hands in his pockets, “is that your garden?” Maybe the light was playing tricks on her but she could’ve sworn that Sam’s cheeks reddened at the question. 

“Yes.”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise, “you garden?” 

“That’s typically what one does in a garden, Nat.” 

Her brows fell at his tone, there was the Sam she knew. 

“I was just surprised because you never took any of the horticulture classes at Lakewood, at least from what I remember.” 

He shrugged, “I didn’t really get into it until after we graduated.” 

The image of Sam Kiszka gardening was an image that would remain locked in her head. Nope, no one was going to know about the way she instantly envisioned Sam of all people gently watering a tomato plant. 

“Well, hobbies are good,” she said lamely. What the fuck, Delaney? Hobbies are good? You simpleton.  Desperately needing to change the subject, she turned on her heel and pointed over to the roll top desk in the corner, “that’s really pretty.”

Sam looked over at the antique, he wouldn’t tell her that he spent the better part of an hour the day before dusting and polishing the wood. He wouldn’t tell her that he was on the floor making sure to get all the nooks and crannies of the legs, clearing out any cobweb he saw. There was no way he was going to let any piece of furniture be the subject of her scrutiny. Natasha Delaney, knowing he had a dusty house? That would be humiliating. Right? 

Right? 

“Oh, yeah, that was my great-grandmother’s. It was a present from my great-grandfather to make up for him being stuck in France for a lot longer than he intended because of a hunting job.”

Natasha nodded in response and walked over to the desk. She turned back to Sam, “can I…”

“Go right ahead,” he replied while walking over towards his rival. 

She smiled and turned around to lift the roll top, but it didn’t budge. She tentatively tried again, but it would not lift at all. Well shit. 

Sam saw her struggle and reached around her to help, their arms brushing against each other. 

“Sorry it gets stuck sometimes,” he mentally cursed himself by not double checking before she got there. His large hand nearly wrapped around hers to get a grip on the small handle. Her wine-colored nails stood out to him. The undertone of the polish complimented her skin perfectly. The same skin that felt so soft in comparison to his. The image of Natasha meticulously painting her nails flashed in his mind but he quickly shook it away by focusing back on the desk. In slight frustration he jerked at the handle one final time and it immediately slid up and into place, revealing the rest of the desk. 

A small gasp left Natasha’s lips as she saw the gorgeous inlays on the writing surface. 

Sam refused to acknowledge the physical reaction he had at the sound, or where on his body it happened. It didn’t happen. Nothing to see here. 

“This is so pretty! It had to be done by hand given the time period and the attention to detail. A machine could never do this,” she explained while lightly dragging her index finger along the edge of the main inlay in the center of the desk. She didn’t even realize she was rambling because of the proximity to Sam. He was still bent at the waist next to her, leaning his one hand on the desk. If she just turned her head to her right, ever so slightly, their cheeks would touch. 

The two rivals stood there, rooted in the spot, waiting to see who was going to blink first in this standoff. Sam did not want to acknowledge how the loose spiral of blonde hair in front of her ear was just barely touching his face. He didn’t want to acknowledge how his lips could brush that same ear if he turned to his left just so. The silence was deafening. 

They were so distracted that they didn’t even hear one of the doors downstairs open and shut. 

They didn’t hear the footsteps on the stairs. 

They didn’t-

“Natasha-fucking-Delaney,” a familiar and deep voice called warmly from the doorway. The sudden noise started them both and caused them to jump and spin around. Sam couldn’t even focus on the second sharp gasp that his house guest made so close to him. She had already taken off to envelope Danny in a hug. Sam stood there in front of that roll top desk, suddenly by himself.

For the first time since he was fourteen, Sam was disappointed at the sight of his best friend.

Tag List:  @roving-blade , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne, @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @sadiechar , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze , @gretavanlace , @lipstickitty ,

[pragmatic-and-eepy]

ok since four people wanted it, headcanons! for the main four, I'll probably do more for the other characters later.

Edd! Full name, Edward "Edd" G. Sworld

A silly guy! He was born human, though he doesn't count himself as one anymore after the dose of his neighbors' weird satellite. He's still got powers, though it takes a while for them to properly return and he isn't the best at controlling him.

5'11/~180 cm and fat, but he loves himself. Big bear man.

Aroace spec, he's demiromantic and biromantic, but he's just asexual.

His main source of income is from commissions as he never actually went to an art school and has trouble getting full-time work. He does have a secret account for his little hero work when his powers start working and sometimes gets money from people who admire him.

He was the proper start of the friendgroup and the only reason the others stay together.

Did I hear someone say heterochromia? He used to only have pale brown eyes, but now a light green ring is around his pupils due to his powers.

Closest reference I have to how he looks in my mind: @/thepolysworldau has the best reference IMO. He just feels right.

Matt! Full name, Matthew "Matt" Doll

He wasn't always stupid, he just lost it for a while after being bit by a vampire :sob:. He didn't have a consistent source of blood intake and that's what made him a bit airheaded.

6'6/~198 cm, stringbean ahh looking fucker. He looks like he could be broken in half like dry pasta.

He's pan through and through, though he prefers the colors on the bi flag. Still, he feels pan is a better label for him so he sticks with it.

Went through the gender exploration phase after he got bit by the vampire but ultimately realized that yeah, he's a man, just fairly nonconforming at times with his style and he really likes makeup.

This man has freckles!!! There more prominent due to his skin not having as much pigment to it anymore, but he likes them so he's not upset.

He also used to have heterochromia! One eye was green, the other was blue, but now they're both red because of the whole vampire thing. His hair's also a slightly more red color now, he just dyes it to be more orange like it used to be.

Closest reference to how he looks in my mind: @/starrixle's Matt design is PEAK (all different images except for the last two words)

Tom! Full name, Thomas "Tom" Bromel

Monster Tom my beloved, but I do NOT vibe with the canon monster design, it's so ugly :sob:. I vibe more with @/albi-finch-blog's design. It can go between the bigger and smaller forms, fully depends on how well he's doing mentally.

The only transgender in the group, he's also a demiboy (he/they/it pronouns, am i projecting a bit maybe i am)

The shortest in the group at 5'3/~160 cm. It doesn't help that they keep slouching. Also definitely on the heavier side.

Its eyes are because of its monster heritage, which came from their mother's side. His dad is just French.

Is he unhealthily attached to Susan? Yes, yes he is. In his defense, Susan was part of his major teenage rebellion phase before he left to live with his friends.

Bisexual, preference for men though.

Closest reference to how he looks in my mind: For his half-shifted form, i feel @/battyratzz's works the best, but for him just being human? I feel @/422kit's design works best.

Tord! Full name, Tord Lorison.

The only human of the group. Debatably so later on but shhhh.

For a while he was around 6'/~183 cm, but after his return he was like, freakishly tall (taller than Matt) and he just kept getting taller until WTFuture timeline (there is a reason for this i promise).

He of course came from Norway but his parents divorced early on and he spent time between the UK and Norway (like, every few months he'd switch places) until his father won full custody of him and he stayed in the UK from when he was around 7 to his early 20s, when he left.

He hasn't picked a label for himself and he doesn't really want to, he just knows he likes men and women and maybe other people it really just depends on their aesthetic.

LONG GREASY HAIR AHH WASH YOUR GODDAMN HAIR BRO UGH. Also naturally very dark-haired, but he dyed it a more caramel color for a while until after he got a bit blown up.

He's OBSESSED with inventing things, has been since he was a kid. Little science kid but engineering was his calling and he's been building for a long time.

Closest reference to how he looks in my mind: To me his style came in eras. He looked like @/pond-child-edd's design for a while until his 20s, became @/anonymousjackalope's design from when he left to a bit after he got explodicated, and then ended up as @/lexisgayok's design but with dark hair and a mask.

EXTRA EXTRA! EXTRA HEADCANONS, SOME MISC AND SOME WITH HOW THEY INTERACT BELOW THE CUT WAHOO! HERE BE SHIPPING, YOU ARE WARNED!

Tord and Edd dated when they were younger, from around 14 to 16 I think. They ended up realizing it just wouldn't work so they broke it off but stayed friends.

Matt was the one who bought the house they all lived in because his parents were actually loaded and didn't care about how he used the money since he was normal enough to avoid some danger.

Tom did not join the friendgroup willingly, he got dragged in kicking and screaming by Edd and never escaped.

Tord ALSO didn't join entirely willingly, but Edd was the only kid who talked to him when he first started living part-time in the UK and he didn't like being alone.

Matt's been crushing on Edd since they were ten and was HELLA JEALOUS of Tord. He still is, but he's let it go enough.

Tom would regularly bite Tord for various reasons up until he moved out. They nearly bit him again when he moved back in.

Tom's bad at emotions, especially handling attraction. His first relationship was with Laurel but they weren't the best at being a couple, his second was with Bully (yknow, from the beach episode) (it was very unhealthy but he thought it was fun), and his last relationship came years after with Tord (it'd been sitting on unresolved feelings for a long time and only really realized after Bully that the feelings he felt for Tord were attraction).

Once Ringo got out of the house while Tord was home alone and Edd was supposed to be gone for a week visiting family, so Tord literally built a fake Ringo from scratch before finding her literal hours before Edd came back. Now there are two Ringos and Tord kept the robo-Ringo when he left.

Edd and Matt ended up starting a relationship not long before the proper start of the WTFuture timeline happened, they were walking to where they would've had a date when the Red Army invaded.

Tom was home alone with Ringo when it happened. She'd been sick and he took the day off work to watch her. Both Tom and Ringo got taken by the Red Army early on.

[theangstking]

we decided we wanted to share our lil made up species we've had for a few years, since they're aquatic and it's Mermay!

they are admittedly inspired by Homestuck trolls, in that they all have unique blood color that influences them both socially and physically.

white bloods are much smaller and don't quite live as long, their life span is just a bit shorter than the average human lifespan. they tend to eat things like krill, and have very little bitty fins. they tend to be about 8 inches, to 12 inches, when standing upright.

then, you go through the spectrum of the rainbow, starting with red and working through to purple, and ending with black.

(as a note, a very fitting thing is that I wasn't able to properly fit the black blood on the page. Big Mother Fucker.)

those around greens tend to start to be the size of a human being. purples and blues are the closest to an actual human size, and blacks tend to be a bit bigger - though as they get older, they get much, much bigger. they get about double the size of a human at full size.

as they grow in size as well, going further along the spectrum, they also gain more body fat. I'm not sure how well that came across, we're still learning how to draw humanoid figures! their fins get bigger and more elaborate as well.

they each have white hair, though they also have hints/highlights/accents of their blood color in their hair.

the lower members of the spectrum have a lot less pigment in their bodies, leading to much paler skin tones, being almost white/grey with the reds, and slowly developing a bit more variety as you get further along. green is where you start to see consistent human-like skintones, though they also are still much paler. (and of course, there's tinges of green to their skin, due to their blood color.) whereas in blues, you start to see a lot of variety, blues reaching all but the darkest skin tones, and purples and blacks tending to be much, much darker in general, though some of them can still be a bit paler - it's just less common to see.

they most often use natural materials such as seaweed as their "clothes", and cover up very minimally. their fins being restricted can be extremely uncomfortable. higher bloods do wear more of a variety of actual clothing however! whether from scavenging from humans or stealing, they sometimes get their hands on swimclothes and enjoy wearing those.

green bloods very often take an interest in fashion and arts, and they'll often make a job out of providing or modifying clothing, whether it's what they find from humans, or the natural materials they usually use.

these four pieces are of the example red, orange, yellow, and green bloods we designed!

blue bloods tend to have a lot of scars. they tend to be guards of the purple bloods, who are considered royalty. the higher three blood castes have fangs and claws.

purples put a lot of stock in their appearance. they keep their claws and fins looking pretty, and love to wear what they can find of human swimwear, and they'll often have a green blood adjust their clothes for them.

(this will be continued in a reblog, as I've run out of room for images!)

[cerastes]

So finally got around to watching the Ultrakill VOD, and I have to say, I was not expecting it to end with you fucking W+M1ing V2. I don't think I've ever been this simultaneously impressed and angry. Well done.

For what it's worth, and I don't know if this is something you've already had conversations about or thought about, but, I suspect part of the problem you were having was how consistently you were staying away from V2, and thus not being in range to heal. Between you moving around trying to avoid damage and V2 doing... well, the exact same thing, it's definitely pretty easy to wind up having that happen.

Right up until you went "fuck it" and ran in to start beating the shit out of that red fucker, anyway.

EHEHE NO ONE LIKED THAT ❤️ I hope the VOD was fun.

I think you’re right! Let me explain my logic for going in like that on V2: He was majorly chipping me out with shotgun pellets most of the time, and I was too far to heal. V2 also has that distance based enrage, so my first thought was “oh it enrages him because it puts him at a disadvantage for too long”, but when that clearly wasn’t working, the follow up thought was “Oh, I’m going about it wrong, the game is trying to tell me that staying far away is bad, and is punishing me for it, because I’ll get no healing, I have to go IN so I can damage and heal, I’ll look for the sound cues in order to know when to dash, and if I get hit, it’ll never be a OHKO so I can heal it out.”

So I started moving directly at V2 dashing whenever I heard a cue for an attack, and initially, I did plan to use the shotty and the nail gun, but… The revolver was just working out so well that I thought “man it’ll be probably be hilarious if I just only use the revolver” so I committed to the bit. I played it like a Dark Souls boss, basically.

In hindsight, it makes a lot of sense and I think V2 is well designed: NONE of my losses against V2 felt unfair or like I was cheated, and his enrage only really kicks in if you stay FAR away for a while, meaning you are only dealing damage with revolver potshots, MEANING you are laming it out and going against the game philosophy of being hyper aggressive and up close with enemies. Kinda like how Sekiro will punish you for, funnily enough for this context, playing it like Dark Souls.

[thenixkat]

Ok, so I finished Kaiju no. 8 for the time being.

I will most likely watch the next season of the anime when it comes out b/c I did enjoy watching the anime more than reading the manga. Even if there were a few things cut that probably shouldn't have been cut overall what was added in return made the story more enjoyable and slowed the pace down just a tiny bit. Good lords is the pace of Kaiju no. 8 way too fucking fast. Give me some time to breathe and soak shit in and learn things.

Actually, I would like to get some proper filler episodes next season to slow down the pace of things. And have a bit more plot before the back to back to back serial escalation of fighting. Because good lords is there just so much fucking fighting with only a smattering of character stuff for like so many chapters.

Overall... I'd give it a 5/10, I don't think its good but it's compelling. I enjoy several characters and their friendships, its got zero romance, I like that the lead is a dude in his 30s, I like how many characters look up to ladies (even tho there's very very few ladies there's literally only two main characters who are ladies), and I like kaiju no. 9 as a mark villain until it started doing fucking monologues to give fuckers time for the plot armor to kick in. Many of the monster designs are pretty good (but not the main character's which is... uh).

I do heavily dislike the pace. I have complaints about sex ratio being so fucking low on the lady side when there's no fucking reason for it to be like that. I am not a fan of humor that basically amounts to humiliating a character who hasn't done anything worth constant public humiliation. I also really hate that the main character having a gut is literally only acknowledged as a fatphobic gag all of twice and then he gets skinny once he's 'taking things seriously'. Ha ha yikes. Also hate the exotic pet ownership of a battle tiger being portrayed as cool and badass, because it's not.

And man do I not like the main character's design as a monster, it feels half-assed and is then never consistent from page to page. Plus the whole time it feels like it's missing something (a tail in my opinion).

[gracien-system]

So uh

we might be starting a new project.

Had some random inspiration.

Hope y'all enjoy this prologue/first chapter.

8:13 am, October 10th, 2026. I wake up with the first trappings of a migraine, groggily looking across my room. At first I thought it might just be a regular morning, then I saw a black cat run across the hallway outside of my door.

I jumped to my feet, getting dressed as fast as I could, and grabbing a combat knife from a nearby shelf.

See, my life has been far from an ordinary one. I’ve seen many things, done many things. I’ve been involved in the supernatural, been part of rituals, been the target of rituals. But one of the most consistent things I’ve experienced throughout my life is this:

Any time I’m about to be in life-threatening danger, I see an ethereal cat run across my vision. It’s always the same cat. Black as shadow and faster than god, always early enough to let me know I need to move, never early enough for me to get answers before the fact.

I dashed through my apartment, not having any clue what the danger would be, but knowing that there would be something coming and soon. The walls around me were gray and overall normal, the floors hardwood and vinyl, the space overwhelmingly ordinary. I always made a point to never get too at home in places like these – knowing how often I need to run, the only place I can truly get used to is my car, but even that’s shaky, knowing my luck.

I guess that I have at least a few minutes before I’m fighting for my life, so I throw on the rest of my gear before bolting out the door. All in all, I’m wearing a plain white t-shirt with a kevlar vest underneath and thin jacket overtop, alongside tan cargo pants that hold a garter sheath and holster, both filled with their respective weapons – a custom made tempered steel combat knife, and a well-maintained .308 caliber 5-shot revolver – and a pair of steel toe leather boots.

An outfit designed to both fit in with a crowd and give me enough protection to survive a firefight, if a bit stereotypical.

After finishing the relatively short process of suiting up, I grabbed my wallet and keyring before leaving the apartment, speed walking my way to the parking lot. 5 minutes later, as I’m entering my car, I hear the distinctive sound of an armored vehicle speeding its way towards me. No sirens, not police. I turned the key, the car started. A relatively old thing, but still working perfectly fine in spite of age and the number of firefights I’ve been in.

The armored vehicle revealed itself to be a van, windows tinted so thoroughly they were almost black, the van itself was clumsy to turn, obviously far heavier than standard – armor plating, probably has at least 6 people in it, maybe more.

I pulled out of the parking space as 4 men exited the van from the back, and made their way towards my apartment building. They looked like special forces, but had a few things that made me realize they were something else. An emblem from an organization I had seen a few times before, and had the displeasure of dealing with again, it seems.

I let out a sigh, thanking whatever god gave me the cat, and cursing whatever god made me deal with these fuckers again, as I pulled out of the parking lot and began driving aimlessly towards the edge of town.

[ochrearia]

Can I speak my truth but I am an extra sucker for designs of the funky five that aren't in the chibi style and they look like realistic adults because I am consistently having a crisis over the fact IM OLDER THAN ALL OF THESE FUCKERS

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

This took way too fucking long- Everyone, gaze upon the Megatron/Galvatron height chart I made. If someone could get me a cold drink, I would love one, I have been working on this for the better part of a month. 26 separate designs, for one character, across 40 years of history. And I had to exclude a couple, the grand total is like 30 different ones. I left those four out because they were just pallet swaps of a design I already had; It felt redundant to include them.

This guy just can not decide if he's named Megatron or Galvatron sometimes, he just switches between the two names at random. I think in Unicron Trilogy, he switches to Galvatron multiple times, and yes, he does switch back to Megatron before every one.

My brain is kinda broken after finishing this. I worked on this one and the Optimus one at the same time (the optimus one is so much bigger holy shit-) and I've lost the ability to feel pain at this point.

Quick Disclaimer, if any of the images look weird, it's because I had to stitch a few separate images together to create a full body shot of the character.

Links to my Bumblebee Chart and my Optimus Chart. !!NEW!! -> Shockwave & Soundwave. For future reference, all these charts will be filed under my "Transformers Height Charts" tag and my "aka the adventures of a..." tag. Hopefully, my bumblebee post is acting up and idk if the same issue will happen here.

Explanations below the cut, I have to justify myself for a few of these.

G1 Beast Wars V1 - ~9 Feet (PMeg. TFWiki, he's so small. Dinosaur Man is so small)

G1 Beast Wars V2 - ~10 Feet (PMeg. TFWiki, This fucker has roller blades. I'm not fucking with you, they gave the T-Rex Roller Blades and he uses them)

G1 Beast Machines V1 - ~12 Feet (PMEG. The Wiki doesn't have any numbers for Beast machines, sadly, but I found an old forum post comparing the heights to the Beast Wars designs, so I win)

G1 Beast Wars V3/Machines V2 - ~13 Feet (PMEG. The TFWiki says this bitch is like 11.5 meters tall, but no, I've done the math, he is not. If he was, Rattrap, a character who is consistently stated to be 1.8 meters tall across multiple sources in multiple languages is actually not that tall. So no, he's about 2 and a bit Rattraps tall, and that translates to about 13 feet. And I'm pretty sure he reverts into this at some point in Beast machines, though correct me if I'm wrong)

G1 Beast Machines V3 - ~16 Feet (PMeg. This design is identical to the Optimal Optimus design so I'm gonna be lazy and use that number. Not like I have many other options.)

Beast Wars 2 - ~16 Feet (Galv. Idk, the wiki had the number and his name is Galvatron, was I supposed to ignore this? Never gonna watch it, but here it is)

Earth Spark - ~16 Feet 2 Inches (Mega. There are no actual numbers for Earth Spark (yet), but I was able to find Bumblebee's height, which I then compared to Optimus's height, and now I can compare Optimus and Megatron.

Yay!- he's so short it's so fucking funny tiny short man universe)

One V1 - ~17 Feet (Mega. I am aware, of the supposed "Canon Heights" listed on the wiki. 32.462 feet, allegedly. But, have you considered A: These numbers are sourced from the Walmart Promotional AR Experience that came out before the movie. B: There are three decimal points, and that number does not convert into a whole number in meters (which is originally what I thought was weird about it). C: The director has said that this movie is both canon to the LA movies and its own separate canon. AND ALSO Meg is taller than Optimus the entire movie but his height is listed as shorter than him on the wiki. They are the same height by the end of the movie, I call BULLSHIT Walmart; these are not actual numbers I will ignore them POST HASTE! Sadly, Megatron has yet to appear in the KCV live-action movies as I make this, but we know Meg and OP are the same height by the end of TFOne, so knock a couple of feet off this one, and we get pre-cog height)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~18 Feet (PMeg. Slightly confusing, but there are two Megatrons in this universe, but they are two completely separate characters. This is Predacon Megatron, design-wise identical to his V1 Beast Wars counterpart, but he is much taller in this universe. So I did some admittedly deranged comparisons to other characters and I got this height. It's a similar ratio to Prime & Primal's height difference so I'm running with it)

Gen 1 V2 - ~ 18 Feet 6 inches (Galv. So the Wiki failed me on this one, but- and maybe this is backwards thinking, the WFCT Galvatron is this height, at least comparing him to WFCT Megatron, who I've decided is the same height as Gen 1 Megatron, who we actually have a number for- I am aware it's convoluted but it's all I got)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~18 Feet 6 inches (Galv. Okay so, Galvatron and Megatron are entirely separate beings in this universe, which is a large departure from Gen 1 where they're effectively the same guy, which means I could compare their heights, and this is about the height Galvatron is. And I have decided that the WFCT Megatron is the same height as Gen 1 Megatron because they're nearly identical otherwise, making the assumption that the Galvatrons are the same easy. The amount of hoops I have to jump through sometimes...)

Gen 1 V1 - ~19 Feet (Mega. TFWiki. Hey look, it's the guy that's the foundation of like 5 other character's calculations)

Prime Wars - ~19 Feet (Mega. As I've said before, I have decided that this design is the same height as the Gen 1 design, because they're identical, yes one is 2d, and the other is 3d but I don't care)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~19 Feet (Mega. You already know what I'm going to say; it's identical to Gen 1. Just try and stop me)

Unicron Trilogy V2&3/ENG&CYB - ~19 Feet (Mega/Galv. He flip-flops so much in this universe, I think Megatron becomes Galvatron 3 separate times. For the uneducated, the Unicron Trilogy has given each of its 3 seasons separate names and 3 separate art styles. These are the designs used in Energon (S2) and Cybertron (S3). The Wiki had Cybertron's numbers but not Energon's, so for my own sanity, I decided the two were the same height. I could have done something in between Cybertron's and Armada's (S1) numbers, but there was a lot of float between the two)

One V2 - 19 Feet 10 Inches (Mega. As I have stated in the previous One entry: I don't trust Walmart, Meg and OP are the same height by the end of the movie, and the KCV LA and One are kinda one universe. Optimus is this height by the end of the movie, therefore so is Megatron. How many times do I have to explain this)

Cyberverse - 21 Feet (Oh sweet, sweet "I don't have to justify or explain my numbers, I have a source". This comes from a screen-shot of this video which has the Cyberverse height chart everyone uses, though the quality of the screen shot is iffy. If anyone has a better one, I would love to see it)

RID 2001 - ~22 Feet (Mega/Galv. TFWiki. Why are there so many Megatrons who become Galvtron at random and look functionally identical to each other why does this keep happening. Also this guy transforms into a hand)

Unicron Trilogy V1 - ~23 Feet (Mega/Galv. TFWiki. I am very tired, we have another functionally identical Megatron Galvatron conversion and I am in pain)

Bayverse V2 - 30 Feet (Mega/Galv. TFWiki, Movies 4 & 5. This time, they're actually identical, and Mr. Bay has once again blessed me with numbers from all of his movies)

Aligned Cont. WF/FOC - ~30 Feet (Mega. TFWiki. Look man, I don't know how he grows nearly five feet between the games and the shows, it's just what the video game info screen said)

Animated - ~31 Feet (Mega. Animated has no actual numbers, but the lovely @phoenix-inanis has provided a frankly astounding resource with their own calculations for the heights of all the TFA characters. Go look at it, it's wonderful -> https://phoenix-inanis.notion.site/TFA-Height-Chart-f6ad2960ca8c4c5b859ee4958723aaa4?pvs=4)

Aligned Cont. TFP V1 - 34 Feet 5 Inches (Mega. Yes, this is from Fandom. But, and I will continue to say this until my lungs give out, this entire universe is just fucking enormous. Look, I believe Bayverse is the most consistent tf universe when it comes to the transformers' models and designs, and if we do some comparisons between characters with similar listed heights (I did it at the end of this post), it's way too close for me not to believe it)

Bayverse V1 - 35 Feet (Mega. TFWiki, Movies 1-3. Look at this bitch, getting his secrets exposed by Mr. Bay. Look at him, he's going to shrink down in the forth movie, gonna get dumped down to 6th place on the podium. Get Shrunk, Idiot)

Aligned Cont. TFP PR V2 - 42 Feet 7 Inches (Mega. Look at this enormous bitch, look at the freak standing there, fuckin enormous n' shit. Wack ass Unicron- Did you know that this is probably the TALLEST base form transformer ever? Excluding any super modes or upgrades or a transforming Cybertronian Base/Spaceship, just default general body size, I'm pretty sure this Megatron is the tallest Regular transformer ever)

Not Pictured: RID 2001 Galvatron Pallet - ~22 Feet (the only thing that was different between the two designs was the colours, if felt redundant to include it), Unicron Trilogy Galvatron Pallet(s) - Armada: ~23 Feet, Energon/Cybertron: ~19 Feet (Again, just the colours changed, otherwise everything else was the same)

I have done it. I have conquered my Everest. I have finished the big two charts. If anyone has any suggestions for which transformer I should aggressively analyze next please tell me I don't know which ones to do next

Here are the different layers separated out into their own pictures, I know it's kinda hard to tell everyone apart when they're all on top of each other.

[animelover20]

Hello fuckers. I would like to share some news from my life because.. why the fuck not,it's 4am I'm bored.

I started a new game😃 it's greek mythology based and it actually expands on a character who only appeared in one myth(so they're extremely minor and it's a surprise they were even able to make a game with him as the mc) but with that out of the way here's some fuckin rambles because it's so fucking cool.

(minor spoilers ahead. Also a big ol ramble)

The games called Hades and it's based in the Greek underworld. And the reason why it's so cool is because the mc is actually trying to escape,a feat that did appear in actual mythology but was rarely accomplished.

The game is a rougelike which means you die over and over in order to get better and progress..

WHICH FOR A GAME ABOUT ESCAPING THE UNDERWORLD IS SO SMART!

Anyway the main character is called Zagreus(prob didn't spell that right) and he appears in only one myth. The myth about his birth and subsequently his death. They somehow expanded on this one myth while keeping true to the source and making an impactful story. All out of one myth.

The game has about 70+ hours of gameplay before it starts to get repetitive. But the way it progresses with you is so amazing.

Right as you start getting past the first boss more consistently the game ramps up in difficulty. Not so much so it's unplayable but enough that you notice. You learn the enemies attack patterns,learn what weapon suits your play style and honestly you learn so much about this one guy and the people around him. The games so immersive I get lost for hours,so determined to finally have him escape and when you get there it's so rewarding even for me who had spoiled the ending and bosses.

The games so good it got a fucking sequel.

I know I'm a big nerd when it comes to mythology but there's a lack of media sorounding it. So to have one of my favourite game genres make sense while including the wonders of greek mythology is just unreal.

The character design is incredibly well-done with me even being able to compare most of them to real life sources and descriptions. The only exceptions to this being gods that were so minor they weren't even described. Or personifications who were known as shapeless and embodying the very things around us on a daily basis.

The game goes into gods who were feared by ancient Greeks simply for being chthonic.(Aka dwelling in the underworld.) Even if they weren't scary to our standards they believed that having any ties with what lies below would fuck you over in the long-run.

One of my favourite minor gods from greek myth is portrayed so well it's honestly hard to believe. This being the personification of peaceful death Thanatos and despite being labelled as peaceful death he was feared immensely. He alongside with his twin brother Hypnos(personification of sleep) do not appear in many myths due to being chthonic but in Hades they are portrayed so well you'd think they had a cheat sheet.

They spent so long on this game and it really shows. They have dialogue for when you die and what you die to, certain events like reaching the third area and so much more.

It's such an amazing game for being about minor figures. And it has a good and comprehensive story. One that has almost brought me to tears countless times.

The games so good I'm at a loss for words but that might just be because I've been rambling about it for the last 28 minutes😂

If you did truely make it this far hats off to you, because I think this might just be my biggest ramble yet.

Thank you for coming to my talk,even if you didn't read all the way😂❤️

Love you fuckers.