I hold you SO SO closed in my handsss,,, I love seeing you in my notifications it's always such an honor and makes my day so much
-@sm-baby
omg hiiii mushroom!! :D i'm gonna be honest, i've been staring at this trying to figure out how to respond for a while but i am far too flattered to think of a good response! consider me rendered speechless...
anyway, i just hope you know the feeling is mutual and i am also very happy when i see you around!!! i'm going to use this as an excuse to toss some carnival au art your way which you'd enjoy, i hope?? ^-^
yes this one's based off madagascar 3 which... please don't judge me too hard for that... that movie's iconic (to me at least 😭)
there's more to these but idk i wasn't feeling it so crops are all i'm giving out
this one i'll probably still finish but i like how caine looks so here's a sneak peek
that was all pomni and caine wasn't it uhhh. whoops... here's a couple jax i also like that guy
and this isn't the carnival au, but it IS showtime and i know you love them... technically a wip but it's gonna take sooo many rendered pages to finish that idk if i'll ever actually get it done so just take this bit
evil time loop escape conditions where you can't get out until you've fuucked up your life in the most spectacular way possible, confident that the next night will reset the slate as usual.
a little bit of an unfinished short comic about a conversation between flowey and frisk, talking about them both struggling to heal and move on from their past in a post-pacifist route.
31 days of ghost // day 1 - first song you heard ⸸
The ancient serpent deceiver
To masses standing in awe
He will ascend to the heavens
Above the stars of God
Hell Satan, Archangelo
Hell Satan, welcome Year Zero
the 141 recovering brainwashed!soap but he’s just a shell of his former self; never speaking, never moving without orders. he never even blinks; just stares straight ahead with his unnatural green eyes.
empty.
but ghost can't accept that.
price and gaz can't stand watching ghost torture himself day after day; visiting soap in his cell for hours at a time, trying anything he can think of to bring back his sergeant.
he shows him pictures of the 141 but soap thinks he's being given targets and moves to eliminate them before ghost stops him. he brings him his journal, tries to trigger his innermost thoughts and feelings he never shared with any of them, but after he reads it, soap summarises it like he's giving a mission briefing. impersonal.
cold.
it's late when ghost finally calls it; low and defeated after another long day of being stared at with eyes that don't see him. he isn't thinking when he pulls his mask off and harshly scrubs over his face, grinding his palm into his eye.
"don't worry, johnny; we're still fixin' each other's problems," he promises, little more than a whisper as he tries to summon the energy to leave johnny behind. again.
he pushes himself to his feet, his hand on the door handle when-
"what's my problem?"
ghost freezes, something like grief - something achingly closer to hope - chilling him. he slowly turns and though soap is still starring ahead, there's a faint light in his altered green eyes.
"the mask," he forces out. "take it off."
he knows there's no way to remove the mask - the muzzle - from his sergeant's face. it's too high-tech, even for them; the biometric scanner too advanced for any bypass they know of.
it's just another way he's failed him; bringing him home still bound in their enemy's chains.
soap- jolts; a sharp, almost painful looking flinch jerking his body.
"show my face?" and his voice has changed; no longer the monotone delivery that's haunted ghost's every waking moment.
it's smaller. uncertain. recollection of a memory half-destroyed.
"yes, johnny," he breathes.
soap moves unprompted for the first time since they found him; running his finger along the edge of the muzzle where his skin bulges from the pressure, half-visible scars hidden beneath the harsh metal.
"ugly," he murmurs.
ghost immediately shakes his head, almost stumbling back to the table; haphazardly throwing his mask on it. "quite the opposite," he insists.
it doesn't matter if he has no lower jaw left at all; johnny could never be ugly in his eyes.
agonisingly slowly, soap's eyes shift to the mask. he takes in the balaclava and hard shell skull like for all the times he's looked at it since his rescue, he never truly saw it. his lids fall in less of a blink and more stage curtains closing; slow, heavy, requiring effort and no small amount of strength to open once more
"good... to see you again..." he trails off, his hand shifting up to the top of his shaved head; nails digging unforgivingly into his scalp
"simon," ghost finishes for him; that horrid grieving hope tearing at his heart
soap's fingers flex and a drop of blood trails down his forehead, over the ridge of his nose to catch on the muzzle. "s-simon..."
his nails dig deeper, the drop falling to the table just to be followed by more and ghost aches to stop him but he's terrified to interrupt him. terrified to lose him now when he's so close to something.
soap's bloodied nails scratch down the crown of his head, following the line of his stolen mohawk until they come to rest on the back of the muzzle and ghost's heart drops.
they can’t get it off.
they can't get it off and he doesn't know how to explain that to soap; doesn't know if he can stomach watching soap pull at the monstrosity holding him captive, the inevitable bloodbath as the edges cut into his skin.
"show my face," soap repeats.
"johnny..." ghost begins weakly, reaching out to him but he doesn't know how, doesn't know if he even should-
the muzzle clatters onto the table.
the biometrics they couldn't bypass, the fingerprint they needed that they were so sure belonged to makarov.
it belonged to soap.
how cruel to torture him with freedom he didn't understand he could take; didn't even understand he could want.
just the kind of sick game makarov loves.
ghost doesn't know what's louder; his heart pounding in his ears or the long, uninhibited breath soap takes.
his eyes fall shut as he leans his head back with it, the blood still dripping down his face as he straightens through his exhale. his lower jaw is a mess of scars where he fought against the previous iterations of the muzzle, the corners of his lips cut through and cracked.
but the green in his eyes is duller; that light sparking brighter as blue struggles to break through the glow.
qsmp can't update and port over the builds rn not because of solely lore reasons
the main biome mod they were using previously has never been updated to 1.20.1. the latest version is 1.19.4.
qsmp isn't able to port the builds over at the moment not out of wanting to hold them hostage from the players, they physically can't port the builds over without losing an entire block palette from a pretty massive biome mod. it'd corrupt the builds.