#anyway yeah enjoy this

[kiwibirdlafayette]

im bored at work and feel like rambling about some mianite verse c!Tom headcanons. so backstory headcanon time

cw for zombie related things and (temporary) character death. under a cut just to be safe

I like to imagine because its implied that the Minecraft Project precedes Mianite S1 (NOT Isles that shit chronologically takes place after S2 when him and Jordan travel back in time to that era i refuse to believe anything else), that Tom starts in that realm/universe. We''ll dub it for the time being Astrakheins (iykyk) as a human. Unzombified.

I don't really know much about TMP in terms if theres a canon storyline but in this HC at least the Syndicate family has a long history of running the industry in this era and in time, the mantle falls to Thomas and his sister Alice. Under their command, the world flourishes into a prosperous empire of farming, mining and resources. In addition, a strong bond is formed with a goddess by the name of Ianite and her the Voidwalkers of the End and the mysterious beings of the nether.

However, as things go. Things go.

Within a couple years of being in charge, Tom falls ill with a mysterious infection that starts to... turn him. While he maintains a healthy physical state, he notices the skin on his hands rotting at the seams of former injuries, his hair changing from its usual brown blonde to a sickly cerulean. Alice and the others come to him with concerns, but the zombification is nothing to him. He goes on as normal, and is quite productive to say the least.

However, it isn't until after the ender dragon fight where something changes, where the illness begins to take over him in a way that renders him bedridden for weeks. Ianite herself has no idea where it could have come from, instead citing a possible origin from the Nether, which in the absence of any god has been slowly deteriorating. And to her knowledge, there is no way of fighting it. He tries to move, but eventually becomes completely immobile despite multiple limb surgeries.

And one day, his eyes closed and would not open again.

Heartbroken, Alice had no choice but to bury him, and continue on. The empire could not fall this easily. Little did she know, as she laid her brother to rest in the ground, something, not of this world watched on. Sitting. Waiting.

And finally it struck.

In the middle of a business meeting with redstone engineers from the End, a multiversal rift tears a gaping chasm through the sky, the edges burning with a blaze unlike anything the citizens had ever seen before. From it jumped a demon, a dragon, a god with furiously glowing golden eyes and a cloak covered in hot ash, his gaze set on one thing only.

The grave of Tom Syndicate.

Using the power he must have possessed he raises a wall of obsidian, magma and blackstone so high that no one can get to him, regardless of how powerful- including Alice. She frantically reaches into her pockets and calls to Ianite.

No answer.

Within he chants a language not ever having been spoken in Astrakheins before, breaking the ground at his feet to rise pools of lava lifting the body of the zombified man before him, opening his fully black eyes and red pupils to face the god.

Tom himself didn't quite know where he was, in all honesty.

He recognizes some things, some builds, some faces. His memory is foggy. He retains some names, the skills in which it would take to survive, but he hadn't come back right. He hadn't come back the same.

None of what he does remember is alluring enough to insist on staying when the god before him, introducing himself as Dianite, offers to take Tom to this realm of anarchy to serve as his champion.

Champion. How could he resist such a title? Especially after this guy seems to have brought him back from a limbo he was stuck in.

The conversation is not heard by others. But it must have been rather promising to have a deal struck in such a short time.

The walls around him and his god crumble to the ground. The earth closes up and the lava returns to its underground tomb. Dianite raises his blade to the sky in victory, and flies up, Tom trailing closely after. He goes almost without second thought back through the rift, sealing it shut behind him almost as quickly as it had opened.

And that's the last Alice and Astrakheins ever sees of Tom "SynHD" Syndicate.

For now.

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

I am such a big Werewolf Stan advocate I had to jump on this particular train 🙏 (but I didn't really wanna commit to full line art, you guys understand)

Oh, and you guys aren't gonna believe this, but here's part two 🙌

[stump-not-found]

A Lifetime Served in a Little Cup

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4

---

bill, babygirl, the red flags get outta there

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[heretherebeturtles-comic]

DID YOU KNOW THAT ANDY SURIANO TALKED ABT YOUR COMIC ON INSTA???????????

YEAH I SAW IT!

really cool!!!!!! nice things were said about my art and story!!!!!! i am so flattered!!!!!!!!!! i am still figuring out how to react to it all!!!

[xxplastic-cubexx]

filler

[anne-is-confused]

Captain Francis Crozier, at Furthest North.

[nekrosmos]

There is no escaping Nik's bear arms and hands when John is sharing a bed with him (not that he minds, really) 💤​

[ruubesz-draws]

Godzilla x Kong New Empire but it's the Spongebob Movie

I had this idea BEFORE the movie even came out lol

This took longer than I thought! Please appreciate it!

[dunkalfredo]

siffrin's terrible mental health, now in song form!

[song: "Why Am I Anxious?" by Tom Cardy. animated in OpenToonz and edited in VEGAS Pro 14]

[keferon]

What are your thoughts on a decepticon prowl?

Oh I'm all for it. But! Only if he's actually a Con. Like. Wholeheartedly.

Not "nnnooo we're doingg a bad thing and I kind of dont wanna do bad thing but I have no choice poor me".

You know how in canon he truly believes he's on the right side and makes everything to ensure that Optimus wins the war? You know how he's willing to make every tough decision so Optimus doesn't have to risk his reputation? You know how he literally makes Autobots look like shiny brave and clean heroes who did nothing wrong ever?

I want all that but the other way around. I want him to do that for Megatron and for the Decepticons. The implications would be so fucking dramatic I could write a whole essay.

Low rank Cons would hate him so fucking bad.

Starscream would try to murder him at least once a day.

Megatron would absolutely treasure him. Autobots would have it r o u g h

Can you imagine

[laddertek]

etho said actually you _don't_ understand the intricacies of how tango is my boyfriend and bdubs is my ex

(and how tango and bdubs kiss too)

Scar: We went on that little adventure, you know! Etho: Yeah, yeah, we had our adventure, that's true, that's true. Scar: You disparaged your teammates. That's it, all right, no more spoilers. Etho: (laughs) Our team has -- our team has some weird dynamics this -- this season. Cleo: (overlapping) Really, Etho? Is there trouble in paradise? (pause) Who's third-wheeling with you, again? I can't remember. Etho: (laughs) Uhh. The -- Cleo: Genuinely can't remember. I know it's you and Bdubs. And...Tango? Tango. Tango. Etho: (loudly) Why -- Why is Tango the third wheel? Why -- why isn't Bdubs the third wheel? Cleo: Because it's you and Bdubs. I'm sorry. I understand how that relationship goes. Etho: (dissatisfied) Hmm.

[kate-bot]

a few more little pizza animations!!! they're a little rough around the edges but they were a lot of fun to make!!

[s0dabeach]

was possessed by the need to draw something related to @jellynut's bill still au it's such a cool au and I'm not normal whenever he posts art of it

also did kind of a comic:

[buttercupshands]

So.

Act 5, huh?

Oh, and that.

"You can start breakdown now."

Finished the game couple of days ago and had some thoughts I needed to process a little. Like. Yes.

So anyway I actually didn't plan this and just wanted to redraw some sprites to just make sure I understand how to draw Siffrin correctly (still working on that!)

What did I learn from this? How fun it it to draw on a canvas that literally doesn't let you draw with colors without some layer cheating when necessary. Never tried it.

The beans. Sleeping beans.

Basically what happens when you want to sleep AND draw. Draw characters sleeping on your behalf.

Doesn't help, but at least it's cute.

I have no idea what was going on in my mind as I drew this. Feels like a fever dream of 'I want to sleep' at 4 am and 'Hm...' of thinking random things

Also that phone craft sign. Still too funny to imagine. I had to.

[haveihitanerve]

Gotham Protects Her Own

“Gotham protects her own.” Bruce had whispered to him once, in a, at the time, not so rare moment of affection, cradling dick to his chest as they looked over his city. Their city. Batman and Robin. Dick had believed him, of course, but he hadn’t really felt it. Not until he had stood at the bats side for the second year in a row, and his cape had fluttered. Dicks cape had never fluttered while he was standing. Running across the rooftops? Sure. Jumping over a chimney? Most definitely. But just standing still, no movement? It had never happened. Bruce’s did, from the very beginning Bruce’s cape had flown behind him, flapping with grace in the wind that was not there. But dicks hadn’t. But now… Bruce smiled down at him, pride lining every line in his face, before he took off across the roof, a challenge and a test at the same time. Dick chased after him, and for the first time since he had become Robin, he flew. His feet barely touched down, cushioned by the roofs, by shadows, and he laughed, wild and bright and free, and Bruce joined him, laugh deep and rich and full. Dick belonged to Gotham now, the city had laid her claim on him, and as Batman and Robin flew across the city, Dick could hear a new laugh join them, light and happy and feminine, delighted by their delight, their acceptance. Gotham protects her own, and Dick Grayson-Wayne, the first Robin, had earned that right, that protection, with his leaps and jokes and belief in Batman, in a belief in the city, in the belief that it could be better. 

Gotham protects her own. Catherine Todd had murmured to him once, late one night, a bruise blossoming on her cheek, eyes heavy from drugs. She was close to death, Jason could feel it practically wafting off her, and he didn't think much of her last words, a hazy drugged hallucination, slurred speech. But then she had passed and Jason had left, choosing the street over his father and then he had understood. People came looking for him, naturally, even his father ventured out, but shadows seemed to envelop him, the streets opened to his footfalls, and he always found a safe place to sleep, never waking with his things stolen or suddenly kidnapped. Jason could feel the city, his very lifeblood, could hear her music in her traffic, felt her song in the earthquakes. Gotham cradled him, sheltered him, and when the time came, pushed him to a left unattended Batmobile, tempting him to steal the tires. For the first time, Jason doubted his city, hated her for sending him into a trap. But then he became Robin, and Gotham squealed in delight, and Jason watched in awe as Bruce flew, as Gotham made his cloak billow, as she nurtured her prodigal son. Batman had gotten injured, once, badly enough that he had struggled with his grapple line, and it had snapped. Jason had screamed, lunging for him, but it was too late. Before he could cry over the dead body of his mentor, he found Bruce at the bottom of the building, not much worse for wear at all. Gotham had cradled him, shadows leaping to cushion his fall. Jason had laughed with glee, rushing Bruce home as quickly as possible, and something had brushed his cheek, a faint kiss against his forehead. Gotham protects her own and Jason Todd-Wayne, the second Robin, had been born into that right, that protection, and felt her city pound through his body like blood, feeding his soul. 

Gotham protects her own. Tim had seen the slogan on a Wayne Enterprise billboard once, when he had been seven, an ad campaign promoting insurance and helpful housing. It had become a sort of mantra for him, something he whispered under his breath every time his father made a snide comment about Tim lacking proper talent or social skills, after every call his parents declined, after every fight that had him biting his lip to stop the tears and debate running away. Gotham protects her own. Became his lifeline, his mantra, a promise of a better life. It wasn't anything he ever believed, until he finally worked up the courage to approach Bruce Wayne about the secret. Tim slipped on the Robin uniform for the first time… And something inside him settled. A woman's voice in the back of Tim’s head squealed. But as he raced over the rooftops, finally at Batman's side as he always dreamed to be instead of a few feet behind, snapping pictures, his cape dancing with the wind, his feet hardly touching down, that mantra, that false belief of hope, of a better life, became truth. Gotham protects her own, and Tim Drake-Wayne, the third Robin, had believed in that truth his whole life, wishing with every fiber of his being that she would protect him, and she finally had. 

Gotham protects her own. David Cain had warned her once, telling her great stories of the city with air of midnight black, of water a putrid green, and of a people a hardy and tough. It hadn't been a compliment, just another obstacle she would need to overcome to fulfill her future missions. She had believed him, of course, but… she had never truly known what it meant. Not until she had stumbled into the city, hurt, bleeding, afraid, and she had felt that… otherworldly power. Reaching for her. Its tendrils soft and kind, like a mother, shadows stretching across her, shielding her, as the League prowled the streets. It wasn't until she saw him. The Bat. And his little Bird, brutal efficiency and yet mercy in every action, wasn't until she saw how Gotham cradled them, lifted them, helped them to fly. Gotham had been more accepting to her than she had thought. Maybe because she hadn't hurt her children. Maybe because she knew her pain. Maybe because Cass had been so afraid. But whatever the reason, when Cassandra Cain-Wayne took to the streets, a proud, blazing Bat on her chest, her cape billowing behind her, Gotham sang. 

“Gotham protects her own!” Arthur Brown had screamed once. It had been in a fit of rage, followed by the sounds of windows crashing and tables smashing against the wall. He had been angry, livid even, the sound of his footsteps heavy and hard on the floor as he stormed around, pissed that Batman was unreachable for him, untouchable, protected by the city he claimed to do the same to. Steph knew the truth in the words, had been protected by them her whole life, finding a window open right when her father got home, the closet door unlocked miraculously after her father had locked her up, alleyways opening for her to escape through when bigger kids picked on her, or the cops chased her. And it happened now, as Arthur Brown came storming for her, rage and malice and every evil intention written across his features. Steph could feel that tug, that indescribable feeling of home, and she took a step back, melting into the shadows as she fled, fled her home, fled her father, fled his wrath and everything wrong with the world. She settled on the roof, the way she always did when he got like this, and waited, as she always did. For it to end. For him to stop. It was that night that she saw him for the first time. Steph had heard of him, of course, the Batman was infamous throughout Gotham by now, but she had never seen him in person. Never watched his work. It was at Bethany’s house. Bethany’s father, Vincent, was screaming again. The way Arthur was. But Gotham, Gotham didn't protect Bethany the way she did Steph. Or maybe Bethany just didn't listen. But Batman.. Batman listened. Batman protected. Steph watched, wide eyed, as he jumped through the window, as he grabbed Vincent by the throat and slammed him against the wall, snarling in his face. Steph watched, hands clutching her teddy, wondering whether she would rather risk her father than this demon. But he stopped. Paused. Threw Vincent to the ground in disgust, unconscious, and turned to Bethany. Beth had stopped moving, the way she always did when Vincent got the way he did, dissociating so she wouldn't feel his hands on her. Steph didn't think it worked, but it was something. Batman bent down, gentle, slowly, a few feet away, extending a hand to Beth. Steph couldn't hear what he said, couldn't see his face, but Beth blinked at him. She blinked, and she walked closer, slowly. And Batman… Batman held her, held her until she was crying, held her through her tears and wiped her eyes and rubbed her back, held her until she was asleep without nightmares, and carried her to bed, tucking her in gently. Steph didn't know how long she sat there, watching as he cared for this little girl, forgoing the Bat Symbol in the sky, and his anger, for her. Gotham protects her own, Steph swore as she watched him drop from the window the same night, flitting away on shadows only she could see. Gotham protects her own, and she would protect Gotham. She would mold herself after the Bat, and help.