#burgy comics

[burgycreeper405-blog]

greetings and salutations

[mekanikaltrifle]

I need a haircut I think :x also more blue dye

[tropeifier]

Originally posted to the Web on August 1, 2015.

Another comic reuploaded out of release order due to the first comic series. A comic featuring a few members of the Game Grumps, based on a running joke in their series and the opening credits from "The Fairly OddParents".

[itstheheebiejeebies]

from this post: do you have some hc's about some hbowar characters? can you tell me more about them?

Oh this is fun, I don't have a ton. But I will share what I have.

This is more general than character specific, but all the Easy Co boys share books they've got. If one person gets their hands on a book it's gonna make its way through the company.

Snafu is absolutely the kind of guy who doodles all the time and often in the worst places. oh that was important? well now it's got silly little drawings in the margins.

Burgie has 100% scruffed Snafu like a cat

Chuckler is the kind of guy who will reign himself in until he's close friends with someone but the second they're close he's constantly all over them. he's resting his arms on shoulders, he'll take a nap on them, he's sharing his clothes. Anything to show that his friend and to just be near them in general bc he's a touchy feely guy

Hoosier can in fact nap standing up, something that horrifies the other guys in H Company bc it's bad enough when he gets horizontal but now he can do it standing up?? he just doesn't let himself do it often bc there's a war on after all

Liebgott not only loves comics but he actually wanted to illustrate them as a kid, he just was never quite good enough to think it viable and now it's just a rare hobby

Curt is in fact Bucky's big spoon, he's just also little spoon to Buck

Cosby and Bubbles don't have to speak in full sentences, they know each other too well.

they also have a running joke about Bubbles running off with Jean (which Croz is not actually opposed to as long as he's being run off with as well) and Crosby would actually prefer if he didn't make it home that Bubbles did and he and Jean got to be happy together because he loves them both so much he just wants them happy

Demarco brushed out Meatball ONE time in the barracks before being banned from ever doing that inside again and now he has to find a spot downwind from any planes being worked on to avoid getting the fur anywhere it shouldn't be

[sonic-polis]

In order:

Fullbody ref of my fem Shadow design (minus her clothes)

My OC Mica, a pink fairy armadillo who in a hypothetical game about her island would act as a guide to Sonic

A redesign of Mighty's mom from the Archie comics, her name's Eve

Aleena and Julian being lovey-dovey

A valentine with Sonic on it for a club activity. I was the only one who made a valentine and it was alone on the art room door for a while semester

Sonic in a fun outfit I made on Combyne

Scourge eating a burgie

Infinite in a masquerade dress, because someone in one of the Discord servers I'm in suggested it

Fullbody of Julian's outfit after joining the Resistance that I drew as a reference for a comm

A redesign of Lien-Da

[maxphilippa]

I keep on thinking about how like...

A mini comic I made about Joseph and Dan being lovers

Very very low quality comic too

Just started most of the ships I have with Burgy now mskg

I care about them a lot

I might redo it eventually cuz man was it low quality, I want to do a rendered version

[findasongblog]

Find A Song that is a meditation on ageing, regrets, and the possibilities inherent in embracing age and making peace with your regrets

Granfalloon + Test Card Girl - RUExperienced?

This track is from a song-cycle of 52 songs that I wrote in one year. I do remember being inspired partly by a stand-up comic I had seen around that time (I thought they were terrible… not enough life experience? Shallow subject matter? Judgey judge judgey of me eh?) so I was wanting to write something about accumulating life experiences to have something to write about. Ironic that the original concept of this song is so ill defined then. This song had new life breathed into it when I invited Caffs Burgis (AKA Test Card Girl) to my studio to work on a song and pulled this out of mothballs. I had recently made Caff’s acquaintance through the Positive Songs Project writing group Lobelia and I set up during the initial lockdown of 2020. I loved Caff’s contributions to the group and when Lo and I came up with the idea to send everyone a shoddily spray painted gold disc to thank them for taking part, I found out Caff’s lived only two streets away from me! I saved myself some postage and posted it direct-to-letterbox. She immediately messaged me… “Just picked up gold disk!!!! No stamp … mate! Are you Chorlton???” and then insisted we be best friends. One writing session involving Party Rings and a shared love of The West Wing tv show later and we were indeed very good friends! The song, more pertinently to this blog, now had some focus! Strangely enough, maybe because I was older, and had experienced more than when I started the song. Lyrically the themes felt weightier to me, and I was influenced especially by my memories of my grandmother’s funeral for the second verse.

Added to FAS spotify playlist indie folk/country/americana.

[burgycreeper405-blog]

i was scared of posting this but hey, here you go 😂🤣

There's only one way to pay for what you've done, VRocket.

Trust us.

[jue-jack]

it was my oc gumi the gumball cosplayng kirbo entire time, any picture of kirby i drew? = gumi!!!! what a tweest! 

[ask-burgys-aus]

doing storyline/comic styled qna was the worst idea i have ever done, cuz it fncking killed this qna blog 🤣😭

anyways, just posting here cuz I'm thinking of "rebranding" this qna blog where instead of just the roleswap au, it's a qna about all of my tlm AU (main characters)

will try to explain it more soon, but yeah, just a heads up lol

and yes, that means i won't continue that stupid axx comic styled qna i was trying to do but miserably failed. they're all just in a white void 🤣 i might just delete that cuz it just sucks and i hated it 😆

[burgycreeper405-blog]

is this funny chat

[grubloved]

i love the gay house!!!!! my sister and i went to the little trans group and i met a lot of very cute lil trans girls and a guy with a big bushy mustache and beard who looks like a gnome and a friend from comics and we went and got burgies after :)

[pixlokita]

Is this comic about Gregory getting a baby brother and older brother to pick on?

This comic is about Gregory eating burgies

[ksenia3]

Favorite headcanons about the Black sisters?

If we talk about the way I imagine them... I must admit that among this trio Andromeda and Bellatrix relationship interests me more. They're quite close and understand each other better than anybody else in the world. Andromeda isn’t an innocent lamb per se - nooo - in my version, she’s the standard Black . She resembles her uncle Alphard very much - very few people can see through their facade of easy-going, charming personalities. deep inside they are egotistic persons who hide their true motives well. They put their own pleasure above anything else and think that their family status basically gives them the right to do as they please- in a way, there is a deep sitting feeling that they are so above everyone that nothing could tarnish them. (Lol not the traditional depiction of these two characters). About Andromeda’s elopement…her views on marriage and love were actually formed under Walburga’s influence and she looks at life through Burgie’s rose-tinted glasses ( of course, it's not deliberate). So Andromeda just did what standard girlish dreams dictated her to do - choose love over everything. (Not that Walburga understands how her views on her own marriage could lead to her niece’s outrageous behavior. To make it more comical - Walburga definitely was not careful in what she said to Andromeda during her niece's teenage years.)

And...Bella is such a popular character hmm…I just don't know...She prefers Sirius and Andromeda and in her own way she is sooooo hurt by them that it is definitely her dream to bring them back, punish for their exploits, and place them under house arrest for the rest of their lives (or Azkaban…) yeah…she is really disturbed by this. Even in appearance, Bella and Andromeda resemble each other so much that it's difficult to tell the difference...Bella's shocked that her sister prefers to leave the family and particularly Her to get married to some nameless muggle-born. Though I don’t think it’s the things Andromeda and Sirius exactly do that bother her (after all I quite enjoy her canon ignorance of the fact that Voldemort is half-blood). Pollux’s children, Andromeda and Bella - this group of self-indulgent scoundrels don't really care how much their actions might jeopardize the family name - that Arcturus' line problem.

tbh I don’t think a lot about Narcissa and rarely draw her…She is a beautiful, well-behaved young lady - unfortunately, that doesn’t make her very popular among her family. she resembles her mother a lot and basically is the one closest to Druella’s relatives…You tell me what could be special and interesting about her;)

[videogame-related]

Someone plz make this into an undertale comic ;-;

The idea that Burgerpants is really happy around NCG, and only NCG, because the first time he came in, he gave him a nice cream specifically for him. For example.

NCG: Burgerpants? He's sweet! He always seems so happy! He was kinda down the first time I saw him, so I wanted to help, and I've been visiting ever sense. I hope he's having a fantastic day!

Frisk: He hates his life, what are you talking about?

NCG: What? What are you talking about? He's always super happy when I come.

Frisk: Maybe you just make him happy.

NCG •////• : W-What?! No, that can't be it...

Or

BP: Nice Cream Guy? He's cool. His smile is impossibly contagious.

Or maybe even

NGC walks in while BP is talking to Frisk, looking depressed as usual.

NCG: Burgy? Are you feeling okay?

BP: *smiles* Oh! Hey, Guy! I-I'm feeling fine. How are you?

[sirtwentyofhousegoodmen]

Arcturus at Orion's birth plz

July 5th, 1929

"Papa!"

Arcturus shifted his gaze from the newspaper to the four year old girl sat on his lap, who looked up at him, beseechingly.

"What is it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Can you read me a story?"

Arcturus rolled his eyes heavenward, and before he could tell the little hoyden to go bother her mother for one, he was hit with the reminder that Melania was rather occupied birthing his son at the moment.

He sighed—he'd come to his study to hide from his blasted uncles, cousins and siblings, all eagerly awaiting news of the Black heir's arrival with champagne and cigars, a noticeably more jovial celebration than there was at Lucretia's birth. No wonder, as Phineas Nigellus was no longer there to scream at everyone for their shortcomings.

Knowing that Lucretia inherited his strong will, and not having the energy to send her away after being awake for the past twenty hours, he begrudgingly put down his newspaper and, with a lazy swish of his wand, plucked an old storybook out of the bookcase.

"Just this once, Lucretia Black," He warned her, "Your father hasn't the time for such nonsense—so don't get any ideas about this being a regular occurrence."

Lucretia nodded, black curls bobbing up and down with each motion, and leaned back down onto his chest, waiting for him to begin.

It was one of Melania's books that she'd left in his study—they often took lunch there together, though rather than engage in conversation, an activity neither really favored, husband and wife preffered to read in each other's companionable silence.

It seemed innocuous enough—besides, it wasn't as if he could read Lucretia the tome he'd just acquired on Egyptian blood magic.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."

Arcturus raised his eyebrows at that, then nodded in approval at the statement. This was precisely the sort of thing an impressionable young girl like Lucretia should be reading.

As he continued, his voice grew softer and softer, owing to Lucretia's slowing breaths and drooping eyelids, but also to the fact that he was growing rather invested in the plot himself. He would never read this womanish dreck if Lucretia weren't here of course, but it was decently written, all in all.

The sound of the study door creaking open made Arcturus stop, but before he could look up to see who'd disturbed them, Lucretia said the last thing he wanted her to say at that moment.

"Burgie!!"

The girl in question darted into the room, a blur of black curls and white lace that Irma had trapped her in from head to toe.

Pollux's daughter was a terror. She looked innocent enough: all neat black curls and bright blue-grey eyes, but she was constantly running circles around her parents, and there wasn't an order in the world she couldn't flagrantly disobey. Unfortunately for him, Lucretia had taken to her cousin from the first—the girls were practically inseperable. In the first three years, it was often quite difficult to tell them apart—though now their faces were taking their own distinct shapes.

"Where were you, Lucy?" Walburga asked, her arms crossed and her face a mask of supreme churlishness.

"I found Papa," Lucretia said, as if the fact was a complete justification. "He's reading me a story."

Walburga turned her—far too sharp—gaze to him, and pouted. "I want to hear the story."

Arcturus's first reaction was a strong no—but then he realized that word didn't exist in Walburga's vocabulary, and if he were to introduce her to it now he'd be getting an earful from both her and her shrew of a mother.

Sighing, he ran a hand over his face. "I hate my life," he muttered to himself.

Walburga seemed to take that as a 'yes', as she climbed atop the couch and burrowed herself into his other side. Without a clue as to what to do, he just gaped at her nerve while she smiled up at him, looking damn near catlike.

"Go on, Cousin Arcturus," He narrowed his eyes at the cheeky, yet accurate form of address. The chit was good, he'll give her that. "Read!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you speak to your father that way, young lady?"

"Yes."

Arcturus blinked, then snorted. "Fair enough. But I'm not your father, so you'll take care to watch your tone when you speak to me."

She sighed, sulkily. "Yes, Cousin Arcturus."

Giving her a final stern glance, he put his focus back into the book and read until the two girls' breaths grew slow, and their eyes closed. Finally seeing they were asleep, he made to get up, then came to a crushing realization.

The bloody chits had him pinned to the infernal sofa.

Sighing, he made to lift Lucretia off of his left side but the girl had her arms firmly wrapped around his middle, and any sort of strong movement would have woken her—and in turn Walburga.

Turning to Walburga, he debated the merits of whether or not to pry her off him as well. On the one hand, she wasn't his (she'd be a damn sight less impudent if she were) and he did not want to be any more familiar than he already was . On the other hand, he was the official head of the family and he'd be damned if he was going to miss his son's birth over a sleeping hoyden.

Thankfully, the debate ended when the study door creaked open and Pollux came in, a sheen of sweat on his forehead—he'd never taken to cigars that well—and a glass of champagne in hand, beaming.

"Arcturus, it's—"

"Can you get your blasted daughter off me before you say what you have to say, Pollux?"

Pollux' seemed to take notice of his other companions and their state, as his eyes widened and he promptly put down his cigar and champagne flute on the table nearest them, and in one swift motion lifted up his daughter into his arms.

"Apologies, Arcturus," Pollux said, lightly rubbing a mildly fussy Walburga's back as she settled into her new position. "She can be a bit of a handful sometimes, our Burgie."

Arcturus raised an eyebrow in dissaproval at the look of pure adoration on his cousin's face at his daughter. First Irma, now Walburga—he was starting to get the feeling that Pollux actually liked his women impertinent.

How droll.

"Yes," he answered instead, "She certainly can. Anyhow, what is it you wanted to tell me, seeing as you've seen fit to come into my study?"

Pollux remembered himself then, and his bright smile was back. "Yes, of course—Congratulations are in order, old boy: You have a son."

Arcturus felt a wave of astonishment come over him, leaving him wide-eyed and dazed. "He's here?"

Pollux nodded. "Yes—Irma told us all that Melania's waiting for you upstairs."

Without another word in his cousin's direction he stood up, lifting Lucretia up with him, and all but ran upstairs, past all the well-wishers no doubt using his son's birth as an excuse to get plastered in the drawing room.

A son, an heir, a true heir! Ha!—Arcturus hoped that Phineas Nigellus had a good view of his triumph in hell, he wanted to see that old bastard eat his words.

The House of Black already had a male heir—Alphard's birth, though met with distinctly less fanfare since Melania's pregnancy had been announced by then, had been two months ago and his uncle Cygnus had not stopped crowing since. But this was different—Arcturus had an heir now, his own heir. A son to carry on his name and his legacy, a son to shape into a fine young man and to teach what it meant to be a proper black.

He reached the same oak door he'd gone through four years ago, and grabbing the handle, pushed it open.

Melania was on the bed, her face pale and drawn, and the healer beside her had his face set in a frown. Arcturus approached the man, the feeling of Lucretia’s hands around the back of his neck growing tighter.

“Is she alright?” He asked, without preamble.

“Ah, Mr. Black,” The rotund man took off his comically tiny, fogged-over pince-nez, cleaning them with his handkerchief. “Yes, I assure you—Mrs. Black is doing perfectly well, as is your son. The birth was rather strenuous on her, I’m afraid.”

“How strenuous?”

The man grimaced. “She’ll be perfectly fine—but I wouldn’t advise having another for at least a few years. I don’t think her body could take it.”

Arcturus furrowed his brow, shocked. “What? She did perfectly well with Lucretia.”

“The boy was larger than Lucretia,” The healer said, as if he were indulging a dim-witted child, which only served to raise his hackles. “Combined with the birth being four times longer, it’s no wonder she’s unwell. Rest assured, she’ll be perfectly fine with some bed-rest, and in a few years, if you still want another, we can certainly discuss what paths we could take on that front.”

Before Arcturus could convey his supreme outrage at being spoken to in such a way, the jolly man had the audacity to give him a pat on the back, and direct him to the crib where they’d put his son. Gingerly, he put Lucretia onto a chaise in the corner of the room, and approached the crib with trepidation.

When he caught sight of his son, he felt the breath leave him.

The boy was his mother’s spitting image—brown hair, large, owlish eyes, and pudgy red cheeks. The only feature he’d inherited from his father were those classic steely gray eyes that most Blacks were blessed with.

Carefully, he lifted him from his crib, and positioned him properly in his arms. The boy stirred, before wiggling a bit more and turning his new eyes up to peer at his father.

His son. His son.

Arcturus had never felt more proud in his life. All the tests, the trials, every single accomplishment in his life paled in comparison to this one. His son was the totality of all his efforts, the ultimate triumph.

But there was something else. Something more.

His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of Melania’s stirring from the other side of the room, and, remembering himself, he approached her with their son in tow.

“Remember, Mr. Black, she’s too weak to hold him at present—I’d advise keeping a safe distance.”

Arcturus gave the man a glare, and he rightly looked cowed, excusing himself and all but running from the room. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, he looked over at his wife, who was just beginning to wake.

“Arcturus?” She asked, her voice tired and muddled.

"I'm here, Melly," He told her, taking his free hand and using it to wipe off the sheen of sweat that had gathered on her forehead.

Melania opened her eyes, blearily, and when she looked over at him with their son, gave them both a shaky smile. "How is he?"

"Perfect," Arcturus replied, meaning it more than he'd ever meant anything in his life. "He's perfect—your spitting image."

"Really?" She peered over at his face. "I rather thought he took after you."

"He has my eyes," he told her, bringing their boy closer. "The rest is all yours."

She sighed. "Is he right? I can't have any more?"

Arcturus blinked. The healer had told him she might very well have another in a few years, but they'd told his mother the same. He didn't want to risk it—wizards had not perfected the art of childbirth and h wasn't about to take her to a muggle so he could cut her open like some fish.

The thought of Melania on the bed, like mother, covered in pustules, soft, sweet voice meant for songs gone wheezy and delirious—No. No, he wasn't going to let that happen. He couldn't let that happen.

"Yes," Arcturus said, decision made. "It's not safe for you. We won't be having anymore."

Her face turned doleful then. "Oh."

They sat in a sort of awkward silence then while Arcturus kept smiling down at their son, until it was broken by the sound of a slight sniffle.

"I'm sorry."

Arcturus started at the words, then turned to meet his wife's eyes, which had become wet with tears.

"What?" He asked, mildly annoyed at the fact he had to deal with womanish drama today of all days.

"I failed you. I can't give you more children—what kind of a wife am I?"

Melania's face seemed to be a mixture between dawning horror at the fact that she'd failed in her duties and genuine sadness that she'd never experience what it was like to hold another baby of hers in her arms again.

Arcturus moved to cut off the stream of tears before it became too much for either of them.

"You've given me an heir, and a daughter," Arcturus pointed out, voice measured. "There's nothing else expected of you."

"You should have more," She said, shaking her head, her breaths growing shorter. "I wanted more." The last sentence was spoken in a kind of hushed tone.

"More are not worth your health, Melania." Arcturus groaned, was she truly under the impression she'd failed him? Had he ever intimated he wanted a house full of little rapscallions running about? He didn't—two was more than enough.

"That's not—"

"It is, and it is the final word we will have on this subject." Arcturus sighed. "You will not die, Melania. Not for one more son, nor for ten. You, Lucretia, and the boy are all I need. You are all..." he cleared his throat, uncomfortably, "...more than I could ever deserve. I have an heir—Now, all that matters is you and the children. Nothing more."

Melania looked at him, flabbergasted at how candid he'd gotten, before nodding, still dumbstruck. "As you say."

Arcturus pretended not to notice her smile of relief, nor the overly loving way she was looking at him.

Those emotions made him...uneasy.

"Orion," Melania said, thought it came out as half a question. She elaborated at Arcturus's raised eyebrow. "I was reading a book on Black names when I went into labor. The one I liked best was Orion—I thought to bring it to you to see if you approved."

Arcturus raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised that his slip of a wife had gathered the nerve to put forth a name herself. Orion...Yes, it was a good name. A strong name—The Hunter. One of the only good memories he had left of his father had been sitting in his study, asking him to point out all the names of the stars enchanted into the ceiling—Orion had always been his favorite.

"Orion Arcturus Black," Arcturus said, nodding in approval. "A good name, Melly. I approve."

Melania beamed—though she promptly grimaced.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" She nodded. "Not to worry—I'll find that fat old man and order him to give my wife as much pain potion as she damn well wants."

He gave her a kiss to the forehead. "She deserves it."