#however that looks like :p

[clusterfullofblueberries]

I don’t know how interested people are in this rambling, but I still would like to tell a tiny bit more about that Transformers Alternate Universe concept of mine. Cause it’s been in my mind for a year now and I never knew how to go about telling it without solely depending on illustrations.

Anyway, I’ll still try my best to talk about it. So in terms of the war, it has thankfully stopped. Giving both Autobots, Decepticons, and any Cybertronian that stayed neutral or were rather AGAINST war, time to recover. Though to call it a blessing is not an ideal word for all their situations.

As in a span of a few months on their ceasefire, a sickness unknown to their species began to emerge from their weakened planet. And though the infection started out small, it slowly spread across the planet affecting all life. To give an example of how bizarre the virus is to its inhabitants, I would like to say it’s an infection much similar to the one in the animated series Primal on adult swim. Where the infection bubbles and melts the skin of its victims. Though perhaps I’m downplaying how scary it is for both Primal and here in this world. Regardless, it’s a haunting sickness that everyone can universally say is horrid beyond belief. Sure isn’t no pretty sight. But what kind of sickness is, right?

Surely there is a cure, but no one knows what that could be. Though many assume this is Primus way of saying this sickness has been caused due to how corrupt this world has become. And they are barely holding onto this planet, but falling apart as time passes. So then this begs the question to all Cybertronians. Do they abandon this world, and risk many other species by spreading the virus, OR do they all try to remain here and search for a cure? And keep their species alive while it still functions.

You can imagine that some would try to flee, but the overall conscience is to try to save their planet. And in turn save themselves. It’s an ideal scenario, but this world is still hanging in the balance of life and death. So it’s not an easy feat.

Really the only things I had planned out is Starscream in this world was thrusted into leadership due to Megatron becoming infected. Although he did want this kind of position, he never anticipated that such circumstances would change his character so much. And to see so much death. Mind you, the war on Cybertron was very brief. So this is his first hand experience with real unavoidable death.

So imagine how he goes from cocky and arrogant to something entirely different. But uhm, yeah. Nothing too fancy here. And it could be polished up more, yet I still enjoyed bringing it back up!

[stuckinapril]

Plans for tonight: studying physics and psychology and not being pressed about anybody’s dumbass son ‼️🎀🥂💕

[justaz]

once merlin puts arthur to rest, the world around him disappears and he’s in ealdor staring at his mother’s back. his sobs from the lake grow worse at the sight of his mother and he wails like he’s a child again, calling repeatedly for his ma. she spins around and finds him, without asking any questions she dashes forward and pulls him into a hug, holding his weight as he falls apart in her grasp, choking out nonsensical words and soaking her dress with tears, snot, and drool, his overwhelming grief causing him to ignore any sense of shame he might’ve felt at such a scene.

he doesn’t remember explaining anything to her, frankly he doesn’t remember much beyond the cries he pressed into her shoulder, but she says he’s been in ealdor for a week. she’s clearly worried and asks, no, begs him to eat or drink but he doesn’t feel the need or desire to, and even if he did, he simply doesn’t have the energy to bring the sustenance to his mouth. she cradles his head in her lap and runs her finger through his hair like she did when he had a nightmare when he was younger. it’s almost enough to make the entire thing seem like a horrible, horrible dream. but theres blood on his tunic where he held arthur’s body to his own so he knows it’s not true.

his mother doesn’t ask any questions, the look in her eyes telling him that she knows anyway. perhaps his nonsensical babble created a clear enough image for her to understand. maybe she just saw the broken look in his eyes and came to the conclusion on her own. she doesn’t mention him. merlin isn’t sure if he’s relieved about that or not. in the end, he brings it up, he asks how she was able to go on after balinor left. he asks how she was able to pick herself back up on her own two feet and carry on life as normal after receiving his letter informing her of his passing. she says sometimes she can’t, sometimes she lays in bed and listens to the birds sing and can’t help but hate them. she says she lives on for him anyway. she pushes herself up and makes food and works in the fields even when she hate the world around her.

merlin tries to relate, tries to understand, tries to imagine himself getting up every morning and living on in his name. he can’t. his parents loved each other, he knows that, but they were their own people and were able to stand the years apart. merlin��merlin is arthur’s, even in death. everything he is, everything he’s done, has been for arthur. he is half of merlin’s soul, the center of merlin’s world. how can anyone expect him to move on as if he’s capable of being alone? how can anyone expect him to function as if half of his soul, half of himself, isn’t dead in a lake? merlin can’t do it, he can’t imagine living a life without arthur. he barely got through the week and that’s only because he was passed out for a majority of it. how could he make it a year, much less another fifty?

he can’t. he can’t do it. he can’t breathe, he’s in agony, the world around him doesn’t exist anymore. not without arthur.

he’s back at the lake now, tears still streaming down his face despite the pounding headache from dehydration yet it doesn’t matter, not anymore. none of it does. he stumbles into the lake and sends his magic into the water to tug excalibur from the depths. he can feel freya pulling the sword back, but his magic overpowers hers easily and the sword springs from the lake, gleaming in the afternoon sun. freya’s face appears in the ripples of the water next to him, her expression pleading and sorrowful. merlin whispers an apology before turning back to the sword, staring at the sharp point of the blade. he brings it closer to hover just over his heart, the metal pressing against his skin but not enough to draw blood just yet.

peace washes over him. the sun warms his skin and the water cools him to keep it from being unbearable. the birds sing in the trees as the wind whistles through the leaves. merlin stares up at the brilliant blue sky and pure white clouds roll by, images of bunnies and birds and crowns and horses staring down at him. he wonders if avalon will be this peaceful, if he and arthur could lay out in a field for eternity, basking in the sun and laughing as they point out misshapen clouds that supposedly look like the other.

he plunges the sword into his chest, right through his heart, and falls back into the water. bubbles trail out of his mouth up towards the surface, blood spills from his wound and mixes with the water. he closes his eyes as he sinks further and further. he knows when he opens them, he’ll be with arthur once more. it’ll all be okay. he doesn’t feel his body hit the bottom before blackness fills his mind.

arthur awakens from his fitful slumber in a bed that is not his own. he squints at the room, or rather hut, around him and finds an old man hunched over a book in the corner. arthur tries to speak but all that comes out is a squeak of air, his throat too dry to speak. the man hears and whirls around to begin treating him once more, prattling on and on about how he found arthur in the woods outside his village donning shiny clothes which he discarded bc of the blood staining them yet he couldn’t find a wound. arthur’s hand reaches up to his side but there’s no stab wound there, not anymore, though he does sport the scar. he remembers how he got it, he remembers stumbling away from the battlefield, he remembers being found by merlin- merlin.

he asks the man about him but he seems confused and denies ever knowing someone by that name. arthur climbs out of the bed (the flash of golden eyes) and hastily pulls on his armor (“i’m a sorcerer. i have magic.”). he’s out the door before the old man can protest. he’s in a village he doesn’t recognize, they must not be anywhere near camelot (“i’m still the same person.”). he turns to the old man hobbling out of the hut and demands directs to camelot. the man stares at him oddly and scratches his ear before informing him that he’s never heard of a camelot before (“you’re my friend and i don’t want to lose you.”).

he instead asks for directions to the woods where he was found and sets off in that direction, the old man shuffling after him (“me, i was born to serve you, arthur.”). it doesn’t take long to reach where he was found. if the old man had carried him home it couldn’t’ve been much of a hike (“and i’m proud of that.”). he steps into a clearing where the man panted that he found him here (“and i wouldn’t change a thing.”). it’s no where near the lake where merlin held him as he took his last breath, it’s no where near camelot. the man didn’t even recognize the name of his kingdom (“it’s not why i do it.”).

arthur sits in the grass as he thinks on his next move and the man who watched over him sits next to him (“i’m not going to change now.”). he speaks lowly of a prophecy about a man from a time long forgotten sent on a journey, a quest, to retrieve what has been lost. he says how the prophecy led many to a sword lodged in stone (“i’m not going to lose you.”) but no one could pull it free. he points out arthur’s armor and calls it odd, he mentions camelot, a kingdom of which he’s never heard, and gestures around the clearing where he found the mystery man. he concludes that perhaps the prophecy spoke of him (“i can’t lose him.”).

arthur, with no other options, follows the man’s directions to a lake. not exactly lake avalon but close enough. theres a small island in the center that seems more like a hill. the sword, his sword, excalibur is buried in a stone covered in moss, misshaping it’s actual form. arthur wades across the water and climbs the hill. he wraps his hands around the hilt of excalibur and closes his eyes. he imagines merlin confident and reassuring expression as they and all his men stood in the woods around this damn sword in a different stone however long ago it was. he breathes in and out (“he’s my friend.”) and pulls.

excalibur comes free just as it did before. arthur watches the metal pull free and as it does, the moss on the stone falls away revealing its form. it looks like a collapsed figure, excalibur having been lodged in it’s chest, right where it’s heart would be. arthur squints at what looks like the head and feels a flash of familiarity. the stone slowly fades away from the hole where excalibur was all the way to the hill. as the stone fades, it leaves behind skin and clothes and hair and…merlin.

arthur drops excalibur and falls to his knees to hold up merlin’s limp form. he feels warm, as if he didn’t just spend however long with a sword in his chest as a stone. he’s not breathing. why isn’t he breathing? arthur grasps around, shifting his clothes out of the way to find the wound where excalibur had once been. the skin is stitching itself together with tiny golden threads. arthur looks back up at merlin’s lax face as the wound fully closes. he inhales sharply as his eyes fly open, glowing gold, and all around him it seemed the world finally inhaled after suffocating for millennia.

merlin exhales and golden sparks shoot from his lips to flurry around in the air. the grass under them grows longer and curls around both his and merlin’s body where they rest against the ground. the water around their island clears from the murky brown to a blindingly clear blue. the air is crisp and clean, the sun brighter and warmer, and one soul finally whole again.

[what-even-is-sleep]

thinking about Bodkin again bc I mean,,, ALL THE SYMBOLISM OHHHHHGH. i NEED some tumblr film analysis hobbyists to watch this show and tell me all the themes n such

[sourapplesauces]

yall rate my buttonblossom playlist

[cerealmonster15]

Opens my eyes again. I can’t believe there r people that genuinely hate rook hunt for voting for rsa specifically. I mean ppl can and will interpret media differently and have their own thoughts and opinions so I can’t be fussy and say they’re wrong for thinking differently than i do. But I can say that I DONT UNDERSTAND!!!!!! And I don’t want to. I support rook hunt rights and wrongs but tbh I do not think that one was a wrong!!!!! He voted with his heart!!!!! Leave my beloved weirdo son alone…………..

[hplonesomeart]

Hat Kid facial expression shifting frames from the animation yipeee

Take a “wild guess” as to what frustrated her here :))

[sleepytortoises]

Getter Team: Torna edition

The team absolutely on one but me asked for lol

Here's Siren by herself, sorry for any details that are wrong it's not exactly easy getting a reference for Malos's version as it is for Mythra's

[skitskatdacat63]

“Amore et Timore” - King Fernando I “El Animoso”

[guinevereslancelot]

decided to leave my job and i'm gonna fr gonna cryyyyy

[daylighteclipsed]

Definitely one of the wildest implications for KH4 is that 1 week in Quadratum is 1 year in the other world/KH world

[sysig]

Looking his very best, as much as he can anyhow (Patreon)

[b-blushes]

i <3 being outside and observing the plants and birds and sky and recording the changes over time <3

[wizardo-yo]

Recreated one of @crownlesswizard's mini student dorms in 3d

[mieczyhale]

so i've kind of mentioned before that i was thinking about posting my outfit pics (starting with the ones back at the beginning of me going 'hey maybe i should take pics') and i think i'm gonna go ahead and do that

1. ive gotten encouragement from friend(s)

2. this is my house and i do what i want

if you want to block it though, once i start posting them, the tag will be 'mace's outfit archive'

i'm not starting for a bit, and they'll be spaced out, but yeah

[bright-and-burning]

(Hello I'm just here but idk who to like. Commiserate with) Someone put a whole bunch of f1 fics into an anon collection and i hadnt download them but now I'm like. Damn I'm not going to be able to read those fics unless the author realizes the collection is private and reuploads or the person pulls their head out of their ass and makes it public/puts it in bookmarks like god intended. Just like. Hella bummed

i went thru my bookmarks this morning to see if i was missing any but only two of my like. 450 some bookmarks are in private collections (one of which has been for ages it’s like my fourth ever bookmark under my f1 pseud and i can’t figure out what it is which has haunted me ever since. and the other one i THINK is piarles bc its in the middle of a streak of piarles bookmarks). so idk if it’s a ship i don’t read or i just have accidentally skipped over everything you’re talking abt or what . if all those works r by the same person its likely they did that themselves for some reason! i’m p sure ao3 made it so you (as an author) have to give permission for your work to be put in someone else’s private collection so people can’t just disappear ur fics (i don’t remember the details on this tho) so the odds r high that the authors made them private themselves. which does suck sometimes believe me!! some of my fave fics in the world (in other older fandoms) have disappeared off the planet 😔 but if it’s the author that put them in a private collection that’s their prerogative n we gotta respect that (but you are safe to lament here <3)

and anon i fear our tumblr ecosystems do NOT overlap very much bc wdym a plagiarism scandal 😭😭😭