#latines create
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blocodibujo · 2 days ago
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TWINS
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oharaslair · 10 months ago
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MY COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!
DO YOU WANNA GET COOL ART OF YOUR OCS FOR AS LITTLE AS FIVE DOLLARS?
MY COMMS ARE OPEN!!!!!!!!!!!
DON'T WANNA USE KO-FI? CALL ME ON DISCORD @.VOIDHEART !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HERES MY ART
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IF YOU WANNA GET COOL ART FROM A NONBINARY LATINE ARTIST !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE TIME IS NOW!!!!
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mexicanity · 1 year ago
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Using my Reddit cake day to promote my comic. Upvote if you have a Reddit account, please!
https://www.reddit.com/r/comicbooks/s/VYKmt6Jyke
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yuuana · 1 year ago
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thoodleoo · 1 month ago
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learning medical terms as someone who knows latin is a lot of fun because when you break down the literal meanings of the words a lot of them end up being kind of goofy and ridiculous. case in point i just encountered the word cerebellulum, a diminutive of the already-diminutive word cerebellum, which would mean something along the lines of "itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny brain"
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starscream-is-my-wife · 4 months ago
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Ok I understand why sparkling ocs are so popular designing one is addicting
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Alt forms/ adult designs under the cut
So when he's littler he can be a Nissan atla, they're pretty cute, but reaching adulthood he'd be a Nissan big thumb, and getting a mod to have a trailer too.
Optimus only has a flat bed so Im doing the old reliable transformer design of putting stuff u don't know how to fit into the back. If he diddnt have a trailer, the bed sides could just be a part of his legs but he modded to have wings so he can get used to the weight distribution easier.
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Big thumbs are 12 feet tall, G1 Optimus is a Freightliner making him also 12 feet, and G1 Ratchet is a Nissan cherry vanette, which are almost 6 feet (5"10 to be exact)
I thought that the big thumb would be a bit smaller then Optimus but damn, Ratchet is gonna have to deal with 2 giant trucks.
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si1verghosts · 8 months ago
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Hi!
3. A kiss on the forehead😌
helloooo dear anon!! i am sorry this took so long i could not for the life of me figure out to write but then ! i wrote this on the 4th and i realized it could work... maybe... sorta. this may not be what you were expecting/wanting but there's forehead kisses in there.... somewhere 🫡 also, if u are not american i apologize for giving you a july 4th fic 😭 but the holiday is relatively inconsequential here like theres no patriotism it's just a backdrop if u know what i mean.... anyway, i hope u enjoy <33
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you taste like the 4th of july
di leon s. kennedy x fem reader (no use of y/n)
wc: 3.5k
18+ | cw: mentions of drinking | tw: thoughts about death and dying
tags: established relationship; fluff (i guess??); slight changes to canon to suit author's headcanons
read on ao3
a/n: for the past few months i've been working on this very insane multi-chap post di leon fic 😵‍💫 this was written with that in mind But does not have a place in that story... probably.... idk!!! either way, i think it can be read as a standalone just fine
additionally, there is a scene in here where leon picks the reader up. i would just like to say like... he gets thrown into concrete walls on a biweekly basis and gets up and walks it off without issue so i think he can lift anyone no matter their size or shape!!
not beta read or proofread - sorry if any of it is gibberish i've had a wicked migraine the past few days... will maybe attempt to proofread once i can see correctly again 🚬🧍‍♀️regardless, all mistakes are my own
i do not own leon or any other resi character mentioned, etc etc, please don't sue me <3
please do not use my work to train any sort of AI chatbot and/or writing generator.
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"It was a good day, wasn't it?" Leon asks, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as you stand over the patio table, cleaning up the abandoned plates and platters.
You hum. It was; a beautiful, cloudless July 4th, spent with Leon's friends in the backyard of your home. The only ones missing were Ashley and Ingrid; the former having a standing family commitment and the latter planning to spend her holiday on the beach, away from the country and your fiancé.
Typically, Chris hosted the Independence Day cookout, but Leon offered up your new home as this year's venue, citing your in-ground pool and the plenty of extra space you have for guests to stay. In reality, he just wanted the chance to out-grill Chris - he'd been preparing since Memorial Day; testing different spice and sauce combinations as well as stocking your freezer full of large cuts of meat.
He'd started before you were even awake, chopping and seasoning in the kitchen, slowly loading up the smoker. You'd joined him on the patio a few hours later, watching from your pool floaty as he poked and prodded at various things.
You don't even eat meat, didn't know the whole thing was so involved, but you did enjoy the view; worn blue jeans hugging his frame as he crouched to check a thermometer.
You had taken a short break from the water, tying up lights and setting a few little decorations around before your guests arrived. Rebecca was the first, tucking her jugs of pre-made cocktail and platter of deviled eggs into your fridge before joining you on the patio.
Chris wasn't far behind, unloading two coolers filled with beer and containers of homemade potato and pasta salads. He'd handed one off to you, grinning, "Claire made one just for you this year."
You'd thanked him, making another attempt to get him to share his family's recipes with you. It was futile, you probably couldn't even waterboard it out of either of them.
Claire had arrived on her motorcycle shortly after, pulling a bundle of fireworks out of her saddlebags. "Sorry I'm late," she said - even though she wasn't - dumping the pile on the ground, thankfully far away from the grill. "Had to stop for these."
Leon had crouched down to inspect them, listening intently as Claire told him about all the different varieties she'd purchased while you relaxed back into the pool.
Sherry arrived next, Jake trailing behind her. She'd left both him and her bags of chips at the table, giving Leon and Claire quick hugs before immediately joining you in the water.
She'd slipped in right beside your floaty, grabbing your hand to get a look at your engagement ring - she'd yet to see it, having been so busy with work. Her eyes widened at the ring as she pushed her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head, "Leon picked this out? Our Leon? Leon Kennedy? Are you sure?"
You'd giggled at her astonishment, "Ashley helped him out; took him to one of her favorite jewelers."
"I should've guessed," She nods. "For my 20th Birthday, he bought me this crazy cute pink tennis bracelet and I was like, 'no way you picked this out alone.' He fessed up that he got a little help from a friend named Ashley.
"At the time, I thought it was just some girlfriend - or hoped, I guess. Back then, I spent a lot of time hoping that Claire and Leon weren't just… working; I liked to think they were taking time for themselves, that they were happy," she had trailed off then, looking off to the tree line behind your house for a minute. Blinking the mist from her eyes, she shrugged, continuing on, "Anyways, I'm thankful to Ash for that bracelet, it was there with me though… a lot. And I'm thankful to you for making him happy, like I always wanted him to be."
With that, you slid off the float to give her a hug, holding her tight as you whispered your thanks. You had worked to bite back your tears - if she didn't cry, neither would you.
Luckily, Jill had walked in a few seconds later, providing a distraction in the form of the most ridiculously large watermelon. "Hey, Kennedy," she shouted, pulling Leon out of his conversation with Claire as she gestured to the melon tucked under her arm. "Can't burn this, can I?"
Leon had thrown his head back with a laugh - in previous years, Jill had always brought boxed brownies with extra crispy edges and Leon invariably had to make a comment about them. "I don't know," he had shrugged, "When it comes to you, Valentine, I'll never say never."
Jill had reared the watermelon back, acting as if she was going to throw it at him. Leon had thrown his arms up, shielding his face, causing everyone to crumble into laughter at the scene.
"It was nice," you agree, reaching to pick up the barong machete he had given Jill when she asked for a knife to cut the melon. "We do have kitchen knives, you know," you scold mockingly, gently waving the blade around.
"I know," he says, releasing you to reach around and pluck the machete out of your hand. "It's good to exercise these every once in a while, though."
You roll your eyes at him, "It's a machete, Leon, not a horse."
He waves you off, slipping through the patio door to wash the blade in the kitchen sink. You take the opportunity to speed clean, knowing it'll be a much harder task once he returns and wraps his arms back around you.
Thankfully everyone had taken care of their own plates and cups - they'd tried to stay and do more but you had ushered them out of the backyard, wanting Chris, Sherry and Jake to depart before the traffic picked up with the crowds leaving the city following the fireworks shows. Jill, Claire and Rebecca had taken up on your offer to stay, at least, piling into your guest rooms. You were glad to have them, secretly plotting to drag them to brunch once you all woke.
You finish piling the platters as Leon makes his way back outside. Before he can get his hands on you and derail your progress, you point to the stack, "Take those inside."
He frowns, "Can't it just wait until tomorrow?"
"We'll get ants; come on, five minutes and it'll be done."
He sighs, but doesn't protest further, carrying the heavy plates inside as you follow him with the utensils. You stack everything by the sink before turning to him, "Is there any of Becca's cocktail left?"
He cocks his brow, tilting his head, "You really want to try that again?"
It's a valid question - you had given it a go earlier and despite everyone's warnings to take it easy, you had thrown back a large mouthful right off the bat. You ended up wincing in pain, "Fuck, that burns. What'd you put in there, Becca?"
She'd shrugged, "Oh, you know, a splash of this, a splash of that. And," she teased, drawing out the vowel, "A bit of my own creation."
"Your own creation…" You had muttered, trailing off before it hit you, "Test tube alcohol?"
She had giggled, grinning, "Takes some getting used to."
You had tried another, much tinier sip. You were able to enjoy the sweetness of the juice for a moment before the burn kicked in again, causing you to curse once more, louder.
Leon had shifted his attention from Chris to you at your exclamation. Seeing the jug of Rebecca's cocktail in front of you on the table, he quickly pieced together what was happening, calling over to Rebecca from his place by the grill, "You trying to kill my fiancé, Becks?"
"Absolutely not; that'd be a stupid thing for me to do," she'd shot back. "She's the only one who can keep you in line, and we kind of like you like that."
"Well," you start, rolling the word around your mouth, "No. But yes - there's gotta be some sort of trick to it, right? Everyone else drank it just fine."
"The trick is," he starts, voice low, reaching out to grab ahold of your hips, "To not drink it. Let me make you some tea instead."
"Fine," you pout, relaxing into his grip, not bothering to argue - tea won't make you hate yourself in the morning.
He moves his hands from your hips, sliding his fingertips along your spine. "Go wait outside," he says, releasing you with a featherlight kiss to your forehead, "I'll bring it out."
With a brush of your lips against his cheek in thanks, you slip away from him, heading back out to the backyard and pulling off your shorts, settling onto the ledge of the shallow end of the pool. The air has cooled with the setting of the sun, becoming a comforting warmth instead of an overbearing heat. You dip your legs into the water, thankful you insisted on having a pool when you and Leon were house hunting.
Someone is still setting off fireworks; they're a few miles away, though - you can hear them more than you can see them. Resting back on your palms, you close your eyes, imagining what bursts of color may be accompanying each sound.
Leon joins you a few minutes later - just after the fireworks had died down - sporting his swim shorts and carrying your tea. He bends, setting the mug next to you with a kiss to your temple, nosing at your hair. "Earl Grey," he reports before drawling, "How terribly unpatriotic of you."
"You going to arrest me for treason, Agent Kennedy?" You laugh, reaching up to squeeze his thigh below the hem of his shorts. "You're the one who made it; they'd nail you as an accomplice."
He falls into a crouch, leg muscles bunching under the pads of your fingertips as he shifts closer to touch his lips on your cheek. "They can hang us together, then," he remarks, voice a bit too serious for it to be just a joke. "Side by side, off the same branch."
You sit back just enough to get your eyes focused on him, reaching your other hand out to thumb at his bottom lip. "Dulce et decorum est pro cor mori," you whisper, tacking on a hum in question.
He cocks his head at the unfamiliar words, nipping at your nail playfully, "English please, baby."
You consider him for a moment, the translation of the true phrase running through your mind; how sweet and honorable it is to die for one's country. The old lie, it's come to be known as - fittingly.
It's a similar sentiment to one that's grown to become your fear; that he'll die for the sake of the country, under orders from the government, believing it was his duty.
But you think your spin on it may be true; would be willing to find out.
You don't want to weigh him down with the thought, though, choosing to reel him in for a kiss instead. "I love you," is the answer you settle on, laying the words down right on his tongue.
He seems content with your translation - the method of delivery likely having something to do with it - humming into your mouth. He kisses you back lazily for a long, languid moment before he pulls away, "As much as I'm enjoying this, I've been wanting to get in there all day," he says, nodding his head towards the water.
"Go," you chuckle, giving him a gentle push away from you with the hand still resting along his face.
He lays another quick peck against your lips before standing, padding around the edge to the steps. He pauses for a moment to pull his shirt over his head, skin honeyed under the soft glow of the lights you'd hung around the patio.
A second later, he slips under the surface without hesitation; kicking off the steps, moving quickly to the deep end. He almost shimmers as he glides along the floor of the pool, the rippling of the gentle waves he'd created making him seem like some sort of mirage as he passes by you.
He comes up for air once he hits the far wall, tossing his hair back, smoothing the water from his eyes. He doesn't rest long, though, beginning to swim short laps across the width of the deep end.
You observe him, sipping your tea slowly, appreciating the way his back and arms work with each stroke. He continues long enough for you to nearly drain your cup, stopping short when another trio of fireworks set off in the distance.
Setting your mug down, you eye him, preparing to slip into the pool to soothe him if you have to, but he relaxes once he connects the sound to the flashes in the sky. The tension that had flooded the line of his shoulders drains into the water as he shifts to wade backward, moving closer to where you sit.
You finish off your drink as he starfishes out across the surface of the water, floating just a few feet in front of you. You wonder if you could use him as a floaty, pinning up a note in your brain to try it out sometime.
"I'm glad you insisted on a pool, sweetheart," he sighs, breaking your companionable silence.
You hum, pleased, kicking your legs out gently and causing the water to lap against his skin. More fireworks sound out; he doesn't tense this time, but he does get his feet back under himself, moving to where you sit along the ledge.
Sliding his hands up your legs, he pillows his head in your lap, wet hair fanning out across your thighs. You shift your weight back onto your right hand, laying the other along his jaw. His eyes flutter closed as you brush your thumb along his cheekbone and the scar that runs beneath it.
He picks at the tie of your bathing suit absentmindedly, tugging at the strings when you slide your hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp. "Sherry said something to me earlier."
He makes a noise urging you to elaborate, not bothering to open his eyes.
"She told me that when she was younger, she hoped that you and Claire were living your lives; that you were doing more than just working, you know? She said she wanted you guys to be happy," you explain, working to keep your voice even.
He cracks his eyes open, picking his head up to watch you as you continue. "She thanked me," you swallow thickly, "for making you happy, like she always wanted you to be."
He smiles at your words, and it's a beautiful thing. You still get all twisted up inside with how gorgeous he is; neurons overclocking themselves with the thrill of being the subject of his attention.
"I owe you a thank you, too, baby," he starts, pausing to nose at your wrist.
"You don't owe me anything, Leon," you tug at his damp strands still between your fingers, highlights catching the yellow glow from the lights around the patio.
"I do," he says, the words sending a jolt through you. You never intended on getting married, yet here you are now, eager to hear the phrase on the altar.
He kisses the thin skin of your wrist, lips lingering as if he can feel the thrum of your heartbeat; knows that the pace has picked up under his affection. "All this," he pulls back, taking a hand off you to gesture to the pool; the backyard; the house; to you. "It's something I never thought I'd get.
"Sherry's right - you're behind basically every bit of happiness I have now, sweetheart; I owe it all to you." He reaches up, untangling your grip from his hair, thumbing gently at the ring he put there, "Thank you."
You can't respond verbally, will burst into tears if you do. In lieu of speech, you lean forward, pressing your lips against his insistently.
He seems to get the message; understands that the pleasure is all yours, that you'd give him anything and everything you can - knowing he'd do the same for you.
He gets his arms back around you, continuing your kiss as he lifts you from the edge of the pool and into the water with him. You wrap your legs around his waist, safe and secure in his hold.
His teeth catch along your bottom lip and the neighbors down the street set off fireworks, the bright bursts of color painting your backyard in reds and blues and greens and oranges. The sparks reflect off the surface of the water as he slides his nose against yours and not for the first time, you think this may all be a dream. Maybe you died four years ago and this whole thing has been some sort of afterlife; you aren't sure you'd done anything worth this treatment, though.
Maybe it's more supernatural in origin; an intricate hallucination weaved by a Djinn that's got you chained up in some dark, damp basement as it feeds off your blood. Or maybe you just went crazy and the pool is actually a padded room, Leon's mouth against yours a product of your mind working to distract itself from your reality.
Whatever the case may be, it certainly feels real when he shifts his hold on you, hoists you up higher to get at your neck, laying kisses up and down the column of your throat, nipping at your jaw.
But before he can venture much further, the neighbor's fireworks show grows into an extravaganza, the relentless popping and bursting becoming a nuisance, shattering the illusion of your teeny-boppy movie moment.
"Jeez," Leon mutters, breath hot against the saliva cooling on your skin, causing you to shudder. "Did they buy out a whole tent?"
"Did you check that Claire actually went to bed?" You ask, shaking yourself free of his hold. "She could've joined them; brought everything I wouldn't let her set off here."
He hums, letting you down into the water, considering your words - even though you said it as a joke, it certainly is a possibility. You seem to come to this realization at the same time, eyes narrowing at each other as the spray of fireworks continues overhead. "We should…" He starts, nodding towards the stairs.
"Yeah," you agree, already beginning to move.
You pause to grab your towels, wrapping your own around yourself, throwing the other over Leon's shoulders when you catch up to him at the patio door. Stepping inside, you hear someone knocking around your kitchen.
Luckily, it's Claire. She steps back from the cabinet she'd been rifling through to face you and Leon with a frown. "Isn't this shit ridiculous?" She remarks, pointing to the ceiling in reference to the fireworks.
"You're one to talk, Claire," Leon shoots back. "Didn't you just set off about five hundred dollars worth of them in my backyard a few hours ago?"
"Yes, a few hours ago," she reiterates. "Nothing should be set off after the show at the Capitol is finished - after that, you're done; you missed your shot; better luck next year."
"Exactly," you nod in agreement at her reasoning, "They should put you in charge."
She grins at your words, moving to continue on, but Leon cuts in before she can start; "What is it that you were clawing through my cabinets for?"
She sighs, displeased with his interruption, setting her hands on her hips. "Where do you keep the ibuprofen?"
Leon shoos her out of the way, padding across the kitchen to get the medicine himself. Claire relents without argument, attention immediately shifting back to you as she leans over the counter. "So," she wiggles her eyebrows, "It seems like that pool was a good investment, huh?"
You bite at your lip, ears burning with embarrassment that she'd seen you and Leon necking in the water like teenagers - even though you shouldn't be flustered; it is your house, after all.
Leon sets the bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water down in front of Claire, annoyance evident with the way he uses a bit more force than really necessary, causing the items to clack against the marble.
"What?" Claire questions, glaring at him. "It was cute."
Leon huffs in response, unable to hide the flush that crawls up his neck at her words. You can't help the giggle that bubbles out of you, enjoying the way they bicker like siblings.
Claire leaves Leon to stew, tossing you a grin as she collects the bottle and glass, bidding you goodnight once more before she leaves the kitchen.
You move around the counter to Leon, steps careful in an effort not to slip on the water that has dripped off him and onto the tile. The neighbors must've ran out of fireworks while you were distracted by Claire as it's silent when you wrap your arms around him, tucking your face into his neck. "Still a good day?" You ask, voice muffled against his skin.
He slings an arm around you, fingers fanning out along the small of your back, "Still a good day."
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quibbs126 · 22 days ago
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So it’s half sketches, but instead of that being because I was too lazy to color the rest, it’s instead because I kind of got carried away doing only sketches. And then I figured I should probably line and color at least some of them, so here we are
So this is more from that sort of Mega Man AU I made up yesterday, with some updated designs for Optimus and Megatron, and a new one for Elita
I decided to use my marker pen again for lineart, since I haven’t used it in a fair bit, but admittedly the lines may have been too thick, which I think you can especially see with the faces. But oh well
Elita’s design is still a bit of a work in progress. I thought it looked fine in sketch form, but looking at it now, she might need more reworking, particularly with her head. It kind of looks like she’s wearing a wrestler’s mask, which personally I’m not a big fan of
Also she has hair, because a lot of Mega Man, or at least Mega Man X designs, have hair, so I figured might as well try it out here. I couldn’t settle on a hair color though, or at least one that fit while not blending in with her other colors. I may just scrap it in all honesty, but I think she may need more around her head regardless
But as for Elita in this AU? I’m thinking she’s more a loner, or she has her own team rather than working with this duo. She’s friendly, at least to Optimus, but she’d rather work by her own rules. And as stated before, she’s very over the top anime
She also has a double sided axe here as opposed to Optimus’ single sided, but that might change later if I feel like it
She kind of gives me Protoman vibes? It’s probably because of the glasses, and also because my head’s been rattling around with this one Elita idea for a bit. Namely of her and Optimus being rebuilt by Alpha Trion like in g1, but instead of being rebuilt at the same time, Elita-1 was built some time before Optimus, being Alpha’s first attempt while Optimus was the second. Which kind of fits with Protoman’s origin
It might be her origin here too? I’m not sure how much I want to deal with creators in this story, since in Mega Man the robots very much have creators, while in Transformers that’s not so much the case
She might just be like, Optimus’ cool older sister
On to other things in this AU, so I decided to look up videos on Mega Man X lore to get more knowledge, considering it’s the basis for this AU. So the Maverick Virus is what makes Reploids go crazy and cause issues. So I might incorporate some sort of virus into this story as well?
Like either the Decepticons are basically like Mavericks, infected by the virus and gone crazy, or this is after the war and a virus outbreak has been making bots crazy, possibly targeting Decepticons for some reason. Maybe the former
But also I learned that apparently it was the Maverick Virus was what made Zero chill, because it changed programming and he was evil before that. And I’m considering having this also be the case for Megatron here
Originally it was just as a joke, like I thought it’d be funny if he was crazy and then the crazy virus made him chill instead. But I’ve thought about it a bit more, and I kind of want it legitimately
Like okay, here Optimus and Megatron are the top bots in dealing with the infected bots. Not just because of their strength, but because neither can get infected themselves. Optimus has the Matrix, which gives him protection, but Megatron is just seemingly immune to the virus
Unbeknownst to anyone else however, he isn’t immune at all, and he’s been infected with it for years. However, instead of turning him mad, it cleared his mind and instead made him far more calm, and he ended up instead working with Optimus and his group to stop these other violent bots
He knows this, but he hasn’t told anyone else about his situation, because of several reservations. For starters, his team is meant to take out infected bots, which means they might turn on him, or misunderstand that it doesn’t affect him the way it’s supposed to and think he’s going to turn rogue. He’s also been working with them for a while, so the fact that he’s been keeping this secret might be seen as a betrayal, and he doesn’t want to lose these people he considers friends
There’s also been work towards finding a cure, and he doesn’t want to be cured. He was violent and full of nothing but rage before, he doesn’t want to go back to that. He isn’t fully sure if that’s what would happen if he was cured, but he doesn’t want to take that chance. It’s also a reason why he doesn’t tell Optimus, because the Matrix makes him immune and is considered the best bet for a cure, and Optimus might unintentionally do so, or with good intentions (Megatron tries to generally avoid the Matrix on missions for the same reasons)
But also it gives him questions he doesn’t like having, like why is he seemingly the only person affected differently? And/or if the virus is meant to disrupt and alter intended programming, does that mean he was always intended to be a violent maniac? Why? Why was he made this way? And is he wrong to be the way he is now?
But yeah, Megatron’s got stuff going on. Will probably come up for conflict later
Also megop’s probably a thing here? I have it that they live together, as you can see in the top right. Also while Optimus may not be the gremlin TFO Orion is, he does not sleep gracefully whatsoever. It’s a bit annoying to Megatron but he ultimately doesn’t mind. It was just supposed to be a funny thing, but yeah there’s probably megop here
And I think that’s it for now. I have a couple ideas for Arcee and maybe some for Bumblebee, so I’ll probably do more of this. Also I’m planning on trying out the Mega Man games too, since I saw they’re on the eShop
I also need a name for this AU probably
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meganechan05 · 7 months ago
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Himeno: So it's very Taselles Mirullia da'Pago
Rita: What?
Himeno: An old Ishabanan saying. Something like "It doesn't matter if I go to Hell as long as I take this one with me"
Rita: Taselles Mirullia da’Pago...
*Rita then proceeds to say it at every given chance while learning other Old Ishabanan curse words and phrases*
Final frame:
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blocodibujo · 2 days ago
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2nd drawing in my CR anniversary series: Lady Vex'ahlia de Rolo
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oharaslair · 1 year ago
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anyone wanna commission a latine nonbinary artist? it's name your own price for now.
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icharchivist · 7 days ago
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"all solas fans do is ignoring his flaws 🙄 like you always ignore the way he was going to destroy the world" is always an interesting take to just read out of nowhere when i'm listening to my Solas playlist ngl!!
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xemylixa · 2 months ago
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Screenshots from this game = awesome references for action poses (vivant mocap, good mocap directors, good mocap actors, and great animators)
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yuuana · 1 year ago
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This post brought to you by my lovely Patreon and KoFi supporters! Like what I write but afraid of the commitment of Patreon? I also have Ko-Fi! Now with membership tiers! DW | Twitter | Mastodon | Bluesky | Ko-fi | Patreon | Discord | Twitch
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thoodleoo · 2 years ago
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do you guys think allen and greenough ever explored each other's bodies
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elbiotipo · 8 months ago
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Here's a very very short video about Soviet and related urban developments which really opened my eye on those kind of buildings:
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I can't help but see some parallels between the USSR and the US in this respect. After WWII both countries had lots of soldiers and people who wanted to live nice, peaceful lives, though the Soviet and Eastern European situation was a completely different level of devastation. In the US this expressed itself in the "American Dream" of Suburbia, a house with picket fence a big yard and a nice car where you could drive to do shopping. In the socialist world, it expressed itself in a way like this: a nice and comfortable apartment with easy access to education, health, and entertainment, which compared to rural villages or completely war-torn rubble, it was a massive improvement.
One could even argue that the two styles kind of encountered themselves in the original concept of the Usamerican shopping mall as a modern city square (did you know that the 'inventor' of the shopping mall was actually a socialist from Austria?), but we all know how that went.
Not that Soviet urbanism didn't have its flaws, the apartments weren't exactly luxurious, there is a notorious lack of privacy, and the open spaces in microdistricts are too open (maybe they could have used urban farming?) But it's still worth looking at with a more kind eye, as lots of families certainly lived and grew happily on them. And according to people who prefer them, they still do.
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