#now I must sleep

[chiliger]

Didn’t know that holo-pic was still there.

Here is the very, very late anniversary comic! I’ve had this idea since almost the very beginning of the series. Just something to chew on.

Bonus: Meme redraw to hopefully lighten up reader’s spirits! :D

[disastertwins9000]

TROLLS??? TROLLSSSASS

yeaaaaaaa

trolls

[number-one-shadisper-shipper]

I'm trying to get to sleep except I came up a new angsty Unbreakable Bond fic idea which right now is just a couple really painful paragraphs but also I came up with this:

Tails's parents/the West Side Islanders: We protected ourselves from the two-tailed curse!

Sonic: You messed up a perfectly good kid is what you did. Look at him. He's got anxiety

[quibble-auk]

@thebrokenmechanicalpencil

Im giving up and splitting this in two parts and then going to bed. I have to watch kids tomorrow. I don’t know what I’m thinking. I do need sleep.

Anyway, this is part one and this is also not proofread so let’s gooooooooo

Dropmix and Cometeater’s confrontation.

Warnings!!! There’s a bit of blood

—

“Jeopardy, you moved the red mech and Cometeater to a separate room?” Dropmix asked casually, going over the list of remaining patients. There weren’t many left. There had been even more casualties than usual—Dropmix looked around the medibay, they would definitely need to do some cleaning and restocking. He swiftly added it to his list of things to do. It was painfully long. The young medical mech in question was in the middle of administering some painkillers,

“Yeah, they should be in one of the private rooms now,” He looked up from his work at Dropmix, “You sure we shouldn’t use the space for someone else?”

Dropmix shook his head and placed down his datapad with a sigh, “No, they need the separate space. The gladiator almost took a hand off one of the nurses and it's better if the green one isn’t crowding us. We’ve still got a lot of patients out here.”

He wasn’t lying, not really. He just wasn’t telling the entire truth. Dropmix didn’t want Jeopardy anywhere near Cometeater. It was too risky. He knew that the creature was mostly docile, at least it had always seemed that way when it was with the twins, but it was still more dangerous than half the mechs in the room.

The red and black mech may have been able to fight it off, but not without endangering the other patients. He was older now too. His armor weighed him down and he was starting to experience the consequences of fighting in the pits for so long. He probably should have listened to Theremin more.

Jeopardy’s fingers twitched slightly and he looked at Dropmix with the familiar expression that told him that the young mech knew he wasn’t telling the truth. The red and white bot never said anything about it, that didn’t change today. After a brief pause he returned to his work.

Dropmix looked down at the list. All of the patients he had were stable, some would need surgery and more extreme repairs though. Unfortunately that made another issue arise, they didn’t have enough space to maintain all of these mechs until the proper supplies came in. delivery was slow, especially to an outpost like this, Dropmix hadn’t had time to restock from the last battle and they were going to suffer for it. He pulled up their inventory on his computer and started looking through and rationing it all.

“This is a new song,” Jeopardy commented, measuring liquids at a bedside tray.

The larger mech hummed, Dropmix had nearly forgotten about the subtle lulling in the background. He had turned down the volume when the wounded first started coming in. While he had been busy treating everyone he had turned on his own inner comms to play the music a little louder for himself. He internally adjusted the volume of the speakers in the Medibay, turning it up a bit more. “Yeah, I bought it off a Decepticon I ran into the other day.”

“When did you have time to go out?” Jeopardy asked, unphased by the content.

Dropmix shrugged as he clicked through more receipts and materials, “It was a while ago, when I had travelled to the medical station?”

He found what he was looking for in the inventory, supplies for healing organics.

“I was running across a border and ran into an injured Decepticon,” Dropmix carefully left out the part where he didn’t actually heal him, rather killing him and downloading the data off of his corpse. But those were the nitty gritty details that no one needed to worry about. Jeopardy didn’t need to know that and he didn’t give Dropmix that look. Good.

“Fun, I like the song. Could you add it to my playlist?” Jeopardy asked, effectively making himself busy with the patients.

“Yeah,” a few moments later and the song had been successfully added to the ‘Jeopardy’s favorites’ playlist Dropmix had made for him. He pushed himself out of his chair, ignoring the dull ache in his knees—a few too many harsh landings—and glanced at the inventory report a final time for the location of the supplies he needed. “I’ll be back.”

Jeopardy nodded and didn’t press any further. He was a good kid. Sometimes Dropmix worried about how unbothered he was with everything. He appreciated the fact that he never seemed to press or pry but sometimes his lack of asking questions was more unsettling. Future things to work on with him, now wasn’t the time.

The large red and black mech walked into a storage closet and started rummaging through supplies, slowly collecting anything he may have needed in a box to the side. He really didn’t know how organic Cometeater was, Dropmix had no idea what he actually was in the first place. But he knew what it looked like to ignore pain, Comet would not be the first mech to try that on him, and he most definitely wouldn't be the last.

Dropmix walked further in the closet, racing for a pack on the top shelf, accidentally pulling down a small box of other prescription drugs with it. He suppressed a sigh as he looked down at the mess. He kicked the scattered supplies to the side, he’d get to that later, he needed to stay focused. The sooner he healed Cometeater and got Sideswipe up and running the sooner they would be out of his medical bay and he wouldn’t have to deal with… unwanted attention.

A few more minutes or sorting through supplies and he finally had everything he needed collected, a little bit of everything. Dropmix stared at the box, he'd rather not bother addressing the two gladiators at all. If they didn’t recognize him then this would be an unnecessary risk. But Cometeater had, the others may have been too preoccupied to pay it any mind but Comet had said his name. He recognized Dropmix.

He needed to make sure Comet understood that he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about what Dropmix was. Hopefully if he offered to heal him then it would be easy to convince him. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. If that didn’t work—Comet could always argue that Dromix’s entire job was to heal after all—Dropmix would mention the fact that he knew what Comet was as well. If the red and black mech had learned anything from his time in the Pits watching the strange create, it would do anything to blend it.

Plan set Dropmix readied himself and walked out of the supply closet and to the small hallway with the private rooms. He looked through the patient names until he found the right room. He balanced the box on his hip and knocked on the door. He waited a few seconds then entered the room, closing the door with his foot behind him.

The main lights were off in the room, leaving the lights that constantly dimly glowed. Dropmix missed his other eye. He used his scanners to help locate where the other occupants were and hopefully where the lightswitch was. Cometeater was practically on top of Sideswipe, which explained why Dropmix was having such a difficult time figuring out what he was looking at. The medic set his box down on a chair.

“Dropmix,” a voice growled out dangerously. Cometeater had fluffed up his plating and had protectly placed himself between Sideswipe and Dropmix. His teeth were bared in an angry snarl as he dared Dropmix to get closer.

The music playing on the internal comm system crescendoed slightly.

The medic paid Comet’s body language and obvious challenge no mind, looking through the box with some difficulty due to the low lighting. “Cometeater.”

“What do you want? The medics are done with Sideswipe. Why are you here?” The creature hissed, not moving from his position on top of the twin. A low growl reverberated from his chest.

The song was in G minor.

Dropmix looked over at the other, “Are you trying to pick a fight?” he asked with a carefully crafted neutral expression. If it had been someone else he may have added a smile. With how defensive Comet was currently a smile would come off more menacing than he wanted.

“Get out,” Cometeater was basically seething. His claws flexed against the berth, slow and deliberate. A warning.

He probably felt cornered and the need to protect Sideswipe from Dropmix was strong. The medic didn’t blame him for it, the creature had seen him when he was a gladiator. They knew what he was capable of. He understood completely, it was the same reason he had gotten Comet away from Jeopardy.

The string instruments stole the melody from the brass.

Cometeater wasn't going to back down and stop trying to provoke Dropmix, that much was clear. Dropmix would just put him in his place, let him know who was in control. He needed to remind Cometeater that they weren’t in the Pits anymore, “This is my Medical bay, I can be whatever I want.”

It was a simple, “You're on my turf, back off.”

“What do you want?” The other demanded.

Dropmix looked over at Cometeater and motioned to the lights above, “Can I turn on the lights? I can’t see slag in here.”

You have some control, I’m not asking you to submit.

“No. What do you want, Dropmix?” Comet growled. He hadn’t moved from his position over Sideswipe, he was still challenging Dropmix.

There was a heavy bass line in the song, deep and prominent.

“I want a lot of things, not all of which I can have,” Dropmix tried humor, Comet bristled. Humor wasn’t the solution then, he needed to recover, “I just want to talk with you. I know you require a… Different kind of medical treatment than normal mechs. I’ve got some–”

Dropmix never got to finish, Comet had launched himself off of the bed and had set a target for the medic’s neck. Touchy subject. Dropmix felt his systems jump at the promise of a battle, programs rearing and starting up within moments.

The rest between songs was poorly planned.

The black and red mech moved to the side, twisting out of the way at the last minute. His supplies were sent askew on the floor as Comet collided with the box. The slagger was going to make a mess of his medical bay like he owned it.

Dropmix felt a growl escape his throat and his hand shot out before he could think much about it. Cometeater had twisted around and bit down hard on the gladiator’s wrist. Dropmix had prepared for that, pinned the smaller creature with his other hand. He pressed down harshly onto their chest, feeling them squirm under his grasp. Dropmix shifted under the heavy weight of his armor, it almost felt suffocating. He ripped his wrist from the creature's mouth with little care for the teeth still lodged in his wrist.

Energon dripped onto the floor.

Dropmix’s grip shifted to the creature's neck, forcing them against the wall. They scratched and kicked at him, his armor was thick enough that the erratic and uncoordinated movements didn’t do anything. He lifted up his free hand, suddenly aware of his lack of claws—he was supposed to have those for these kinds of things. An annoyed growl escaped his throat as he shifted his hand to a fist.

He swung.

The hand had been inches away from meeting Cometeater’s abused chest when the music finally resumed and Dropmix froze.

—

Ooooo a cliffhanger.

[luveline]

u posting peter parker is like a holiday for me. i hop into my little discord server and go “GUYS LUVELINE POSTED YIPPEE” and then read it like 3 times so thank u for feeding my spider-man autism

this might be silly but you’re so nice and I appreciate it so much so I went and found another Peter request and wrote it and I hope you like it cos u inspired me to do it 😭 it means a lot to me that you feel that way!!!! thanks for reading ❤️

[angelpuns]

Cooldown doodle while I work on the next L330-N update, sorry it's taking so long! Lots of lil details and things in the next pages >:3

I really love future Yuichi, he's so angry and just- idk there's somethn bout him <333 I might end up making some sort of spinoff comics or something in that vein in between L330-N and Kid Leo updates cause I just lovr his and Leo's dynamic

CW BLOOD, SLIGHT EYESTRAIN

[shipperqueen6]

Me right now

[carnelianfoxx]

explosions

[tsuzukerukoto]

Sometimes I think about how HSR Makoto is the remnant of another branch of the Imaginary Tree, one that died and went the way of the Sea of Quanta, and he's unaware of this. If he did learn about it, though? He'd definitely start questioning why he's alive, why he survived... And the objective answer is just a simple, "you got lucky."

[randomperson339]

Ok. So me, the cis/het man is taking this as a writing prompt because this spoke to me on a level I cannot fully articulate. I'm not here to say I know the trans experience, I am here to weave my own with this framing device.

"How are things going?" I asked the brick wall, sitting down so my back rested against it's cool surface.

"I'm angry." a voice from a hole responded, the voice being distant, almost detached from their own emotions.

"Aren't we all." I respond, breathing in a sigh. This was hard. I was that voice- I was that kid.

"How are my bones?" The kid asked. "How does it feel for my horrible body to be a part of yours?"

They did speak the truth. My body was made up from little bits of theirs. But I was also once them, so their body was also mine. That felt liberating to realize.

"Worse than the ones I made." I responded. That was also true, my bones had long since taken to replacing themselves with newer versions.

A guttural scream came from the hole, echoing from within it's inky depths. "That's not fair! How come you get to be so happy out there while I rot away, languishing in the unkown?"

The wall shakes as it pounds away at the other side, trying to break through the impenetrable. I hold up my wine-bottle, cheering to nobody in particular. Not that there's anyone near me.

As I take a large swig, I still hear the screams of the thing behind me. "I'm not entirely happy."

"Yes you are!" It insists. "You've done everything I want to- everything we strived for! You're out there, existing in the world which I wanted to!"

But did I ever really want this? There were times before I was trapped in a room. Did I ever want to improve my livelyhood or just go back to square one?

"I'm not finished! I'm still here! I'll always be a part of you!" It screamed.

"Do you want this? To just be angry forever?" I asked back.

"I don't want this!" It yelled back, another shutter reverberating through the wall before stopping.

I recall so much in that brief time between words. "Neither of us want this. But being angry for no reason and holding onto the worst of yourself because you feel like it's the most genuine part of yourself is reactionary."

"If I'm not my worst traits.... what am I?" My younger self asks in response.

"You are something so complicated nobody truly knows what it is." I respond. "And even then, you can always grow past them."

when cis people talk about my pre-trans self its he/him and my name. when i talk about my pre-trans self she's a young girl and i killed her and dug her grave with my bare hands and one day i will lie down with her again and our bones will intertwine. you understand

[wordwings]

*kicks down your door* It might seem like a plot hole that no one thought about the possibility of Dracula being invited into the asylum by Renfield (or any other patient) but actually it speaks to the way Renfield’s personhood is being denied mainly by Jack Seward, but also the rest of the crew in part through their reliance on Seward’s expertise. Which also ties into the way they have decided to shut out Mina at the very same time. It literally just did not occur to them that the patients living in the same building as them would have any claim to the residency that allows someone to grant the permission a vampire needs to enter a home. But of course the asylum is the patients’ home just as much as it is Jack’s! They live there! In short this fatal blow dealt to the heroes at this crucial juncture comes about through both their sexism and their ableism. Good night. *puts your door back on its hinges again and leaves*

[grinningsnapples]

GOODNIGHT GRINERTIA GANG!!!!

[esen-enjie]

Did I have work to do today? Yes. Did I get it done? No. Did I spend my day outside at the museum with a friend instead? Yes. Do I regret it? No. Did it make today a good day? Yes, very much so.

[yetanotherknitter]

i know that chilchuck saying there's not much interesting for him to say about his daughters and then saying, like, two sentences about each is Very In Character but what would have been funnier is if he was like. hm. it's not very interesting. and then smash cutting to, like, five hours later and he's still going on about them (marcille listens attentively with sparkly eyes. we've done it. we've found how to make him talk)

[hinamie]

i don't normally participate in these redraw challenges but it's megumi so i'll make an exception

[heartorbit]

the narcissist fools himself