#ummm so i can explain

[pancakemolybdenum]

the robob

[thesilliestscrimblo]

I umm... so I painted a picture of Uncle Klunk in Ark Survival Evolved with my Xbox controller..? I KNOW IT SUCKS IT'S THE BEST I COULD DO WITH MY STINKY CONTROLLER PLEASE HAVE MERCY😭😭😭

Atleast I now have a somewhat recognizable art of my beloved Klunk in my base?? Umm anyways below is WIP?? (help why am I so cringe?!)😭

[tunastime]

Stars Realigning

what's GOOD! happy mcyt au fest day(s)! this is my contribution to 2024's mcyt au fest, based on the art of my fantastic artist in crime @eyesandbees. super shoutout to tetris (GO LOOK AT THE ART RN), this au really did something fantastic for my brain :3 and kudos to all the @mcytblraufest mods, contributors, and my mutuals new and old who joined in. mwah!

Xisuma and Exonia were explorers by nature—and how could they not be, when the world rested right outside their fingertips. When Xisuma pulls himself and their brother into an unfamiliar End dimension, their only chance of escape is with a player they've hardly met, to a space station they've never even heard of. Built on the foundations of exploration and discovery, HC might be all the opportunity the siblings need to start a new life—or ruin their only shots at understanding themselves.

(12,765 words) (Read the whole fic here!)

Every player knows two facts about the End: one of those is that it is very large. The other is that it is very dangerous. The islands stretch onwards as far as they eye can see, tipping over a black horizon line invisible to the naked eye. The static particles of void—ink black and speckled grey—fill the spaces that stone and cities and blocky fruit trees do not. No players make their home here—none dare to spend more time than they must. The End is a utility, more than it is a dimension of its own. Hostile conditions make it unlivable to those other than the ones that know it best: endernians, endermen, the dragon, and her egg. 

The third, most often overlooked fact, that meshes with the others in vastness and hostility, is that the End is no place for strangers to combat. 

Xisuma is one of those strangers—was one of those strangers. World hopping was dangerous, unpredictable, dimension hopping even more so, especially for them—for the untrained. He hadn’t meant for either of them to tumble into the End dimension, prepared or otherwise, with its thin air and itchy end dust and large, very large, very angry dragon. It's the first thing his eyes catch—the movement of large wings and a massive, black snout as the world tilts and settles around them. 

Xisuma gasps as they finish settling into the world and Exonia follows suit, shoving them both behind the pillar beside them. The air feels charged with energy, thick with the beat of air from the dragon’s wings. Xisuma swallows as the two of them drop behind the pillar, and as they manage to catch their breath from the initial shock, he stirs up the courage in his chest to peek out behind the pillar. He steps out into the ring around him, eyes searching for the dragon above him. He can hear her cry even from on the ground. The crystals that bolster her strength glow brightly as she passes. It only takes a moment for her to swoop down as she circles, and it’s in this moment that Xisuma realizes he’s been seen. 

They freeze.

The dragon crashes to the ground, the heavy footfalls of her landing shaking the dirt around them. 

Xisuma stares into the creature’s face, purple eyes unblinking.

Something grabs his hand. It takes him a startlingly long moment to realize it’s Exonia, their eyes wide behind their tinted glasses. He’s still too busy staring up into the maw of the black dragon, her eyes trained on his every movement, the betraying flick of their tail. His heart beats fast in the base of their throat. A voice jumps to life in his mind—surely if he stays put, if he doesn’t move, the great dragon will turn her head away from him, and spare him, and spare his twin, and the world will be right again. Xisuma shuts their eyes. The beat between his first and second breath feels like a millenia.

The dragon snuffs a great breath that catches into a screech, its heavy head whipping back and around as Ex tugs on his arm. His eyes snap open. 

He’s not dead.

The dragon roars.

If he squints, Xisuma thinks he can see a shape, blurred by the scent and fog of the dragon’s breath, barely visible against the dark black obsidian pillars. It draws back its glittering weapon and fires, arrows flying high above the dragon’s head and to the peak of the pillars above. The peak explodes; obsidian chips and dust rain down from the blast.

He jerks his head to look at Ex. Their face is pulled tight in confusion and fear, a mask of anger flickering over it instead as they tug his hand again. He stumbles forward, feet catching pocks in the stone before he regains his footing. The dragon’s focus stays trained on the newcomer. She slashes with her claws, jaws chomping on thin air as the figure darts around with the effort of someone trained to deal with monsters her size.

An adventurer. Another player.

He turns back to look at Exonia—the back of their head, the tip of a pointed ear they can see. They’re practically pulling him along into further darkness toward something he can’t yet see, weaving between obsidian pillars as the island stretches out in front of them, all the way to a noticeable drop into void. As they cut through a section of chorus trees, a craft makes itself known on the next ridge.

A way out.

Xisuma pales, the oxygen in his lungs suddenly feeling very thin.

“What is that thing?” he manages as they start to slow. Ex shoots him a look over their shoulder, eyebrows tightly furrowed.

“A ship!” they say. “Don’t be foolish!”

“We don’t even—” X starts, but Exonia pulls them further forward. They dip their head, avoiding the endermen that roam around them, sinking in on themselves to appear smaller. They scramble up the next hill. In the short distance they’ve put between the dragon and themselves, they can still hear the screech of her anger and the beat of her wings. X’s heart still slams away in his throat.

“D’you want to be eaten, you derp?” Ex hisses, dropping into a crouch as they shimmy over the crest of the hill. X scrambles after them, finding their footing on the steep slope and up onto the ridge.

“No!” They blanch at the thought of the dragon finding them again, with her huge, yellow-white teeth and debilitating breath. “Why would I want that?”

Ex shoots them a pointed glance, taking a few quick steps around the edge of the “ship”—if it was a ship at all—as they do.

“Then start lookin’ for a way in!” they bark. Xisuma sets his jaw. Sighing through his nose, he picks himself up from his crouch, and follows suit. The ship is bright white and grey-black, hidden carefully by the dark sky around them and by shimmering enchantments that Xisuma can only guess at as he travels around its side and toward the back. It’s not a large craft—certainly different than anything he’d ever seen. 

Ex investigates with the unshakable confidence of someone who’s read far too much about this exact situation, or craft, or biome, or what have you. Xisuma tries to siphon that energy for himself, watching as they track the side of the metal with eyes partially obscured. They reach the back together, the ship’s large bay door shut against the End and void around them. X watches Ex’s face, their tail flicking agitatedly. Their hands find a depression near the fins of the ship. As they press into it, the door hisses, starts to lower onto the dusty stone below. Exonia scrambles back, catching Xisuma as they do, their hands clasping together again. Xisuma watches as the dark inside floods with the End’s pale glow, illuminating the sparse space within. 

It’s a holding bay—a handful of boxes are scattered around, their heavy plastic lids strapped tight. Bolted storage units line one wall, and a short staircase leads upward, into the space Xisuma can only assume is the main cabin of whoever that figure was.

Xisuma blinks. 

Exonia enters.

Enters is a loose term, because as his foot steps onto the metal-ribbed platform, Xisuma feels something crawl it’s way up his spine and turns, much too fast, Ex’s name already jumping from his throat.

There’s a crackle, like the sound of fireworks in the distance, as the sky fills with soft purple light. Xisuma alone watches the figure turn, a large, dark object cradled in their arms, and feels them stare back. Distance and the helm obscuring most of their face doesn’t do their features justice—it looks like a man, a human, staring back at him, eyes wide and bright, expression unreadable from here. All Xisuma knows is that the chill starts at the base of his neck and pulls through him, catching his lungs and heart and spine all the way down, hooking him in place. 

“Xisuma—” Exonia starts, tone bordering on impatient, but as they turn, they see exactly what they did. And they say again, their voice taking a fine, fearful edge:

“Xisuma.”

The figure starts toward them, and X can feel the immediate betrayal of all his senses, all at once, as his hackles raise, body recoiling until his feet hit the cold metal of the ship behind him. Exonia grabs his arm as he stumbles from the platform, tugging him away from the ship as the figure starts to close the distance between them. The man is carrying the dragon egg, much too large for his arms as he calls out to them.

“Hey! Wait! Wait!” The man calls. Xisuma stutters as he tries to scramble away, skittering to a stop at the man’s plea. As he turns to look over his shoulder, against all better judgment, he realizes the man has crouched by the entry door, egg still in his arms. The beat between the man stopping, dropping to a crouch to make himself small, and his next words is a rift Xisuma considers just jumping into. He wills a small, shaky breath into his lungs. The man sets the egg at his feet, hands spread.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breath evening as he stills for a moment. “I didn’t mean to scare you away. The dragon looked pretty dangerous!”

Xisuma blinks, breathing hard. Exonia manages to summon the courage he can’t seem to even taste, voice coming small from beside him.

“Who are you?” they muster. The man dips his head.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he says slowly. “I’m Keralis. Are you two from here?” 

Xisuma shakes his head. The man, Keralis, nods.

“Are you lost? Do you need help going home?” 

Xisuma offers a nod this time.

“Do you… know where home is?”

There’s a beat. The silence stretches on in the absence of anyone’s voice or actions, until Ex finally says:

“Not anymore. ‘S too far.”

Keralis doesn’t say anything for a moment. He stares instead down at the egg in his arms, the only expression on his face evident by his eyes through his visor. Xisuma watches him, trying to read that expression and coming up blank. It doesn’t look malicious, though. He’s begun to settle from the razor’s edge of nervousness and back down into a sense of normalcy. 

“I don’t want to leave you here. I…” Keralis hums. “I can take you back with me. And then maybe there will be someone who can help you get home, how about that?”

“Where’re you from?” Exonia asks. Keralis smiles—Xisuma can tell by the squint of his eyes.

“I’m from a ship. A spaceship in the sky.”

[shepcdr]

@spectrien // cont.

shepard has nothing in particular against aliens. he was far too young for the first contact war — his childhood memories are vague and few, but he thinks he remembers the anxiety that tensed his caretakers from head to toe until they were wound tight enough to snap, and until they did; perhaps some of that had been the war, and the burden of knowing that humanity was not alone in the far expanses of space, after all — and still too young for the grudges built after and upon it. though that hardly stopped many of his brothers in the reds from fostering hatreds of their own, there was little they could do about it... little time to think of worlds beyond when it was trouble enough to survive their own. and, now that shepard thinks about it, his contact with the galaxy at large has been somewhat limited considering the decade he's now spent with the alliance. ( in his defence, he had other concerns of his own to manage. )

his recruiters had pulled enough strings getting his AFQT scores waived once they had seen biotic potential and a willingness to do whatever it took so long as he could enlist and get off of earth. there was nothing that could've been done for him if the alliance had an intergalactic history class prerequisite; but, luckily for shepard, his interests didn't lie in turian-human relations. relations that, from the spectre's sudden ( unwanted. but it doesn't appear that what shepard wants matters very much ) interest, appear to be on the up-and-up.

still, shepard would have to be an idiot to not have questions.

his lack of knowledge on both turians and spectres aside, it doesn't take a studied mind to know that nihlus kryik doesn't exactly fall within the boundaries of one definition or the other. nihlus likely defies the former, from what shepard knows of turian society; and from what he has heard recently of what it means to be a spectre, he suspects that nihlus exceeds the latter.

" what's your stake in all this? " thinly-veiled distrust colours his curtly-spoken enquiry. no point in masking his wariness. nihlus is an unknown variable on the normandy, on anderson's ship. ( never mind that captain anderson himself authorised this. he had authorised shepard as his XO, too ... so it's shepard's prerogative to exercise however much caution he deems necessary, until he determines the spectre is neither a threat nor risk. )

so the alliance wants more say in council matters ... that makes enough sense. but one of the council's own — a species already nestled quite comfortably within the status quo — taking such an unlikely and proactive interest? he doesn't buy it. not unless nihlus has something to gain from this.

... the one thing that does give him pause is nihlus' declaration of respect. shepard doesn't know enough about turian behaviour to discern honesty from flattery from placation. without adequate data, his first instinct should be healthy scepticism. nihlus seems clever and well-spoken: a perfect combination for deception, and make it pretty and pleasant to the ears. ' capable of caring? ' and what did that have to do with anything? shepard might have laughed in his face if he wasn't certain that that would surely be crossing the line.

but, for whatever reason, nihlus' words — ‘ i respect you. ’ — ring true just enough to soften the coldness of shepard's stare. ( only slightly. but that alone is an impressive feat. )

[jinsouli]

I JUST REWATCHED PIWON MOVIE AND I HAVE THINGS TO SAY

[newfeeling77]

i realized i can do light workouts at home while watching tv instead of doing them at night with all the lights off and noise canceling headphones so i cant see or hear. i also learned its normal to hear yourself breathing during activity. anyway it turns out im still alone even if the lights are on and im not actually being watched by invisible people who hate me for being fat and having dishes in my room. well im not 100% on that one yet but im choosing to believe it

[downsteepy]

Hi! Any props on drawing chest hairs?

put this together very quickly but i included both ways that i do it ! i do typically just use a body hair brush to save time [ here are some free alternatives on the csp asset store , other programs i have no idea, but it is pretty simple to make your own brushes as well :) ] but i still manually draw it on paper or if i draw chibis !

[thespookiestwarrior]

i have this unconscious need to make the genetics of the characters somewhat realistic but at times i also am... not strict on it...

take for example: ross and his parents (or specifically jaune)!

if aaron is a brown tabby and ross has black fur (which as a human is most likely brown hair that is dyed black but uhh i have one idea how that may work in this au)... that leaves a few possible options:

jaune is a tortoiseshell/calico which makes it possible for ross to be fully black male

jaune is a golden female cat which can result in ross being brown male OR a tortoiseshell

jaune is a golden male cat which can result in ross being black male (and wooo transgender/t4t win for the parents!)

waow...

so yeah if i ever give a character "alternative" design's, its because of this reason; if you draw either version, it's still canon! and maybe i shouldn't really care (because again, transgender win !!!!)... but i do like putting in effort about pattern genetics snifssougugu

i mean there's lila, who is coloured purple BUT technically she is part of the lilac colour gene (which looks like a warm grey) lmfao

eye colours are an exceptions; they can have rainbow eyes for all i care

[rose-lalondde]

naruto but it's my modern fantasy world au

[gibbearish]

btw similar to the whole "if you try adderall at a party and it calms you down, get an adhd test" thing, if at some point in your life you try microdosing shrooms with a friend and end up feeling like a functional person for the first time in your life, get tested for depression. like yeah hallucinogens come with elation so youre probably gonna have some "this is the best ive ever felt in my life" vibes regardless, but like. if that in and of itself feels like finally breathing in for the first time in years, thats for sure a sign that something is up with your ability to process serotonin most of the time. feeling better than ever before should be a nice bonus, not a crushing weight off your chest

[voidimp]

i think one of the weirdest things for me about being trans is like. u know theres this like. expectation of afab trans people to Look a certain way, at least early on in transition, right. the whole like... "feminine" body shape, no facial hair, little body hair (compared to like, "average" amab ppl anyway). like you know what im talking about. & it always kind of fucked me up bc honestly that was kind of The Goal for me, but it was also a goal that was. never possible. bc i was past that point from the start. i already had a more masculine shape. i already had facial hair. seeing all these guides of like, how to pass better, & none of it applied to me bc everything assumed you were already starting out as a Normal Average Woman™. hoping that maybe, possibly going on e might give me a more feminine shape, even though i already had estrogen in my system. never looking into whether or not it would work because i knew i wouldnt be able to do it anyway. knowing that insurance would never cover any kind of hair removal bc they only consider it gender affirming if youre amab & transfem. and like i know that starting point isnt even universal Anyway. but theres just something that fucks me up about like. almost feeling trans Backwards. not feeling cis even when i was (for lack of a better description). feeling like i had a "head start" that i didnt want. its just... a weird experience. idk.

[kijosakka]

sitting here literally typing up diagrams for the dynamics in hadys and. realizing my grasp on the canon characters are too flimsy for the fic im trying to write. like im gna have to comb through three (3) whole seasons and pick them all apart properly to feel satisfied in my development with them

[darabeatha]

/ paradise lost is so funny like what do u mean angels blush?!?!

[thousand-winters]

*Softly* Learn to read, by the love of all the gods, learn to read

[ghoulodont]

i think ive merged my "natural" i.e. unbridled and left to grow in random directions voice with rain as a character since i almost always write his pov. however i dont really know if ive ever sounded different when writing other characters. i dont want to check because ill hate myself. i think the only variable is time/experience/practice

[amomentpassed]

i just had the most painful conversation with some narcissistic fuck in my hostel i am ENRAGED