UPDATE! PLEASE READ!

Okay, so this blog is being archived. I made a new blog for Ross, but my other muses will stay where they are.

@obscurusclarus is my new blog.

I’d really appreciate it if you’d spread this around so all of my rp partners can see it ❤

reasons i haven’t replied back:

- i’m socially exhausted - i don’t have the time right now - i don’t know how to reply - i have a bad memory and got distracted - i’m having a depressive episode and don’t have the energy to socialise

not reasons i haven’t replied back:

- i’m ignoring you just because - i hate you - i’m fed up with you - i don’t want to be your friend anymore

Inktober day twenty-one.

Finally getting back into the robot-drawing swing! Sure has been a while.

Transformers BotBots - artwork! New Hasbro mini-figures/collectibles can actually transform, so they’re going to be worth a look.  What happens when Energon hits retail?  This.

“I know I am!” she chirps, trying not to blush. “And just because you’ve done wrong and you’re scarred doesn’t mean you’re not cute. You said I’m cute and I’ve got scars too, see?”

She turns and flips up her shirt. Thin scars, one more prominent than the rest, sprinkle her lower back. After a moment she fixes her clothes and turns back around. 

“You’re cute when you do stuff like talk about poetry or hear a bad pun,” she says. “And you’ve got a good smile.”

Starburner giggled and clapped at the sight of the bunnies. Ross always made such pretty things around him. He wondered briefly if his sire could do the same. When Ross patted his head he returned the gesture. Her hair was so soft!

Pharma bent to kiss both of them. “Ross, I can make you something as well. Since I’m figuring energon isn’t going to do it for you, what would you like me to make for you, my spark.”

One of the bunnies cuddles against Starburner’s chest. Ross laughs, pressing into his touch and booping his nose. 

She smiles up at Pharma. “Alrightie! Can I have a peanut butter and banana sandwich with honey milk?”

Backed up into a corner; fearful of what she was capable of, what he would do, Draal lets out a long and deep grumble. Once more he snarls as she reaches out and grazes his shoulder. Sharp slits narrow their focus onto the girl as she moves closer, as she moves her hand along to a pronounced jaw.

It’s an almost instantaneous and incredibly welcomed moment of relief, and his grumble fizzles out into a whimper.

“F-fleshbag?” he murmurs, pupils slightly dilating and vision becoming slightly clearer, “Wh-why are you here?”

Ross has siphoned pain before. It’s always been a bit at a time, and always from someone unwilling to let her shoulder too much of their burden. The torrent that spills from Draal almost knocks her down. Still, she’s no stranger to this pain; the crippling agony that claws at one from the inside out. She takes a deep breath. Shaking, she falls against Draal’s chest and tries not to think as another wave washes into her.

Then, she hears his voice. She wills her magic to stop, and it does, but not as suddenly as it started. It’s like pushing closed the door of a crammed closet. She has to yank her Presence back, and even then there’s a trickle until her siphoning stops.

“D-draal, you – ugh h-hold on…” Don’t puke, she tells herself, just sit. She slouches to her knees, then smiles up at him. “T-there you are! You were acting… N-not like y-yourself. You… Were in so much pain. U-uh you probably still are. Um…. How do you feel? Do you remember anything?”

He can’t help but just breathe. A tightness around his chest vanishing, though he fears this won’t be for long.

On all fours, he reaches out to rest claws upon her shoulder in thanks. Head lowers, and he feels as though the weight of his actions has just been dumped on his shoulders as he slouches.

“I am… I do not know what I am, Ross.” He mutters, “I thought… I would be stronger. But it just… made me into this.”

“You shouldn’t be here, my friend. I have…” Eyes widen at the thought, “Eaten… fleshbags like you.”

And the hunger still remained, though luckily, her magic seemed to quell it somewhat.

Squeezing the hand on her shoulder, Ross tries to piece together what Draal says. He thought he would be stronger? Does he mean -- did he change himself willingly? 

She means to ask, but Draal’s next words shoot her mind blank. She stills. Her hand falls from his claws, and her eyes fill with panic/denial/terror/pity before glazing over. A sound between a gag and a sob wrenches from her throat, and she turns almost green. She clamps a hand over her mouth. Screwing her eyes shut, she takes a deep breath and gives her head a firm shake. 

In, out. 

“Okay...” she whispers to herself. Another deep breath, then she speaks up. “You’re not -- You weren’t yourself, Draal. I know you wouldn’t... do that if you had a choice. And I’m gonna help you so you don’t do it again, okay?”

She speaks to Draal the way she might speak to her younger siblings. The same tone she uses to tell them “pick up your toys, sweetie” or “tell me what the nightmare was about.”

“My magic won’t last a long time. Siphoning relieves the symptom, but doesn’t heal the cause. You need to rest as much as you can, Draal. Magic usually acts like a venom; if you move around, it’ll flow through your system faster. Understand?” She squeezes his shoulder. “I need you to tell me what changed you. Anything you remember. And then tell me where I can find a healer and more information on Troll magic.”

the thing about shakespeare is that when it’s done right, when it’s done well, it should sound like it’s coming from the soles of your shoes, being dredged up from the dark places in your lungs and exhaled in a rush, before it burns your mouth. There are pauses, swallows, reverberations, inflections, because how else are you to laugh and sing and snarl and spill forth these lines?

shakespeare done well by actors who know what they’re doing stops sounding like shakespeare. It slips inside your blood, inflects you brain, raging through your system until this is the only language you have ever known, will ever need. It makes the theater the world entire.

shakespeare should sound like lightning; it should turn the air silver.

and once you’ve witnessed that, it’s hard to accept anything less.

 #shakespeare often gets mixed up in this whole pretentious air of thou-arts and wherefores and the like   #i wish it didn’t   #the language is old but when it’s right it is so alive   #and that’s exactly how it should be    #it should not be something dusty and boring that’s overexaggerated and pretentious    #it should be the pure magic of theater (x)

@shakespearelove

“Shakespeare should sound like lightning; it should turn the air silver.”

this is the most romantic thing i’ve seen all day

No shit. That tom cat was like:

“This thorn invested wall means nothing.”

“I will gladly walk on it a thousand times over, if that means I could be with you, my lady.”

and the lady cat was all:

“My brave darling.”

OOOPS MY HAND SLIPPED!!

Suddenly my muse insisted me to draw the personification version of the last pic, and who am I to reject inspiration when it comes so willingly to me? At least this will help with the artblock issue I currently have to deal with.

Russian imperial era inspired because hot damn.

Note: I tried google reverse image (and other reverse image search engines) those photos and came up with nothing. I wish I knew the original photographer because I want to love hug him/her so hard for capturing such inspiring moments.

OMG that’s the cutest thing ever and the best courtly love ah so brilliant.

Few romantic heroes could do better.

I don’t post cats often but that illustration.

that ILLUSTRATION

“Ten would be a good parent, I think,” Ross replies, then jolts up straight. Starburner’s cry startles her. She’s hit with the desire to cuddle him, and she shifts impatiently on the way to his room.

“Hello sweet little Star!” she coos, reaching for his hand. “Are you ready to go have fun with Sire and big sister? I bet you are, yes yes!”

Starburner is already latched onto Ross. If he lets go she might disappear again! He cooed and bounced in Pharma’s arms.

“I think that’s a yes. Maybe we should feed you two first though?”

Ross cuddles Starburner close, giving him a lil smooch on his forehead. Shadowlight bunnies appear and hop in the air around him. One nuzzles his cheek with its nose. 

“Oki doki, Sire,” Ross says. She pats Starburner’s head. “Gotta fuel up before we play!”

Backed up into a corner; fearful of what she was capable of, what he would do, Draal lets out a long and deep grumble. Once more he snarls as she reaches out and grazes his shoulder. Sharp slits narrow their focus onto the girl as she moves closer, as she moves her hand along to a pronounced jaw.

It’s an almost instantaneous and incredibly welcomed moment of relief, and his grumble fizzles out into a whimper.

“F-fleshbag?” he murmurs, pupils slightly dilating and vision becoming slightly clearer, “Wh-why are you here?”

Ross has siphoned pain before. It's always been a bit at a time, and always from someone unwilling to let her shoulder too much of their burden. The torrent that spills from Draal almost knocks her down. Still, she's no stranger to this pain; the crippling agony that claws at one from the inside out. She takes a deep breath. Shaking, she falls against Draal's chest and tries not to think as another wave washes into her.

Then, she hears his voice. She wills her magic to stop, and it does, but not as suddenly as it started. It's like pushing closed the door of a crammed closet. She has to yank her Presence back, and even then there's a trickle until her siphoning stops.

"D-draal, you -- ugh h-hold on..." Don't puke, she tells herself, just sit. She slouches to her knees, then smiles up at him. "T-there you are! You were acting... N-not like y-yourself. You... Were in so much pain. U-uh you probably still are. Um.... How do you feel? Do you remember anything?"

Slight offense but Ratchet’s atheism woulda been much more interesting if it were less “I believe in science, logic, and medicine and therefore think there’s no god” and more “after experiencing first-hand the suffering and death of so many over millions of years of war, on such a personal level as a medic, there is no way you can convince me there is an almighty and loving god.”

@morethanmeetstheass