Favorite Bird Genre Has Got To Be 'that's Literally Just A Dinosaur'

A series of 'cartoons' I did for school last semester. Only just got around to translating them all.

Thoughts on death, taxidermy, and the like.

Social commentary was required as part of the assignment. Don't take it too seriously.

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The one with the starving dog was inspired by a Reddit post about pets eating their deceased owners' faces to survive. Many comments said "I would rather my dog ate me than starve." or "I'd just be happy to feed my cat after death."

The one with the hyena is based off of a very old drawing of mine involving holding on to those who hurt you because you're too lonely otherwise.

There are a lot of little lines in TFA that sort of tip you off that something isnt quite right with the "heroic autobots" and it just gets more pronounced once you've noticed it. Like everything about Optimus's speech in the first episode. "We're all cogs in the great big autobot machine." Emphasizing the needs of the collective over everything else (and notice that this is apparently something he says a lot. Something he's internalized). "Don't try to be a hero, it's not in your programming." Idk bro sounds like functionism to me. But probably the most unsettling line is Ratchet's implication that they can just.. delete emotions. Just run a program and bam! That feeling of dissatisfaction with your lot in life? Gone. Thats a big old red flag if Ive ever seen one.

welcome back bionicle xisuma design

some hcs below :))

Since mans is a voidwalker, he would not be able to survive in the overworld normally

Logically this means undergo a life-altering procedure to fuse yourself with a robotic suit, getting rid of about 70% of your organic mass in the process

He's one of the very few voidwalkers to ever undergo such a procedure and one of the very first to do so succesfully

Basically all that's left of him is his respiratory system and parts of his nervous system (as well as some spare tendons fused to finer mechanical parts, which, in combination with leftover nerves, allow for finer movement, such as in his forearms, allowing him to control his fully robotic hands much better)

Only some of his original vocal chords left and some rather aged speakers means he sounds characteristically.. tinny

He breathes air that is filtered and reduced in oxygen by the backpack on his armor

He has no need for a normal communicator; he has a communication system wired right into his brain (check the little antenna!!)

Pressure change between the void and the overworld means his organic eyes had to go :// He has bionic ones instead :)) They're not what you see on his visor though; in addition to filtering some light frequencies it functions as a display for emoting (mostly in the forms of emoticons, obviously)

Sleeping in a bed with the armor would be awkward, so instead it has a system to lock itself in place! X sleeps standing up and it's as funny as it can sometimes be unsettling

He's a bit overdue for a medical/mechanical check-up at this point, but really it's nothing a bit of duct tape and a soldering iron can't fix ;)))

When asked he says he could never regret shedding his organic form; he quite likes living in the overworld and running a server of his own :))

Tfw you find out your gay best friend/coworker is secretly a car and now the government is after you

This… AU? has been sitting in my head since I saw the Bumblebee movie. Me wondering “huh what if Knockout were in a live action TF movie except one of the good ones” led down a rabbit hole that ended up in “Knockout’s been hiding out on earth working as a doctor in his holoform and ends up being good friends with June Darby who later gets caught up in the whole mess when his actual identity is inevitably exposed”. Not really an AU of anything in regard to TFP other than that’s the series Knockout and June come from, more of a “Knightverse what-if”.

Bonus:

A touching story

@creepysmlile

"Oh have you try the seekers claustrophobia? I love all the lore the fandom created for the seekers"

"Caged Sky"

The pirate vessel never stood a chance.

Megatron had ripped through it like a storm, scattering its pathetic crew to the void. The Decepticons had moved with precision, cutting down every mercenary that dared raise a weapon against them. It had been an execution, not a battle.

Because no one—absolutely no one—stole from him.

And Starscream?

They found him in a dimly lit cargo hold, curled into himself, optics dim, frame battered. He hadn’t spoken much when they pulled him out—just muttered something weakly sarcastic about Megatron taking his time. But even that had lacked its usual venom.

Megatron hadn’t dwelled on it at the time.

They had won. The Seeker was back. Everything should have gone back to normal.

Except it hadn’t.

---

Starscream refused to leave the landing pad.

At first, it had been easy to dismiss. Maybe he was just sulking, milking the situation for sympathy or attention. It was Starscream, after all.

But then a cycle passed.

Then another.

And he was still there.

Sitting on the edge, wings twitching, staring out into space.

Megatron had ignored it as long as he could.

Now, he had had enough.

---

The Nemesis was a warship, not a Seeker’s personal perch. Megatron stormed onto the landing pad, optics burning with frustration.

“Starscream,” he growled. “This ends now.”

Starscream barely turned. “Oh? What ends?”

Megatron’s patience frayed. “Your pathetic stalling. Get back inside the ship.”

Starscream shifted, still not looking at him. “I will, Megatron. I just need a little more time. The—ah—the atmospheric recalibration is—”

Megatron’s optic twitched. “Enough.”

He grabbed Starscream’s arm.

And then—

Starscream panicked.

The Seeker shrieked, thrusters kicking in as he fought, wings flaring wildly. His talons scrambled for purchase, yanking his arm away with a desperation Megatron never expected.

“Let go!” Starscream’s voice was sharp, nearly frantic.

Megatron did.

Starscream stumbled back, vents heaving, optics wide—too wide. His claws gripped his own arms, shoulders hunched. His wings trembled, betraying tension, fear.

Megatron frowned. “What is this?”

Starscream ex-vented sharply. “Nothing.”

Megatron narrowed his optics. “You—”

“I just need more time,” Starscream snapped, though his voice wavered. “That’s all.”

Megatron studied him.

The way he avoided looking at the entrance.

The way his frame coiled like a cornered animal.

The way his optics flickered—not at Megatron, but at the walls of the ship.

Understanding dawned.

“…The pirates,” Megatron said slowly, testing his theory. “They confined you.”

Starscream stiffened.

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

---

Megatron dragged the truth out in fragments, each one like shattered metal pried from a wound.

The pirates had beaten him, sure. That was expected. But they hadn’t known what to do with him. He was valuable—too valuable to kill outright.

So they had caged him.

Not a brig, not a cell.

A crate.

A shipping crate, small, cold, dark.

They had folded his wings to shove him inside, forced him down, locked him in. No room to stand. No room to move. Just metal walls pressing in on all sides.

He had screamed—at first. Kicked, cursed, threatened. But no one had answered.

The air had grown stale.

His vents had struggled against the thick, unmoving atmosphere.

And for the first time in a long, long time—Starscream had believed he was going to die.

Alone. In the dark. Crushed in a box.

No sky. No escape.

Just metal, choking the life out of him.

And now?

Even Nemesis’ walls felt like a cage.

---

Megatron listened.

He said nothing.

When Starscream finished—when he finally ran out of words, voice tight and fragile—there was silence.

Then—

“…If I could,” Megatron said, voice low, dangerous, “I would kill those wretched parasites again.”

Starscream’s optics flickered toward him.

Megatron’s gaze burned.

“But this time, it would be slow. Painful.” His claws curled into a fist. “I would ensure they felt every agonizing second of their pitiful existence slipping away.”

Starscream stared at him.

Megatron met his gaze evenly.

A long moment passed.

Then, softly—softer than Megatron had ever heard from him—Starscream ex-vented.

“…I would like that.”

Megatron nodded once.

Then he turned toward the ship.

“Come,” he said, without demand or force.

For a moment, Starscream hesitated.

Then, slowly, he stepped forward.

And, step by step, he followed Megatron inside.

This was supposed to become a stempunk cyborg lamia. 8 legs and as mighty as a small horse.

Their (since my lamias are always hermaphrodites) name is frann Frida Umarmungen. Austrian or german engineer.

WIP: Snancements (snake enhancements)

+ edit: Discord shenanigans

look, I know I've talked about this essay (?) before but like,

If you ever needed a good demonstration of the quote "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic", have I got an exercise for you.

Somebody made a small article explaining the basics of atomic theory but it's written in Anglish. Anglish is basically a made-up version of English where they remove any elements (words, prefixes, etc) that were originally borrowed from romance languages like french and latin, as well as greek and other foreign loanwords, keeping only those of germanic origin.

What happens is an english which is for the most part intelligible, but since a lot everyday english, and especially the scientific vocabulary, has has heavy latin and greek influence, they have to make up new words from the existing germanic-english vocabulary. For me it kind of reads super viking-ey.

Anyway when you read this article on atomic theory, in Anglish called Uncleftish Beholding, you get this text which kind of reads like a fantasy novel. Like in my mind it feels like it recontextualizes advanced scientific concepts to explain it to a viking audience from ancient times.

Even though you're familiar with the scientific ideas, because it bypasses the normal language we use for these concepts, you get a chance to examine these ideas as if you were a visitor from another civilization - and guess what, it does feel like it's about magic. It has a mythical quality to it, like it feels like a book about magic written during viking times. For me this has the same vibe as reading deep magic lore from a Robert Jordan book.

Post war cybertronian game where you play as a delivery mech.

You have a human companion who hangs out on your shoulder and in their little human carrier backpack. Throughout the game you can collect collectibles to decorate and customize your human's outfit, their carrier and little nesting spot in your apartment. Very cute slice of Life.

The deliveries start out cute and wholesome. Delivering ingredients Energon goodies shop, some Crystal flowers and courting gift or two.

There is even a side quest where you deliver a prank gift to some bot.

Then you start delivering to increasingly more shady looking areas and even your human companion takes notice of the suspicious locations.

Until one cycle there is only one delivery on your entire schedule, something completely out of the ordinary. When you begin approach the drop-off zone your human companion gets onto your shoulder and clings on to your avatar's audio fin, a part of your frame they have never been on. They start rapidly venting through their nose and scanning the doorway. Just before you enter the door you are put into a small cutscene where your human companion says their first full length of dialogue.

"Wait! Somethings wrong"

*sniff sniff*

"It smells like there's a lot of spilled Energon (blood) behind that door"

It then gives you the option to enter the room, drop off or turn around and leave the hallway.

If you choose to leave, you get jumped on the way out and knocked out.

If you choose to enter you are greeted to a mafia meeting where several mechs have been put down due to mafia related businesses. You are then knocked out.

You wake up locked in a cell with your human companion completely trapped. You are able to tear off a vent cover in your cell and lift your human to the entrance.

This is when you switch control to your human companion. You must now as a human traverse the mafia's secret lair via the vents, air ducts and through the wall. All while collecting keys, data points and sabotaging as much as possible while you find a way to free your bot companion.

Several of the customizable decorative pieces actually double as tools for your human companion during this segment of the gameplay. Those little shoes that you unlocked at the beginning of the game and then kept finding different textures for are actually insulation boots that humans use to work on high voltage machinery. Having found them will allow your human companion to pull certain electrified switches safely. One or two of these story items like the boots would only be customizable, while the rest of the tools and equipment you would have found throughout the delivery portion of the game. If equipped, some of these can be used to make the game play of this section easier. But some of them have negative consequences. Like If you choose to equip lights on their suit it makes them more detectable while sneaking. Or if you add the squeakers to the boots it completely turns off your sneaking ability forcing your character to take the long routes.

Eventually you escape and you are forced to relinquish control of the human companion. The next cycle you go back to your normal schedule of delivering packages, except you have an additional package addressed to the Intelligence and Law Enforcement Agency building.

The game ends with you arriving at your apartment to discover that the information that you had delivered to the agency helped find and arrest the mafia. They give you a huge Shanix prize for your combined efforts. You get to retire with your human companion to a selection of places. End game

Unicronian cult pamphlet I did with Radiolovebot