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#get to known an oc tag
primroseprime2019 · 1 year
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Get to Know an OC Tag
Thanks for the tag, @talesofsorrowandofruin
I’ll do this for Sheldon from Transcendants: Skyfall
Relationship status: Single
 Favorite Color: Light gray
 Favorite Food: Chicken and dumplings
Song stuck in his head: WATER by Beyoncé, Pharrell Williams and Salatiel
Last thing he Googled: Greek creatures
Time: 2:24 PM
Dream Trip: He would love to go to the Bahamas
Last thing he read: James Patterson’s Maximum Ride Manga
Last book he enjoyed reading: Insurgent by Veronica Roth
Favorite thing to cook/bake: Chocolate Chip Cookies
Favourite craft to do in his free time: He likes to do sketches
Most niche dislike: When he doesn’t usually get time off from farm work
Opinion on Circuses: He thinks they’re pretty loud but they look cool
Does he have any sense of direction?: Yes
Tagging: @overlookedfile @movieexpert1978 @eroticaplush @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @autumnsunshine10 @kaiusvnoir and anyone who wants to join
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hoofpeet · 12 days
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This girl has so much problems
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thronealigned · 8 months
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no it's fine this mind flayer is totally my friend and 100% honest with me all the time it's ok it likes me everything's so normal
#bg3 spoilers#baldurs gate 3#baldur's gate 3#i love how raphael directly calls you out on this. 'if id have known you were so gullible i wouldve tricked you into selling your soul for#a bowl of beans when we first met'#and then just keeps insulting you more if you keep insisting emp's really your ally#oc: impulse#sure this'll go in their tag#everything about impulse's Thing with the emperor is so funny to me. and then deeply fucked up if you think about it long enough. and then#really funny again if you think about it even longer#one day i'll do their 2.0 playthrough so i can fully form all my thoughts. and get better screenshots and the ceremorphosis ending#i mean there's nothing stopping me from loading an impulse 1.0 save and going ceremorphosis from there but idk it'd feel wrong#impulse has more tadpoles in their brain than synapses by act 3 and it does really fundamentally change them as a person#tfw your chaotic neutral act-first-ask-questions-never no-impulse-control 17 CHA bestie becomes one of the most detached calculating people#you've ever met. all their old casual wit and humor is still there but they think before they speak now and that really shouldnt feel as#sinister as it does. they have this look in their eye and it feels like they view everyone around them as lesser beings#not because they view other people as subhuman or worse than they are but because they view themself as something *more*#if they have any raw unfiltered emotion left you haven't seen it in weeks. there's one person(?) who gets Unrestrained Feelings privileges#and it's the fucking illithid that lives in their mind and not any of their actual non-monster normal-ish-person friends. that human#connection is fading so fast now. when did they change so much? it happened so slowly in the moment but suddenly now they seem like they#were never the person you became friends with at all#and like impulse is a pretty selfish person from the start but they *did* genuinely like and care about the rest of the party. they were#friends. and by the end of act 3 that friendship should be the deepest and most meaningful it's ever been. but. it just isn't.#so on and so forth etc etc like that. All That Bullshit makes their relationship with lae'zel so interesting (and upsetting) too#they encourage her to side against vlaakith and then they never even try to free orpheus for her and her people's sake. they never even#think about it. they never consider it as an option. they just don't care. and then they EAT HIS BRAIN.#very possibly RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER.#and she's just left adrift. a rebel with no rebellion to lead and very little hope#i'm unwell.#ok i'm done this is a silly meme post. but god i have so many thoughts i have barely been keeping contained
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girlboyburger · 21 days
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with my move around the corner and life feeling sort of real again, i'm having Regular Thoughts about hobbies i've been meaning to revisit...
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cathalbravecog · 8 months
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wanted to capture the toontown whimsy in this one
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sunny-desk · 5 months
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4,252 Days Chapter 1: Day 1, Pt 1
Previous | Masterlist | Next
Fic Summary: FTWD re-written to include an OC named Gemma who has a platonic relationship/friends with benefits situation with Nick Clark and then goes on to be with Troy Otto. Chapter Summary: Gemma sees a guy run into the road and get hit by a car Word Count: 1177 Author’s Note: This is a big commitment, hopefully I stick with it. I'm excited. Gif from here.
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“Please say you’re calling with good news.” Gemma can feel the pre-emptive disappointment radiating through the phone, almost hotter than the 8AM summer sunshine beating down on her as she walks along the street.
“Hello, Olivia. It’s so good to hear your voice. I’m doing well, thank you. How about you?” Sarcasm and semi-fake niceness hung on every word.
“Stop stalling, we saw each other an hour ago, you know how I am. How did it go? Did they suspect the undercut? Because I told you, Gem, it’s silly but it’s true, they’ll judge you for it.”
“It went great, Liv.” Gemma replied simply, not wanting to keep this going and make her friend more annoyed at her than she knows she already is. “No undercut suspected, zero tattoos spotted. I have to go in for a bit of training tomorrow but after that it’s a long weekend before I start properly on Monday.”
Olivia lets out a sigh of genuine relief through the phone, Gemma can tell she’s smiling as she talks. “That’s great, Gem! Really, that’s so great. I have to get back to work but I'll see you back home later, okay? We can talk about it more then. Maybe plan a way to celebrate a little? Alcohol free, of course.”
“Yeah, sounds good. Talk later.”
Gemma hangs up the phone, puts it in her navy blazer pocket and pulls her hair out of its low ponytail, replacing it with a high one, showing off the undercut Olivia spent 10 minutes stressing about helping her hide this morning. Working in a posh office where she has to hide even the most basic parts of herself isn’t exactly the dream but beggars can’t be choosers. She needs this job. She needs to get back on track.
She can already picture her life a few months from now, a little bit of money in her pocket, new clothes she’s been in need of for weeks, finally able to pay Liv the rent she’s owed. An apartment of her own is the real dream but that might be thinking too big right now and living with Liv definitely isn’t a problem. She can picture it though. Flat screen TV, dark green sofa, huge fluffy rug that feels like you’re walking on a cloud. A bit of saving and hard work at a job she’s pretty sure is going to be mind-numbing and it'll be real before she knows it. There’s a smile on Gemma’s face as she walks down the street thinking of the future. Things might finally be looking up.
-
The loud screech of tyres and the distant thud as something hits the hard road takes Gemma out of her daydream and back to reality. It’s like time freezes for a few seconds as she stops in her tracks, taking in the scene before her.
Black marks on the ground lead up to a small silver car stopped in the middle of the road. Its windshield is smashed and Gemma is pretty sure there’s a small dent on the bumper too. The driver is sitting there, shock on his face, probably not sure if what just happened is his own fault or the fault of the person who just bounced off his windshield and is now laying almost unconscious on the concrete. The other people in the area have stopped too. Some look annoyed that their morning has been disturbed, others look horrified.
There’s a quick rush as time starts again and Gemma runs towards the car and the fallen boy. On closer inspection, he looks rough. No shoes or socks, a half-torn, baggy, white shirt, ill-fitting jeans, hair that seems to not have been brushed in a few days. Gemma peers over her shoulder at a building across the road. She’s been living in the area long enough to know where that boy came running from. It likely wasn't the driver's fault. But it probably wasn’t the boy’s either.
He’s laying on his back, staring up at the sky. Gemma leans over him.
“Hey. Can you hear me? It’s okay. You’re okay,” She says, though she’s not sure that’s true. He looks quickly around him, as much as he can while still laying flat on the floor, and then looks Gemma in the eyes for a second, like he’s checking for something. “Just stay still.”
Looking up, Gemma realises that other than the driver, who took a few seconds to build up the courage to get out of his car and check the damage, she is the only person who has rushed over to help.
“What the hell are they all doing? See a lad get hit by a car and just stand there, seems reasonable, ugh,” she mutters angrily to no one in particular. Looking around quickly, scanning the small crowd, she spots a woman with her phone in her hand and points, “Oi, you, phone someone! Now!”
“No, I’m fine,” the guy mumbles as the woman lifts her phone to call and begins walking over. She hesitates slightly at his comment.
“Ignore him. He’s been hit on the head. Call them.”
He starts trying to sit up, probably faster than he should. Gemma crouches down and reaches out, preparing to attempt to catch him if he starts falling backwards. She makes a mental note to buy some work trousers that she can properly bend in with her first pay cheque. Liv can have these one’s back, if they survive the day.
“I’m fine. I’ll just.. I’ll walk it off, you know. Thanks.” He’s distracted when he says it, not fully in the moment and not looking at Gemma but instead surveying the area once again, searching.
Gemma pretends not to notice. “Walk it off? In whose shoes?” She says it playfully, trying to distract him from whatever this is. He doesn’t seem right. And he can’t just get up and walk this off.
He pauses and takes a look at his grimy, bare feet. “Have you never heard of shoeless hikes? You should try it sometime. It’s great, really.”
Gemma smiles slightly. “Sure it is. Listen, just lay back down, okay? Or at least just stay sitting. You don’t know what could be wrong. The ambulance will be here soon.”
“Nothing is wrong. Uh, I’m Nick, you’re British, it’s.. Tuesday..?” He counts on his fingers. “Well, it’s definitely a weekday. See? Everything..” He starts looking around mid sentence, “...is,” distracted again, more searching, “… fine.”
Gemma follows Nick’s gaze and realises he’s looking at the old abandoned church longer than he’s looking in any other direction. So her assumption was right, that is where he came from.
“I’m Gemma. It’s Wednesday. Stay put.”
Nick turns his head back in her direction. He slumps like he’s lost his fight, exhausted, or has decided whatever he’s worried about doesn’t need worrying about right now. He doesn’t say anything as he lays back down on the floor, giving up his attempts to leave. The shrill sound of an ambulance siren can be heard in the distance.
-
As the ambulance pulls up, accompanied by a police car a dozen feet behind it, the driver of the car finally finds his voice. He’s been standing there for a few minutes, nervously smoothing out his work suit, trying to think of what to say. He speaks fast, trying to get everything out before anyone official gets within hearing distance.
“Listen. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you, okay? You seem fine.” He turns to Gemma. “He’ll be fine, right? Nothing needs to come of this. I’ll just... be on my way.”
“Spineless.” Gemma mumbles under her breath before looking back at him. She may not think the incident was necessarily his fault but there’s a way to handle it and it’s not this. Looking directly at him, eyes cold, she continues, “I don’t think you’re going anywhere mate, the police are right there. They’ll want a word, I’m sure. And look at him. Does he look fine?”
Nick is still laying on the floor, not moving much. It's like the adrenaline and shock have finally worn off, leaving him aching all over, able to feel what just happened to him.
Gemma continues. “And unless you fancy running some more people over, I don’t think driving off in that thing is a good idea, do you? You won’t be able to see anything out of that window.”
The man turns back to his car, noting the huge area of smashed windshield, and runs his hand through his already slicked back hair, uncomfortable. Nick ignores what Gemma has just said and looks at the slightly dishevelled man, mumbling a response, “It’s whatever, man. I have bigger things to worry about.”
Gemma looks to Nick, wondering what those bigger things are. You’d assume it was potential head injury or internal damage from being thrown onto the concrete by a hunk of speeding metal but Gemma doesn’t think so. Nick was concerned about something, being hit by a car wasn’t anywhere close to the forefront of his mind.
Before the man can decide what to do the police and paramedics have closed the distance. The police go straight to him, the medics to Nick.
“Okay then, what do we have here?” Says the commanding voice of a tall blonde woman striding over. She’s carrying a large bag of any potential medical supplies Nick may need immediately and is being followed by a man and a stretcher.
“His name is Nick. He ran out into the road and got hit by a car.” Gemma quickly responds.
“Nick, can you tell me how you’re feeling? Let me take a look at you.” The paramedic bends down to Nick. She checks his eyes and makes a ‘hm’ sound.
“I feel fine.” Nick says while she continues looking him over. He doesn’t sound fine. His voice has gotten weaker the longer he’s been laying there.
“Right, okay,” unsurprisingly, the paramedic isn’t convinced. “We should check you out properly anyway. Getting hit by a car can cause a lot of damage you can’t necessarily see. Let’s get you on this stretcher and then we’ll be right on our way to the hospital, okay?” She says it firmly, it’s not really a question. But Nick doesn’t seem to be in a position to argue anyway.
Gemma stands back while the paramedics get Nick up onto the stretcher and as they walk him the short distance to the ambulance she instinctively starts to follow. No one questions her getting into the ambulance with them and taking a seat, not even Nick, who looks over to her but seems to mostly be in his own world now, thinking about who knows what. Maybe he’s thinking about nothing, in too much of a daze. Or maybe, like Gemma, he’s thinking about the church.
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Tagged by: @corvosattano @solstheimtxt @kyber-infinitygems @nightbloodbix @adelaidedrubman and @simplegenius042 this week thank you all so much!!
Tagging: @shallow-gravy @cassietrn @strangefable @stacispratt @eclecticwildflowers @poetikat @florbelles @direwombat @v0idbuggy @josephseedismyfather @theelderhazelnut @marivenah @josephslittledeputy @peppertheferalraccoon @neverthesameneveranother @strafethesesinners @clicheantagonist @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @roofgeese @confidentandgood @derelictheretic @trench-rot (no pressure) and anyone else with something to share :)
So now that I've spoiled the plot point of the scar on Jacob's chest via art work, guess I might as well share the scene where it happens (warnings for knifeplay and a scene where cutting someone sounds more like smut...if this ain't your jam, i'm sorry, feel free to ignore)
Saint Francis was utterly silent, so quiet only the sounds of the boughs of the trees rustling with the wind and the few calls of nocturnal animals outside could be heard. Deep in the darkness of the night there was only one light left on in the entirety of the building (as it was on most nights) and while Kit and Jacob would normally be busy at work, planning and preparing as any good soldier was known to do, tonight that was not the case.
Jacob lay sprawled out on the too small cot in the corner of the room, his arms folded behind his head, and eyes gently shut as Kit lay curled up beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. Whatever formal agreement had been made between them had just been consummated for what would certainly not be the last time that evening. 
Her fingers trailed through the red hair on his chest, caressing gently over the scars and raised skin that tracked over and marred his flesh, her warm breath fanning against him until  she sat up on her elbow, his dog tags jingling together against her chest as she moved and brushed flowing waves of copper hair over to one shoulder.
“I was thinking, I still need to give you something too.”
He cocked his brow but didn’t open his eyes. “Oh yeah, like what?” he asked, voice thick with the heady fog that came as he relaxed during his refractory period. 
The bed creaked and her weight shifted from the cot, the springs relaxing back into shape only to squeak once more as she returned and straddled herself over his thighs, her weight pressing down upon him like an iron anvil of muscle.  
Opening his eyes he was met by her smirk and the blade of her hunting knife twisting between her fingers. “Just what d’you think you’re doing with that, kitten?” He asked with a cock of his brow and a too smug grin on his face.
Bringing the knife down against his skin, she dragged the point of it down from his throat to the breast bone, a long red scratch left in its wake and it was sure to welt. Scoring the skin across his peck, Kit rested the tip of the knife just above where his heart beat below. With a coy grin, her lower lip pulling between her teeth, she husked, “Marking what’s mine.”
Jacob shifted, sitting up on his forearms, his eyes widening as she pressed down with the sharpened edge of her knife, cutting through layers of skin. Hissing as his blood bubbled up to the surface, he bared his teeth as she slit through old scar tissue to carve her initials into his chest. 
Kit’s pale eyes stayed focused on him and the reactions he gave more than on her penmanship, her stare tracking every flinch and curling of his lip, every tightening of his jaw and flaring of his nostrils like she was trying to commit it all to memory. 
Looking down at his chest, between the streams of scarlet that flowed from him, he could make out the letters KC cut into him. There was no going back now, she already had his number and knew exactly who his heart belonged to. 
With a toss of the knife to the floor, she leaned down and kept her eyes on him as she braced her hands on his shoulders, licking up the blood that had spilled down the curves of his peck.  The way the light hit her, making shadows around her eyes, her icy stare peering out from the dark made her look more animalistic than human as her tongue lapped at him, collecting the warmth from within his veins upon it and then devouring it like a lioness at a watering hole. She had that same bestial quality to her that she had after tearing out a man’s throat and consuming him in her cage, that moment when he knew she was just like him.
Swallowing heavily, his throat bobbing at the intensity of the way she scrutinized him, he was captivated entirely by her and the way her tongue dragged across her lips staining them with reddened saliva until they were the same shade they became when she was under his thumb. His hand quickly flew to the back of her head, and collecting a handful of her hair in his grip, pulled her towards his mouth to kiss her. The salty, metal tang mixed in their mouths as he drove his tongue in past her lips and nearly lost his mind, willing to suffocate himself to taste more of her. 
Prying herself free of him, she smiled against his mouth and peppered his lips with gentle kisses. “You’re mine,” she whispered.
“Goes both ways, Kitty.”
“I know.” 
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distant-velleity · 3 months
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A Fair Price (Vol. 0)
Summary: Apparently, Azul's definition of "wrapping up" certain loose threads involves extended torture. Of Davis in particular. Word count: 1.1k+ Warnings: none, I think A/N: HELLO EVERYONE. I'm not done with my OC/Canon tomfoolery and you are not done having to see it. This was honestly supposed to be a joke but I think I got a little too invested and now this is like crack taken seriously..................... Anyway, this is the first of a few planned parts, so please let me know if you want to see more and I will probably get it written within the rest of the school year! Hopefully!! :,)))
Vol. 0 || Vol. 1 || Vol. 2
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(Day 0 - Wednesday.)
It all starts after winter break, with little more than a conversation.
(Really, it’d started with the anemones following midterms and the ensuing incident—but that would be water under the bridge eventually. Just not today.)
Azul approaches Davis one day at lunch, finding his usual spot on a bench in the courtyard. “Here you are.”
Davis looks up from his phone and forgotten, half-finished sandwich. His eyes narrow. “…Azul? Do you need something?”
It’s not like 2-B and 2-C have had any joint classes recently… or any time soon…
“Well,” Azul says pleasantly, as if choosing not to acknowledge the other’s rightful wariness, “I hear that you’ve been rather sullen ever since before the break, especially regarding me, which could only relate to one thing. And seeing as I’d rather wrap up some loose threads sooner than later…”
It’s difficult, resisting the urge to scoff, but Davis manages to do just that and keeps a relatively straight expression. 
“Right,” he says slowly. “It’s a little hard to not be, in your words, ‘sullen’ after seeing your treatment of student-workers.”
To Davis’ immense disappointment, Azul takes the seat next to him with a sigh. “If it pleases you, Yu has already lectured me on the severity of my actions. I’ve been taking it to heart and treating them more justly.”
“Uh-huh. Do you need to hear it from another mouth to really get it?” Davis isn’t angry, just… riled up in a tired sort of way. His phone burns like phantom pain with the weight of various victim accounts in it. “I don’t need you to please me. Rather—has anyone actually been holding you accountable for any of this?”
“Plenty,” mutters Azul under his breath with an unrecognizable tone, before adjusting his glasses. “I’ve given remuneration to many students who were physically harmed by the twins, as well as met several of my own students’ demands.” There’s a glint to the frames as they catch the light. “I’m genuinely curious—what else would you like to propose I do?”
That gives Davis pause, although not for the expected reason. It’s because—
(“What do ya think we should do?” Jacques asked.
Davis’ eyes widened. “Me?”
“Yeah, you. Youse our only walkin’ mouth.” In a too-casual gesture Davis was getting used to, Jacques slung his arm over his shoulders. “The strike was your idea, no? So I gotta trust you to be the brains to my brawn.”
Davis scoffed in amusement, and Jacques grinned at him.)
—because of something that doesn’t really matter anymore, something he should have left behind when he left RSA. Really, his little grudge against Azul is also a remnant of baggage he should have abandoned a long time ago.
Still, Davis isn’t one to swallow his words at the first sign of being off-mark. “Does that really make up for all of it?” And just like that, an idea strikes him all of a sudden. “Come to think of it… how often do you work at the Mostro Lounge? I’m sure it’d satisfy a lot of people to see you doing the same work as them.”
Azul opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it and gently furrows his brows in a thoughtful look. His gaze flicks from Davis to the ground, then back again. “I find myself pleasantly surprised by the way you think,” he says finally with a smile, not elaborating on his own thought process. “If I allot some time every week for the next month or so to take a few shifts, then there could be unexpected benefits…”
“Really?” Davis raises an eyebrow—even though he can recall when Azul and the twins decided to take a shift at the Lounge post-Overblot, he’d assumed that was a one-time thing on the housewarden’s part. “I didn’t think you’d do more manual work than necessary.”
“Never let it be assumed that I don’t strive for self-improvement,” is Azul’s lofty reply. 
“...Alright.” 
Davis is more than ready to leave the conversation at that and return to his lunch, but something about the way Azul crosses his legs and props up his elbow on one knee disturbs him; if not the way that he rests his chin on his hand with a Look™ to his eyes. And true to form—
“Since this was your idea… how about you take some responsibility?” Azul suggests. “I’m sure the fair price of keeping me company until my ‘atonement’ tenure ends is acceptable.”
“Keeping you… company?” echoes Davis in disbelief. “Won’t there be some kind of catch to this? I thought you were over your contracts.”
Azul waves his other hand as if to dismiss that topic. “This isn’t a contract—merely an exchange of sorts.”
“I’m not working for free, I’ll have you know.”
“Rest assured, I’m not asking you to work. Goodness, you sure enjoy covering all your bases…” Azul shakes his head, somehow without losing even a fraction of his cordial yet opportunistic demeanor. “I just think it’d be in both our best interests for me to better acquaint myself with both a classmate and a member of the school newspaper.”
…Right. Leave it to Azul to remember something most people didn’t care about for him and then milk it as an opening to profit. 
Of course, Davis had been lectured on the power of the press many a time before when he was still at RSA. Being the manager of a student-run business on campus, Azul would take to forming a solid connection with the newspaper staff like maybe a vulture to a carcass. But just as easily as he could advertise the Lounge, he could slowly weasel his way into controlling what goes into the paper…
“Hardly anyone reads the paper,” Davis mutters, still trying to get out of this half of the ‘exchange.’ “I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for.”
“While that was true in our freshman year,” Azul admits, “it’s thanks to your work that I’ve noticed many students actually read the online version or get their hands on the physical copy. Which is why I hadn’t seriously considered this option until now.”
Davis frowns. “Thanks for the flattery… But even if you want a collaboration, I usually don’t write articles—”
“That wouldn’t be a problem, we can find some way to make it work.” 
Man, thinks Davis, I really can’t tell if it’s the universe or just Azul himself out to get me today.
Azul exhales and adjusts his glasses again. “Besides, we’re getting a bit sidetracked. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“Right,” Davis concedes. He curses himself silently for getting carried away—this was, in part, his own idea and he should be willing to pay the price. Otherwise, he’d just be a hypocrite.
“So…” Azul extends his hand. “Are we in agreement?”
Davis looks down at it, many thoughts passing through his mind, and sighs. Finally, he reaches out to shake Azul’s hand in what feels like an admission of defeat. “Sure. But this is just for those guys who suffered under you.”
“Of course,” Azul replies; as much as Davis would like to think it’s in a condescending tone, that’s just his imagination. 
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mothsakura · 9 months
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so like!!!! i got an idea!!! there are probably iterators made to make malware, either for data scraping or straight up taking out any "political competition" for their ancients. well WHAT IF THERE ARE MALWARE HUNTER ITERATORS?!?!? made to track the malware back to the iterator it was created by, and send em a protocol that deletes the code that lets them create malware in the first place. HOWEVER, this proves to not be as effective, as an iterator can relearn how to create malware. there are no more taboos now that the ancients are gone, no more laws, and no more stupid little rules the iterators have to go by. so what if like malware hunters made a total system shutdown protocol (deletion of all code for the iterator, basically kills em rather quickly) (can't relearn how to make malware if you're dead) to combat this, malware creators made another protocol that tracks down malware hunters, and basically also deletes all of their code (cannot delete someone's code if you're dead) smh karma 1 behavior
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cordycepsbian · 6 months
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quick doodle of a Beast from our very normal headcanon worldbuilding we talked about yesterday. it doesn't really have a name, but for classification purposes let's call it deadlander lambda
it's simultaneously a more mutated and more primal version of a typical moth, hence the extra arms and wings. it's also Really, Really Big, almost twice the size of a deadlander gamma, and the mimic flies that inhabit the wastes to the far, far north of bugaria make up a big part of its diet. despite this, it was somehow both genetically compatible with and seen as attractive by a completely average io moth, resulting in what would become bugaria's most normal family line
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softceleste · 6 months
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The fact I honestly thought I'd pull off playing College Craze and being normal about it, and then less than a week later I've already played it multiple times, made a duel MC au, a Pinterest board, and recreated some of the PopMe pages, is genuinely not lost on me.
#college craze#katie talks ifs and vns#i made psds for new contacts and calls too but didn't really have a use for them in this#also i just bs'd vidtok if it pops up I'll redo those but >.> i think you can tell who my favorite RO is so far okay (it's Pierce)#and then jay shaun ruby and trish also have me by the throat like if Trish has 0 fans I'm dead okay#I've known those characters literally like 4 days and I'd go to bat for all five of them already ok - my beloveds#anyway madeline mostly follows canon (the divergence is Ches exists and Ches is canonly the one fake!dating Shaun for Mad's tuition)#otherwise what the vn throws at Madeline she gets ok and then Ches breaks canon... so much it'd be probably too long for the tags#but this is what i get for being like 'this oc I've been writing for a decade+ would be down so bad for Pierce and Shaun lemme do a#playthrough with her and see what happens' - this happens apparently 😂 listen the vn helped me get through the entire time my mom was#in the hospital (she's home now) so tbh it was a really appreciated distraction <3#extremely long post#long post#edits:mine#college craze: ches#college craze: madeline#college craze: madeline x jay#college craze: ches x pierce#i had fun with these though like Madeline messaging Ches to ensure she isn’t going to come in and find Jay in the dorm#and Ches being like ‘yeah my vidtok is 100% Pierce’s fault’ yikes I need to sleep I’m excitedly tired rambling#sorry if this post is annoying (and for the lines under the categories breaking future me will fix that in further edits if I post more#those may be relegated to the shit post blog though we’ll see posting oc stuff makes me so anxious ngl)#im just hitting post I’ve been staring at this stressing it like two hours now jfc
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cfrog · 3 months
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I had a dream about cowboys and decided to keep them. Still working on them.
Original memes. Memes is the easiest way to figure out characters ok.
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the real reason Sycamore has knee patches /j
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bumblingbabooshka · 1 year
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The appurtenant crew of the USS Historia: From star to shining sea!
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snowy-squids · 6 months
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Random break piece between larger drawings, kinda proud of this one.
I miss drawing House!Mike and my House Always Wins AU
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funonion001 · 11 months
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Im still not getting enough of muppet Keira. Anyway heres some bad traditional doodles (with mini apperances from @scootarooni 's Lil Stinker and Sm-Baby's Penelope)
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inafieldofdaisies · 1 year
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What form of love does your OC/their ship embody? | uquiz | Tagged by @vampireninjabunnies-blog <3 | Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @detectivelokis @direwombat @shegetsburned @poisonedtruth @ms-rampage @adelaidedrubman and anyone that would like to do the quiz
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Sabrina:
love as violence
[ love as bloodshed, crimson as a knife slipped between your ribs ] when ocean vuong said "to arrive at love, then, is to arrive through obliteration" and when franz kafka said "you are the knife i turn inside myself; that is love" and when ada limon said "how do you love? like a fist. like a knife" and when richard siken said "sorry about the blood in your mouth. i wish it was mine"
love as devotion
[ devotion: love, loyalty, or enthusiasm for a person, activity, or cause ] when ruth said to naomi "where you go, i will go, and where you stay, i will stay. your people will be my people, and your God my God" and when hozier sang "i'll be the dreadful need from the devotee that drove [orpheus] underground" and when deathcab for cutie sang "if there's no one beside you when your soul embarks, i will follow you into the dark"
I was super torn at some questions so I did the quiz twice for Sabrina and I feel like she'd be a combination of the two results.
John:
love as violence
[ love as bloodshed, crimson as a knife slipped between your ribs ] when ocean vuong said "to arrive at love, then, is to arrive through obliteration" and when franz kafka said "you are the knife i turn inside myself; that is love" and when ada limon said "how do you love? like a fist. like a knife" and when richard siken said "sorry about the blood in your mouth. i wish it was mine"
I mean... are we even shocked he got this.
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Savannah:
love as light
[ love as a luminous force—warm, radiant, and golden ] when mary oliver wrote "light of the world hold me” and when charles bukowski said “I look at her and light goes all through me” and when david viscott said “to love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides”and when e. e. cummings said “lovers alone wear sunlight”
Captain:
love as tenderness
[ love as gentleness after a lifetime of cruelty ] when ocean vuong said "sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined" and when pablo neruda said "like a jar you housed the infinite tenderness and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar" and when anais mitchell wrote "all i've ever known is how to hold my own, and now i wanna hold you, too”
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