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#oc: oracle
numberonepartyboy · 4 months
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i can't make anything that isn't a doodle. um
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spookykittenwrites · 1 year
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Posting my boy before I lose my nerve.
His name is Paul, surname [redacted], call sign Oracle. He's a little dork that uses a bow whenever he gets the chance and was obsessed with Legolas as a kid. He's from Canada and serves in CSOR. He's a hellenistic pagan, a Scorpio posing as a Virgo (long story), and very terrible with social situations. Probably autistic but never diagnosed and good at making other people think he's NT anyway. 🏳️‍⚧️ and gay allo aromantic.
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silvr-skreen · 2 years
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Half Past Twelve
A humanformers SG! Fic which exploded into being something bigger than I expected it to and absolutely obliterated me every step of the way!
Humanformers!SG! belongs to @cirilee and Oracle is mine <3
//Also features a head canon about Soundwave speaking and how I think he would speak w/o mask and visor. Also someone put these poor boys to bed lol
He didn't mean to. He never meant to. But Cliffjumper was there and hurting him and it was so easy to make it stop, and he wasn't thinking straight because he could hardly breathe.
And the next thing he knew there was a dead body on the floor and his wrists were bruised up and down from the force that came with choking him out on the chain of his cuffs. Dove tried to press himself against the floor and melt into it, to disappear from sight forever because he was going to suffer for this. Cliffjumper probably would have stopped hurting him eventually, but now he'd been stopped for good.
It was very cold, and the room felt very, very, empty.
"My dear?" Megatron's voice was soft, and it took Dove a sleepy second or two to realize he was not in the cage, or the autobot base, but instead safely back on the Nemesis. He was also on the floor, just because it was too hard to get used to sleeping in a proper bed again right away.
The floor was more comfortable because in a pathetic way, it felt like home.
"Y.... yes?" His voice was hoarse, and he winced silently from the disuse.
"Are you alright?"
"Bad dream."
"Ah," Megatron looked at him, features soft and loving, but not pitying. Megatron never pitied him, or Shockwave, or anybody. He worried about them, but it was in the way that you worried about a house burning down - he knew they were strong and never underestimated them - rather than a flower losing its petals.
Shockwave was... coping. He assumed the scientist was anyways. He never saw very much of Shockwave anymore, unless seeing his back as he turned a corner counted.
"Do you want to talk about it? Or would you like me to make you a warm drink?"
Dove paused, staring at his hands, unbruised but still tingly in the wake of the nightmare. He stood up slowly and shakily, and Megatron silently followed.
The Nemesis was quiet, which made since as most were sleeping by now. With the war as over as it could be - the Prime was gone and the other autobots who refused to even consider compassion silently licking their wounds and their pride - the Nemesis no longer felt like a protection, but a home. The light flickered in the canteen's kitchen - merrily so, perhaps - and Dove smiled faintly into his cup.
Warm drinks may have irritated his throat at first, getting used to them again rather than lukewarm broths, but they were soothing and felt like a hug. The smiled faded.
"Dove... would you care to sit with me?" A genuine question.
Those were hard to wrap his head around too, since every question the autobots ever asked always had two meanings. Nothing was genuine, everything was a ruse. Not here, not anymore. He nodded timidly and sat at one of the long tables, just across from Megatron.
Not wanting to intrude or to poke and prod until Dove was uncomfortable, Megatron let him take the reins. He just didn't know where to begin.
"It was... Cliffjumper," felt like a good place to start, "I had a dream... about Cliffjumper."
Megatron could vaguely picture the short redheaded soldier with the hateful glare and the busted lip. He could not, however, restrain himself from grimacing at the thought.
"He didn't harm you... did he?"
"Only once." Dove rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand and stared into his mug. "I hurt him back. Worse."
He was whispering, not only because his voice still wasn't used to talking so much, but because he was afraid. Being afraid was so pointless though, because it was over.
It was all over. As soon as Predaking killed the Prime in the last battle it came to a gruesome bloody end, and they could move on. They'd get back up and continue forward in the only way they knew how. Slowly and painfully.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Megatron was speaking slowly, both hands cupping his mug as he tried to suppress a silent yawn.
Dove shook his head. He knew he could talk about it; he was allowed to; he wouldn't be punished but he... he couldn't. There was an almost invisible wall, so thin it didn't feel like anything at all, covering his mouth and blocking the words so they couldn't escape. It was just easier not to fight it.
The sound of a door quietly, slowly, creaking open was enough to draw both from their thoughts. Megatron rose to stand, in the event that worst case scenarios may have been happening. They shouldn't but fuck he wasn't taking any chances.
Of course, it was Soundwave, slinking in quietly. He'd taken off his mask and visor - he thought he'd be alone, judging from how quickly he attempted to obscure his face - and he too seemed to be restless. Megatron calmed, and relaxed back down from his anxious high.
"Soundwave, it's late. What are you doing awake?"
The quiet third said nothing, but turned to look at them, hand slowly lowering - Dove could see the wounds inflicted by the mad doctor in the past, a very long time ago, but still scarred over, as if untouched by time - back to his side. His expression too, was soft, but plagued by a quiet disturbance.
He shifted his weight from leg to leg before deliberating and trying to clear his throat. Soundwave spoke less and less since that day, much like Dove, much like Shockwave. The autobots kept them quiet.
"Couldn't. Sleep." He settled on, short and to the point.
"Ah, perhaps you'd like to join us then?"
Soundwave was considering his next thoughts, how to word them, when another face peered round the doorway. The clicking and grinding were enough of a giveaway to make him known even before he could be seen.
"Shockwave, you're awake too?"
"It's like a party." Dove smiled faintly, once again rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand.
"Yes." Soundwave looked over in the direction of the fourth.
Shockwave was tall now. He'd never been tall before but when he'd been captured - escaped after Dove did, no less - Ratchet the Hatchet had ideas on how to enhance soldiers and figured that testing it out on a pacifistic scientist with no real field experience was better than on Dove who'd killed at least one person before.
He was angular too. His hands now claws, sharp and dangerous, with the slightest impression of his metal spine creating prominent bumps on the back of his sweater. His legs made wearing normal pants near impossible so he'd been forced to settle on shorts - fabric really only worked on legs with one joint, and which weren't reinforced steel. Who knew?
"It's late, you two should be resting."
"You two. Resting." Soundwave retorted, leaning against the counter, and gently scratching Shockwave's shoulder blades.
"I uhm... had a nightmare. I'm sorry."
"Not your fault."
Soundwave was shaking his head; it wasn't his fault. It was so bizarre because it had been his fault. Everything had been his fault. And here was someone telling him to his face that it wasn't.
"He's right you know. Nightmares happen to the best of us." Megatron was speaking quietly, in part to give Shockwave and Soundwave their weird affectionate time, and in part to be compassionate to him. To him.
"I've had them before too, and they aren't moral failings. They're part of what it means to exist. They don't make you a bad person, even if you're the bad person in the nightmare. They're just your mind trying to make sense of the world.
"Sometimes your mind just gets confused and mixes up all the events. And that's okay."
Dove paused, staring at the table and still, for all the world, feeling like Megatron wasn't correct. He did kill Cliffjumper, and no matter how nice he tried to be to himself, how much he tried to get better he just kept slipping backwards and making mistakes.
Maybe he was the mistake.
"No."
Soundwave, quiet and introverted he may be, could still command a room if the need arose.
"You're...not. No."
He sounded certain of himself. His own voice hoarse, but there were tears in the corners of his eyes. Shockwave was looking between them both and trying to puzzle out where this was coming from, a claw gently tap-tap-tapping on Soundwave's shoulder.
"I'm not saying that it's just very hard to make progress, and sometimes I do wish it weren't so."
"Your thoughts. Obvious." Soundwave may have been smiling, trying to banter with him for old times' sake, though he looked like he may have been on the verge of crying for real.
"Hmph... I don't think that loudly." His wit wasn't quite acidic any longer, but it seemed to work. Especially so when he quietly patted the spot next to him.
They found themselves sitting there and talking quietly about nightmares and coping strategies, and all the drama on the Nemesis - most of which was really just speculation about Knockout and Breakdown's attempts to co-parent even if they weren't in a relationship any longer, and that time Breakdown tried to help him and managed to trip over air. It was somewhat funny in retrospect.
Shockwave and Soundwave were - like Dove and Megatron - seated across from one another, and Soundwave was very gently holding onto Shockwave's claws, thumbing the joints where rust was gathering.
-
None of them remembered exactly how they spent a good three hours speaking in the canteen, nor how the next four hours were spent sleeping sitting down. But they did remember a bleary return to the waking world at seven thirty.
Specifically, because Shockwave's son - Dove recalled, distantly, Arcee once calling him spawn and very nearly getting her face re-arranged for the trouble - tiptoed in and tried to sneak past to take the empty mugs so he could wash them, only for Shockwave to jolt awake, kick the underside of the table, and for everybody to be awake afterwards.
At least nobody was hurt, and it was a very momentary startle, besides, he'd been trying to help.
"Mornin' guppy."
"Oh, good morning... sorry to wake you guys." He gave a very meek smile, and if you didn't look too hard you could mistake his face for completely human, which was odd because much of his genealogy actually came from sharks. Dove was, however not one to question that.
Besides, any wider a smile and you could actually see his teeth and realize that no, he wasn't quite human.
"It's alright, you were just helpin out." Shockwave sounded so casual, and it wasn't hard to see why. In spite of the shark genes, he was docile as could be, much preferring to be with the Decepticons rather than hunt fish, or people.
Oracle's face turned a bizarre shade of blue and he squeaked out a response before rounding the corner and disappearing into the kitchen.
"Cute kid." Dove said with the tiniest of smirks.
"Shockwave's. That's why." Soundwave retorted with a grin of his own.
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spinchs-field · 1 year
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the Oracle and Ezekiel meet. surely this will not alter the timeline whatsoever
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collinnmckinley · 1 year
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You know how after nighthaven left team rainbow, the whole organization just split under Harry's command to make different teams to fight terrorism and whatnot. As for Oracle, she left right after the feude that happened right after 2021 S.I.
Jenny didn't like how Harry made Rainbow to be. She hated the fact that they just became showmen and a form of entertainment. So after giving Harry an earful, she quit Rainbow.
In 2022 S.I Jenny was back home in London with her mother and daughter. When Harry messaged her with the news of some of the operators leaving team Rainbow with Nighthaven, to say she was furious would be an understatement.
Harry wanted Jenny's help, wanted her to come back to team Rainbow, to help them with their missions. At first, Jenny refused it completely, saying it was his mess and he needed to clean it himself, and that she's finally home with her little girl she doesn't want to leave her again. But Harry begged, and when he knew she wouldn't budge, he would ask Sam to try and convince her. He even told Doc and Ash to try and speak with Jenny.
The reason he needed her was, as good as the other operators were, Jenny was an exceptional operator that the old SIX saw something to recruit her, she was basically a young tactical genius with great leadership that not many people have. She also was one of the only people who had full access to Team Rainbow's facilities' security system. And not many people can navigate through it.
Reluctantly after talking with Ash, Sam (and Doc). Jenny agreed to join back, not before trying to punch Harry's glasses off his face after meeting back in Herford, but Sam stopped her before she could. Her anger was justified, although a bit overrated.
Jenny was assigned under Ash in her team.
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iingezo · 2 months
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Rhia for @fortuitous-seer !
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zephyrbug · 4 months
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Argyros, a monument to the divine 👁️👾✨
Another secret satan mini-piece! This time for @leidensygdom !! Argy has the absolute coolest design and I was dying to draw her!!
(also decided to open commissions Friday specifically for those who are interested!!)
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daandyli0n · 1 year
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screw it, Shut Eye voice claims:
Signal: Bill Cipher (the specific line i can hear vividly is “It’s funny how dumb you are!” cause. Signal would say that to someone. most likely either to Slate or Hickory)
Birch/Coyote: c!punz. just. yeah
Cerberus (CB): The one that’s coming to mind for me is that one Vocaloid voice thing called ‘Dex’. this song is a pretty good feeling for his voice
Hickory: Michael Afton
Slate: c!tubbo. i don’t know how to explain it, but that’s how he sounds to me
Vexen: Princess Luna from MLP
Elliot: Elizabeth Afton
Misfortune: Derivakat (no, i didn’t listen to Casino Royale and have something click, what do you mean-)
Osprey: Alice Walker (see this song)
Iridescence (Iri): dunno how to explain this one either, but Jacksepticeye
Bane: Funtime Foxy from UCN (look. again i can’t even explain it-)
Freeze: Sapphire from Steven Universe
now, Some Characters I Haven’t Introduced Yet!
Aiden: Anthony Martson from the And Then There Were None miniseries (see this video and go to about 43:14-43:29. warning for that section though, implied child death. the guy speaking during that part is the guy i’m talking about)
Basil: you know the snake from the original Jungle Book Disney movie? yeah.
Oracle: Ballora from both Sister Location and UCN
Chickadee: not entirely sure, but for now i’m saying Circus Baby
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shadydruid · 3 months
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🩸I am so much more than what you made me. 🩸
Astarion. Did you let him ascend or use the chance to redeem himself?
When I first met him during my first playthrough, I didn't really like him. I thought he was just arrogant and pompous, but having completed his personal quest, I fell for him a little, realizing the depth of his character. And, of course, Neil Newbon's acting is incredible. I sometimes had Astarion around just to listen to his voice😀
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deadsetobsessions · 3 months
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Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).
I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.
Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!
Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1
[Pt.2]
——
Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.
He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.
His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.
He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.
“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”
Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.
“Stay still, you motherfucker!”
“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.
“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”
“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.
Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?
Huh. His options for dinner was limited.
“Take this!”
Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.
“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.
“Get him!”
God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.
Great.
Oh, speak of the devil!
“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.
He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.
“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.
The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.
“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”
“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”
“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”
“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”
The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.
“You have a lawyer?”
“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”
“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”
“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.
“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”
This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.
“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”
“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.
“Like, Dare Devil good.”
“You know Matt Murdock??”
“Sure do.”
“He… he’ll take on our cases?”
“Dang, all of you?”
“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”
“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”
“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”
“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”
“Got it. Sorry.”
Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.
And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.
“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.
And Spider-Man
F
E
L
L.
——
Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.
He twisted.
“Boss, what the fuck?!”
“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.
“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”
“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”
Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”
“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”
Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”
“I know!”
Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.
——
Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.
“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.
“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.
First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.
That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.
He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.
He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.
He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.
The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.
With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?
Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”
Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?
Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.
He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…
Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.
“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”
His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]
Peter stared at the words, gut churning.
Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.
Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.
“Fuck.”
He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.
——
Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.
“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”
Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.
He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.
“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.
“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”
Five things.
1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!
2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.
3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.
4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.
5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.
Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.
Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.
Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.
Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.
3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.
Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.
Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.
“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.
Now… People of Interest.
This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.
Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”
He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”
“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.
And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.
He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.
Subcategory B: Local celebrities.
“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.
“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”
“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.
“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”
Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.
Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.
Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.
Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.
So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.
Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”
And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.
And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.
Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.
He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.
For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.
He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!
Oh my god.
Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.
Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.
Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-
“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.
“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”
“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”
The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”
Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”
“Food, duh.”
“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”
The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”
“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”
“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”
Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.
“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”
Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.
“I’m Peter!”
“… Frank.”
He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.
“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”
Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.
“Uh. Hey.”
Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.
“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”
Peter chewed faster.
Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”
Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”
Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!
“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”
Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!
“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”
“That was easy.”
Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.
“Ow!”
“Whatever, shrimp.”
Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.
Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.
“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”
“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.
“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.
“You’re looking for a place?”
“Yeah? Why?”
Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”
Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.
“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”
“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.
“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”
“Dunno? Probably not.”
“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.
Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.
“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”
Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”
“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”
“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”
“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.
——
They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.
“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”
“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”
And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.
Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.
“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”
“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.
They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.
“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.
“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”
“No-” Frank had started.
“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.
“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”
Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.
“Uh.”
“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”
“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”
Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”
Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.
“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”
Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.
“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.
“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”
“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”
“I can use a cart.”
And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.
“Can you even reach the handle?”
“I’m not that short!”
Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.
“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.
“Okay!”
Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.
“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.
——
As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”
Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.
He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…
He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.
Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.
He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and
He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.
All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for
So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.
“Hey.”
Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”
Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.
“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”
“Rude. No, of course not.”
Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.
“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…
“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”
The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”
“Nice! We can eat on this!”
——
When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.
“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.
“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.
——
When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.
So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.
An hour later, he met his first vigilante.
“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”
“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.
“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.
Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”
“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?
“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”
Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”
“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.
“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”
“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.
“Photography buddy!” He cheered.
They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.
“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”
“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.
——
Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.
“Red Robin to Nightwing.”
“What’s up, Red?”
“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.
“… What?”
“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”
“Copy. Oh, that kid…”
“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”
“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”
“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”
“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.
“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.
“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.
“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.
——
Peter: lay low and get home
Also Peter: talks to a vigilante
None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.
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keldabekush · 3 months
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Star Wars needs more toxic lesbian aliens
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basketobread · 2 months
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my bg3 ocs but in pathfinder wotr lol say hi to lotus and warlock 2.0 (who is an oracle so now his name is oracle here sorry not sorry)
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spookykittenwrites · 1 year
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ok hi im sending this to everyone in the taskforce and im too lazy to write up somethimg unique for everyone but. if u have the information, can u provide me with ur codsona's age range, height, birthday, and nationality? plus any additional info that you want to share.
Oh hi!!
Okay, Oracle is mid 20s (~24-26), 5'6" and Canadian.
He is technically a Scorpio (born November 9th) but pretends to be a Virgo (September 11th) after someone mixed up day/month and month/day on a form bc it makes it easier to avoid social tasks (he doesn't like most people). Probably most of the TF would know his real birthday, but outside people wouldn't.
For additional info, he's a medical officer and a lieutenant (pronounced with the f or he'll make the stitches hurt for real 😂) and is very much
youtube
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fleshwizard · 6 months
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Heliomancian Priest
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lo-batteryy · 1 year
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Miss Jessamy Quinn 😈🔮💜
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majorpepperidge · 9 days
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I'm still waiting to get into the Hades II technical test (c'mon email) but seeing the stream of it means redesigning Cybill and making The Obvious Joke
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