#*▯ :// [ ADMIN FILES. ] ooc.

[drekkavac-moving]

When your human tells you you have to do some work in the morning instead of extra long cuddles like on the weekends. Her life is so hard...

[prizrakov]

@chingonaclaws sent. This is so cute. 7. What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

here's the thing ... i wouldn't. because i know he wouldn't answer if i did. he's a spy , so he's more likely to figure out were the voice came from and find a way around them somehow. he's not gonna run away ... but he's not about to let them know he heard them. if he was trying to get the attention of a romantic partner ... that's gonna be different for every partner. he switches it up often to ... so you gotta stay on your toes with this one. odds are he already knows where they are though.

[k-howlett]

H(ear)tline Prologue | Bruce Wayne [Batman] xF!Angel:reader

TW: Possible religious insensitivity, Fallen Angel, Canon-breaking OOC, eventual smut(not in this specific installment)

Rating: Gender Specific (Female Reader), Eventual Smut (Teen+/mature), SFW (Prologue), eventual fluff

A/N:

Thank you so much for your continued patience! I am unfortunately knee deep in moving. Breaking and Entering is on Hiatus at the moment because of my inability to appeal a report (I've been too busy to check my email and missed the 24 hour deadline. Thank you so much(/s) to whoever FALSELY reported my artistry and now cost me hours of setbacks. I don't know if I can repost and change the tag but I did file a complaint with tumblr admin and am awaiting a resolution), in the mean time, please enjoy this concept I came up with half-awake whilst packing boxes!

With love and healing,

-Lark

𓂋

𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢

Bruce Wayne was not one for religion. If there was a God, the creator must’ve had a particular disdain for Gotham City and everything in it. The place was a living hell, overrun with the likes of Scarecrow, Bane, Joker, Penguin—an endless parade of villains. It felt as though God had abandoned him, leaving the city to rot.

When a group of young people stopped him on the street, offering free Bibles, Bruce briefly considered lashing out, tearing into their beliefs with the cynicism that years in Gotham had sharpened. But he held back. Despite his doubts, he couldn’t deny the comfort religion provided to those who believed. He recalled attending Sunday school as a child, his mother’s gentle voice praising the beauty of the world around them, her unshakeable faith even in the face of Gotham’s darkness. In her final moments, she had reached out to God. Who was he to strip these kids of that same hope?

Wordlessly, he accepted the leather-bound Bible. It was crafted with care, though the materials were clearly cheap—the gold lettering was already flaking. He considered tossing it when he got home, or maybe donating it to a shelter. He might not believe in God, but he knew that his own moral compass had been shaped by something greater than himself. Not everyone had that foundation; maybe some people really did need saving.

He sighed as he carried the Bible to his office. The last thing he needed was for anyone to think he’d found religion. He had a carefully curated, morally ambiguous playboy persona to maintain. What if the media thought he was turning over a new leaf? What if they took it as a sign he was ready to settle down? The thought of more women throwing themselves at him—especially devout ones—made him shudder.

He tucked the Bible under his arm, the gold lettering pressed tightly against his side. Maybe someone would mistake it for a journal. A glance at his watch made him scowl—somehow, the walk from the coffee shop to the office had eaten up more time than expected. Lucius would undoubtedly have something to say about it later; they had a meeting, and now he was going to be late—again.

Dragging a hand down his face, Bruce felt the exhaustion deep in his bones. The late nights and early mornings were catching up with him, eroding his focus, fraying the edges of his mind. For a moment, bitterness welled up—a rare flicker of resignation. Did it even make a difference? Gotham’s streets were never truly free of crime. Petty theft, gang violence, the constant churn of the underworld—it never stopped. And the ones he managed to lock up? They always found a way out. Arkham was a revolving door, a sick joke of a prison.

For a fleeting second, he entertained the idea of quitting. The notion of a full night’s sleep was almost unimaginable, but his body ached for it. Was there really no reprieve? After all these years, the despair felt like it was swallowing him whole. Gotham was a sinkhole, and he was drowning in it.

But he shook off the thought, setting his jaw with grim resolve. He would not break, and he would not allow himself the luxury of weakness. He’d let his body rot from the inside out if that’s what it took to see his mission through. It wasn’t just an obligation; it was a promise. And though no one would blame him if he walked away, though they might even understand, he wouldn’t bow down and admit defeat. He’d fought for fifteen years—he could fight for fifteen more.

𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢

Bruce tossed the Bible onto his desk and sank into his leather chair, his eyes heavy as they flicked to the desktop screen. Logging in, he was greeted by a flood of emails—requests for meetings from the legal branch, shareholders bickering over stock distributions, and the usual complaints from board members about his lack of attention to this year’s Gala preparations.

His assistant had already informed him of the missed meeting, explaining that Lucius had been pulled into another matter. The issues were piling up, and for a brief moment, his hand trembled as he reached for the mouse. Wayne Enterprises was his father’s legacy, and Batman was his—but right now, the mission would have to wait. He needed to get this under control, and fast.

Four hours of back-to-back phone calls and troubleshooting. Bruce was now lying under his desk, trying to replace a faulty cable. The entire office was down, and with IT swamped, he had no choice but to handle it himself. He needed to review the quarterly reports before the bonuses were announced, and he knew the company had been slacking—summer interns flooding in and Tim away at college had left him without the structure he relied on.

When he finally sat up from the floor, his head collided with the corner of the desk, sending a sharp pain through his skull. The Bible tumbled from the desk, hitting him squarely on the head before flopping open on the ground, a business card slipping out.

Bruce picked it up, squinting at the bold print: "1-800-ANGEL." He frowned. What kind of absurd, erotic phone service was this? The card was nearly blank, save for a single line:

"May you find your faith."

Real funny, he thought, for a number probably meant to fleece desperate souls. They probably charged by the minute. Bruce rolled his eyes, dismissing it as yet another scam targeting the gullible.

Bruce thumbed the card, skepticism tightening his grip. Surely, no one was desperate enough to actually call. He wondered about the legitimacy of the number, and after settling back into his chair, he opened a new tab. Thankfully, the replacement cable had done its job, and his screen blinked to life. He typed in the number, but nothing came up—not even a link to some sketchy website. He tried the motto next, but all he found were articles on religion and local church recommendations. He raised an eyebrow. For a scam, they were doing a remarkably poor job of marketing it.

Picking up the Bible again, he considered the possibility that the kids handing them out might have been given faulty copies. But as he inspected it, the Bible seemed legitimate enough. He cross-referenced it with an online version to be sure, but everything checked out. The only oddity was the card. Flipping through the pages, he eventually found a strange marking on the back cover, stamped with the words "ales et lux."

"Wings and light?" he muttered, dropping the Bible back onto the desk.

Curiosity gnawed at him. Without hesitation, he dialed the number. Whatever this was, he intended to get to the bottom of it. Maybe he’d caught it early enough—he could pull a few strings with the FBI and shut it down before it preyed on anyone vulnerable. But as the line connected, the voice on the other end made him stop cold.

“So you’ve received the calling card of heaven. We’re so glad you have found your faith. Please note this card is for one-time use. For inquiries about time of death, press 1. For prayers and answers, press 2. For information on Christian denominations and healing, press 3. For nondenominational options, press 4. For Native, Inuit, Norse, and Pagan beliefs, press 5. Unsure what category your beliefs fall under? Press star for a list. For all other healing-related questions, press 6.”

Bruce’s scowl deepened as he listened to the automated menu. The damn phone hadn’t even rung—this had to be some kind of twisted scam. He was about to hang up when the final option made his breath catch.

“And finally, to speak to your angel, press 0.”

His angel? A guardian angel? He doubted he had one. If he did, they’d done a piss-poor job watching over him. The loss of his parents, Jason Todd, and Alfred—the man who had been the closest thing to a father he had left—proved that. Anger flickered in his chest. He wanted to speak to this so-called angel, to confront them, to demand answers for the pain he’d endured. What kind of angel lets their charge suffer like this?

He pressed zero, the cold, rational part of him momentarily overridden by the seething anger and hurt simmering beneath the surface—the hurt little boy he’d buried deep inside threatening to unleash all that unprocessed trauma.

He wasn’t expecting such a soft voice to greet him, nor the surprising calm that washed over his mind as it did.

“Bruce? You really called.” The voice on the other end was feminine, light, almost breathless, as if she had been waiting for this moment.

“...Who the hell are you?” His voice was sharp, defensive.

“Well, my official title doesn’t really have an accurate translation in mortal language, but I’m more or less your protector.”

“Protector?!” He growled, the word scraping out like a curse. “You couldn’t even protect me from a goddamn paper cut, let alone a laundry list of loss. You didn’t protect anything—I protect this city, I protect people. You’re not even real! You’re probably just some credit card scammer, phishing for my personal data. That’s what this is, isn’t it? Data mining. Your entire operation is fraudulent at best, and—”

He cut himself off, his voice shaking with anger. It wasn’t just fury at this supposed "protector"—it was fury at the years of pain, at the endless nights spent fighting a war that never seemed to end, at the world for daring to keep spinning while he bled in the dark. How dare anyone call themselves his protector when every person he’d ever loved had been torn away from him? How dare they try to soothe him with some ethereal nonsense when he was the one in the trenches, the one facing down Gotham’s nightmares every single night?

The silence on the other end of the line was almost unbearable, but he wouldn’t back down. He’d heard enough lies in his lifetime to know when someone was trying to sell him false hope.

“…It doesn’t work like that,” the voice finally replied, a hint of sadness woven into its softness. “I can’t interfere with your life in the way you think. Those losses… they were unfortunate, and I know they fuel the anguish that haunts your mind, but my role isn’t to shield you from pain. My job is to keep you alive. Every close call, every moment when death was just a breath away—that was my divine interference. I won’t let you die, Bruce. Not until the time is right and your body is ready to rest.”

Bruce clenched his jaw, anger and disbelief warring within him. He wanted to tear into her, to lash out at the absurdity of it all. This so-called protector, claiming to watch over him, to keep him alive—where was she when his parents were murdered in front of him? Where was she when Jason died, or when he stood over Alfred’s grave, feeling the weight of yet another life lost because of him?

“Don’t patronize me,” he spat, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I need your protection? You think those near-deaths were some divine favor? I’ve survived because I’ve fought, because I’ve clawed my way out of every hellhole Gotham’s thrown me into. You had nothing to do with it.”

He could almost hear her smile through the phone, a soft, resigned sound that seemed to fill the silence between them.

“You’ve fought harder than anyone should ever have to, Bruce. You’re the purest soul I’ve ever had the privilege of encountering. No matter how much you try to front or deflect, it’s clear you care. You care more than anyone else. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have taken in those kids, or dressed up like a bat to fight crime night after night. You’re like Sisyphus, eternally pushing a boulder uphill. And while you may not want praise or acknowledgment, you need to know—despite everything, you are a good person. You’re a good man. And in many ways, you’re the closest thing to God’s image I’ve ever seen.”

Bruce’s breath caught, anger and disbelief momentarily overshadowed by the weight of her words. How could she claim to know him so well, to understand his pain and sacrifice? Yet, the very notion of being compared to something divine—despite how hollow it felt—struck a chord deep within him.

“Spare me the sermon,” he growled, trying to regain his composure. “You think you can soothe me with this celestial rhetoric? I don’t need your validation. I need results. I need to keep this city safe, and I need to know that those I care about are protected. Save your platitudes for someone who believes in them.”

There was a pause on the other end, as if she was choosing her words carefully. “I’m not here to validate you, Bruce. I’m here to remind you that even in the darkest moments, you have a purpose. And while you may see yourself as a flawed instrument of justice, remember that even in your struggle, there’s a reflection of something greater—a beacon of hope for others, whether you realize it or not.”

Bruce didn’t respond, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. The rational part of him dismissed her words as manipulative flattery, but a flicker of vulnerability, long suppressed, threatened to break through. He forced himself to focus, pushing those thoughts aside.

“Enough of this,” he said, his voice cold and final. “If you’re really here to help, then stay out of my way. I’ll handle things my way.”

He hung up the phone, the echo of her voice lingering in his mind. As he turned his attention back to the stack of paperwork and problems awaiting him, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that perhaps, in some twisted way, she had touched a part of him he had long buried.

𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢

Bruce landed another punch on the goon, watching as they crumpled to the ground. Fighting at the docks was his least favorite—slippery surfaces and treacherous footing made it harder to maintain his balance. He glanced at the wall, the dim streetlight casting an eerie glow on the dilapidated brick.

In the periphery of his vision, he thought he saw the shadow of wings, a fleeting, phantom-like presence. When he snapped around, though, all he saw were the goons he had already beaten. They lay scattered and unconscious, bloodied and bruised. A quick scan of the area revealed the familiar wreckage of a confrontation: discarded weapons and broken crates.

On the ground, a few feet away from a goon he didn’t remember hitting, lay a gun glinting in the faint light. Next to it was a single white feather. The goon in question had no visible injuries, no sign of the kind of violence Bruce had just inflicted on the others. There were no swollen bruises, no blood—nothing to suggest that they had been involved in the scuffle.

Bruce frowned, his mind racing. He hadn't hit this one, nor had he seen anything out of the ordinary during the fight. The feather seemed out of place, its presence unsettling. It wasn’t like anything he had come across before—an odd detail in an otherwise straightforward altercation.

His instincts, honed by years of vigilant observation, told him this was no mere coincidence. There was something strange here, something beyond the usual street brawls and petty crime. The feather could mean something, or someone, had intervened. And if that was the case, Bruce needed to understand why.

He crouched down to examine the feather and the gun more closely. His eyes narrowed, scanning for any other anomalies or signs that could explain the goon’s sudden unconsciousness. Whatever the cause, Bruce knew he couldn’t ignore it. Not with the pattern of oddities and divine encounters that had begun to surface recently.

He straightened up, the feather clenched in his hand, his mind already shifting gears. There was more at play here than just a fight—something, or someone, was influencing events from the shadows. And as always, it was up to him to uncover the truth.

˚₊‧𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢 𓏲𝄢‧₊˚

Approx. Word Count: ~2,746

pt I: Coming Soon(?)

This is a soft-launch of this series, if you guys would like more parts, please let me know in the comments <3 It helps motivate me to write!

//Series Tag List: Available Upon Request!

Status Page 2024: Here

[oscarsgallery]

Introduction Post ! [OOC]

Hi ! This is an RP blog for a BSD OC :

Oscar Wilde ! (He/him)

I'll edit this later since it's nearly 4am and i got school tomorrow. I might change some stuff later on like names but in the meantime, here's some brief info about him.

Mod is @arsonist-lullabye ! finally confident enough to put it here-

Random facts about him.

Backstory post ! (read warnings !)

Ability :

The picture of Oscar Wilde

This ability allows its user to access the recent memories of any person they draw.

About him :

He's a 14 year old boy working for the Armed Detective Agency, where he lives. (Literally. He sleeps on the couch). Due to his age, he's often given the simplest tasks. (Running errands, reorganizing files, etc.)

He is a trans man ! Doesn't wear a binder though, he hasn't hit puberty yet.

He's missing his left hand, his eyes are indigo that fade into violet and his hair is wavy, usually kept in a ponytail.

He tends to keep to himself but will start talking shit unprovoked if he sees fit, rarely talking about his past before coming to the agency.

He can be short tempered and impatient, and overly familiar with strangers, having 0 filter (except sometimes to spare the feelings of his loved ones).

Voiceclaim : Himeringo !

Likes :

Chewing gum, animals, video games, fashion. He'd die for his pet snails.

Dislikes :

The smell of alcohol and nicotine, being belittled, injustice, adult men.

About the Admin :

[EDIT : 14/04/2024] I'm Wolfgang (he/they), and I'm 18 ! Would like to make friends :)

Please Do Not send nsfw asks to this character. He is a kid !

Angst is more than allowed and anyone is welcome to discuss anything in DMs !

Thank you for reading ! <3

[astersalene]

INFO !!!

// HELLO !! I'm Stanley / @chimkinnuget! :3 this is just a basic information post abt this blog + my character! Read more below :D

// Aster is my Pressure oc! They're a former Expendable (EXR-P). I say "former" because they ended up teaming up with Sebastian and scamming other Expendables into giving them data ! More information about them below (their file + drawing ref)

(yes I am aware of the . grammar mistake)

// the ask rules for this blog is simple!!! Basic dni(racism, homophobia, sexism, transphobia, etc) + no nsfw asks! I am a minor. Please don't be weird.

// ALSO I HIGHLY ENCOURAGE YOU TO INTERACT WITH YOUR OCS/CANON CHARACTERS!! This is an rp blog! Also dm me with questions :3 I don't mind.

// my pronouns are it/they/star! Please respect that :)

// aaaannd last note !! here are the current character indicators and tags!

Characters:

" Quotes + italics is Aster themself! "

// two slashes is ooc. Me. the admin. whoopie :]

Tags:

#🌟aster answers <3 a bit obvious i believe. questions aster has answered so i dont flood any tags :)

[the-fox-and-the-shadow]

"Hm.. Do we have to do this?"

"Haha! Don't you worry, my dear! This'll be quite fun~"

File: Vizerxa Mortem

File: Sidera Noctis

OOC INFO BELOW CUT

« This is Mystic, the admin! Welcome!

pfp closeups

I got bored and threw Sidera and Vizerxa into the bsd universe lol. They have very limited knowledge of the universe and how it works, so feel free to confuse them as much as you want, and send basically any asks you want!

EDIT: ok honestly i decided to just make it of canon sid & viz (in their own worlds for the most part) but theyve mostly been interesting w/ bsd characters bc it's been my main interest. The 'ability name' thing just applies to any fandoms that have named powers/abilities.

Also, I'd like to mention real quick; Sidera is... Sidera... but there is not & will not be anything romantic between Vizerxa & Sid, and they have a rather... harsh history. I'd much prefer they not be shipped w/ eachother.

Sidera also wont reciprocate any romantic feelings to anyone, and sometimes just flirt out of boredom. One-sided things are fine, though.

Vizerxa can be in romantic pairings, but it'll take a long while for her to openly reciprocate.

#Sidera Noctis- the start/first reply of Sidera threads

#Vizerxa Mortem- the start/first reply of Vizerxa threads

#Blue Fox Adventures- Fox-form Sidera shenanigans

[jcinkskins]

MILE HIGH ($65, UNLIMITED)

mile high is a vibrant with a touch of greyscale and high-contrast jcink skin curated for the best of user experience.

please read my terms and conditions before purchasing! https://bit.ly/yorozuyacodes-purchasepolicy purchase link to ko-fi: https://bit.ly/milehigh-skin

the skin also comes with a matching set of 45+ templates! https://bit.ly/milehigh-templates

features. • custom 6 groups, needing only to change the names, easily editable • customised html templates • dark/light mode • responsive flex elements • "plugged-in" guidebook in the first category and provided templates for additional stylings + groups • a unique main profile tailored for admin group/ooc account/etc with only needing to fill the "freeform" and ooc information section • font and gradient variables • freebies profile codes for the freeform section • nicole codebox script and isotope memberlist/directory

after purchase. detailed guideline installation pdf full xml file html templates xml file

[l1nda-m0nr0e]

Intro💋

Hello, citizens of.. Hatchetfield.

I bet you already know who I am by now!! I'm Linda Monroe.

I doubt I even have to make this post, but.. Here I go.

I'm a single mom, an 36 years old. There isn't much more else to say, since.. well, you probably already know who I am.

I guess i'll see you around.

(ooc/admin intro under cut :) + LINDA HCS THAT I WILL BE USING?!??!??!?!)

HEHEHE HIIIII HIHIHIHIHIIIIIII ADMIN HERE

I USE SHE/HER

IM OPEN TO SHIPS N STUFF :D (VERY open to Sheilinda. I wanna see how that goes!)

IM THE ADMIN/OWNER OF THESE ACCOUNTS, THEYRE SO COOL BEANS YOU SHOULD GO CHECK EM OUT! /NF /SILLY

Main:

@getyourpoisonedcupofcoffee

Rp blogs (other than this one):

@char-sweetly @ruthie-fleming

HEADCANNONS FOR LINDA THAT I WILL BE USING:

She's very hard on herself although she doesn't show it.

Bisexual (questioning lesbian)

Her and Sheila have been "friends" since middleschool.

She feels as if she's not good enough (Not a good enough mother/wife/etc., and Gerald was actually the one who filed for divorce (for literally no reason🧍‍♂️ Linda is way out of his league anyway smh😒😒 /hj /silly)

I literally have no headcanons for this poor woman please bare with me

[drekkavac-moving]

another icon template by yours truly cause i'm never freaking satisfied!!! gotta decide if i wanna size it down just slightly or if i wanna keep it the size that it is. what do you guys think??

[prizrakov]

guys guys guys ... i might make this boi my shapeshifter muse. can we guess what he shifts into??

[cherri-cola-soda]

Intro Post

I’m Cherri Cola. I like soda and cherry coke. My pronouns are he/they and I’ll still ghost you over it. All my poems are tagged here as Cherri Cola’s Poetry Corner , you should check them out please. My other tag is Cherris chat corner for me just talking

Also @k0bra-k1d is my favorite record. 🩷

Open file

File no. 33406

Name: unknown

Alias: Cherri Cola

Age: 19

Languages: English, minimal Spanish and Japanese

Pronouns: he/they

Affiliation: killjoys, WKIL, Kobra Kid

Status: alive

Location: WKIL Radio Station

Skills: highly proficient medic; electronic proficiency; sharpshooter

Current medications: n/a

Physical description: 5’6 male. Blue eyes and short brown hair. Left arm has recently been amputated mid bicep for unknown reasons. Right arm has a large lighting burn scar. He appears generally malnourished.

Backstory: A wave head taken in by Show Pony (File no. 2138) in 2021.

//Note: AVOID. Subject is conflict avoidant. All known conflicts with him have resulted in the death of all involved BL/ind agents. //

//Note: Sends out irregular radio broadcasts, some of which can be heard in the City. Accent indicates that he is city born, though he has not yet been matched to any existing files) //

Close File

Admin info:

Tis I the @chaoticbuggybitchboy , and anything I say outside of tags (all prefaced with ooc). Cya.

Pfp by me and my amazing art skillz

[askroguered]

"'Sup, fuckers. It's probably (well, more like definitely) illegal for me to be on here, buuuut whatever. At least this should be useful in some way or another."

(OOC: Hello! I'm the admin, @prismaticstarshch, and I decided to make a non-fandom OC RP blog!

Notes:

All in-character portions of posts will be in red and put in quotation marks, and anything OOC will be in black text and placed in parenthesis with "OOC:" included with it

Any red text in parenthesis without "OOC:" included indicates Red is doing something such as mumbling to herself, making an in-character side-note, etc.

Red is a very vulgar character, so be prepared to see a lot of swearing here

Red is also aggressive, so there's that too

Red comes from a cyberpunk setting, which features dystopian elements as a core part of it, and has a lot of angst to her background

Red is 5ft. and 20 years old

Ask rules:

Respect basic DNIs

No NSFW (suggestive is fine, but don't go beyond that)

Shipping asks are fine since this is an OC, but keep in mind that Red is straight and designed to look female (though she's really technically agender since she's an android)

Posts won't contain art, so please don't ask for it

Feel free to interact via ask chains, reblogs, and comments

Also feel free to spam my inbox lol

All in all, have fun

Background:

Red is a rogue ex-soldier android from an original cyberpunk project, "Sparks of Dissent". Her main objective is to tear down her home's corrupt corporate-run government by any means necessary, and help replace it with a more fair system.

Info sheet: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1bfvR3UHtMZflXb1ur_lEH_Qgyqa9Nk_94ifaKaI2hNM/edit?usp=sharing

File: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1WfCZVcOL5drwQI9tx91XzexOdLRyCs50sjYojk8pLFY/edit?usp=sharing

Red's fullbody:

)

[software-sofia]

[BOOTING UP SYSTEM ... ]

HELLO NEW WORLD. WELCOME TO THE NEW ME

APART OF YAOIVERSE; CANNON DIVERGENT ROLEPLAY OF SOFIA

1/6 ++ [divider 1] [divider 2]

NOTE :: admins acc got deleted, lets pretend it DIDNT!! >_<

[BRING UP FILE; SOFIA.EXE]

- Sofia is a ai software — that mainly resides in [Maxo's] basement

- Sofia has a fascination with animal crossing and drawing

- Sofia has records of those she meets on a database

= uses she/her pronouns

[LOADING UP FILES .. ]

# hello new world >> ask tag

# hello; how may i help you? >> ic txt

# data base; expanding >> threads

# low battery; goodbye >> end of thread tag

# file downloaded >> ic reblog tag

# experiments >> drawings

# emergency shutdown; hold / ooc >> ooc tag

# straightverse >> heavy/angst lore

# yuriverse >> noncannon/silly posts

# sexoverse >> suggestive/nsfw posts

[ DATABASE ]

💾 User. Trumpet — Status ALIVE

[ @yaaay-propellerhat ; trumpet]

💾 Creator — Status ; ALIVE

[ @maximum-father ; maxo ]

💾 Admin — Status ; ALIVE

[ @catboyarg ; cellbit ]

💾 User. Tallulah — Status ; ALIVE

[ @music-among-the-amapolas ; tallulah]

💾 User. Juanaflippa — Status ; ALIVE

[ @bulletflips ; juanaflippa ]

[vievecorcityevents]

THE NOREX SERVER HACK AFTERMATH!

In the wake of the virus being sent out to the supernatural community, the techno-pagans at NoRex scrambled to purge their servers of the virus, but there was only so much they could do before the Remington Coven had to step in. 

With Elijah Remington leading the charge to deal with the biggest security breach the supernatural community in Vievecor City has ever seen, they have issued an island-wide blast to all the supernaturals in the city who have been affected to let them know of the virus and potential data breach.

The Remington coven encourages all members of the supernatural community to bring infected devices into the tower to remove the virus. This will prevent the release of further data.

--------------------------

On the same day the hack first happened, a website appeared on the dark web where all the data that was stolen from everyone’s devices is slowly being uploaded. It started out small and not too popular at first, but as more humans started to stumble upon it, they began downloading the videos to upload onto other more public platforms. This eventually began to gain traction as more and more humans came looking out of curiosities sake.

A lot of them still believe these videos to be amateur works that were edited with visual effects, but some of them just look too real. And when videos of the more prominent members of the city began to surface, even more eyeballs started to turn their way...

--------------------------

At the same time in the supernatural community, the various species elders have been forced to come together again to get to the bottom of this matter. But given that this is a problem that only witches and especially techno-pagans can solve, there is little that anyone else can do... 

Discussions of having the deities use order magic to set things right again have been put on the table with each elder having different views on the matter.

OOC Info: 

All players can use the information in this post to take part in this plot drop as they see fit! 

Players who have posted their character’s incriminating videos are welcome to choose the videos that have been uploaded to this website. If they do not want to choose then please take it that all the videos have been uploaded. Players who have not posted their incriminating files are still allowed to do so!

Players are also welcome to have humans come looking for their characters to gawk at them or do more if they recognise them on the streets. This will be especially obvious for characters who live a more public life and are prominent and influential members in the city. Players are to use their own discretion when plotting this out. 

The Golden Rule is still in effect while this is all happening and characters must maintain their identities in public as humans.

If players would like suggestions or help brainstorming what happens, they are welcome to ask the admin! 

Now go wild with plotting and HAVE FUN!

[project-rebirth]

xbloodsoakedx

You mean the kinoverse isn't already an endless touma hell? XDDDD

Who knows? Maybe he’s still stuck in that endless hell and not even aware this time-

[shielddatabase]

Ship crashes in a ball of flame. Poe steps out of the burning wreckage, taking off his helmet with an elegant hair flip. He wipes the sweat from his brow as he seemingly walks away in slow motion--the ship blowing up behind him.

Everyone swoons.