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saveyourblood · 3 days ago

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Pretty Boy - Ch 6 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5

Chapter Summary: The tension between you and Buck brings you and Eddie closer.

Word Count: 3.3k Warnings: none

Things between you and Buck are… weird. Awkward. Uncomfortable. The last time you had a real conversation with him, it was a fight, but it ended with you saying how much you care about him. It’s left you feeling like there’s an open wound on your chest, one that exposes your heart. You feel vulnerable, and you hate it. Your hatred of the feeling triumphs over your desire to be around him, at least for now.

In a weird silver lining, your lack of time with Buck has created room for one of your other coworkers — Eddie. Talking to Eddie when Buck was around always felt strange, like there was something in the air that wasn’t supposed to be. Which is funny, because when it’s the two of them, they’re as thick as thieves. Something about you being in the mix feels like adding oil to water.

You like to think you’ve gotten to know Eddie relatively well in the last few weeks. So when he’s staring off into space while the rest of the team is eating breakfast, you don’t feel awkward asking what he’s thinking about.

“Nothing,” he says, turning his coffee mug absentmindedly. “Just… this new school with Christopher.”

“Don’t think it’s a good fit?” You ask.

“No, it’s perfect,” Eddie replies, turning his attention to you.

You smile softly. “Then what’s the problem?”

“They need to do a family interview.”

“Again, what’s the problem?” you chuckle. “I mean, aren’t the divorce and custody agreement papers enough?”

“They would be… if I had them.”

You frown. “What?”

Eddie sighs as he rubs his forehead. He leans closer so you’re the only one who can hear him. “We’re still married.”

Apparently, you don’t know a goddamn thing about Eddie.

“Oh,” is all you manage to get out.

Eddie chuckles briefly. “Yeah.”

“Wow. Just… from how you talk about her, you made it sound like things were… over over. Like, officially over.”

“ Shannon and I aren’t officially… anything these days.”

“You’re officially husband and wife.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he smiles as he does it. “Touché.”

“What’re you gonna do?” you ask softly after a moment.

He sets his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together. “I don’t know.”

You just watch him and can’t shake the helplessness that washes over you. Eddie’s in a tough spot; no matter what you say, you can’t fix it. All you can do is be there.

“Tell me what I can do,” you say.

Eddie looks up at you with a lopsided grin. There aren’t many things you wouldn’t do to keep it on his face.

“I’ve been told I’m a lot of fun when I drink,” you continue. “Well, when I have three drinks I’m fun: that’s when I get dancy. After five drinks, I get sad. You can pick the number.”

Eddie laughs.

9-1-1 dispatch is down, making doing your job almost impossible. LA is a maze; without GPS navigation, you rely on your phone and eyes to do most of the work. It’s a miracle that dispatch existed before computers.

You’re in the passenger’s seat of the rig, and you tell Hen to make a right turn. When you pull up to what’s supposed to be the scene, though, there’s nothing.

“Dispatch, this is RA 118,” you say into the radio. “There’s nothing here.”

“No pregnant woman?” A dispatcher asks.

“There’s no building. It’s an empty lot.”

“Stand by, 118.”

You hang the radio with a huff.

“What’s going on with you?” Hen asks.

You frown and look over at her. “What?”

“You’ve been… off lately,” she explains. “Like, you’ve got this short fuse now.”

“Why shouldn’t I? We can’t even do our fucking jobs because some moron can’t fix a computer!”

Hen raises her eyebrows.

“Okay, point taken.”

“Buck says you two haven’t talked in a while.”

“Well, he’s a firefighter and I’m a paramedic. We can work the same shift and not see each other,” you shrug. “ I don’t know why he’s talking to you about it.”

“I’m not sure, but… it sounded like I’m not the only one worried about you.”

You play with your hands in your lap.

Hen sighs. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but I hope it gets fixed, because you two are miserable without each other.”

“It’s not like that-”

Hen raises a hand to silence you. “I don’t know what you guys are… best friends, work spouses, or dating. Frankly, I don’t care. All I know is that, for better or for worse, you need each other. “

“118, you're gonna need to proceed to San Vicente, east of the Miracle Mile District,” dispatch crackles over the radio. “The nearest cross street is Sixth.”

You pick it up and push the button. “RA 118, copy that.”

“Where the hell have you guys been?”

When you finally arrive at the correct building, you’re faced with a pregnant woman lying on the lobby floor. A small crowd has formed around them, which you push your way through.

“We are fighting a system outage, sir,” Bobby explains, “we apologize for the delay.”

You crouch next to the patient on one side while Hen starts an IV on the other side.

“Hi,” you introduce yourself and don some gloves. “What’s your name?”

“Sonia. I’m 39 weeks pregnant, and 38 years old, which makes me a geriatric pregnancy,” she laughs a little. “God, I hate that word.”

“Word doesn’t matter: you still get a baby out of it,” you smile. “I’m gonna check how progressed you are, okay?”

She nods.

“10 centimeters, 100% effaced,” you observe. “You’re doing great, okay? On this next contraction, you’re gonna push, alright, Sonia?”

She doesn’t respond, so you look up.

Her expression changed. A moment ago, she was nervous but smiling. Now, her face is flattened, and she’s staring ahead at nothing.

“There's something wrong with the baby,” she says quietly.

Your body goes numb.

There are a few things you never want to hear a patient say, and ‘something is wrong’ might be at the top of the list. It’s called ‘impending doom’ — there’s no obvious threat, but it feels like something is about to go terribly wrong. You’ve seen patients die within minutes of saying something doesn’t feel right.

“Your baby is fine, Sonia,” you assure. “You'll-you'll be able to see for yourself in just a minute.”

“No! No, this was a mistake, all of it,” Sonia cries. “Roger was right to panic. Look, we can't do this. I can't... I can't do this. I shouldn't have this child.”

“Hey! Hey, Sonia, look at me,” you say, patting her knee to get her attention.

It takes her a moment, but her eyes eventually meet yours.

“All you have to do is push,” you tell her. “That’s it, okay? Just push.”

She still looks terrified, yet she nods.

On the next contraction, Sonia pushes. You coach her through the contractions, telling her when to push and when to rest. It only takes a few rounds until the baby is fully born.

“He’s here!” you exclaim as you wrap the baby in a towel.

There’s some happy laughter and a round of applause from the crowd as the baby cries.

“Beautiful boy, it’s time you meet your mom,” you say as you move to place the baby on Sonia’s chest.

She’s staring at the ceiling, her expression slack.

“I’ve got the baby,” Eddie interrupts, taking the baby from you so you can work.

“Sonia?” you say, rubbing your knuckles on her sternum. She winces, but barely.

“I can’t get a systolic above 70,” Hen says as she deflates the blood pressure cuff.

“She’s cyanotic,” you say, noting the blue tinge to her lips and fingernails. “She’s in shock.”

“Hemorrhagic?” Hen questions.

“She’s barely bleeding,” you shake your head.

You press your fingers to her neck. You don’t feel a pulse.

“Lost a pulse, starting compressions!” you shout.

Everything starts to move a hell of a lot quicker. Within seconds, the defibrillator is at your side, and as you compress Sonia’s chest, Hen is placing the pads. Eddie has a finger on her neck to ensure your compressions are effective.

When you get Sonia on the gurney, Eddie tags you out as the compressor to give you a break. Your entire body shakes with adrenaline, yet you help pack her into the rig and climb inside.

“She was fine,” Eddie mutters as he compresses. “Birth was going like clockwork, even for a geriatric pregnancy.”

“Sudden despair and fear and anxiety, rapid loss of BP, subsequent cardiovascular collapse…” you think aloud. It dawns on you. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

You’re reaching for your phone, dialing the phone number of the hospital you’re heading to. “It’s an Amniotic Fluid Embolism.”

Eddie looks over to you. His brow is damp with sweat. “She could be in DIC.”

“She needs Mass Transfusion Protocol,” you agree. You raise the phone to your ear. “LA general, this is RA 118 en route, I need to speak to your ER charge nurse.”

When you’re rolling through the ER doors, you’re kneeling over Sonia on the gurney as you do compressions. Doctors and nurses are shouting directions at each other, but all you focus on is your arms moving up and down.

You hop off so they can move her off of the gurney and onto the hospital bed. In the process, you notice that the defibrillator is showing Sonia’s in Ventricular Tachycardia — a shockable rhythm.

“V-Tach,” you say normally at first, then shout. “V-Tach! Everyone clear!”

The ER staff has no idea who you are, but when someone shouts those words, anyone with a medical background knows to listen. Everyone backs away with their hands raised. After hitting the ‘charge’ button, you do a quick survey to ensure no one is touching Sonia. Then, you hit the lightning bolt to deliver a shock.

Sonia’s body jerks at the electricity. The EKG tracing goes from tombstone shapes to a flatline. Then, there’s a beep and a QRS complex. Then another, and another.

“Got a pulse!” a random voice shouts.

You make your way out of the trauma bay and into the hallway, where Eddie’s waiting for you.

“That was… amazing,” Eddie says.

You stand next to him wordlessly. You nod but then let out a sob as you collapse against the wall.

Eddie helps lower you to the floor. He keeps a hand on your shoulder, squeezing tightly.

“God, this is embarrassing,” you remark between a few sobs.

“It isn’t,” Eddie immediately responds. “We’ve all been there.”

“It’s, uh, it’s how my mom died,” you say with a sad laugh. “They didn’t catch it in time. She bled to death internally. I just… I don’t know what I would’ve done if she didn’t pull through.”

“She did,” Eddie says, moving his hand from your shoulder to your knee. “She pulled through because of you.”

You nod again, wiping away some of your tears. “Thank you.”

Eddie nods in return. You notice that his gaze goes from your eyes to your lips and back up to your eyes.

It happens in the smallest of movements, but before you know it, your forehead is pressed against Eddie’s. You can feel his breath on your mouth. You quietly gasp at the sensation, and it makes him sigh.

You press your lips together. “You’re married.”

“She wants a divorce,” Eddie whispers.

You smile sadly. “You’re still married.”

Eddie sighs again, but this time, he moves away from you.

“I’m not saying it can never happen,” you say quietly. “All I’m saying is that I’m not that kind of girl. And you definitely aren’t that kind of guy.”

Eddie nods, his mouth shifting into a few different expressions.

You rise to your feet and offer Eddie a hand. “Let’s get back to work, Edmundo.”

Eddie laughs genuinely at the use of his full name. He takes your hand and uses it to help get himself up, but he continues holding it when he’s standing.

“Back to work,” he agrees and squeezes your hand before letting go.

You’re heading out a scene call, fire in progress with multiple victims suspected. You’re driving the rig while Eddie sets up the back. The 118 is the nearest firehouse, so your unit will be the first on the scene. It comes with a lot of responsibility, but you know you and Eddie are ready for it.

That is, until there’s a massive ‘BOOM’ from behind you.

You immediately pull over and look in your rearview. The engine following behind you is now on fire and lying on its side in the middle of the intersection. You can see a few firefighters lying on the pavement.

“Eddie, grab our bags!” you shout as you unclick your seatbelt.

You fly out of the rig and meet Eddie in the back. Instead of handing you your bag, he sets a hand on your shoulder and pushes you both to the side of the ambulance.

“What the hell?” You ask.

“There’s a bomber,” he says in a low tone.

“What?” you ask again, peering to the side of him.

Sure enough, there’s a kid — no older than twenty — with several pipe bombs strapped to his chest. He’s holding what appears to be the detonator in his hand. Someone is laying at his feet, his leg pinned under the passenger side of the engine.

Buck was sitting in the passenger’s seat.

You try rushing forward again, and Eddie grabs you by the waist this time.

“It’s Buck!” you scream as you struggle against him.

“I know,” Eddie says, his arms wrapped around you as he presses your back to his chest.

“We have to do something!” you cry, still thrashing against Eddie.

“We have to wait for the scene to clear,” Eddie explains. It’s more than a little annoying how calm he sounds. “If you go in now, both of you could die.”

“So what, we just let him die?” You ask, but you’ve stopped fighting.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but his grip around you loosens. Eventually, you feel his arms drop back to his sides. That’s when you make a run for it.

You make it far enough to catch the bomber’s attention. You raise your hands in the air.

“I’m not who you want,” you explain, “I just want to help him. He has nothing to do with this. He has friends and family… he’s my family. Please, just let me help him.”

The bomber looks from you to Buck, then back at you. “He’s collateral damage.”

“Is that how you see yourself?” Bobby interrupts. He approaches with his hands raised.

The bomber’s attention shifts to Bobby, the person he’s been after this whole time. You use it as a window of opportunity to approach Buck slowly. When you finally reach him, you crouch down by his head.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” you say softly. You set a hand on his head. “How’re you feeling?”

His left leg is the one that’s pinned, and he’s lying on his stomach. He tries to look up at you. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”

“I could say the same thing to you,” you joke. You move your hand to his neck. “Are you in pain?”

“No, just kind of numb,” he says. “That’s not good, right?”

Your heart sinks. “You’re in shock: it’s normal.”

Bobby manages to distract the bomber long enough to subdue him. As the bomber gets rushed off, the rest of your team rushes in.

“Eddie, start two lines, wide open,” you instruct. “Hen, get him in the C-collar.”

You dig in the medi bag for a tourniquet. As you apply it, you try to drown out the sound of Buck crying out in pain.

“How are we doing?” Bobby asks as you stand.

“We’re out of time,” you mumble. “We need to get him out and to the nearest trauma center.”

Any extra body moves to the truck, waiting for the count to lift it. You place yourself in front of Buck, taking both of his hands.

“We’re gonna get you out,” you promise.

He nods slightly.

“Okay, my count,” you say as you move your hands to underneath his arms. “1… 2… 3!”

As everyone begins to push, you start pulling on Buck. He isn’t budging.

“It’s too heavy,” Bobby says.

“We got anything on the truck we can use for leverage?” Eddie suggests.

“No, we need more people,” Chim says, picking up his radio. “Dispatch, this is 118…”

There’s some clattering from across the way. Bystanders are pushing through the barricades to help. This time, you’re able to get him out.

You get him on the backboard, then onto the gurney. The whole time, you’re telling him that he did a good job and that he’ll be okay. As you’re running with him to the ambulance, he mumbles something. Once you’re settled into the rig, you ask him to repeat himself.

“You’re my family, too,” he mutters.

You wait in the waiting room the whole time Buck is in surgery. When he makes it out of recovery and to the ICU room, you don’t leave his side. You’re sure visiting hours are over, but you stay out of the nurse’s way. She doesn’t say anything; she just gives you a sympathetic look every once in a while.

You hear him stir a little bit. You look up from your phone to see Buck blinking awake.

“Welcome back,” you smile.

“You’re here,” he says, voice rough.

“Where else would I be?”

Buck looks around the room, slowly orienting himself. His eyes eventually land on his leg, which is in a cast and suspended in a sling. His eyes widen, and he lets out a few breaths as he tries to sit up.

“Okay, okay,” you set a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it?” Buck asks. “Did you talk to the doctor? Did he say anything about how the surgery went?”

“Just that you made it through,” you say softly. “And you're now the proud owner of one titanium rod and four beautifully cobalt-chromed screws.”

“Before they wheeled me in, he, uh… he said he didn't know how it was gonna go.”

You take his hand gently. “You’ll walk again, Buck.”

“Yeah, h-he said… he said he was pretty confident about that. He, uh, he just... he didn't know if I would ever… work again.”

You run a hand over your face. “Okay, I'm not gonna lie to you and tell you everything will work out how you want it to. But what I will say is that we should take this moment to be glad that you’re alive.”

“I’m really sorry about our fight,” Buck apologizes.

You laugh. “Buck, that is… so far from being important right now.”

“No, it isn’t,” he insists. “It wasn’t fair, how I reacted. I’m proud of you. I was just… scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Losing you,” he admits quietly.

“Yeah, well, I was pretty scared of that today, so we’re definitely even,” you joke. Your smile softens and you squeeze his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You move your hand to his forehead. You trail it down to his cheek, letting it rest for a moment. You turn your body to face him better. His eyes are closed, which you’re grateful for because if he were looking at you, you wouldn’t have the guts to do what you want to do.

You kiss him. It’s hesitant at first, and when he doesn’t react right away, you start to pull back. Before you can, Buck has his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. Your hand moves from his cheek down his neck and eventually rests on his chest. You only pull away when your lungs are burning from lack of air.

Buck traces his thumb over your lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You blush, laugh, and bury your face in the crook of his neck.

#911 abc #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #911 show #911 on abc #911 reader insert #evan buckley/reader #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz #evan buckley x eddie diaz x reader #Buddie x reader #buddie x reader #i can write

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ravers8fantasy · 1 month ago

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Aran Ryan head canons🍀💥

Right I was meant to do Great Tiger next but I couldn't help myself😔 as usual, im sorry for any spelling mistakes and I hope you enjoy (*´╰╯`๓)♬

Is a slut for spice bags, he can scran down so many in one sitting (yall if you havent had one ugh, your missing out they are so lush)

Used to work at a chippie but got fired after being caught eating customers orders.

Thought it would be a good idea to cut his own hair but ended up with choppy af layers so he has to tie his hair

I think his dad would of worked at an oil rig or in the army which is why he was closer to his mum since he was never around much

Is a really good whistler, can whistle literally anything, he cant whistle however when he is drunk he ends up laughing at himself.

Has the most busted, cracked, expired phone ever. When he got asked about it he said he is trying to keep his stuff in better care (yeah like that's going well)

Takes rugby VERY seriously. Its like one of the only things he actually takes seriously apart from trying to become champion-

Used to go to a bunch of céilí's as a kid and teenager but hasnt been to one in a while, he still remembers most of the dances

That being said, he is VERY fun to be around at parties

I think his school had a silly traffic light system and because he was a trouble maker his ass would always be on red

Has broken ALOT of the W.B.V.A's cameras, usually from headbutting, he had a really strong forehead idk bro is a unit

I think he is superstitious as well, but not as much as when he was younger. Younger him would run away from a black cat with haste

Is really creative with insults. He also makes little diss songs about the others to the tune of a well known song or smth

(inspired by THOSE type of football chants😼)

Best mates with Soda, the two of then get up to all sorts together (almost set fire to the major circuit building because they wanted to see how how flammable an aerosol is)

Has pranked almost everyone, his favourite boxer to prank though is Don because of his toupee (someone free Don😔)

Whenever I look at him I just think he has done a front flip off the ring before using the ring ropes

He face planted the first time. But thought it was fun so now he does it whenever he is bored and around the ring when its empty

Has the craziest stories to tell. He has done so many side quests around the place its crazy

He might not be entirely fluent, but he is very passionate about keeping the irish language alive

Says he knows other languages but really he only knows swear words in other languages.

Okok thats all 😼 bye bye!!

#punch out #punch out wii #punch out!!#aran ryan #Im craving a spice bag now #womp womp i need to sleep mabye another day😔

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bogleech · 2 months ago

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So, Necromon’s page mentioned about Necromizers, but those don’t seem to have their own page. Are they considered a Key Item rather than a monster, or can anything be a Necromizer, or what?

Necromizers are what I originally called the metahuman/trainer class that got renamed to Necrotomists in the RPG! They control nanomons (our new term for the Homunculoids/nanomonsters so it's easier to remember what they are) to animate dead tissues, allowing any of their monsters to keep regenerating or even just moving when they're totally dead. To Mortasheen this is also the same thing as being like a healing mage/cleric, they're all just the same concept of "keeping something functioning when it should be dead." I think their academy in the setting is the most fun I came up with if I'm allowed to say that about my own ideas. It's like an oil rig, but for collecting samples from a giant lagoon of corpse parts, the scraps of Mortasheen's meat industry. Student life is like a free-for-all anarchy of testing weird creations on each other and the rig's biotech harvesting limbs are also sentient beings. The students give them names and have rival fandoms for each one :)

We're so so close to the book being done now, like maybe only a few days worth of work total. Still testing how well it prints from different services though. I unfortunately keep having to come back to Amazon Self Publishing which remains the current cheapest option with the nicest color quality. It used to be a different company that was even better and cost even less, but Amazon bought it :/

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milestonekestrel · 2 months ago

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STILL WAKES THE DEEPERS COME GET YOUR DINNER!!!

youtube

[BODY HORROR AND FLASHING WARNING]

Thoughts under the cut (it gets lengthy)!

So.. we´re finally here huh? Took me a little over a week, but its done at last!

I´ll be honest, the idea first came to me when I listened to the song. I was brainrotting so bad on Still Wakes the Deep, I think I could´ve twisted anything into being about it haha. But this song actually fits it super well. ¨You lose touch with all the things that made you feel sane.¨ fits especially well with Caz, as everything that sort of grounds him on the rig during the shape infestation, the things that make him feel sane (mostly his friends) are all things he loses. In many cases, right in front of him. He also loses his family, as he realizes hes never going to get back to them, and, at the end, he loses himself too.

I tried to draw Caz´s hair progressively worse as his mental and physical state do. At his very best, particularly in the flashbacks at the end, his hair is shaped very specifically. But the more he goes through, the worse it gets, until at the very end where its just a tangled mess. Also his emotions, obviously towards the end he is still super emotional and stuff but I had hoped to sort of make it more...subdued? Maybe that´s not the right word, but he´s been through so much that his reactions aren´t as big to things, he doesn´t quite have the enough energy. He still Goes Through It with Finlay, but after that he´s giving you a constant 5000 yard stare. The, ¨I just watched every single one of my closest friends die in front of me¨ look.¨

Even when he gets to the derrick, he can only stare at the shape abyss.

He´s also in terrible physical condition and I tried to illustrate that with the scene of him standing up after Finlay dies. He is literally on his last legs, he is so, so tired.

also!! three flashy sequences in very quick succession at the end! do you know why? because Caz starts to See. The first, after Brodie dies, is a bunch of unique images about Caz. The people, things, and parts of himself that he is losing or has lost. Accompanied by other things, parts of himself, his life, etc.

There´s also these two images of Muir and Innes that I love very much.

The second one happens as he holds the lighter above the oil abyss! This ones just people he lost. And the third is everything that happened in the pmv flashing before his eyes. Because it is Quite a journey he has been on.

But you know why these flash? because Caz realizes that every step he is taking is one step closer to his death. Because he realizes that he is never going to get off the rig. because he realizes that he is going to die here. So hes thinking about Everything. His life, his family, friends, the horrors he went through, the things he lost and the things he will never, ever get back.

He also hallucinates Suze a lot in the pmv, but unlike in the game its not flashback sequences and she is not normal Suze. Until the end, when he´s reflecting on his life, its Suze With Tendrils!! Shape infected wife!!

and then at the end, she becomes more normal. Because he is flashing through the events of his life. also because he misses her, but he knows that by doing what he is doing, Shape Suze will never, ever exist. She will be safe.

I had a fun time drawing all the scenes in the pmv, but a select few are my favorite.

For example: The Beira D Bookends!

At the beginning and the end of the pmv, you get a full shot of the Beira D!

I like these scenes because I love having secret things like this. The bookends,,, ough do u guys get it they´re bookends... The Beira D is where it all takes place, in the game, and in the pmv. It is the first and last thing you see as Caz, and the first and last thing he sees in the 24 hours this takes place in. It is a very significant location, which is why it bookends the pmv.

Addair and Caz at the Stack:

Getting to animate this whole sequence was a blast. It´s my absolute favorite part of the game! Followed closely by the ending, but still my most favorite. I just think its a really cool part of the game, and it plays a lot into my Addair headcanons so!!! pretty sick!!

Caz´s Memories:

After he drops the lighter, Caz and his family are shown again. You can see him and Suze reconnecting (as well as the fact that I yoinked @inky-ash´s headcanon about them meeting up after he got punched in the face). He also plays with a young Cait. and drawing the hug between them just about made my eyes misty, because he really loves his family,,,, auuuughh,,,

also. the wedding photo.

I didnt really try with their outfits honestly, but I still really love how this came out. the wedding photo means so much to me...

The Lighter:

a little extra bit about the lighter. I drew when it was handed to Finlay, and when she handed it back to Caz. There´s no real scene parellells between these scenes, but I do really love them, and the whole fact that the Lighter was originally given to Finlay before she gave it back to Caz.

The Scene That Is Most Definitely Not A Reference:

Just kidding. it is.

The pose and composition is indeed a self-indulgent reference to the first artwork I made of Still Wakes The Deep!

Sinking:

The first time you see Caz in the pmv? He´s unconscious in the ocean, and sinking.

and the last time you see him? Unconcious, in an ocean, and sinking.

boy I sure do love parallels and things.

The Helmet:

at the very end, his helmet appears in the waves, before sinking below the surface. This is another self-indulgent little detail that serves as a nod to my headcanon!

I also just generally enjoyed drawing Caz and his facial expressions. That man means so much to me, so it was awesome to draw him so much!

also, I think its funny you can tell exactly when I figured out what the Cadal logo looks like, or that there even was a logo on the uniforms.

If you watched the pmv, or read this far, thank you so much!! This game means so much to me, and I´m so glad I could make this pmv. I love all the support this fandom has given me so far, so thank you! Thank you so much! Couldn´t have done this without such an awesome fandom <333

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leth-writes · 4 months ago

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lost boys x reader

This is the first time I've ever written for these characters, so tell me if anyone wants more!

Summary: You're going to die. Shame your friends had to die alongside you.

Warnings: discussions of gore and murder.

it was a hot, muggy day, and you were going to die.

You’d only wanted to go out with your friends, maybe spend some of your hard-earned allowance on candy and carousel rides. You’d never meant for it to be this serious.

The day, or evening, rather, had started off normal enough. You’d gone on the roller coaster a couple of times, eaten some cotton candy and won some rigged carnival games, and you and your friends were sitting, enjoying the free music coming from the concert. It was a sax player tonight, a man without a shirt and and a chest covered in oil, though the crowd was reacting as though it was the most intense rock concert they’d ever heard. The cheap lights twinkled, lighting up the night sky with bright, neon hues. Laughter and chatter filled the humid air, the boardwalk filled with people.

Santa Carla was the murder capitol of the country, but you’d never thought you’d find yourself in real danger. You’d always thought the only people at risk were people without a place to go and the various tourists that trickled through, people who wouldn’t be immediately noticed upon disappearing. You had convinced yourself that the mysterious disappearances were nothing to be concerned with, as had everyone else in the normally quiet town, and your parents had finally relented to letting you stay out late with your friends. The 5 of you were sitting on the ledge by the stairs to the beach, drinking in the atmosphere and joking around; the current topic of discussion was the crush your friend Cindy had on some boy from school, Freddy.

“I’m telling you, there’s just something about that boy that’s so…” She paused, licking her lips deviously, a glint in her eye, “delicious!” Lara, a brunette with thick, curly hair and large glasses, rolled her eyes. She looked off into the distance, staring out at the shoreline and watching the waves disappear into the night, merging with the sky and creating a watercolor of stars. “You say that about every guy that catches your eye, Cindy. Maybe you should slow down and wait for a while?” She asked, still staring into the distance, eyes vacant and cloudy. Cindy laughed, throwing her head back, large earrings clacking. Various people in the crowd in front of you turned at the noise, surprised to find such a small woman practically doubled over.

“You need to have some fun, Lara, don’t be stuck-up!” She continued, smiling so wide her gums were visible, framed by her bright pink lipgloss. “I’m not stuck-up, just busy!” Lara defended, fighting a smile. Tamara turned from where she’d been comparing nails with the last of your group, Amy, and gently nudged Cindy. “hey, don’t tease her, Cin! She’s just focused on school, you know how smart she is!” Tamara sighed, exhasperated.

“Yeah, Cin, she’s the only one who’s getting out of this town when high school ends!” Amy picked up. Tamara and Amy were practically inseperable, being old family friends, and practically all agreed. Well, except for the Todd Incident, which you officially weren’t allowed to talk about.

“Well, Fred is cute,” you hedged, trying to prevent an argument before it escalated and got you all kicked out. Cindy was known for her loud voice, afterall, and you’d rather not get a lifetime ban from the boardwalk, the only place with any sort of entertainment not designed for sticky 5 year olds.

“Well, not everyone can be so picky, hun!” Cindy laughed, luckily not taking it the wrong way. It was true, though it stung slightly; you hadn’t ever really been interested in boys, not the way your friends were; even Lara had had more experience than you, and she’d only had one boyfriend! Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to so much as look at the local population… The boys were so immature, you felt like you were babysitting, not going on a date! Not to mention, most were only interested in sex, not long-term relationships, like you wanted. While you knew Cindy was happy, and you were slightly envious she seemed to have such luck with boys, you just knew that you two were different. It didn’t bother you anymore, though you’d been convinced you were broken as a child for not seeing what the others were talking about when Johnny Park had caught every girl in your grade’s eye. You knew that you’d find someone eventually, or at least you hoped you would, but for now you were content with your friends and the entertainment offered by romance flicks.

“I just thi-” You began, only to be interrupted by the loud roaring of motorcycle engines.

All 5 of you turned, shocked, as a group of boys rode down the boardwalk on their bikes, laughing and shouting as people were forced to jump out of their way. “Holy shit,” Cindy breathed, popping her gum, eyes locked on the bottle blond at the front of the pack. “Jesus, they’re gonna hit somebody!” Lara gasped, hands flying up to clutch her face in shock. “I hope they hit me,” Cindy responded, eyes glazed with want. Amy lightly smacked her arm, chiding her. Still, she wasn’t to be deterred. “We need to talk to them,” Cindy continued, once again biting at her lip, this time a more serious expression on her face. “You look like you’re going to jump someone,” Tamara interjected, looking slightly nervous. Cindy just wagged her eyebrows in response, breaking the tension and causing the 5 of you to break into peals of laughter.

“Jeez, Cin! I thought you liked Fred?” you joked, nudging her in the ribs with your elbow. “Well, Fred can wait!” She said, determined. By then, the group of boys had pulled up to the ledge across the railing from you, parking their bikes and lighting their cigarettes. There was something almost ethereal about the boys, 4 in total, all clad in leather with hair mussed to rival an ‘80s rock legend. Maybe it was the way their sharp edges blurred in the twinkling boardwalk lights, the warm lighting casting them in shades of gold and white as though they were angels. You couldn’t help but admit that they shared some resemblance to the feathered creatures of myth.

The frontmost boy was… at first glance, average height, bottle blond mullet framing his face in choppy waves and light beard just starting to accentuate the sharp curves of his face. He glanced up from his cigarette and made eye contact with you, icy blue eyes locked onto yours. For a second, the sounds of the boardwalk faded away and the lights dimmed, casting his face in harsh shadows; you could swear he smirked, teeth elongated into sharp fangs, brow bone warped and jutting out. Then, in a blink, it was gone, and the only sign of the vision you’d had that remained was his slightly too sharp smirk.

The tallest boy, the brunet, was clad in a dark jean jacket, sleeves pocked with leopard print, exposing his bare, toned chest. His skin was a touch darker than the others, and his shaggy hair swung around him as he shook it out, looking almost akin to a shampoo ad. You couldn’t help but stare at the muscles as they twisted under his skin, bunching and pulling taught. Your eyes snapped up and you blushed as his own dark chocolate ones met yours, mirth clear in his face.

The boy next to him, head thrown back in uproarious laughter, seemed to be the wildest. His hair, also blond, was shaggy and teased so big it practically enveloped him, and his wild smile exposed sharp canines tinged slightly with… you weren’t sure, though it looked slightly red. Lipstick, maybe? He wore beige pants and a fishnet shirt, slightly covered by the decked-out and ripped leather jacket accentuating his lithe form. He looked graceful, almost dancer-like, in the soft glow of the evening.

The final boy was the shortest, hair twisted into cherubic curls, and had one arm swung over the shoulders of the long-haired wild blond. the two were practically howling, doubled over, slightly obscured behind the front two.

All in all, the group was… intoxicating. You couldn’t help but stare, and judging by the silence of your friends, you knew they were doing the same. Catching your eye again, the bottle blond clicked his tongue and said something to his friends, who all immediately straightened. Then, they began sauntering over, walking in a pack like circling predators. You couldn’t help but feel like prey in the jaws of a lion.

“Oh!” Lara squeaked, pale face flushed the same shade as Amy’s hair. Tamara and Amy just silently nodded in agreement, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly anxious at the sight of the boys approaching you.

Finally they reached you, forming a loose semi-circle, boxing the 5 of you onto the ledge. You were trapped, though it seemed you were the only one conscious enough of the situation to notice.

“Hey there,” the shaggy blond started, though he was quckly shushed by his shorter friend. The bottle blond inhaled sharply, then grinned devilishly. “Hello… we couldn’t help but notice you all looked lonely,” he began, making intense eye contact with Cindy. None of the boys were even looking at you; were you that unlikeable?!

“I’m David, this is Paul,” he gestured to the shaggy blond, “Marko,” the curly haired boy, “and Dwayne.” the dark-haired boy making sharp eyes at Lara. Cindy quickly introduced the 5 of you, though you noticed that the boys didn’t take their eyes off of the respective friend they seemed to pick. You should’ve taken that as a sign.

Throughout the rest of the night, none of the boys seemed to spare you a second glance. They took turns going off with your friends, who each returned looking satiated with mussed hair and clothes slightly skewed. None of your friends seemed to notice you sulking in theh corner, content to pair off with the boy that had decided they were their target for the night. It was lonely, and you found yourself staying slightly on the edge of the group. They chatted and laughed, but you were stuck in the corner on the ledge by the bikes, completely isolated. you spent the night staring off into the distant shoreline, contemplating just leaving, though you convinced yourself to stay to ensure your friends stayed safe. Or maybe because you were jealous, though you’d never admit it. Finally, a couple of hours into the merging of the two groups, David paused in his discussions with Cindy. “Hey, why don’t we all head to somewhere more… quiet?” He said, smirk ever-present on the chiseled plains of his cheeks.

“Ok,” Cindy breathed, seemingly wanting to go back to chatting with him, or more likely making out with him, as soon as possible. You sighed, seems like you’d be finding your own way home toni-

“Hey, you can ride with me,” Dwayne said, cutting off your internal pity party. At that moment, it seemed your friends remembered your presence, as they all rushed to get you to agree. You might as well go, just to ensure their safety…

So, you agreed.

One slightly awkward ride later, and you all found yourself staring into the entrance of a cave, water crashing harshly against the base of the cliff. It was dimly lit from the inside with a variety of candles, it seemed there was no electricity in the desolate cave.

“A-are you sure this is the right place?” You questioned warily. The boys just laughed, and Cindy huffed impatiently. “Come on, worrywart! We’ll be fine!” She sighed, pulling you inside.

If you thought the outside was intimidating, the inside was warm, though it looked like it had been ripped from a painting of a bygone era. An old fountain graced the middle of the room, large draped fishnet fabric separating areas of the space. There was debris everywhere on the floor, coating the space in a thick layer of dust that prevented you from being able to see its real color. All you could do was hope you weren’t stepping on any faultlines.

The boys filtered in, bringing your friends with them as they did so, scattering around the space. You found your way to the beatup couch, taking a seat across from where Paul was sucking a hickey onto Tamara’s neck.

“Well, I think it’s time for a drink!” David crowed, plopping down in the wheelchair next to the fountain. Light cast his face in harsh shadows, hiding parts of his expression from you. Still, you got the feeling he was looking directly into your eyes.

“Ow, you’re being a little harsh there, Paul!” Amy cried, and you turned to look- only for a splash of warmth to hit your cheek. Where she’d been sitting, cuddled into his lap, she was now splayed across the edge of the sofa, neck bent at an odd angle and face twisted. Her chest deflated with a soft sigh, and her eyes went glassy. Her body was limp, limper than you’d ever seen her, normally so full of life. Blood pooled in her neck, and Paul shot you a wide grin, fangs now coated.

You screamed.

And you jumped back.

And you bumped into someone. You whirled around, and there was David, face coated in blood. Just over his shoulder, you could see Cindy, her arm yanked out of the socket. Her pretty face was twisted and contorted in pain, and tears streamed down her cheeks, now ruddy from her fear. She was clutching the limb tightly to her chest, rocking slightly. It looked as though she’d been mauled by a bear, arm bleeding heavily and chunks hanging limply by a thread. She let out a short scream, and then Paul was on her. You couldn’t see her after that.

From the other side of the fountain, you could hear Tamara crying, harsh sobs filling the air. Lara had been thrown, her body lying limp where Marko was drinking deeply from her neck, head lolled to the side and eyes looking unblinkingly at you. You couold tell she was dead.

Then, David was blocking your view, and your entire world narrowed down to him. His harsh icey blue eyes locked onto yours, and it was like you forgot how to breathe; all you could do is stare at him, not even trying to run. It felt like you weren’t in control of your body.

“Drink up,” he whispered softly, hand gripping your chin and bringing an ornate wine bottle to your lips. Against your will, your lips parted, allowing the spiced red liquid to enter. It didn’t taste like wine, an oddly thick mixture, though you had no idea what it could possibly be.

The other boys cheered, now standing in a loose semi-circle behind David.

When you finished drinking deeply from the bottle, David kissed the remainder off your lips, so soft he barely brushed your lips with his own, plump and warm. “sleep,” he said, and you were gone.

#lost boys x reader #lost boys david x reader #lost boys paul x reader #lost boys dwayne x reader #lost boys marko x reader #lethwrites

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diiwata · 4 months ago

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district 6 headcanons! 🚂

yeah, i'm a d6 fan too!!! sue me! here are my top hcs that i use for worldbuilding. if you've read my fic, "o children", then you'll recognize a lot of these things.

industry things

district 6 has many industries involving transportation. oil rigging companies, vehicle manufacturing factories (that they call 'manu-factories' for short), exporters and importers, etc..

exporters and importers get to travel outside of the district for a few weeks at a time, but their activity is monitored by peacekeepers quite heavily.

exporters and importers have the most access to morphling, and consume it more too. of course, there's rings that trade it and such, but people (and those in different districts) usually get their fixes through them.

i can imagine d6 being a work accident prone district. falling off trains, spilling oil, falling manufactured parts, etc..

as part of my fic, there's also an underground boxing ring ran by the peacekeepers to keep themselves entertained, but also to put money in the pockets of those who might not wanna end up in prison and need an... alternative to jail time. i hc that other districts have it too! maybe in d2?

^ OOH! speaking of which, what if career districts developed it into academies while others had it die down/kept more on the down low?

places

VERY polluted district. like, they have to have air purifiers in their homes and wear "outdoor masks" made out of cloth around their faces type of polluted. i also think districts that manufacture things -- like 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 12 -- also have a smilar problem.

i think the problem is concentrated more on the urban areas or people who live next to the factories/train stations.

apparently their population is larger than the average district, according to the fandom wiki, so i imagine that the poorer section of the district live near the factories in large apartment buildings. a neighborhood that i've created is called "farren heights".

meanwhile, the richer folks lived in townhouses/rowhouses. they have more of their own space, but the houses are still very, very squished together. another neighborhood i've created is called "peregrine court".

between the two is their marketplace/commercial area called "traveler's square". of course, they'll have their own shops in their respective neighborhoods, but it's not as plentiful as traveler's square. they need those spaces to create new apartment units or housing developments for the growing population. TS brings them together as it has all the fun pubs, shops, etc..

i think they travel within the district via a smaller metro/train system!

i also believe that due to their growing population, and because not everyone can afford the rent, they have a group of people they call "vagabonds". they build their own homes, but because of the expenses, they don't have their own purifiers. they are the most affected by the pollution.

cultural influences?!

DISCLAIMER: i don't claim being part of the cultures mentioned, so if anyone wants to drop some info, feel free to comment or send an ask so that i can incorporate it into my d6 lore! <3

german and indigenous algonquin are their dominant cultures. (hugest shout out to @pottershawkinswp and @wxstfulthoughts for helping me with the german stuff TM).

this is b/c there was a big migration of german people in this region some time ago. and the indigenous tribes that occupy these lands are algonquin!

the more minor cultures are black and latino! this is because of the fact that they have a very, very small portion of illinois/chicago according to the fandom wiki 😜

potatoes are their main source of carbs. and they have a lot of german-style foods like cheese soup, cold breakfast, etc..

along with travel/manufacture themed names, i also think some people have german influences in their names or surnames.

as for indigenous influence, i can see the youngsters referring to the older people as "elders". they also definitely pass down cultures through story-telling or word of mouth.

i also think they have a cryptid called the W. nothing else to the name, just the W. it's known today as the w*ndigo, but b/c i'm scared TM of the taboo that saying its name will bring it closer to you, i will not say it 😇 over time, the name was forgotten and just became known as the singular letter!

those of indigenous descent would keep their hair long in braids. i believe beading is implemented into their clothes too :)

these folks definitely line dance, a bit of jazz, bit of freestyling. very lively and very rowdy, free, etc.. they're there for a good time, not a long one!

HEAR ME OUT: district 6 greasers. i'm talking the outsiders, random fights, overly gelled hair, cigarette in mouth, and greaser v. socs battles in very sketchy alleyways.

yeah! that's all i have off the top of my head. this was longer than i thought 😭 feel free to incorporate these into your own d6 lore, but yeah! i 💜 district 6

#district 6 #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #eddie toying w/ canon!

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signanothername · 1 year ago

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A personal headcanon, and I shall die on this hill, is that Blades is stronger than HW. This bitty bot goes from carrying a giant boulder in season 1 to the MHQ WITH all 4 Bots on it in season 2, to holding up a whole ass oil rig in season 3. Optimus THE Optimus was having trouble pulling the rope under ground and Blades (smaller than OP and waaaaay weaker than Bulkhead) was the one who helped him. I still think Boulder’s stronger, but Blades has some muscle to him, or maybe it’s just core strength XD. I like to think and if he ever took a swing at HW sparring for whatever reason they’d both be impressed (HW) and horrified (B) by this. He’d still lose tho, I doubt he knows how to fight aside from basic self defense or how to restrain a patient. HW would definitely react like Tylong in that bridge scene, while Blades would run like Po when they told him Tylong escaped.

Oh my god I love the way you think CHCHCHHCHC

I feel like Blades’ strength mostly comes whenever he’s focused on the job he has to do, his anxiety is usually what makes him clumsy and/or easily distracted, like in the Hightide ep, he trips and falls when he started backing away cause he got too anxious from Hightide’s intense attitude

When he’s focused though? Damn it’s like Blades is a different bot (he isn’t different he’s just badass <333)

And we even see him hold on his own in multiple episodes, like the virtual video game episode when he fights so many trees on his own, or when he and Bee fight the Energon eater, Blades is far from weak and I’ll literally fight anyone who tells me he’s weak /lh

The thing is tho, I feel like Blades relies on his agility than strength most of the time which is pretty fitting for him

But yep it’s really funny to think of the scenario that Blades would knock down HW, HW would probably feel so proud of Blades for it chcchhcjc

Blades probably wouldn’t like sparring with Heatwave cause HW tends to be a tiny bit rough and very competitive and we even see that whenever they play in the show and it’s always fun and wholesome to see HW and Blades bickering <33333 (and that’s mostly the reason i like to think Blades and HW are the youngst of the Sigma team)

That of course doesn’t mean Blades himself isn’t competitive to an extent and it’s always a delight to see Blades boasting whenever he does something that HW couldn’t hcchchchch

But honestly i’d die for the idea that Blades and HW roughhouse sometimes <333333

#anothers art #anothers ask #ano saves asks #maccadam #transformers #rescue bots #rescue bots heatwave #rescue bots blades

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joliackermann · 2 months ago

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Just a human

Hello :3 The Addair post I have been warning you all about is finally here. I have so much more to say, but I feel like this post would end up being much too long if I would add all that as well. Spoilers for the game! Have fun :3 And if you have anything to add, feel free to leave a comment! Also please tell me if there are any issues with the screenshots enqonkfmqf I hope everything works! The way the game decides to present Addair is quite interesting. Every step was thought through and with intention. Assuming the player walks around, looking at the different rooms, the first impression one is going to have about Addair is going to be quite a negative one. Like in any other videogame, most people just walk around, looking for things they can click on. The only thing that fits this criteria in Addairs room is this poster:

This instantly lets the player know that this person is not someone who is liked by the main protagonist, and thus probably not a person that should be liked by the player either. The game's intentions are clear. But what I found interesting is that this poster is not the main focus when you view it.

This is what it looks like when you click on it. As you can see, the poster, the thing Caz comments on, is not in the middle, not the sole main focus. Even though Caz doesn’t comment on it, and quite frankly, most people choose to ignore it, there are pictures of children up on the wall as well. The game even lets you get closer to them by putting them basically right in front of you. Like it’s telling you “Hey look, this man isn’t that bad, you just have to look for yourself” but in a really obvious way. Most people just don’t seem to look that far. While Caz only comments on the poster, the pictures are right there. This man is a father and he cares enough to hang his children up on the wall.

This is a screenshot of his desk, With a letter written by his child, a cute little drawing of an oil rig and a card from someone, telling him to come home soon. This man has a family. They miss him. Reading the letter written by the child, the player learns that the little horse figure belongs to the child and Addair has it there to repair it, just like he did with the child's skates earlier. One of Addairs voice lines is "Think of the money, just think of the money." Working on an oil rig pays well. Going by his voice lines, and the fact that Addair would rather spend the time fixing his childrens toys than buying new ones, it is highly likely that his family has some issues when it comes to money.

He has even more drawings hanging in his room:

This man has a family at home that misses him and, going by this note from Trots, also a child that something has happened to? It doesn’t really specify what happened, but the note says “Sorry to hear about your wee lad.” Which, btw, beautifully highlights the humanity of these characters. Trots and Addair have quite different ideologies and opinions, but that doesn’t stop Trots from adding this line to his note. He doesn’t have to. Addair would probably not care if it wasn’t there. But this is a beautiful example of how the game makes these characters feel like actual human beings.

As the player continues his way through the game, most people will probably end up in the crew lounge by this point. There are two minor things I want to talk about here really quickly. The first thing is the darts tournament.

Addair didn’t even sign up, implying that he doesn’t really want to have anything to do with the others, or they with him.

The next thing are the jukebox suggestions.

Addairs suggestion does not receive a single vote, implying that he is very much alone in his taste when it comes to music.

Moving on to the canteen where the player talks for the first and the only time with Addair. The conversation is very much negative, with Addair and Caz provoking and insulting each other, Addair even threatening Caz with his butterknife at one point. Realistically speaking, the knife would probably not have done any real harm, but the symbolism speaks for itself. But look at the way Addair is sitting:

He is sitting on his own in the corner of this big room, facing the others. Why is he sitting alone?

They even wrote “eejit” next to his name.

Why is he facing the room? Maybe because he does not trust the others. Or maybe because, even though they don’t like him and he does not like them, he still wants to feel like he is a part of this group. Imagine being away from your family in the middle of the North fucking Sea, at a workplace where nobody likes you and disrespects you. At some point, you are starting to feel lonely. Especially when you constantly have to see how great everybody else gets along.

And it’s not just that he is facing the room. He is sitting in the corner, where he can really just see about everything without really having to look around much.

Basically the game intentionally presents Addair in a negative way, encouraging through intentional game design decisions to manipulate the viewer into thinking that this must be a bad person before even ever meeting him. BUT the beauty of this game is that it doesn’t keep you from looking at things. Yes, it encourages you to look at some things more than others, but it doesn’t really keep you from looking at everything else.As already said earlier, that poster in Addairs room is the thing the game wants you to look at. But it never keeps you from looking at the photos of his family, the letter or the drawings his kids made. Even when the game doesn't shove all that information into your face, it’s still all there for the player to look at.

The player doesn’t have to, but if they want to, all the resources are there to dive deeper into Addairs character. How troubled he is, what things in life are important to him and where he struggles. He is just like everybody else on this rig. Even though this is just a videogame and Addair is not the main protagonist, he feels authentic and complex. He is flawed and vulnerable. He has a family, interests, a hobby, certain skills. Sure, he may be a bit insecure or socially awkward or have a different political view as his colleagues, but at his core, Addair is very much just a human.

#Still wakes the deep #swtd #swtd Addair #character analysis #I love this man #the humanity of Still Wakes the Deep

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magpod-confessions · 4 months ago

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Writing a fanfic rn and have low key just been staring blankly at my doc cause I don't know what Mike's job would be??? Like I'm kinda just thinking of him just being a pilot cause that's the first job my mind thought of for a Vast Avatar or have him work on a fucking oil rig since like 60% of men in my life seem to work in that field and it would be mildly amusing to imagine him doing all that shit or maybe I could make him a mechanic???

Eh we'll see which I'll choose in the morning <3

🗣️

honestly i think it could be funny if he was jobless but i think him being a pilot of some sort could be fun - deceit

Ok ok. Hear me out. Maintenance. He can fix elevators and lights and things that require ladders and heights and falling and it doesnt rly draw much attention to him. Do you see do you understand - rosette

#magpod #tma #the magnus archives #magpod confession #🗣️

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exotic-dinostuff · 1 year ago

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Intro post

Status: random posting

Hi I'm Dino that's it, that's all there is, just Dino, no variations

If you have any questions feel free to ask ^^

Personal original Characters

Dronesona Fursona ??????????

You can read about my creatures on: Toyhouse !

Brief intro!

🦖HELLOHELOOHIIII my friends and friends friends call me Dino! That is my nickname irl and here too :D I'm a young minor (14) and is still learning how to draw :) please be patient with me because I'm also really dumb sometimes

⚠️I am an artist from somewhere on dwarf planet pluto and I love murder drones! Which is most of the stuff I post, I also love still wakes the deep and omori :D

I love oil rigs, airplanes, wildlife, flowers and Dinosaurs :)

🦖I am a person with occasional random bursts of high energy! And in between these "outbreaks" I tend to be mostly dormant, and won't be posting full on art pieces :) just doodles here and there

⚠️I like to use these little :) :D :] or :0 a lot to express myself or like, a tone tag sorta thing I don't know what they're called eheheh

🦖I have two Sonas either one will appear in my replies or art based on feeling :) both are named Dino

⚠️I made the critter drones AU (drones but furryfied) and the proto drones (murderdrones but protogens) Au

🦖 Lastly, No DNI! Just don't do anything morally unacceptable and we're all friends!

Custom tags

#Dinostuff - random miscellaneous stuff or stuff related to myself

#Dino scrawls - un rendered or doodles, maybe just art stuff with no colors some stuff...

#Dino reblogs - self explanatory!

#Dino roars - BATTLE CRY!!!! (Not really it's directed towards important stuff you should prob look at, including statements & awesome reblogged artwork)

#Dino's headspace my AUs, theories and headcannons

⚠️Hello, down here! Since you've made it this far, there's a secret thing I do, you can send me a picture of your pets in my ask box and I'll draw a doodle of it! It's kind of a tradition for me lol

Have fun!

#Tinyfriends - doodling people's pets

#my art #art #murder drones fanart #murder drones #intro #murder drones oc #md diesel #shitpost #anthro #furry art #protogen drones au #critter drones au #artist on tumblr #Dino stuff #dino roars #dino scrawls #tinyfriends

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xenosagaepisodeone · 1 year ago

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one thing that gets me about rcdart is that imagine going into debt to go to a prohibitively expensive school like calarts and then coming out essentially needing to scrap the portfolio you've cultivated for 4 years and rework your professional identity because your questionable art and online persona became the face of everything wrong with the animation industry. there's no winning because yeah, actually, some of your art was transphobic (some people say that they were transmasc themselves, but I'm unsure if this is true) and bizarrely racist, but the spectacle that's been made of your work has become so memetic that ameliorating your public image so you can actually get a job in your field is entirely out of your hands. some people will dislike you for the aforementioned racism/transphobia, some people will dislike you for cringe, some people will dislike you because they see you as a symptom of the sjw calartsification of western animation; regardless, they're all uniformly drawn to mock you because of the shape your art took. which is very bad if you are in a visual arts related field. your controversy isnt even innocuously daft enough to be fun like the miku binder person. i would have gone to work on an oil rig if this happened to me.

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shepherds-of-haven · 1 year ago

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For the writing ask meme:

What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

What is your deepest joy about writing?

Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage. (i’m not picking one, just grab something that was fun to write!)

Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

-emeraldgreaves

What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

My writing ritual, up until around May, was like a little bit cursed: I'd typically write from 10 PM to around 4 or 5 AM, which is obviously not great. I'd also put on a show that was guaranteed to not distract me on extremely low volume (like 1 out of 100) in the background, so a show I'd seen a million times before, like the Office or Bob's Burgers.

Since coming back from a trip to Europe, though, I saw an opportunity to reset a schedule I'd kept to for the last 12 years and have now been rising and writing at a more appropriate time! Nowadays my writing ritual is going to the library, putting on fantasy or TTRPG orchestral music (particularly by Ivan Duch, who is composing the music for the game) in my earbuds, and clacking away! This ritual is only cursed in that some really weird shit happens sometimes at the library, but sometimes I get around that by reserving a study room for myself or me and my partner. 😌

What is your deepest joy about writing?

Hmmm, it seems cheap to say all of it! I think the satisfaction of completing a story that you've not only mapped out and plotted through, but actually executed, and then elicited strong emotional responses from others (hopefully as according to plan) as a result of all of that hard work is a truly joyful thing to experience. But just writing about the characters, exploring their psychology, and especially building their relationships to each other is also a huge part of it, and it's also a joy to explore and flesh out and create an entire new world for them to exist in... I just love all of it!

Around him, Scythia stirred to life beneath the skin-soaking warmth of early morning. It was just past dawn, so the heat of the day was not yet beating down on the city like a hammer against an anvil; but in an hour or two, it would edge close to brutal. Herald tipped his head back and let himself absorb the sights and sounds of the city while he still could. Long-necked white herons—called sword-birds for their vicious beaks—dueled together in lazy displays in the streets. Charcoal-eyed concurs beckoned him from curtained doorways, then caught sight of his own brand of ownership and looked away. There was the heavy, acrid scent of fuel and machine oil as he passed the Metal District, where mechanics in their garages toiled away on the racers and war rigs that crisscrossed the Badlands in choking clouds of dust. Underneath a shabby awning, a suntouched fortune-teller gave advice to a lean, restless merc with scarred shoulders and a face studded with fearsome metal rings.

This is from my current novel manuscript, which I keep telling people is like a cross between Mad Max and X-Men, but it's really evolved to become this more magical and intricate science fantasy, because I can't stay away from magic and humanoid/alien races and disparate cultures and, like, oppression and persecution, I guess. I really thought it was going to be a gritty dieselpunk adventure with machine guns and monster trucks and things, which it still has, but I think this passage (from the first chapter) kind of showcases its latest vibe, which is a bit more mystical and fantastical, as well. I've rewritten the first chapter at least five or six times, with this particular passage only being appended in the fourth or so iteration, so I think it's a good way of seeing (to me, the only one who read the first few drafts) how far the world has come, when the city and its environs weren't really described at all! I also just like the rhythm of the passage: there's something about it that feels satisfying. :)

Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

It's an absolute vital necessity to me. It actively bothers me when I see the Oxford comma not being used... I will always use the Oxford comma. You could pry it from my cold, dead hands and I'd still be using it on my gravestone!

#me #personal #ask meme #ask game #extremely strong feelings about and for the oxford comma <3

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