#Delta 10

[werewolf-femboy-maid]

DO NOT BUY FAKE THC/DELTA 8 VAPES IN ILLEGAL STATES

Tmi story time scroll if not interested

Ok so basically I don't live in a legal state and I did the big stupid, which is vape the delta 8s and whatever else they had. I will explain why this is stupid.

Those vapes sold in illegal states like mine are faaaaar more likely to have harmful additives like vitamin e (good for you skin, not your lungs) and other random shit who knows.

Now I did not realize just how harmful they are until about a week ago when I did a little more research.

I've been vaping those little shits on and off for about 2-3 years, so I hope I don't develop some crazy disease.

Popcorn lung is more likely if you vape nicotine (I did a little but not really on a regular basis) and EVALI is more likely if you vape the FAKE thc/delta 8 carts and disposables.

All that being said vaping in general is not really good for you, but if you vape, PLEASE make sure you buy from legal states!!! Please don't be a stinky idiot like me!!!

A good way to tell if your disposable is safer, you can check their website, batch number, serial number, ingredients, all that jazz.

If you live in an illegal state, there are NO outlets you can buy genuine vapes, so unless you got a plug you trust, don't buy thc delta vapes anywhere.

I love yall stay safe muah muah

Ok here's the actual tmi storytime before I got carried away

So like yeah I feel ok, but I do feel like my lungs have this little layer. What I'm so scared of is what if I'm old and I finally figured out how to enjoy life and not be a whiny little bitch, but then thats when I'll have cancer. Like it'll just come out of nowhere as soon as I find out how to be happy with myself and my life and the world.

I mean my grandpa hasn't smoked since I was born and he got diagnosed with lung cancer a few weeks ago

So yeah that would be so funny if I died as soon as I didn't want to die

Ok the other thing is that, with my lungs feeling odd, there is a glimmer of hope. Exercise really might be the answer. If you or a loved one did those vapes, exercise is the most likely way from my experience to clear everything out.

My bf was really cheefing those vapes more than I did, but he also exercised more than I did. And he reports no symptoms, I don't hear any either...

And whenever I exercise, I feel like im loosening up that "film" and yeah. I'm gonna be smoke free once I start my next semester, and a nice 4-6 month period of exercise and cleanliness should help my lungs clean up.

Long story short. No buy trippy vapes if you do not live in a legal state. If consumed, exercise, hydration, nutrition, and breathing exercises are vital for maximum chance of survival

[sinead-smith-3]

Yesterday I fucked up by overestimating my tolerance to THC-derived products and ended up tripping balls all afternoon/ evening when I should have been packing for the move. I can't say I enjoyed the trip (spent most of it unable to move but also strangely calm?) But holy fuck I have never slept better. My allergies are gone, my sinuses are clear, and every ache and pain has vanished. Still couldn't afford to lose the work time but I will definitely keep this in mind for the future. Even the hangover isn't that bad.

[siestag]

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[tobaccohutandvape]

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[sandflakedraws]

self control lost. its posting flickory hours

bonus delta :

[sir-fenris]

The limbo forces are still gracing me with the combo of random artistic impulses and a slight hyperfocus on @paingoes's story, Destroyer.

This time, Paris was chosen by the limbo forces.

Paris by himself at night.

Here's without the extra lightning.

And here is @paingoes 's drawing that I heavily inspired myself on to make my art (<3). The pose was challenging and intriguing, so I decided to attempt drawing it.

If I am fortunate enough to have this artistic impulse for a bit longer, I will try to do another art of Paris, but one that aligns more with my comfort zone, like Delta's art (face in front view).

[squeakadeeks]

ok so remember how i made that turbo giant compilation of every stitch in the ditch art i liked. well i did the same with Transient except it turns out ive drawn way way more for this OCverse so theres. a lot.

but yeah read more for a huge compilation of stuff for these guys

[another-delta-lover]

simp

me??? neverrrrr what r u talkin abouuttt ahhahaahaha

[ozcarma]

If all the AI fragments could each take an animal form what animals do you think they’d take?

furries of the fandom help me

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 10: Blow to the Head

"I can't think straight"

1923 Words; Rewired AU

TW for discussions of injury and violence

AO3 ver

“What’s up with him?”

Morris froze, disgruntled expression replaced with something more along the lines of deer in headlights. Gisu imagined she must have looked the same, as three awful realizations hit her.

Realization One: Dion was in some part responsible for the deaths of several prominent psychics in recent months.

Realization Two: Raz didn’t know this.

Realization Three: There was no way Raz wouldn’t find out eventually.

Morris shot a desperate look to Gisu—she could almost feel him trying to project Do NOT tell him! through his concussion. But what else was Gisu supposed to do? She didn’t like this situation any more than he did! She was tired and sore and angry, still reeling from the gala, and it was too damn close to ass’o’clock in the morning—wait, what was Raz doing up at around… what was it, somewhere between two and three AM? He was still wearing his jammies, it looked like, but he was also wide awake and Gisu was too tired to think up her own explanation.

“Why are you even awake?” Gisu voiced her thought. Morris relaxed slightly in the corner of her vision, while Raz crossed his arms.

“You’re only questioning that now?” Raz summoned a levball to sit on, yawning slightly as he spoke. “The interns had a movie night.” He explained, sticking his tongue out. Even though he was pretty much a full agent in all but name, Raz was still only sixteen; this left him still living in the dorms with the interns and junior agents. “And you asked me to bring you your board.” He added.

Oh, shit, did Gisu wake him up? “Sorry.” She grimaced. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“And let me miss out on—” Raz started, looking the both of them up and down, “actually, what did happen? Nobody would tell me anything.”

As one, Gisu and Morris looked at each other. Though they were both out of their gala outfits and in jammies, cleaned up and mostly unscathed—the exhaustion was clear. There was bruising along Morris’ forehead, Gisu had asked Raz for her board, and Lizzie wasn’t even there in the room with them, which probably spoke volumes to Raz about how much everything at the gala had gone wrong.

“The automaton happened, that’s what.” Morris groused, “The robot that almost killed the senior agents.”

Raz winced, leaning back on his levball. “Is Lizzie…?” Suddenly, her absence seemed all the more ominous.

“She’ll live.” Morris reassured.

“She got stabbed.” Gisu said, at almost the same time. At Morris’ disgruntled look, she hurriedly added, “But Morris is right! She’ll live! She’s being transferred to Clay Ridge.”

Raz sighed. “That’s good. And you two…?”

Gisu snorted. “We got off easy.” She buried her face in her hands as the events of the gala played over in her mind again. “Fuck, when the party started I was trying to get that waitress’ number.” Her hands fell to her lap, and she stared at them, at scars well-known from lightning and her projects. She felt unreal, caught between exhaustion and panic.

It wasn’t the first time a mission had gone wrong, or one of them had been badly injured. It wouldn’t be the last, either.

But it was all still so fresh.

Cold blue eyes disappearing under empty red LEDs—

Lightning burning her fingertips the light burning her eyes—

An eruption of glittery ice, the crush of a crowd—

“Pooter,” Gisu started. She didn’t want to do this. She wanted to tell the kid in front of her to go back to bed—and then go to bed herself—so she could keep the second most awful part of the night hidden from him.

But even if Raz didn’t get into the debriefing, it’d go on the mission report. He would find out, no matter what Gisu did—so wasn’t it better, to break the news to him now? Didn’t he have a right to know what had happened to his brother?

(Even if Gisu still didn’t have the full picture herself—)

Raz deserved the truth. Even if it was awful.

“So, you know how Dion went missing four years ago?” Gisu asked, nervously tapping her fingers against her board.

“Gisu—” Morris hissed.

Raz’ eyebrows drew together, his shoulders drawing in. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Gisu took a breath. Right. She could do this. She could totally tell the sixteen year old kid in front of her, the one she’d known since he was ten, that when she took off the anti-psychic automaton’s mask she had seen the face of his missing older brother.

Morris’s jaw was clenched, like he wanted to interject. But he said nothing as Gisu bowled through, words spilling from her lips like a river of confession.

“When we knocked the automaton out I took off his hood and realized he wasn’t fully a machine and then I took off his mask and it was Dion’s face under there!” Gisu barely even breathed until it was all out there, hanging in the air between them.

Morris groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Raz stared at Gisu, brows furrowed as he tried to parse her words. Eventually, he spoke. “...what?”

“It was Dion.” Gisu repeated, wondering if maybe she should have just waited. But she was tired and sore and angry and she didn’t want to think things through anymore. She wanted to do something. She wanted to skate. She wanted to collapse into her bed and forget this night ever happened. “The robot assassin? I took his mask off. It was Dion.”

The words felt like a finality.

+=+=+=+=+

10:00 AM came way too soon.

At least, that’s how it felt to Gisu as she and Morris trudged into one of the conference rooms used for mission debriefings, dressed and clean and looking only marginally better than they had the night before. She glanced at Morris’ hands; he had them folded in his lap, staring straight ahead as they took their seats across the table.

Hollis was waiting for them, alongside Truman and Oleander. It was more and less than Gisu expected. After a moment of everyone settling in—Gisu settled her levboard in her lap—Truman called for things to begin.

Mission debriefings were all the same, pretty much; Morris and Gisu traded off talking as they explained the where, when, and what, from their initial mission plan and the gala’s opening to the moment the skylight shattered. If it wasn’t for his concussion, Gisu would have let Morris do the majority of the talking—except he was still concussed and also he hadn’t been conscious throughout all of it. Because Dion—the automaton—Maybe-Dion had sucker punched him with the hilt of his sword.

At that point, Gisu took up the description, trying her best to fill in the parts that Lizzie wasn’t there to say. She recounted, not quite as professionally as Hollis may have wanted but still cleanly enough to be understandable, the ice cocoon Lizzie had put together as a last-ditch effort, the loss of psychic power and the pressure it left in her head, the desperate scramble to keep the cyborg’s attention while not getting stabbed herself. She skipped over some details, but as long as the Heads and Oleander got the gist it was fine.

“So you electrified the android after Morris shot it?” Truman asked. “And that was when it went down.”

Morris nodded. “The problem was that it didn’t stay down.”

“You gave it a good enough fight to make the thing retreat.” Oleander commented. “It would have been nice if you’d taken it out, but you managed to hold it together in the heat of battle.” He nodded, already thinking of ways to try and counter the automaton’s ability to block psychic powers—which in and of itself wasn’t anything new; people had been trying to counter psychic abilities for decades.

“While it was down…” Gisu tugged at a lock of her hair, her other hand gripping the edge of her levboard, “I saw behind—I managed to take the mask off.”

“Mask?” Truman stroked at his beard. “Why would a robot wear a mask?”

“Cyborg.” Gisu corrected. At Truman’s look, she elaborated. “He had a human face beneath the mask. I saw it…” She had to take a breath, here, before she could speak further. Morris’ reaction had been bad enough—Raz’ had been even worse.

“You think you saw his face.” Morris muttered. Gisu shot him a look.

“If you saw his face, then we can identify him!” Oleander smacked his fist against the table. “We need a description, stat!”

Gisu swallowed. Morris glared at her from across the table. “I don’t believe she actually saw its face,” he said to Truman, “because it’s really not believable in the slight—”

“It was Dion!” Gisu blurted out.

“Wh—we don’t know that!” Morris interjected—

“I saw his face! What more proof do you need?” Gisu slammed her hands on the table. Morris leaned forwards, his voice starting to rise as he and Gisu really started to argue.

“It was a high-stress situation! You could have been projecting—”

“I know what I saw—”

“It’s been four years—”

“You are literally concussed, you don’t get to argue—”

“Agents, please!” Hollis cut through the argument, hands smacking the table as she stood up. Gisu and Morris shrank back, chastened, and Hollis turned to Gisu. “You’re absolutely certain of what you saw?”

Gisu’s hands curled into fists in her lap. She thought back to the previous night, to the moment where she shoved down the hood and pried off the mask. “Yes.” She knew what she saw. Four years and a different hairstyle couldn’t keep her from recognizing him. “He was even doing flips around the ballroom,” she added, her throat tightening. “And yet it didn’t feel like him at all—” She took a breath. She was not about to cry in front of Hollis and Truman and Oleander. She wasn’t! “Something happened to him.”

“That much is clear.” Truman commented. He and Hollis shared a look, mentally conversing with each other and Oleander. After a moment, he spoke.

“That’s enough, you two. Dismissed.”

Morris wasted no time in rolling out, and Gisu stood to follow him. The third time she’d shared what she’d seen that night, and it still felt no less raw. As Morris turned down the corner without a word, Gisu almost followed him—though what she even wanted, she didn’t know. It wasn’t like he was in the mood to talk to her.

Gisu briefly considered hunting down Raz to check in with him, but—well. Raz had made it pretty clear that he needed space. Sam and Adam were out on a mission, and until Norma tracked her and Morris down for answers Gisu didn’t think she’d be up to being pestered. Everyone else either had something to do, or didn’t need Gisu hanging around bringing the mood down—

Gisu turned towards the atrium. She wasn’t really in a state to go skating, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do; chances were that Otto was in the lab and Gisu was too wound up and exhausted to work on any of her projects. So skating it was, at least until her head cleared. If it ever would.

Ugh, this whole thing was such a mess—and not the kind that anyone, least of all Gisu, had any idea how to fix.

Raz was right. Some space would do Gisu a whole lot of good right now.

Maybe it’d even help the knot in her chest.

[songforeverything]

deltagoodrem: Catching up!!! ✈️🚗⛴️🌎 Lytham last week was ALL sparkles and loud singing. And ridiculous wind but we got through! loved seeing you all there for the first time and excited be back your side in September in Preston! xxx

Outfit @ zhivago

[siestag]

Siesta G 

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[adamsvanrhijn]

need to get airport dinner before i go completely insane

[konomoreextra]

Murder drones OC

Meet Apollinaris / Sunny [or Naris]

They were made by TenderCare Technologies for the founders sickly daughter Mary Muerte

they live on EXO-Planet Titanium 2-10 Delta.

[miraclemaya]

program handler who has spent most of his career doing psyops on "radicals" losing his mind for the past 5 years because the only agents he is assigned to are all like, best in her field biology professor who makes tweets about misogyny in academia and has also shown extreme resilience against the mental effects of vectors, some 18 year old that an older timer recruited three years ago by throwing a gun at them and telling them to shoot at anything that moved, qanon type guy who thought he was draining the swamp until a fucking gray alien exploded his son into meat gibblets and now he is just fucking losing it and the handler has been assigned to be his suicide watch after the last 'opera', or like 'radical' who got conscripted in a raid against some GoI that went incredibly poorly and the handler hates this fucking person but the program keeps on telling him that they can't afford to lose discrete agents even if their beliefs and methodology occasionally goes against us interests.