#I really slept on this game

[crudaka]

Find your Flame

[boag]

People who drink coffee how old were you when you started drinking coffee ?

[quinttyz]

The Girl Who Slept Through Time!

Been playing a lot of Skyrim during breaks from studying/working and DAMNNN it feels good to be back brooo

Anyways here are sum notes on my oc Ameth’s intro :)

General of a band of soldiers from times past. On a trip to the Haafingar region, they got caught in a deadly skirmish. Markus, her second-in-command (also wildly in love with her HAHHAAH ok childhood crush trope), took her to safety to a small fort and tended to her wounds there

Ameth was passed tf out. As an act of final goodbye, Markus took off his necklace, kissed it, and clasped it around her neck. He told her his true feelings and left to join his brothers and sisters in defending. Before shutting the door behind him, Markus saw a statue of Mara in the room with Ameth. He prayed fervently before it, asking Lady Mara for her protection for his beloved Ameth.

(HAHAHHA SEE THIS IS CONNECTED TO THE ALTERNATE START MOD)

Mara granted Markus’ wish for Ameth and kept the young general safe from the world. The abandoned prison became both her home and her tomb for many centuries. As time went by, the magic gradually weakened. Finally in the present, a band of Thalmor soldiers turned the abandoned prison into their temporary holding space for their prisoner — Kaidan

Now awakened from the deepest of slumbers, Ameth faces an unknown world. The Thalmor soldiers who found her also kept her hostage for the meantime because of her strange, unknown armor (“Which faction do you fight for?!” “Under what banner do you march for?!”)

In short, Ameth was still too weak to fend for herself. So, she and Kaidan banded together to escape the wrath of the Thalmor. Somewhere along the line, they teamed up with another unlikely ally — Taliesin, an ex-Thalmor

MAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNN this is such a fun run so far. I update my partner about the Skyrim adventures Ameth and the gang were having lmfao because he treats my playthrough as an actual show with different arcs 😭☝️ when i was doing the bards’ college quest line, we called it the “broke college student arc” (the gang only had 17 gold in between them at all times thanks to ameth’s newfound gambling tendencies because college books were expensive as fuck and the loans are crazy)

anyways I want to draw more of their interactions with each other :^)

[iobartach]

━━━━ CHARACTER STUDIES.

Basic Information.

LEGAL NAME : Miguel O'Hara

NICKNAME(S) : Miggy, Mig, Scuttler, S-Man, Cuddlebug, Harbinger Of Thor, Dark Garfield, Spider Freak, Mike, Burrito, Flycatcher, more that i am probably forgetting 😅...

DATE OF BIRTH : 13th October

GENDER : Male

PLACE OF BIRTH : Nueva York, United States of America

CURRENTLY LIVING : Verse / plot dependent! But in the year 2099 / Earth-928, he's got a place, rarely used, adjacent to his laboratory in the Spider Society; also has a penthouse apartment in Babylon Towers, from his Alchemax days

SPOKEN LANGUAGES : English, Spanish.

EDUCATION : Advanced degree in genetics, undergraduate studies in engineering with a focus on historical technology. (he wasn't great at it...)

HAIR COLOR : Brown

EYE COLOR : Red (due to mutation); formally brown

HEIGHT: 6’ 9" (2.03m)

WEIGHT: 397 lbs (180 kg)

Family Information.

SIBLINGS : Gabriel O'Hara (Maternal half-brother), Kron Stone (Paternal half-brother)

PARENTS : Conchata O'Hara (Mother), Tyler Stone (biological father), George O'Hara (Stepfather, deceased)

RELATIVES: Tiberius Stone

CHILDREN : Gabriella O'Hara (fostered/it's complicated.... also heavily verse influenced!)

PETS : …does one-way dimensional travel devices in the shape of a spider-like robot named Anyr count? 😶

Relationship Information.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION : Heterosexual

RELATIONSHIP STATUS : In a relationship!

tagged by: @yukikorogashi & @gutrage (thank you both!) tagging: @therapardalis ;) @gazelessmenagerie [ 🥦 or 🐙, if you like!] & anyone else that wishes to grab this! go for it!

[vesteneris]

some of my favourite hunger games pages from my sketchbook, mostly from 2023 and also Annie Cresta centred, bc I was doing a comic about her at the time

[nonsensechemicals]

currently settings_character isnt that well known as a name so its basically a proximity + nerd marker as of right now . if someone calls them settings_character you know theyre both a nerd AND has interacted with someone who datamined the game, OR someone who datamined the game themselves and is also a nerd

[seiwas]

hi sel!! i missed seeing you around dash - i hope you’re enjoying your lil vacation!

n for your lil game.. if it appeals.. may i suggest touya + rain/storm ?

scar hello!! sorry i've been on and off these past months 🥹 i missed being on here too!! i have been enjoying my lil vacation though 🥺 it's been a while since i've just chilled at home! thank you for sending in a prompt 💗

contains: fallen angel touya, visions in dreams, kind of disorientating what's reality vs not, reader tries melatonin, there is a fire

touya + storm

there's a storm outside your window.

the rattling of string lights on your balcony jolts you awake, the wind howling an eery melody. this weather is common at this time of the year, but tonight, you feel uneasy. you think there's something on your front yard.

your footsteps are light as you make your way down your staircase, the flashlight on your left hand clutched tightly as you reach for the umbrella by the door.

it's zero visibility on your front yard, heavy rainfall being dragged sideways by the wind. you squint, flashing your light at the area in front of you.

a broken branch from your neighbor's tree dangles loosely towards your fence, but you can't make out anything else apart from that. you contemplate stepping outside to get a better look, but a burst of light streaks itself across the sky, lightning flashing before thunder rumbles loud enough that it reverberates in your heartbeat. a sudden chill breezes over you, your skin prickling from strands of hair standing.

your flashlight flickers, the light going out once before you tap it on your wrist twice. and when it turns back on, you think you can make out a figure hunched over the shrub at the far right of your garden.

you flash your light over the area to get a better look but it turns black―your vision or the light, you're not sure.

the next time you open your eyes, you're tucked in bed, squinting your eyes at the brightness of sunlight.

a dream? you wonder. the jacket you're certain you reached for is still right by your vanity, untouched. could be.

your front yard is trashed, just like you expected it to be, if your subconscious was trying to tell you anything from last night's dream. plants are uprooted, with small branches scattered all over the grass. you suck in a breath when you spot the broken branch from last night just as you saw it―still barely hanging on as it dangles over your fence.

you must have heard it break off in your sleep, you tell yourself. the mind can be quick in associating these things.

things become weird after that.

you get more visions in your sleep, mostly when the storm beats heavy raindrops against your window. sometimes, they're the same as the first time―instances of you searching outside but blacking out and waking in your bed the next morning. others, they're stranger, more vivid. you see a man with white hair turning red at the tips.

he comes to you in flashes―in between lightning strikes and thunder claps; in fragments, distorted by sheets of rainfall. you can never fully make out his face, but his eyes glow a striking blue amidst the darkness that often surrounds him.

the melatonin makes it worse. for a few nights now, you've begun to see more of his silhouette, similarly hunched over that shrub from the first night, except it grows taller, almost as if he's standing.

you wake up every time he almost reaches full height. but were you even really sleeping?

your therapist tells you it must be stress. this particular time at work is busy, after all. and, "halloween festivities can be impressionable when the mind is tired."

so you let it go, hoping that the dreams disappear eventually.

but then you find a feather. it's long, far too long to belong to any animal you know of; the color is charcoal black, with its tips slightly crisp as if it's been burnt. you find it by the shrub, where the silhouette crouches over every night in your dreams.

your palms sweat as you handle it, a mixture of anxiety and fear. you feel sick to your stomach; scared and disoriented. what even is real?

you call your friend, midoriya, to keep you company. he's no cynic, but if anyone could think up an explanation for anything, it'd have to be him. he has notebooks and journals full of analyses and theories on a bunch of weird things.

"can you tell if he's... uh..." he tries to find the words, as if trying not to scare you, "demonic?"

though with how jittery he is, you're pretty sure he's just as, if not more, nervous.

"i don't know yet," you admit, setting down his blanket for the night, "i guess he does feel kinda angry, but..." you think back to those blue eyes, trying to discern the exact emotion in them, "not at me i think. i don't know."

midoriya jots down some more notes as rain increasingly patters outside your window. you're sure he'll spend the whole night figuring this out from the way he continues to ask you more questions.

that night, you dream of the figure again, but something about this time feels ominous; larger. it starts out with his face, lightning illuminating glimpses of his expressions. you see scars across his cheeks and his hair turning a shade darker. another crackle of lightning brings him further away, hunched over the shrub again, except this time, he begins to stand; and you're prepared to wake up again right before he shows himself in full height―except you don't.

he stands before you still concealed by the downpour, but his presence is simultaneously chilling yet glorious. and you don't expect it, what happens next―the unfurling of wings right by his sides. they span the width of your entire yard, large and so unlike anything you've ever seen before.

then, an alarm breaks, and you wake, neither in bed nor on your front porch.

your feet touch wet asphalt, the sensation hardly differentiating itself from how drenched you are by the rain. thick smoke fills your lungs as you stand before a blazing house a few streets down yours. sirens sound around you―an ambulance, a firetruck, and a police car, all managing the commotion.

people evacuate their nearby houses as the policemen round them up at a safe distance. out of everyone in the scene, you seem the closest of all, the heat from the fire nearly licking at your cheeks.

"everybody, please step back!" one of the firemen shout. to your right, another one hurriedly hauls a body down to the stretcher beside you. a paramedic immediately tends to the person before you can even catch a look.

"please step back!" the fireman closest to you calls out, but the sound is muffled in your ears, almost by a dull ringing and the subtle sound of wings flapping. an unexplainable urge pulls you toward the body.

"hey―!" the fireman tries to call for your attention, but you ignore him, inching closer towards the stretcher. you tiptoe to get a better look, and as you catch a glimpse of the body's face―

the fireman holds you by the shoulder, "i said―!" as another paramedic addresses you and asks, "do you know this man?"

and right there on the stretcher is him―white hair with red at the tips; his cheeks are an angry shiny red, like its been melted, burnt. he remains only semi-conscious, eyes half-lidded as he is tended to. but when you peer over, he blinks and manages to look at you.

you find the same striking blue.

[telesodalite]

Woe, unfinished, mildly edited, fulfire fic tid-bits be upon you

-

Like a magnet, his optics kept drifting back to Misfire's face. His stupid, strangely charming face.

For a short while, after Clemency, it had been that face that haunted some of his nightmares. His recalls blurring the lines between the strange reality of Misfire's hands reaching into him to lock his fuel pump back into the very spot he'd pulled it from, and the fear that just as easily he could pull it out again. They had been bloody dreams. Dreams that had him startling awake, gripping his chest in the vain attempt to close what wasn't open, before spending the rest of the day avoiding Misfire's optics.

But now things were different. Not Misfire's face. No, that hadn't changed much. But Fulcrum's dreams had definitely changed. To say the least of what all rolled around in his processor as he slept nowadays.

Some of those newer dreams had crept to the forefront of his mind as he sat there on the couch, staring as the lights of the screen reflected dully across Misfire's plating in hazy blues and greys.

The lighting made his colors seem muddy and faded, but Fulcrum didn't really care, nor did he care to think what it made himself look like. He was too busy bringing an empty engex can to his lips while he watched the crinkle of Misfire's nose as he barked a laugh at something Fulcrum didn't catch onscreen.

He'd started noticing it months ago, all the ways the silvery mesh of Misfire's face would scrunch up with his emotions. Those little crinkles along his optics and nose when he laughed or glared. The creases indented along his cheeks when he grinned. Fulcrum found himself quietly logging away these little details. Idle notes and observations that had suddenly started piling up in the corners of his processer.

He… He'd never really done that before? He'd never really noticed those sorts of things in other mechs.

The faces and expressions of his past colleagues never seemed terribly important. All the details of every smile and frown were never worth filing away, outside of few notable moments where those expressions reflected his work performance. But besides the smile that meant promotion, and the frown that meant he'd screwed up, nothing else was noticeable. Nothing was worth remembering.

But now the memory of every genuine laugh that bubbled out of Misfire sat comfortably besides memories of warm joyful optics that Fulcrum found himself collecting every time Crankcase cracked a rare half-smile for him, or when Krok placed a reassuring hand against his back, or the times Spinister spontaneously pointed out something odd but ultimately nice about his stupid frame.

He didn't really know why he was doing it, memorizing all these mundane little things, just to have them flit through his processer randomly. Maybe it was because those expressions, those details, felt… comforting? Comforting in such a strange and unfamiliar way. But, a good way. A good sort of strange, much like the mechs themselves.

-

-

He had stared for a long moment, the credits and their rolling tune playing somewhere in the background as Fulcrum stared back. But Misfire was never one for personable silence, even as the sound of some likely long dead Iaconian orchestra filled the room.

"What is it?" He asked, a small chuckle escaping him as he brought a hand to his face, "Don't tell me I've poured it all over myself again."

It had taken Fulcrum longer than usual to unstick his glossa from the roof of his mouth as he watched Misfire run a thumb over his lips, but eventually he had coughed out a small, choked, "No."

That had earned him an odd look at first, but with their fields loose and open, Fulcrum could almost feel the exact moment something clicked in Misfire's mind, as the idle comfortable static he projected in pulsing waves evened out into something openly curious and almost subdued.

It wasn't often Fulcrum felt him that clearly.

Misfire tended to keep his field fairly close, though, maybe not as close as the others did, what with how Crankcase kept an iron grip on his, and how Krok's always held an air of strained control, even when it slipped from him. But still, Misfire's was always hard to read, no matter the reach or depth of his field.

Even then and there, with it loose and unfiltered and buzzing with the engex running through his system, there was an ever present undertone of something indescribably jumbled about him, like too many feelings at once, each too vast and hurried for Fulcrum to really feel or understand.

It always seemed to stir the passive anxiety Fulcrum must've been forged with when Misfire's field brushed against his own. As facing the indescribable vague mess of Misfire felt like trying to untangle a pile of live-wires he couldn't even see.

It was almost frustrating in a sense, the need to try and sort and understand what wasn't even his to begin with. But at the same time it was almost exciting as well. It was like a game, like a puzzle he had yet to solve.

-

-

Finally letting his own can go tumbling to the floor to join Misfire's, Fulcrum had brought a hand to cover his face as he drew his legs up and leaned back against the arm of the couch, trying to suppress the fit as the sly look slipped from Misfire's face at the sounds.

While Fulcrum had laughed, and… snorted, embarrassingly, he had felt Misfire's field change again, brushing something fizzy and almost warm against his plating as Misfire's features softened.

"I'm looking at you," Fulcrum had said then between gulps of air, letting his hand fall from his face as he reached out to poke at Misfire's chest, "Dumbaft."

His finger had lingered over the thick plating there for maybe a little longer than necessary, drawing Misfire's attention as it slid down a little before pulling away.

Looking back up again with his helm angled slightly, Misfire had followed the sight of his hand leaving his plating to where Fulcrum let it fall between them.

"Wow…" Misfire had chuckled a little dryly, "I was gonna make it real easy for you. I was going to say something like, ''Do you like what you see?'' or-… or something like that. But now you've ruined it. Good job."

Meeting Fulcrum's optics again as he pulled his own hand back from Fulcrum's shoulder, he brought it to rest between them as well.

"And you're laughing at me," He said next, faking a small pout as his hand drifted closer to Fulcrum's, "Which totally ruins the whole vibe I was going for really. I mean, it's sort of hard to be all nice and suave-like when you're being laughed at. Total vibe killer. Bit of an ego killer too if I'm being honest. So thanks for that loser, thanks for saying I have a funny face."

With Misfire's fingers brushing distractingly past his own, Fulcrum didn't think before the words stumbled out of him.

"I like your face."

It came out almost matter of fact sounding, Fulcrum's laughter having died down while Misfire complained about it. But at the same time the words felt so simple, they came out so easily, and in a weird way they felt nice to say. But Misfire's optics had widened in surprise, his frame frozen and his field suddenly struck quiet, and despite the engex numbing his usual nerves, Fulcrum felt a sudden pang of anxiety because of it.

The silence in Misfire's field was terribly alien. It felt wrong, and something in Fulcrum spiraled to think he had caused it. But slowly, almost as if it were creeping forward, an odd almost scrutinizing uncertainty fanned outward in a careful wave. Misfire moved with it, leaning closer as he searched Fulcrum's expression for something.

"Oh yeah?" He'd said lowly then, and that sly look returned. But that vague uncertainty didn't fade with it, if anything, Fulcrum felt it strengthen. Caught between what he saw, in Misfire's easy smile and dimmed optics, and what he felt, in the growing hollow distance within their fields, Fulcrum found himself frowning and pulling back.

-

-

Growing frustrated with himself, and wanting that feeling back, he had pushed forward, shifting onto his knees as he reached for Misfire's face before the other could pull away from him entirely.

"I like your face." He said firmly, maybe too firmly. His expression still drawn into a frown as he pressed his fingers into Misfire's helm, brushing his thumbs across the silver mesh he'd been staring so intently at before. "I like your optics, and your nose. I- I like the way you smile. When you really smile, and when you laugh. I do. I'm not lying."

And oh there it was again, that little curl of warmth in Misfire's field. Almost a tangible thing, like a brush of ventilation, but Misfire wasn't venting. His mouth hung open ever so slightly, but no breath left him as he stared at Fulcrum with widening optics.

Spurred on by that tiny bloom of warmth, Fulcrum chased after it with slightly slurred words and clumsy hands as he tried to fix whatever he'd done wrong, hoping with each word that Misfire might soften and smile again.

"I like your expressions, and- and I like your voice," He said, glancing down at Misfire's parted lips, and laughing softly, nervously, as he continued, "Even when you say something so stupid. I like- I like the way it sounds. I like your accent, I like the way it makes your words sound. I- I like your- your mouth?"

Once more that weird but nice feeling settled in Fulcrum's chest. Those simple words felt good to say. It felt like a weight off his shoulders, like an admission he'd been waiting to say. About what and why? He wasn't really sure. But the warmth grew, and Misfire took a sharp vent inwards, and that felt right, so Fulcrum kept on.

"I like your helm," He said with a smile, reaching up to brush his fingers over the jutting finials there, before dropping his hands to settle lightly over Misfire's chest. "I like your frame, the colors of it. I like your-"

Before he could finish, Misfire was surging forward, knocking their helms together and nearly bruising the mesh of their noses as he tried for, and just barely missed, Fulcrum's lips.

-

👁👁👍

[nightkorio]

Just because someone doesn't interact with and enjoy a piece of fiction the same way you do doesn't make their feelings towards it invalid.... People can enjoy things in different ways.

[mariyekos]

Thoughts on the new DMC trailer?

Going to be honest I haven't watched any trailers since the trailer at the Game Awards (or whichever one I have those 2 breakdown posts for) 😅 I keep seeing the trailer announcements when I don't have my headphones on me, and I've been behind on watching them once I have the time... maybe tomorrow I'll finally get to watching them! Tonight I'm dead tired so I don't think I'd be in much of a good mood and I don't want to start off on the wrong foot, so to speak. When I watch them I can make a write up on it though! Would probably be fun.

[springsketches]

Warning: Blood, spoilers for Sally face

Sketch between classes. This game sure had an interesting story.

Maybe I’ll digitize this one someday, probably not tho

[fiona-fififi]

have seen some people claim that that buck didn't want to/had no plans of calling tommy after their first date went wrong and only did it because eddie told him to and was wondering about your thoughts on that? (for the honesty hour thing, lol)

Hi, anon! This is an interesting question. To be honest, I haven't really seen any specific conversations about this, so I don't really know the context.

But just, personally, I think this is an interesting point to think about. I mean, first, I think the question of whether Buck wanted to call Tommy and the question of whether he planned to call Tommy are two very different questions.

In terms of wanted to, I absolutely think he wanted to call Tommy again. That boy was so smitten, even after their date disaster.

But while I think he wanted to call Tommy again, I don't know that I think he would have without Eddie encouraging him.

Because I think he had kind of resigned himself to the idea that he fucked up too badly and Tommy wasn't interested anymore and maybe he really wasn't ready. I think Buck struggles a lot with contending with his own feelings and sometimes feeling guilty for them, and I also think he probably didn't want to push Tommy’s boundaries, either, especially after the date had gone so bad when they'd run into Eddie.

So I do think Buck needed that push and encouragement to take that step to call Tommy again. And Eddie was probably the one he needed it from. Because Eddie has always provided a unique type of support for Buck. Because Eddie's primary concern when Buck is in his head about something is to make sure that Buck not only takes into account his own feelings, but also allows himself to feel them. Eddie asking Buck what he thinks? Asking him to consider his own feelings amid this new discovery about himself he's still working through? I think that was something Buck really needed to try to process what he was feeling and examining it probably helped him decide that it was worth at least trying by making that call.

So, yes, I do think Buck wanted to make that call. But no, I don't think he would have without Eddie's encouragement.

Honesty Hour, Ask me anything!

[elisedonut]

lucius malfoy x percy weasley

(bingoo)

[omgcatboi]

Hi who plays Roblox and wants to play that horse game with me where u catch a lot of different horses ? I have a problem where I have to be in voice chat while playing games.

[killjoy-prince]

my brother has been dating this girl for almost 7 months now and we've yet to be properly introduced and tbh i kinda wanna keep it that way just to see how long i can go

[gio-cosmo]

Yk what. We need more games like Mystic Messenger in this day and age bc that shit was INSANEEEE the grip this game had on me in middle school was revolutionary. Like you’re telling me I was out here setting alarms to wake me up in the dead of night to talk to fictional characters?? You’re telling me one of the bad endings is the apartment the MC is in literally exploding?? You’re telling me if I missed one specific chatroom I lose all chances of getting the ending I want and have to start all over??