#about primal

[running2reanimation]

Thinking face for uhhh primal

🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?

Primal likes to perch, she always prefers to have the high ground (not that she needs it, she's already the tallest).

Primal isn't really one to talk much - she can talk she just usually doesn't like to.

[supreme-leader-stoat]

Shout-out to the bumper sticker I saw the other day that made me feel one second of pure, incandescent rage, which I have replicated in complete accuracy below:

[starry-bi-sky]

on a completely separate note; shizun luo binghe with a disciple shen yuan who fell into the abyss??? *thinks about LBH canonically stealing SQQ's corpse for 5 years* he'd hallucinate i think. like, like visual and audial hallucinations.

Keeps thinking he's seeing SQQ in the corner of his eyes, or wandering between the trees, amongst a group of disciples. Thinks he hears him calling for him, but its just the wind or another disciple.

Gets Xiu Ya reforged but patently fucking refuses to make a sword mound. Because his disciple Is Not Dead :))) There was No Body. He's Not Dead. And If You keep Insisting That He Is, He's Gonna Skewer You :). He's holding onto Xiu Ya so he can return his most favored disciple's sword when he returns. It's on his hip right next to Zheng Yang where it's supposed to be.

Also this motherfucker?? does not sleep btw. He has the image of SQQ, wide eyed and hysterical and standing at the mouth of the abyss burned into his fucking eyelids. Can't use the dreamscape to escape it either because he keeps trying to save him and either he does and it's an incredibly cruel trick to wake up to, or he doesn't and he gets his heart broken in several different pieces again.

There is no convincing this man that Shen Qingqiu is dead. Absolutely nothing at all. He is buried so deep in denial that moles would be jealous of how deep he is. He keeps making tea for two in the bamboo house only to remember that it's just him. SQQ's fans are hiding everywhere, little reminders of his presence. He goes to wake up SQQ on the mornings he sleeps in-- only to find the room empty.

[shotmrmiller]

being at a haunted house with your friends only to get separated and end up alone in a random room. it looks empty, except for the usual props and you're just taking a moment to catch your breath, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans only to spot something in the corner shift, realizing that you're not alone.

a guy as broad as the door behind him is in there with you, costume seemingly lower budget than the others (was he called in at the last minute? his mask makes him look more a criminal than whatever the hell he's supposed to be.)

he's a clean two or three heads above yours, his dark clothing making him hard to see, blending in with the jagged shadows created by the red (because red means scary, right?) flickering lights overhead, and he's standing right in front of the quick exit, neon green sign barely grazing the crown of his head. shit.

a sudden, ear-splitting noise activates your fight or flight response and you're out the way you came in a second flat, uncaring that you're running against the flow of traffic, harshly bumping shoulders into both visitors and actors alike, and instinct takes over- without a second thought, you glance back over your shoulder.

the guy you'd bolted from is moving with unsettling purpose your way. the crowd parts around him, letting him gain on you effortlessly, his hulking stature looming larger with every step.

his eyes lock onto yours and your breath snags in your throat- he's a hunter, staring you down through the scope of a rifle, as if you're nothing other than fresh game for him to take home and devour.

you push on even though it feels like you're swimming upstream, his gaze burning into your back like a brand, the icy fear slithering through your veins alive, coiling around your galloping heart, tightening with every ragged breath.

until you hit a dead end. cornered, every instinct screaming for an escape that doesn't exist. and then he's on you, presence overwhelming, reaching a paw-sized hand toward you-

"i thought you guys aren't allowed to touch us?" you choke out, his fingers curling around your wrist and you wonder if he can feel your racing pulse.

his breath warms the side of your throat. "says who, pet? you're free t'stop me." if you can.

(soap and kyle watch him come out with you in hand, looking like you're about to be sick. kyle gives you a water bottle and soap pats your back, telling you that if yer that scared, he'll go with ye next time.)

[shalom-iamcominghome]

It's absolutely true that delusions can take on religious elements and be fueled in part or whole by religion, but dear l-rd, do I hate when people blanket all religion under this whole "it's all delusion, anyway!!!".

No it is not, and I know that because I know what it's like to have gone through delusions! I was reminded of that difference recently, and I'm religious. Not everything that you personally disagree with is a delusion, a narcissistic power play, or anything else. Sometimes you disagree with others. I am pretty religious, but I am more than willing to agree with non-theists about their opinions because they come up with good ideas and we are equal human beings. In fact, the atheist has strengthened my own religious beliefs because I am challenged by them to actually think things through. My whole issue with this is the - funnily enough - holier-than-thou, stigmatizing attitudes that are necessary to say things like that.

As someone who has a vested interest in mental health and accurate information about it, this stuff unironically angers me. The human in me wants to educate people, but the ape in me wants to take away the terms delusional, narcissistic, gaslighting, and every mental health term under the sun away until people learn how to properly use and apply them. The only people you are hurting are people who are already hurting.

[0zzysaurus]

[jesuistrestriste]

frustrated, overworked, sad art donaldson who comes home to you after losing what was supposed to be an ‘easy win’

and when he gets in the door, he doesn’t even take his shoes off before he’s tracking you down in your guys’ apartment; he could’ve been a bloodhound in a past life with the way he’s able to find you just by scent alone

when he does find you, curled up on the bed as you work on your laptop, there’s not a moment of hesitation before he’s crawling up over you and pushing your device aside. he’s got this soft, needy expression on his face, and then you feel his sticky + sweaty body pressing down over yours.

he’s already aching in his athletic shorts, pent up from all the adrenaline and guilt from the loss. he begins rutting down over your clothed hips like a dog in heat; burying his face into the warmth of your neck and murmuring little words and whines and moans.

his palms are pressed down on either side of your body to cage you in, his fingers curled to clutch the sheets as he bucks and rolls his cock against your pelvis. you can feel it too, it’s hot and pulsing and heavy in the confines of the fabric, and he doesn’t seem like’s gonna stop to wait for you to give any sort of protest.

you do try, pushing your hands against his chest and saying things like, “Art— wait—“

but he just shakes his head and lets out a pleading, guttural whine as he fucks your body through the layers of cotton and spandex material. your hesitancy to indulge him right away only riles him up more; heightening the desperation boiling in his core.

he’s not even totally aware of what he’s doing now, just mindlessly and frantically pushing his body down over yours and babbling rushed, whispered phrases.

“oh god, please— please, i wan’ you, need you, need this—“

“need to feel you, need to— i j-just— ohhh— fuuhhcckkk—!”

“can i come? i can’t hold it— im not gonna hold it— can’t— stop— oh shit—! baby, i’m gonna come.. ‘m gonna— about to—!”

he spills into his boxers + his shorts, gushing thick ropes as he shudders and mouths at your neck. his jaw is nearly slack.

art’s usually one to take things slow, so this whole thing is odd, but you start to realize that he’s probably only behaving this way because he’d just lost the match you sent him off to on his own.

you don’t need him to tell you that he lost, you know now.

you hold him as he collapses, panting and gasping, and you kiss the side of his head.

“you’ll do better next time,” you whisper to him.

he won’t.

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

i love that during doomcoming everyone is freaking the fuck out, doing rituals, having orgies, and hunting people like animals and then Nat is just there like “my hand is wavy hehehe”🤪

[itslilacokay]

"i should probably be careful posting when ava ships are involved, maybe i should keep ava shipart stuff to myself"

i say as i post victim and agent being extremely fuckihg gay

[airborneinfantry]

His German's as good as mine.

Joe Liebgott & David Webster in BAND OF BROTHERS (2001) ↳ Part Eight: The Last Patrol

[avakitsune]

Put something in my mouth please

[running2reanimation]

What are some headcanons you have about the mercenaries?

Striker

Is a Created stick.

He was made to help his Creator with art and animation.

His name isn’t actually Striker.

He is not very good at art.

His Creator owned a cat.

His Creator mistreated him.

He stole the tools on his toolbar from his Creator when he escaped.

One of the first sticks he encountered on the Netscape was Victim, whose rocket corporation was already in full swing.

Rocket corporation made Striker’s toolbars, they are integrated into his code. The only way to remove them would be to rip off his arms.

Striker was made with the line tool, that’s why his movements are stiff.

Saved Primal, Bit and Logo when they went after a major crime lord, earned their trust and proved his leadership capabilities.

Knows how to drive.

Primal

Scared her creator when she awoke.

Creator made many more sticks, Primal considered that her tribe/family.

When another human group came into the cave, they wiped out her Creator and their family. They also destroyed some of the other sticks. A few escaped with her.

She could run along stone surfaces, so could the other sticks which is how they escaped.

Numbers dwindled as years went on, weather, erosion, being caught by humans and considered threats or dangerous, eventually there was only her left.

Travelled alone for a long time, watched the world change.

Wound up on someone’s phone when they took her picture, escaped to the Netscape from there.

Becoming a bounty hunter just made sense.

Definitely one of the first sticks ever, and probably the oldest living stick.

Logo

Technically started as a digital piece, but didn’t awaken until printed.

Scared their Creator; Creator was worried about getting fired, and thought people might destroy Logo so Logo fled.

Logo can run across signs.

Can also run into ads, how they got into the Netscape.

Logo was avoided by most sticks for his strange appearance. Very lonely.

Accidentally helped Primal catch her target. Primal was grateful and didn’t treat him like a freak and Logo has been by Primal’s side ever since.

Knows how to drive.

Bit

The only one who has no beef with Creators and actually likes his.

Real name is Ballista, Bit is a nickname.

Was set free when his Creator’s project was completed.

Still visits his Creator’s PC occasionally.

Goes clubbing regularly.

Major flirt.

Probably the most mentally stable mercenary but that’s not saying much.

Was hired by Logo and Primal when they wanted to expand their business and take on more difficult targets.

Gets frustrated easily.

Does not appreciate the short jokes, despite the fact that the nickname Bit is a short joke.

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts 3 - Rage Form

[kaionyx]

Ever since tumblr made me into a dog dom, marking someone with my scent without them knowing it has been heavy on my mind.

Stalking and sneaking through a pretty bunny’s window when they so stupidity left it open for someone like me to come in and violate their pretty holes. Covering their precious body with bruises and bites as a reminder for the next day while rutting load after load into whichever little hole I mold around my cock first. Their face held down in their pillows the whole time so the only thing they have to hold onto is my smell when they’re fighting to get any type of air.

This happens night and night again, each time making them more desperate and eager to feel my weight against them when night comes until I just stop showing up one day. They try to forget and play it off as nothing as time passes until they happen to catch my scent walking one day. It would be so cute to see how fast their little body would turn and follow me into some alley without second thought. Watching how easily their dumb mind switches off when I pull them by their hair and pin them to the wall with my scent surrounding them again, eyes all dazed and not a single thought behind them.

Seeing them almost stupidly finding comfort in it while begging so pathetically to be used again, I just have to throw them over my shoulder and take them home with me as my personal little breeding bitch to break in.

[crystalchespin]

pvz anthros :}

okay listen, I do not.like drawing human-like anatomy so i'm sorry if they look awkard but i think i did my best haha (sobs)

[roxiusagi]

The strugglersss