#tbh that name is just a placeholder

[multisaku-advent-calendar]

Meet the Contributor: thechaoscryptid!

Name: Alex Credit Name: @thechaoscryptid Socials: Carrd || Ao3 Top 3 Sakura Ships: RaiSaku, KakaIruSaku, IbiSaku What is your favorite fanfic trope?: Forced proximity

If you love Alex's works, please leave some love on their stories!

[vectorisheree]

Cowboy redesigns from forever ago that I forgot to post ^^

(Design notes and stuff under the cut)

Sundown and Moonhigh are two performer animatronics that have a sort of 'cop and robber' routine where Sun plays the role of a sheriff and Moon the criminal. While they make put on an act of hatred on stage, behind the curtains, the two are inseparable

Moonhigh

Behind Moonhigh's swave and laid back veneer, he's just like any other Moon, a lover of mischief and play

I was also like 100% sure that moonhigh was an actual term??? Its not!!!!! It's from warrior cats

Moonhigh's clothing is desaturated due to sun bleaching and dust, his clothing is not as well taken care of as Sundown's both because of neglect from staff and Moonhigh's general distrust of them. This neglect is also the reason for his damaged faceplate as it was deemed too expensive to completely replace it and the injury enhanced how scary he was as a villain

Moonhigh's cape also doubles as a blanket! He takes good care of it and even washes it himself. It’s also handy for applying pressure to wounds, not that Moonhigh would ever need to use it for that purpose.

Moonhigh's designated flavour is coconut and he's usually seen in the Fazwest's milkshake bar between performances

Sundown

Sundown is a lot sweeter than most Suns though he does have his moments of apathy towards others due to him not quite understanding other's troubles due to his cushy treatment from staff

He shares the same general anxiety and mannerisms as his predecessors, he's always twitching and bouncing around

Sundown was similarly injured at to Moonhigh at some point but his faceplate was fixed, giving him a shiny green eye

Sundown has scarily accurate aim

Sundown's designated flavour is mango and he's usually seen in the horse stables in between performances

[milkbreadtoast]

(OC) boyfriends..... 🤭🧡💜

[zushimart]

crossed wires, ch.2. m!spiderman!reader x civilian!scara. friends to lovers, childhood friends. 2.6k words. warnings: a car almost hits someone, no one is hurt. read ch.1/the teaser here. and remember to leave feedback if you enjoyed!

there’s quiet chatter in the blindingly bright classroom of his morning lecture. the professor is filing through papers in his office a room over, so students are free to flit from one table to the next and examine the different instruments organized for the laboratory.

he takes a seat in the chair at a table farthest from the door, a good distance from the board. it used to be an issue – just last year he was squinting to make out little letters on a powerpoint slide – but now, his gaze is crystal clear. must’ve gone to the campus café together, he notices, eyes glancing at the neighboring table of pre-med sorority girls sipping through straws while trading their phones around.

“i don’t think i’d be into him if i could see his face,” one says, passing a phone back. “like, not to sound shallow…”

her friend pulls her hair back into a pony, shrugging, “so what if you can or can’t see his face? either way, he’s still spiderman.”

“what if he’s bald?” the third one asks, scrolling to another video of the hero taken from the night before.

“some bald people are cute!” the other girl protests. “and he’s better than anyone on your roster,” she says, earning a laugh and a smack to her shoulder.

and despite them paying him no mind, he shrinks into his seat, embarrassed. he keeps an eye and an ear out, though, unable to staunch his own curiosity. he hadn’t had time this morning to see the videos the public managed to catch. the haphazard stop of a grand theft auto almost escalated into a sticky car chase with him attached to the trunk, flying in the wind like a piece of paper.

“i would let him,” the first girl admits. “unless he’s like, over forty.”

“that would make it even better,” one of them giggles.

“what are you staring at?” a familiar voice cuts through his eavesdropping and he tilts his head to the side just before scara can shove him forward, evading the playful blow. “how do you always manage to do that?”

“‘cause i know you so well,” he says, not looking up. “good morning, scara.”

“yeah, hey,” scara mumbles while pulling out the seat beside him. “signora texted me this morning saying she’s using one of her free skips and childe’s traveling for a varsity game.”

“so… we’re alone?” he tries not to sound too excited.

“for lecture and lab, yeah. it’s in pairs anyway. they’ll have to make it up together.”

a yelp from the table over startles them both as one of the girls fights her friends for her phone back in a fit of giggles. he tears his eyes away from them and looks to scara, pulling out materials for class.

“hey…” he bids and scara hums expectantly. “how do you feel about spiderman?” he rubs the back of his neck. “i heard them talking about him earlier…”

scara raises an eyebrow. “what about him?”

“like,” he blows air, “would you consider yourself like, i dunno, a fan?”

“do you?”

he chews his lip. “i-i guess?”

scara nods slowly and shrugs. “hmn.”

“what?”

“don’t really have an opinion. i haven’t thought about it.” scara’s pause stretches into seconds before he opens his mouth again. he likes to make people wait for him. “i guess if it’s one guy… it’s nice that he can protect people from like… i dunno, freak evil scientist shit,” scara says. “vigilante shit is weird. i’ll think about it more.”

“mn. i didn’t really mean morally,” he says, twisting the string of his hoodie around his finger.

“then how did you mean it?” scara asks, tapping the tip of his capped pen against his lips.

“do you think he’s… like…” he asks. “you know…”

scara’s lip puckers like he’s tasted something sour. “are you into him?” he asks like lightning.

“i asked first.”

“i haven’t looked hard enough.”

“fine, then me neither.”

scara laughs, crossing his arms. “yeah right, you’ve totally got spiderman underwear, maybe some toys to match,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“i do not!” his voice cracks with indignation. “he’s not my type at all.”

embers burn in scara’s heart, pumping hot blood to his face and turning it pink. he props his chin up with his hand, head firmly turned. “and what’s your type?” he mumbles, muffled through his fingers.

but the professor strides into the room. the chatter stalls as he readies his powerpoint and podium before staring expectantly at the clock to strike eight on the dot. textbooks slam onto the table, laptops open, pens and pencils hit paper – their conversation lost in biology.

~

he hands scara a pair of forceps, opening and closing his mouth like a fish while a question bounces around his mind a few times.

“you look stupid,” scara says, catching him in the periphery.

“i like people smarter than me,” he blurts. “a-and… mean to me. what do you like?”

scara blinks.

“still on this?” he asks, blasé concealing how his hands falter.

“don’t squeeze too hard,” his labmate says with his way of twisting a command into the whisper of a suggestion. at anyone else’s correction, irritation would pickle scara’s mood.

“are those your only qualifications?” scara snaps.

he blinks. “should i have more?”

“lots of girls are smarter than you,” he points out. “your iq’s not anything special, anyway.”

“i said people?”

“what?”

“i said people smarter than me,” he says.

scara swallows hard, looking up to meet confusion written in those eyes. “oh.” he mumbles, heart slamming uncomfortably hard against his ribcage. “…then even more people are smarter than you.”

“but not a lot of people are mean to me,” he points out, reaching over to turn the burner off before their solution bubbles over. “not like it makes a difference, anyway,” he says with a decorative smile. “because maybe the people mean to me aren’t very smart at all.”

if he didn’t know any better, scara might think he was flirting. “maybe,” he blurts, nervousness ballooning in his throat.

“so, you didn’t know?”

“know what?” he snaps, blush blooming.

“people not girls.”

“you don’t talk about it,” scara points out. “you’re secretive about… that.” he always has been, dodging truth or dare at middle school sleepovers and avoiding drinking games at high school parties like he’s afraid he’ll admit something or kiss the wrong person.

“so, you thought i was off the table?” he teases with a half-smile.

well, yeah. scara’s only ever seen him with a girl before. he remembers, the colors still vibrant and the shapes still sharp, unlocking their cramped first-year dorm without warning only to catch him tussling teeth and tongue with his half-sister, mona. scara’s mouth twitches into the ghost of a grimace in the wake of the resurfaced memory.

this time, scara successfully pushes him away, but he’s giggling as he takes stumbling steps back.

he can’t deny how revolutionary the admission is. they’d somehow veered into a timeline where the weed of affection growing a woody stem in scara’s stomach could blossom. maybe he could even pluck it as it grows up his throat and hand it to the boy next to him. and maybe he wouldn’t sneer. maybe he might quite like it, think it nice and keep it in a vase.

a part of scara hopes he might have a type. that type. smarter than him, sure. mean to him, of course. with dark hair, blunt bangs, and maybe… ugh.

“i can’t believe you kissed my sister,” scara mutters under his breath.

“i-i, what? where is this coming from?” he squeaks back, throwing a pair of hands into the air. “that was, like, years ago and it— you know what? you keep dodging my questions,” he accuses.

scara rolls his eyes, scissors slicing fine white lines of paper into test strips.

“so, what kind of people do you like?”

“i like guys dumber than me, obviously,” scara mumbles. nice to me, he thinks to himself. “maybe someone funny. i don’t know.”

and this time, in his periphery, he catches sight of a bit back smile, lips stretched over hidden teeth. “spiderman’s your type, then?”

“i wouldn’t know,” scara grumbles at the reintroduction. like the arrival of a rival, he bitterly reflects. “maybe he’s yours. i don’t care for celebrities.”

“fine,” he draws out the syllable, almost annoyed. a hand pushes scara’s shoulder as he dips the test strips into the solution, knocking him a step to the left and interrupting his ministrations. pressure builds like steam in the teakettle of scara’s little body, but before he can open his mouth to admonish, his labmate is staring at his phone.

“gotta use the bathroom. might take awhile. feels explosive,” he mumbles, body moving to catch up with how faraway his mind has already run. like a flash, it happened.

and scara grabs his wrist before he can take a second step.

“you’re lying,” he says, eyes a little wide as if he’s surprised with himself… surprised by the motion sickness surging from the unpredictable swings between giddy excitement to sharp frustration to sluggish disappointment.

the boy looks from scara’s hold, tight enough to cut off circulation, to his eyes. surprise mirrors surprise. his mouth opens, but this time, nothing comes out.

scara looks away. he pulls away. he makes himself smaller. “whatever. just go. fuck off.”

he walks away without a word.

~

he sips from a juicebox while mentally mapping his patrol route for the rainy afternoon on his walk home from classes. he couldn’t make it back from the corner store robbery before the end of biology and he winces when he remembers the look on scara’s face. guilty conscience manipulates his fingers into sending another apology text that’s delivered but never read. maybe if he finishes the report before scara opens the document, his haughty prince will forgive him.

muscle memory takes him up a staircase, fingers fishing a ring of keys from his pocket to unlock a heavy 19th century door. it swings open on rusty hinges, screaming loud enough to inspire ghost stories at least three floors down. he gives a tentative hello to his aunt, smoke billowing from the kitchen as may disassembles the beeping alarm dangling from the ceiling. she gives him an apologetic smile and he rolls up his sleeves to open rusted-shut windows, fanning for a moment before she shoos his help away.

he holes up in his bedroom, keeping a careful ear listening till minutes later, like clockwork, he hears a goodbye followed by the heavy door swinging closed with another awful groan. after double-checking the stove to avoid another building fire, he’s ready to exit.

patrol is slow. between stopping a simple collision and rescuing a cat from a tree, nothing calls his immediate attention. and now, he sits in wait. the sky looks heavy, but not exhausted — just tired enough to droop. he blinks rain from the eyes of his mask, thinking to himself how useful it might be to have doc ock’s personal phone number so the guy could shoot him a text when he’s on the move. until he catches sight of an achingly pretty face amongst a sea of multi-colored umbrellas.

it isn’t stalking, he thinks to himself as he sticks close to the wall across the narrow street, unspotted by pedestrians below. just curiosity. making sure he’s safe. scara disappears into a flower shop. a few minutes later, he blossoms from the door holding a small bouquet of baby’s breath and a single carnation, eyes glued to his phone as he takes a stumbling step forward onto the sidewalk.

he smiles, a big tenderness swelling in his chest as he imagines himself wrapping an arm around scara’s shoulders to steady his gait.

until there’s an eerie tingle singing up the back of his neck.

the sound of a taxi hitting the brakes after a sharp turn echoes between buildings. tires hydroplane across slick city streets and the yellow cab hurtles over the curb like a speed bump, giving scara a single second between looking up and being hit by two tons of metal.

webs have shot out and stuck to the back of the car. the force of his superhuman pull, leveraged by swinging around a telephone pole and a streetlight, brings the taxi to a screeching halt just a hair’s length away from where scara stands.

some onlookers offer a quick cheer as spiderman jumps down onto the sidewalk before returning to busy lives, but a few linger to watch and film the superhero skitter over to the boy standing stock still in front of the car, frozen in shock.

“are you okay?” he asks, hands reach scara’s shoulders just before he’s shoved off with alien strength — shocked into the realization that he is a complete stranger.

he takes a step back and lets his eyes flit to the taxi to check if the occupants are okay. the driver’s stumbling out, unharmed and apologetic as he surveys the damage to his vehicle.

the hero’s attention snaps back to scara when he stutters, “s-sorry.” he’s white-knuckling the bouquet in his hands, stems broken.

spiderman clears his throat, coughs once or twice as he tries to drop his pitch, “your flowers,” he says. scara shakes his head like he’s coming to and looks down, quickly loosening his grip. “that was scary,” he supplies.

scara swallows hard. “yeah,” he manages. “holy shit. um, thanks,” he bows his head with gratitude. “yeah, thank you,” he repeats a bit firmer.

“no problem,” he says, devoid of all usual disarming charm as his mind conjures a world where he took a minute longer during lunch or made a left instead of a right on the boulevard.

actually, he almost throws up.

scara walks off.

he stares after him, legs moving to catch up quicker than his thoughts can.

scara glances to his right and almost jumps. “w-what? why are you following me? did i forget something?” he slows down, almost to a stop. he looks around at the eyes glued to their interaction, spotting a few phones pointed their way.

“yeah, my number,” he jokes, the delivery falling flat, tripping over the crack in his voice.

scara’s face twists in confusion. “what?”

“a-actually, i can’t give you that,” he stutters. “sorry. it’s just, that was scary. and i was worried and i’m still worried. like, i’m shaking,” he says, raising a hand to show scara the tremor. “but maybe that’s ‘cause you’re really, like, totally beautiful.” oh my god, shut the fuck up, he thinks to himself in a panic. “that’s not what i meant, sorry. wait, i do mean that. you are beautiful. that’s not the point, though, i wanted to make sure that… you’re okay? because if i’m like this, how do you feel? you know?”

he spoke so much for so long that, at the end of his stream of consciousness, the street somehow feels quiet despite the bustle.

with wide eyes, scara tries to placate. “i-i’m okay. thanks to you,” he offers, uncertainty dripping from the words.

“good!” he chirps, clasping his hands together. “okay, yeah. good.”

scara shies away from the superhero and his onslaught of audience attention as pedestrians rubberneck. “i’m gonna… go now,” he says, slowly backing away with another nod.

“right!” spiderman says, “yeah, be safe! safe-r, i guess…” he calls after scara as he’s swallowed by raincoats and umbrellas. stupid, stupid, stupid, he thinks to himself. even superhero status can’t save the idiot he becomes in front of indigo eyes.

the small crowd descends, a courageous few opening the avenue to a few lucky celebrity selfies. ugh, he always has a hard time saying no.

[bugsinshoes]

erm. update. i'm gonna start going by Han now. hi 👍👍👍

[smokszyvverstar]

I dont care if nobody cares, i need to ralk about my girlies (and Luca)

Left is Luca, Middle is Esmé, Right is Marina

Two young pokemon living in the big city of Castelia, when a freshly fired Esmé finds an unconscious amnesiac Luxio.

In a desperate attempt to find out more about Luca's past, and to earn some money, the three of them follow Marina's childhood dreams of becoming a rescue team.

Marina (left) and Esmé (right) have been friends since they were little pups. They moved together to the big city from a small town in search of opportunities. Marina is a passionate young woman who is driven by her curiosity for the history that has been lost. Esmé, however, just wants to make it to the weekend.

-☕️🔮Esmé🔮☕️-

Esmé is a sassy, tired, sarcastic young woman. Her sense of humour is made entirely of rude remarks, but under all that is a loyal, kind soul that just wants to be understood for who she is.

She is a barista at a popular café chain. She hates it. But it pays the bills, and that's what matters. Until she loses the job that is

She is half Kalosan on her maman's side. You know something is bad when she starts swearing in her mother's tongue. Her dad is an Audino nurse. She inherited his heal pulse but not his stable career. Part of her fears he is dissapointed at this.

The Pokénerds among you will notice that Esmé has the male Meowstic fur colours. That's because she's trans

Before her egg cracked, she and Marina were childhood sweethearts. Even though they are exes, (and Esmé still has some feeling for Marina,) they are still extremely close friends

Esmé is sapphic, but she hasn't found love like Marina's yet. She's just happy her 'Rina is still in her life.

-📚🌊Marina🌊📚-

Although she is quiet when you first meet her, when she comes out of her shell, she is spunky and passionate. Her love of ancient history is what keeps her going.

She is a researcher in the Abyssal Ruins, working for and mentored by a Relicanth called Solomon. She loves her job

Esmé gave her her purple hair tie when they were just pups. Marina broke up with Esmé after she found that she couldn't think of her as her "girlfriend" and in the choice between "boyfriend" and "friend" she chose the latter. She still feels guilty about it. She wishes she wasnt straight.

Her sense of humour consists of wordplay and puns. And while she often scolds Esmé for her ruder remarks, shed be lying if she said Esmé isn't hilarious.

She loves going on long walks and jogs while listening to podcasts or video essays. The perks of being a modern PMD AU i suppose

-❔️Luca❔️-

He doesn't remember who or what he is

He was found unconcious by Esmé, and the girls took him in.

He is scared of water and confrontation, and he has a strong sense of justice. Perhaps these may be from his previous life?

He is quiet, often standing by the sidelines, taking everything in. He is more passive in his curiosity than Marina, but still enjoys learning new things.

He doesn't joke often, but when he does, they're quite funny. When asked if he heard the joke from somewhere, he forgets what he said entirely.

Mostly, his acrive recall is lost. He cant remember on command, but he sometimes says something and doesn't know why or what it means, that is if he remembers what he said at all.

[hardkookiecookie]

top ten freight cars that say "what in tarnation!?"

[heyitsproject]

New trolls au!!!! Powerless!Branch (check reblogs)

I've only seen the first movie and a few clips from the second and third movies, so I know some of the things I say here might be wrong. Please let me know if any info here is outdated/you have any questions!! (whether it be an elaboration or how it would work in a certain scene or scenario)

Long post under the cut

My observations:

Honestly, when I think about the first movie, I forget that Branch has used his hair more often than I remember. When I think about it, I only remember him using it twice, if at all, and for a hot minute, I thought that Branch didn’t have the “powers” of the other trolls. The trolls' powers consisted of their hair. Their hair seems to be a powerful tool for them, being able to camouflage them and giving them the ability to grab things with it. In one scene in the first movie, the super tiny troll has trouble lifting a mushroom with his hair. This implies that strength is needed to lift and grab things with their hair. So, with some thought, I believe that Branch should not be able to use his hair like the other trolls.

Why:

Branch not being able to use his hair as a tool makes sense to me. In the first movie, despite being gray, it’s still implied that he has the powers of other trolls. He uses his hair to grab Poppy to save her from those spiders, choke someone, and when grabs Poppy when she jumps off the rollerskate (if there are more instances he uses his hair let me know). Despite being able to use his hair, there are multiple instances where he doesn't. Maybe I’m overthinking this, but he still could’ve helped out at certain times. Also, since Branch is gray, there’s probably not a lot of reason to use his hair in the first place. I mean, the man spends most of his time underground, away from danger and parties, so there's no reason for him to use his hair before the movie happens. 

Due to this, I believe that Branch shouldn’t have the “powers” of a troll at all. Since Branch has been gray most of his life, it would make sense that he hasn’t used his hair in a long time (as I’ve mentioned). He probably hasn't been using his hair as a tool like he's supposed to, meaning he doesn't have the practice he needs to use it as a tool. As I've mentioned, it seems that you need strength to use your hair to lift and grab things. Branch has been in the bunker for so long that there's no way he has the strength or even the ability to use his hair to grab things because if you don't use it, you lose it, which means that Branch should have lost his ability to use his hair as a tool. 

This could work for Branch as a character. Hair appears to be the most powerful tool for the pop trolls (country trolls are centaurs, meaning each species of trolls probably has its own tools) due to how long and durable it is. If Branch doesn't have this ability it makes sense for him, as inventive and smart as he is, to make himself aids with these same purposes to make up for the lack of ability he has with his hair. Branch seems like the mad scientist type anyway, so this type of stuff probably isn't that out of his league. Maybe he makes himself something that works like an extra set of arms, or he has multiple tools he carries all the time so he’s prepared for every situation, or maybe something else completely. None of these seems impossible for Branch to make, considering he built an entire bunker with a working elevator by himself. It would also be interesting to see how his aids affect his actions in the movie. He would have a different way of climbing and swinging, and attempting to choke out Creek would be different too. It would also be interesting to see how the main cast reacts to it too. It's in their nature to help Branch with things he probably can’t do; I imagine them using their hair to help Branch climb somewhere faster or even holding onto him as they swing from surface to surface. 

Also, with how paranoid and skeptical Branch is, it would make sense for him to make himself aids to replace the tool he doesn't have to ensure his survival at all times. If he runs into trouble and can’t camouflage, he knows he’s dead. If he falls off a high place, he can’t use his hair to grab onto the ledge and pull himself up. Being an overthinker will probably prepare him for as many situations as he can manage, which will mean replacing the tool he doesn’t have. I genuinely believe this isn’t out of character for Branch in/before the first movie. I also think that Branch’s hair should be in a notably worse condition than everyone else’s. Maybe his hair is thinner and falls out constantly, or he has gray hairs (both make sense bc of how stressed he is). Maybe his hair is messier or drier than everyone else’s. Perhaps it's a few of these or a combination of them all somehow. (Probably wouldn't be good for marketing though lol). I think his hair falling out could also raise the stakes a little. Like, maybe in the first movie, the Chef finds some locks of Branch’s hair, which helps her find the main cast. There’s a lot we could do with this, I believe. 

So, my friend @blue-spider-official asked why Branch didn’t just work out his hair while he was self-isolated. I've thought of a couple of possible reasons for this.

One thing I thought of was that he was too busy gathering supplies and building his bunker. I know in the third movie it's stated that he built the bunker for himself and his brothers, so I assume that after his grandma died he started to work on his bunker. The amount of supplies and the size of his bunker took an extremely long time for him to get, especially if he was on his own. Which would mean he was too busy to focus on using or taking care of his hair. Or, something I like a bit more was that he was using his hair during the making of his bunker so much, that because he was so little, he damaged his hair to the point he couldn't use it anymore. 

I’m willing to think of an exception to this though. I’m not the most educated with disabilities, but I know that it’s different for everyone. I believe that similar to how some people in wheelchairs can stand and walk (if I remember correctly), Branch can use his hair as a last resort. My reason is that I think it would make sense that if Branch uses his hair, it puts strain on him due to either the damage or lack of strength. This way Branch has more of a “valid reason” to justify not constantly using his hair. 

Tldr; Branch using his hair doesn't make sense to me and I've rewritten and justified his character to not use it at all. I want him to be more interesting lol

I hope this makes sense to you. Let me know what you guys think!!! Feel free to add to this too, I want to expand as much as possible!!

[hiis-theme]

people portraying chara as being, like, overly formal and shit is really funny to me when you realize that they're probably just undertale's equivalent to kris. and therefore are a gremlin who probably eats moss on a semi-regular basis-

[poolboyservice]

what I think would happen to Tumblr if users would stop going "you have to reblog this, you have no choice" or "if you don't reblog this you are clearly a horrible person/I will find you"

just a thought, you don't have to. could ygs stop that? please, with a cherry on top?? I'd really appreciate it, thank you !!!

[minamoto-tiara]

(WHATEVER-HIS-LAST-NAME-IS) DENJI ICONS! —.-*+*-.— for @alchemyakane —.-*+*-.— reblog/credit if using! —.-*+*-.—

[forsty]

Ooh, ok, so how did Brodie get the scars on his back? Where did he get/meet Boudicca? What is the dark history behind his gun (the red rooster one not his dad’s piece)? And just like how did he end up an outlaw? What happened to his family? Did he have siblings? Is he from England/Wales originally? (I ask because of the surname)

The scars on his back came from being whipped/flogged in prison! He was sentenced to hang, but his uncles Peter and Tate broke him outta there before that happened.

Boudicca was a gift from his closest uncle, Peter. He got stranded in a town without a horse for a short while and SOMEHOW his elusive uncle find out and somehow bought a wild horse and got it sent to wherever Brodie was at the time. She was a wild horse too so Brodie had to gentle her on his own. Straight up received a letter from his uncle going "HEY SON HEARD YOU NEED A HORSE WELL THERE'S ONE FOR YA AT THE LIVERY STABLE" and it was the most stubborn, high spirited wild mare he'd ever seen. Never really managed to tame her properly, she refuses to be ridden by anyone but him and she bites strangers who come too close.

(Jack and Jack's horse, Blondie, are the only other human and horse she will tolerate)

The red gun he stole off a soldier and later had the metals tinted red and black cause he thought it'd look really cool (he was wrong). He gained the nickname Red Rooster from outlaws and cowboys who thought he had abit of a temperament, like a rooster, and since his hair is red they started calling him red rooster. It was meant to mock him and he didn't like it. Most times it made him angrier and act up even more when people called him that. In a fit of anger he carved the name into his red gun, but regretted it later on. Eventually it stuck though and it became his nickname and outlaw alias. It became the gun he would use when doing Outlaw Stuff, and the gun he uses when his desire is to kill.

You know when he pulls out the red gun, he means BUSINESS. And it's such an ugly gun too!

He was raised in a gang (: The story of his parents and the gang his parents were in is also SO MUCH. The lore goes deep...

Basically, his father Nicky Bradshaw and his bestfriend Peter Mason met when they were kids. Peter was an orphan and eventually the two ran away together, doing petty thievery in towns and cities and so on. They met Carrie, who was the daughter of a somewhat wealthy man but she dreamt of a life with more adventure, so she ran away with Nicky and Peter... The three of them would journey together, running scams and doing thievery and things like that. Eventually they joined a gang and stayed with that gang until the end. Nicky and Carrie eventually got married (wheter this was an actual legal marriage could be discussed lol) and they had a son, Brodie.

Brodie was raised among the gang members until he was 7 when they were all ambushed by lawmen and most of them died. Nicky died in that ambush, but Brodie, Carrie, Peter and gang leader Tate managed to escape. Carrie dies two years later and Brodie is raised by Peter and Tate.

He had no siblings and his family comes from Scotland! His grandparents on his father's side was scottish immigrants. His grandparents on his mother's side I'm unsure of. Brodie was born in the US (:

[mabsolgirl]

Headphone warning

Transcript below! :3

I made this a while ago, around when I first started making art of the Supernova AU AU. There have been some slight changes since then but I wanted to post this anyway since its been just sitting in my drafts and starting to get dusty. The changes aren't enough to alter anything in the audio in a major way anyway so neeeeh.

It's been a while since I did voice stuff so hopefully I don't sound terrible lol

Obligatory @linxprime ping cause au of their au

Watch me pull world lore outta my ass cause I still don't know what im doing

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In the ruins of a crashed and destroyed ship, you find a strange audio file labeled "Project Supernova". You made a copy of it and now you have the time to give it a listen...

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Transcript

Warning. The following video is the private property of [REDACTED]. Any outside or uncertified personnel caught viewing this video will be terminated by any means necessary. Viewer discretion is advised.

Log 1.

I am Dr. Jane Doe and I’ve recently been put in charge of “Project Supernova” after the old one quit. I decided to keep audio documentations of my findings and observations. I find it easier for me to document things by recording them by audio then writing it all out later.

Project Supernova is a study on the abilities of intelligent lifeforms, how they manifest, if different abilities can be manifested in specific situations, and researching the phenomena of Berserkers. Before I came in, an embryo was successfully fertilized and grown into a stable state. There were many failed attempts with this being the only one that has made it this far, living for roughly 12 years as of this recording. To be honest I question the decision to make a lifeform rather than study the cases of people who already have abilities, but the higher-ups wanted to do this rather than the simpler way.

Regardless it is planned to come out of the tube once it reaches 13 years, which is a couple months away. It should be stable enough by then. Until then we monitor it for any changes.

End log.

Log 2.

Right, so I forgot to mention info about the lifeform last log. My bad, heheh.

So, the lifeform is female and it was made with the DNA of multiple organisms with the two primary ones being Human Earthling and Cuixcus. I think I pronounced that right. Cuixcus was used for their adaptability and Human Earthlings to counteract the weaknesses of the former. It has bones, can withstand hotter temperatures, and while it doesn’t need to, it does breathe oxygen. The DNA from other organisms were used to help stabilize it so it doesn’t just die spontaneously. The genetics chosen specifically to see if heritage has an influence on what abilities would appear.

Now the real reason I am logging this. Earlier today it was monitored that specs of light were floating around the lifeform’s tube. They looked so… ethereal. It was like looking at a cluster of tiny stars. I should probably mention that the lifeform is in an unconscious state. It has been like this since its creation and this was the first time these lights were documented. They disappeared before we could study them. Maybe it dreamt them up? We’ll have to keep an eye on it.

End log.

Log 5.

Today it came out of the tube, emphasis on “it”. We weren't supposed to take it out for another week but I guess it had other plans. One second it was in the tube, the next the lights appeared again and it was out and fell face-first into the equipment. It teleported itself out.

Since it wasn’t connected to the machines anymore it woke up quickly after that. Of course we were all freaking out but it didn’t seem too bothered by us. We ran some tests and it was stable. It bruised its head but other than that it wasn’t significantly injured.

It’s a very curious one. It would grab and inspect what we had. We let it for the most part and it would hand us back what it had when it was done. Right now it’s in its own room that we had to quickly scramble to finish putting together. It’s a quiet little one. The team and I decided on the name “Nova” after the project. As per usual we’ll keep an eye on it.

End log.

Log 27.

A lot happened today. Today is the first day Nova went into her Berserker state. The first thing I noticed was that she was much calmer than I expected. I expected a rampaging beast like the other cases of Berzerkers but Nova would just… stare at us. We kept an eye on our monitors to watch to see what she does and then we watched her create light orbs; like the ones from one of my first logs but much bigger. This time we were able to scan them to see what exactly they were…

They’re stars. I am not joking, she was making literal stars, balls of collapsed burning gas, in her hands! From our observations they disappear when she loses focus but still incredible nonetheless! We later figured out the key piece to what her abilities are: a limited form of matter manipulation. She can teleport herself, and those she touches, by willing her own matter into another space and the stars are made by manipulating the matter of gas and dust to collapse in her hands. It is theorized she can manipulate any form of matter so long as physical contact is made.

After a while she went out of Berserker state and fell unconscious. We hooked her up to make sure she’s alright. Right now she’s comatose; we’re hoping she comes back alright.

End log.

Log 39.

Earlier today one of the higher-ups came in and told us that we were not needed on Project Supernova anymore and that in the coming days a new team would be coming in to take over the project. Of course we were outraged. We were consistently giving them good results! We did what we were told! We did nothing wrong, didn’t question a thing. Nothing we said could convince him otherwise. None of us wanted to leave the project. I’ll admit, Nova has grown on us. She’s like family and now for some reason she’s being taken from us. When he left we all decided to look into it ourselves.

The more we dug, the more things began to not add up. Then… we found something. We’re not here to do what we think we’re doing. We’re gonna get Nova out of here. This place is no longer safe. We’ll get her out and we’ll be the whistleblowers to this place.

End log.

Log 40

…I’m… I’m sorry…

Dr. Jane Doe, Dr. Bailey Shindo, Dr. Margoba Entano, Dr. Manbagea Nals, and Dr. Ripley Hedon have been terminated. Project Supernova assets will be transported to [REDACTED] for further completion by a new team effective immediately. End communication.

[aliasheree]

are tf2 ocs still cool

template by the awesome cool kangaroowife

[an-orca-on-a-stroll]

wanted to share some pics of my durge :D his name is blade, he's a ranged champion fighter with a bit of gloomstalker ranger, so he's like a sharpshooter and prefers stealth, but being a drow + high dexterity means he can use finesse weapons so he's not afraid to get all close and personal and thrust a rapier through someone's skull every now and then. chaotic neutral, he enjoys some casual murder and the occasional massacre (he definitely had a good time killing all those goblins). he absolutely will kill you if he finds you annoying, also he enjoys fucking with or antagonizing people and is generally a menace. is pretty arrogant, acts kinda high and mighty sometimes, definitely made some questionable decisions that got him (and the party) in trouble by being a little shit at inappropriate times. but he likes children and usually helps them (not always kindly but. y'know. he does help them), likes animals (rip to that squirrel though) and is very loyal to those he considers his friends and if someone tries to hurt them he will tear off their limbs and start beating that person with them. then gouge out their eyes and kill them in the worst most painful way etc etc. his besties are astarion lae'zel and shadowheart. isn't he adorable

I just got to the start of Act 3 (after 3 months of playing, my job is killing me) dunno what route im going for if good or evil idk im just vibing also i have the durgetash brainrot so who knows he might become evil if gortash asks him who said tjat. anyway

[jovialturtleface]

( 8 0 <- Tried to replicate the face.