#errorexecutingfile

[ivoryribcage]

Delicate in Sunlight

@errorexecutingfile

In matters of warfare there were countless pieces to consider. Each carried some mention of significance on the potential outcome, and for such a reason it became difficult to predict the threads of cause-and-effect. She thought it better to keep one’s cards close to one’s chest until the clearest understanding of the playing field had been developed. It was her nature. And yet Four’s proposal made her nervous. He seemed a much too devoted, much too enamored hound to turn on the hand that kept his hunger satiated and his teeth bloodied. But she’d seen no choice other than acceptance of his terms. She supposed it was a comfort of sorts -- knowing there’d be no need to rescind the agreement -- as she watched Negan collapse in the distance.

She surmised in the same candor that others spoke of weather with, “He’s lost.” Like those few that had joined her on the outskirts of the battlefield, she’d heard and seen the failure of countless firearms belonging to their people. Without proper weapons to speak of, a king’s men could not turn the tide. “Not yet,” snarled one of Four’s men in response. Her tongue held then. It was almost the moment she’d waited months for. But she could not forget Grace. If indeed she had survived Veata feared that there wasn’t an ounce of kindness to be found for the toddler at the hands of these people. Not after learning of the slaughter that had started the feud. 

Her stomach tightened into knots as she watched The Saviors raise their hands in surrender. Negan remained on his knees, one hand clutching his throat as the man better known as The Sheriff regarded their bested opposition. She was certain after the bloodshed -- after the hatred, after the resentment -- he’d as soon execute them as he had Negan. "He’s going to kill them.” It wasn’t a question. She waited for The Sheriff to deliver the order that would signal the end to the months’ long feud. How could he not? But then he didn’t. Trepidation began to ebb into confusion as she watched The Sheriff’s men lower their weapons as well. From them came a stranger that knelt with Negan unabated by The Sheriff. She glanced to Four without speaking, eyes dark with uncertainty. 

[synthmama]

@errorexecutingfile // sc.

                 “I’m sure you think you’re being cute right now, but I’m serious -- they mean it when they say no weapons allowed. Stash your gear, and let’s go.”

[loving-lone-wanderer-blog]

Living Ghosts (RP with errorexecutingfile)

Amiee held her rifle steady and aimed at the man before her, eyes focused, waiting for him to make a move. Gunner. Basically the Commonwealth’s version of Talon Mercs. Her heart was nearly in her throat, pulse drumming in her ears as she stared him down with intensity. She had been in this position too many times before. 

She was no stranger to the viciousness of men like him, and it showed. There was no fear in her eyes, but a strange sort of empty anger, a feeling of being in the moment while simultaneously living in the past. 

There was no trace of her usual kindness, of her sweetness or charity. Nor her willingness to give others a chance. All there was was the mechanical, calculating shell that was built from ten years of pain and trauma the wasteland had given the small Vault Dweller.

@errorexecutingfile

[ivakir]

6,14, & 46

send me a # to learn an unusual hc about my muse!

what do they normally dream about? nightmares or nonsense?

Ivakir very often doesn’t remember her dreams, and she thinks it’s rather stupid to lie and remember what you were dreaming about. Iv believes that all dreams are complete nonsense (even if it’s good dreams, nightmares, and etc.), and you don’t need to waste your time on them. However, in the witch au, dreams are a part of her working space. There, Iv has an ability to get into the dreams of other people and watch them like some kind of movie, but don’t influence them. Iv does that a lot, so she stopped having her own dreams.

What Iv remembers from her dreams, usually is some kind of delirium, about which she immediately forgets. There are more nightmares, mostly about her family and things she has done. However, in those days when she sleeps a little and is very tired, she dreams about how she is doing something or talking to someone. It looks so realistic that when she wakes up, she is very surprised to find herself in the bed and doesn’t understad why a person doesn’t remember the thing she told them in a dream (while Iv is convinced that it was not a dream).

do they stay up too late? do they like staying up?

Ivakir believes that sleep is for weaklings, and partially follows this rule, not realizing that it’s very harmfull. Ivakir has rather big problems with sleep and it has a great effect on her behaviour. It is easy to guess that the less she sleeps, the more crazy she becomes.

And it’s not about whether she likes to stay up late or not. Ivakir has to go to bed late or not to sleep at all, because every day she has many important things to do, and no one will do them except for her. Also, the thought that people spend most of their life in a dream terrifies her. She believes that it is better if she doesn’t sleep at all. Usually it lasts for two days, after which she sleeps for a day, then she tries to improve her sleeping schedule, and then everything repeats again. Ivakir doesn’t understand what harm she does to her health.

Therefore, most of the time Ivakir secretly wants to sleep, but struggles with this, and yet she behaves as if she drank a liter of coffee and this is her last day of life.

if they could control one thing in the world, what would it be?

Ivakir doesn’t want to control anything at all, since she doesn’t want to be held responsible for anything, but she unknowingly reaches out to power and control. Also, Ivakir generally doesn’t care about many things and thinks that it won’t improve anything if she controls them. I can only say that in the fallout au she would like to control all the trade caravans so that they could pay her tribute. But she understands that this plan is hard enough to turn alone, so for now she just earns caps … in a slightly more honest way.

[karmicagent-blog]

|| art       I did a thing yesterday while warming up for a commission.       This wasn’t just an excuse to draw the babes half naked,       I swear -- it was for updated tattoo references and anatomy       practice. Totally.       Left to right: Ozias ( @errorexecutingfile ), Astrid ( @bionicberserker ),       and of course, Quade.

     Canon       Having been a part of Ozias’s Gunner crew, he was also       made to wear their design - and in recreating him as a Synth,       they were replicated effortlessly. Given their origin however,       it’s part of why Quade typically tries to keep his arms covered.       At the same time, he’d refuse having them removed, because      he’s accepted his past and how it’s shaped him. Besides, when       he gets to kill Ozias, it’ll be all the more satisfying while still       wearing the man’s brand. |

[blackwiidowsniper]

@errorexecutingfile continued from x

Violence for the sake of violence wasn’t particularly her favorite thing. In the past it would have made the hornets in her head awaken, bringing memories on their angry wings, but she had seen too much violence since those days. It didn’t really shake her any more, and she wasn’t sure if she should be worried about that or not.

Arms loosely crossed, she watched Ozias with a look of amusement. His confidence was something she could admire, along with his more physical display.

“That was the original plan, but since you’re here I might take the time off to sit back and enjoy the view instead.”

She grinned.

[lloveforsale]

2 & 5

Character Development Questions #11

2. answered! 

5. Does your character tend to make decisions based on instincts or “gut feelings,” or do they rely more on logic and careful consideration? Do they ever try to find a balance between the two?

she doesn’t think things through, and relies on her instinct and limited knowledge to get her through tough decisions. She’s very heavily influenced by other peoples decisions and opinions, and is very easily manipulated. She assumes everyone knows more than her. When faced with a tough choice she will try and unload all of that pressure and have someone else make said choices for her. 

[dishonestabraham]

errorexecutingfile replied to your post: ✨ Lovable test ✨  ( WHAT TRAIT MAKES YOUR MUSE...

[Ozias voice: What a nerd.]

“Listen... not all of us look like Brad Pitt, okay?”

[ivoryribcage]

Burn Our Kingdoms Down

@errorexecutingfile

It reminded her of the tensions that came before a storm. She could feel it: the electrical charge that tainted each breath. As per their traditional arrangement, the coven had gathered into the woods on the night of the waning moon. Not for want of the communal, but for need of the communal. It facilitated agreeable negotiations with the werecreatures that helped to preserve the manner of life for each faction. For countless seasons -- more than she had lived herself -- the truce had done as it’d been intended to. But tonight an unspoken change that none could name waited. The presence of the beasts prowling in the distance was known to the coven. Yet none from their gathering number came forward to meet them.

Where was the barbaric man she knew to be their leader?

Despite the calm confidence The High Priestess carried herself with, she found trace evidence of unease in the older woman. It spread like wildfire through her blood as Veata Aydelotte approached her mentor of seven years. The woman spoke nothing of her presence as she settled at her side, and she offered no words herself though her tongue was laden with them. But the virtue of patience, as she often preached, was one that paid in kind. The High Priestess spoke without prompt after several minutes of quiet had passed. “Something happened to them. They’re changed.” Veata glanced to the woman -- glanced to her narrowed hazel eyes. “Restless. But not nervous.”

Her eyes followed the path of The High Priestess’ to the dense forest -- to glimpses of men and women circling the coven. Restless. Not nervous. Her blood ached with the want for quickening -- the want for spellcasting. But she resisted the temptation of its song. “Is there a cause we might know of?” The High Priestess shook her head in a manner that bordered on imperceptible. Her eyes did not once stray from the unknown sights that waited them in the distance. “I do not know, Young One. But I do not count Victor among them, and if the pack is without a leader...” The High Priestess trailed into silence.

If she were to inherit the position of high priestess, she had need to understand the cultures of werecreatures. Even though their symbiotic arrangement was one that had stood for decades against the test of time, it required the as much effort and keep as a diplomatic relationship brokered between monarchies. From her rigorous studies she had come to learn that a pack that was without a leader was a pack that faced threat of unimaginable loss as potential successors gave themselves over to a quite often bloodied, violent struggle for dominance. Then, quite without warning, the pacing of men and woman came to a halt. But the stillness was no comfort as the coven and she watched the lone stature of a man lope through the trees at an unhurried pace. 

[anarchywithin-blog]

errorexecutingfile replied to your post:

hark! a wild mun appears

[[ BEHOLD - SHE /IS/ CUTE! ]]

YEAH WELL IT TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE.

[anachrxniism]

"As soon as I'm finished, there will be no operation. Because I'm going to destroy everything, got it?"

From Dusk ‘Til Dawn starters (accepting)

Ivy quailed a little, and wondered – not for the first time – if it was safer to avert her gaze or keep staring intently into his. 

She couldn’t tell with this Krane guy. Ozias. He had charmed her back in Goodneighbour, when word got around that she was looking a gunhand to help with a possibly delicate task. It was all promise and playfulness then, and those eyes of his had been more inviting than unnerving at the time. He looked dangerous, of course, but she has come to expect and even envy that in the people of this world. She wanted someone dangerous. Someone strong. Ruthless, if necessary. And while she did know a bit of his reputation before hiring him (she’s not a complete sucker), his chiseled looks and magnetic eyes had, she must admit, made it easier to silence the voice in her gut telling her not to trust him. 

Now it was like walking with a tiger on a leash; whatever illusion of control she thought she had over him as a paying employer was a mere courtesy on his part. He could rip the leash out of her hands and strangle her with it any time he wanted, and all it would cost him would be the rest of the caps promised to him. Not that that was saying a lot. But damn if he didn’t get results. It was only thanks to his tenacity and network of resources, which outstripped hers by light years, that they even found the man she was looking for. Whatever qualms she had about working with him, Ozias had proven himself worth every cap and then some. 

Doctor Peter Gorski was not an easy man to track down, by his exact design. She guessed he had at least three aliases that he used regularly when venturing into civilization, if not more, and his hideout on the edge of the Glowing Sea was practically a fortress. Built into the side of a mountain, the bunker was mostly underground as far as she could tell, guarded by a handful of turrets and – if the rumours were true – a platoon of armed robots (synths, Ozias had called them). She couldn’t see any of them outside the front entrance, but it was possible they were kept inside and away from prying eyes. Not that many people were crazy or desperate enough to travel this far into the radiation red zone. Ivy had already lost count of the number of Rad X pills she’d popped since they passed Pioneer Park.

Crouched behind the rusted out shell of a car, she decided to take her chances and gave her mercenary a look that was both frustrated and pleading. “Look, Mr. Krane, I told you I just want talk to this guy. Taking out his turrets is one thing, but I need his help and he’s not even going to give me the time of day if we kick in the front door and start shooting up the place.”