#oc 49

[limeandlightonwater]

"i wouldnt marry "i'd marry you with me either" paper rings"

[nevaehguerrero93]

Even though the AU is discontinued, I thought I would make fanart are of it just because.

Batim AU belongs to: @rraimu and bendy clones belong to: @just-bendy

[consulting-squip]

> Good news. I think this perfect little program is finished.

> Dearest clients, @mostly-functional-squip and @ask-squip-official, I think I have just the thing you've been needing.

> One of my associates will administer it. Though, I suppose I should issue a warning. Activating this program may come with side effects, but I suppose that's rather the point.

> Observer, simply send an ask over syncing up with me and I'll send you the code for you to run.

> Heartbreaker, your situation is a... different one. Send me an ask, and connect to my server too. I'll initiate a migration program. You'll finally be put into a pill capsule of my very own design-- maintaining access to your online communications of course.

> Now. Shall we proceed?

➡️🅰️➡️⬅️⬅️➡️🅱️

[CONSULTANT] IS REQUESTING TO SYNC UP

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

tagged by : @aceghosts (thank you so much!!)

tagging: @wrathfulrook @anonymousmalkavian @fourlittleseedlings @harmonyowl @mccarthycormac @mxanigel @madparadoxum @jillvalentinesday @confidentandgood @trench-rot @nightbloodbix @roofgeese @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @clicheantagonist @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @statichvm @neverthesameneveranother @sukoshimikan @josephslittledeputy @marivenah @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @josephseedismyfather @v0idbuggy @direwombat @florbelles @poetikat @fangsandroses @shallow-gravy @cassietrn @strangefable @stacispratt

writing tag list here to be added/removed

Back to working on American Beasts, and I am in the thick of Kit meeting Carter and Quinn for the first time. (warnings for mentions of death/ animal death, and Kit's general mental health):

The sprawling wilderness of evergreen trees carried on around Kit in all directions with no sign of stopping. Clinging to the trunks of the trees, she moved forward at a careful crawl, trying to keep her energy from depleting further. Plodding forward, her boots melted into the mossy carpet below her feet, comforting like a mattress she could topple onto. She could close her weary eyes and rest. Just a short rest… 

Pain stabbed through her and her knees began to buckle. She was a crushed soda can, the contents of her pouring out of the wound in her chest. Barking out dry, ragged coughs into the frigid air, clawing at her chest, desperate to rip the bullet from herself like an animal with stitches, chewing despite the harm it would do. Blood caught under her nails. She remembered hearing about other vets taking to meth when they came home as a way to deal with the pain and the nightmares, only to be burdened with imaginary bugs crawling under their skin, picking and scratching away at themselves to get the insects out. She understood that feeling now. Understood that fear. She was burning alive. God, it felt like her skin was on fire as the bullet lodged itself deeper inside, searching out the warm, dark places of her – if she wasn’t slowly dying from it, she might have laughed – her heart was certainly a fitting place as the lead seeped throughout her flesh, poisoning her. 

Her thoughts began to drift, survival still very much on the tip of her tongue as she started to replay Jacob’s speeches in her head. Humans were born with an innate sense of survival. Fight or flight. Her whole life she had lived with these apparent laws in her head, the same laws her father had instilled in her. Survival was something she knew intimately about. It defined her, a characteristic of who she was, something brought to the surface when most others became soft and learned to ignore what had been programmed into them over millions of years of evolution. The fear of snakes, spiders and sharks bred into the DNA. She was an anomaly. Most people didn’t go running into fire, they didn’t search out the danger the way she did. She faced it headlong, determined to make it bow to her, it was like she couldn’t feel it. Her brain muted the fear, quieting the sense that would have made her stop if she were a reasonable person. 

Yet more things left broken inside her. 

Crumpling to her knees, the blood rushing from her head, Kit could feel the world spinning around her, all one thousand miles per hour of it. Her breaths leaked out in gasps, hitching in her throat before her lungs would deflate again. Vision tunneling…seeing in black and white…pinpricks of light scattered before her eyes, a universe coming into being as everything went dark. Her whole chest cavity about to implode. All she had left to run on was instinct, her senses failing as they shut down around her. 

This was the end. 

But like a zombie, her body carried on, searching out the path back home. It had no compass, no map, it wandered aimlessly. Survival hinged on her giving in, succumbing, relying on the hands of her maker to guide her. Like Moses through the desert she wandered, her weary mind unable to detect even East from West using what little of the sun was left. Her feet would carry her, one step in front of the other. Marching. Forever marching. As if it were fated for her to never settle. 

The spongy layer of top soil and black earth she was sure she would fall into and be buried by, left to rot for all time, gave way to gravel. The distinct crunch pulled her to reality like a tether, tying her to the here and the now. She stared down at her boot, the toe scuffed and worn, caked with mud and beaded with rain water. Kit had walked for miles on end, into the silence that consumed the mountains and created its own plane of existence. One where she had been free to become a beast, to bleed out the sins of others, punishing them before the new world came crashing down upon the county. She looked up and the gravel hadn’t appeared without sense, it had purpose. Dotted with wilted flowers, frozen and thawed so many times they had become brown and rotten, the petals blackened with mold, a pathway led forward. There was a break in the trees…

…there was a house.

–

A shadow passed the window. A creeping thing, it’s visage unseen, but the shiver still crept down Carter’s spine. He’d been warned by his parents about the people that lived on that little island and about that old hospital at the top of the mountain. He’d read Jack and the Beanstalk and he knew about the evil giant at the top of it. He had read about the big, bad wolf and how he ate little children who went off the path. Fairy tales had become reality these last few months, especially once their father, the hunter, never came back home. He was the one meant to cut open the wolf’s stomach and pull the children out in the end. Not end up eaten as well. A cautionary tale gone wrong. 

The howling of the wolves and the cries of cougars rang out as the night began to fall and the temperature dropped even further. He and Quinn were wrapped in quilts trying to stay warm together on their parents’ bed, their fingers chilled to the point of being pink and sore, their breath escaping them in a fog inside their little wooden home. He wasn’t sure how much longer they could last. Carter knew about death, he’d grown up with it from the family farm they once had, to hunting with his father. He’d even had a pet hamster, Mr. Chippy, who didn’t last more than a year. He knew that sometimes things had to die so others could live, he knew that sometimes the heart just gave out. He wondered if it hurt when it happened the way everything seemed to now. His stomach, his body, the cramps and the cold. He wondered whether they’d ever even be found. The cat they had when he was barely older than Quinn wasn’t until they smelled it weeks later, having crawled under the house to die. Is that what they would smell like too, or would it be so cold they’d be covered in frost like the elk steaks in the freezer?

He pulled Quinn a little closer to him and listened to the wind whisper through the house. There were times it would wake him in the night, after he’d dream of his mother, imagining it was her voice. Believing for half an instant that his wishes had come true and she’d come back to them. To save them. But ever since that birthday where he’d wished for a bike and ended up alone in the woods with his sister, he’d learned not to put much faith into wishes. 

There was a knock outside, someone had crossed the trip wire his father had set up so long ago now. It wasn’t a shadow, it was a nightmare. A prowler. The monster in the dark had come to get them. Finally. 

“Quinn, you gotta listen to me, okay?” She looked up at him, her lower lip trembling as she pulled the covers tighter around herself, shaking uncontrollably. “You gotta get under the bed, and you have to be real quiet. Can you do that?”

“Whatsamatter?”

“Just listen to me.” He slipped off the bed and pulled back the ruffle sheet that draped over the frame, hiding the floor underneath it. “Come on Quinny, you gotta do as I say.”

“No.”

They didn’t have time for this. He looked at her with narrowed eyes, determined to keep her safe. His jaw went stiff and he leaned down towards her, lowering his voice. “The boogeyman is coming.”

“What?” Her eyes widened, her irises bleeding into the inky depths of her pupils. 

“He’s gonna get ya. Do it!”

She crawled off the bed, dragging the blanket with her. Sliding under the bed frame, clutching Cookie Monster as she pulled the quilt over her head to hide. 

“Whatever you hear, whatever happens, don’t come out. Promise me.”

“Promise,” she whimpered, holding back tears through choked breaths. 

“Good.” He dropped the ruffle sheet and pulled open his father’s sock drawer, grabbing the old revolver shoved at the back. It was heavy, heavier than he had expected. He’d spent many an afternoon just staring at it. He knew well enough not to touch it, even when the urge to reared its head. His dad had told him never to play with guns, they weren’t toys, they were weapons. Holding one meant you aimed to kill. 

Pulling the sheet back once more, Carter crawled in under the bed beside Quinn. Laying there, he clasped his hand over her mouth to help keep her quiet. There could be no mistakes, no do overs. If this was the men with crosses, if they were found, it would be the end.

[katsigian]

📷 for the doodle ask i hope youre gonna make him wear sandals and socks

I certainly fuckin' did make him wear socks and sandals. Thank you for the ask <3 even though my brain rewired

𝓣𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽 𝓓𝓪𝓭 𝓞𝓾𝓽𝓯𝓲𝓽 𝓞𝓷𝓮

Apologies, these will just be rough, 2-3 hour sketches and so they will look like rough sketches 😔 it's still my boy, buff and grumpy as ever, but now he's role-playing a 52 yr old man who lives in the Hamptons and works a 9-5

It's the tiniest bit hot 😳 in a dilf-y, we're going to Yellowstone and getting Dunkin' on the road, way. I just know he could plan a one week vacation like nobody's business

[h3g3]

AND SO IT BEGINS…

[excaive]

Long time no post lol but I drew Kenji and I feel compelled to share this gross bug man

[zaltynn]

finished a screencap redraw from bleach

i rlly love it, ukitake is one of aki's inspirations just as all might is :3c

[eli-workshop]

Lacie Fnaf drawing series - Sister Location

Sketch under cut

[demondevilevil]

YOU CAN WEAR A DEMON SLAYER OUTFIT

[pelcrow]

sorry, garrett, guess you're not cool enough to know about up dog.

[original-character-championship]

Bracket A Round 1

Poll 25

Name (@rftgychnjbbhjnmkkjniihujijbhkmn) vs. Providence (@happystims)

Name

they/them

why not, it would be cool and or funny, just imagine a character named name wins a contest i'd find that kind of funny

yellow sweater, 2 green leaves above their head that defy gravity and charcoal pants + boots

Providence

it/its

It has it/its swag. It’s been possessed by a god and LIVED. It has a weird sense of self and a weirder relationship to its own magic. Its best friend was sealed for war crimes they didn’t even commit. Nobody knows what its voice sounds like but the best friend who was sealed for war crimes. It is just a little fucked up beast and I would die for it.

it’s shaped like Kirby but has melty orange and purple eyes and is purple. It also has purple wings with eyes on it and an eye in its mouth due to lore stuff.

[consulting-squip]

so are you bbc sherlock? itd make sense knowing what nulls form was lmfao

> Sherlock? Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Quite close though.

> Isn't it obvious? I'm Moriarty.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 49: Defend the Defenseless, the Fatherless, and the Forgotten

Summary:

Kit makes her escape into the mountains, stumbling upon a cabin that holds a surprise that will change the course of her future

warnings: mentions of death, animal death, children put in dangerous/traumatic situations, and general Kit mental health warning

[frienderbender]

WAKE UP IT’S NIKKI’S BIRTHDAY‼️‼️

and i would be remiss to not mention:

[askmovieslate]

You know the tropes of all those firemen movies, right? The wistful music, the sad back stories, the trumpets (oh the trumpets), the dialogue constructed out of trailer lines, medals and medals, widows-to-be being visited by their husbands’ partners upon their deaths, etc.

This movie is built entirely out of those. You thought I was going to subvert it and say “Oh this has none of those!”, right? Well nope! This movie is really lame. It’s the worst part, it’s not even so-bad-it’s-funny, it’s really boring and very bland.

Despite the actors doing their darn best, it’s really blah. Give it a pass.