#so consider this a preview

[tutuandscoot]

I want you to

stay.

[minhosblr]

300324 Minho being a cutie from different angles for @wantbytaemin ♡

vid. credits x x x x

[fala-alfredo-pasta]

Hey! I love your ososan art! :) I found this on Pinterest and immediately thought of you, so... here!

Hold on hold on hold on

theeeeeere we goooooooooo~

[leqclerc]

Drive to Survive S05E03 “Matter of Principal”: a summary

[nattaphum]

During the talk, right after ‘Man Suang exclusive preview’, Pond said that:

Major Group informed him that Man Suang is ranked No. 2 over a period of 10 years for selling such a huge amount of presale tickets.

THAT’S AN ENORMOUS RESULT !!!!!

[pastafossa]

Internet: so there's a MARVEL TAROT DECK COMING SOON Me: YESSSS, so can I see a lil of the inside before pre-ordering? Internet: ...it's a MARVEL TAROT DECK Me: you mean... I can't even see inside? What type of art is it? Internet: it's a MARVEL TAROT DECK Me: that answers nothing Internet: all you need to know is it's a MARVEL TAROT DECK Me: do you have ANYTHING to say besides 'it's a marvel tarot deck'? Internet: ...it's a- Me: just sit down, jfc

[neosimi]

🧬 atomiclight’s retro posters +  random stickers 🧬

here’s something that has been stuck in my wip folder since the end of last year. not sure why it took me this long to post, but alas! here are a whopping 110 recolors across two meshes by the wonderful atomiclight. in hindsight i probably should’ve combined them into one but eh, i wasn’t about to redo 50 recolors lol. you can find the originals for ts4 here and here. :] 

files are compressed. swatches included in the zip. 

download: [sfs] | [box] ♡

credits: @atomiclight. 

[generic-sonic-fan]

I Can't Take All This

Summary: A corollary to “I Can’t Accept All This”. 

Metal Sonic finds itself buried under the rubble with Sonic, and is forced to contemplate the most extreme execution of its prime core directive.

(Or: what if it was Metal Sonic buried alive with Sonic instead of Omega?)

Word Count: 1677

(Inspired by the lovely @ramblingsofasandvich!)

Metal Sonic’s processor could not even begin to chart a path of egress before the rubble fell. 

Catching the falling debris with its arms joints locked above its vital processor was a decision made in the next three frames of its continued existence. It flexed its elbow joints to prevent them from snapping. Its legs sheared off at the knee joint instead. Now its foot and calf plating lay in front of it, tactile sensors refusing to reconnect no matter how many times it urged them to. 

Its every other sensor was tuned to escape options. It did not need to devote precious processing power to the calculations to know that its frame would only withstand another half an hour bearing this weight, and that was a generous estimate. It probed the wreckage above and to every side for weaknesses or natural cavities in the collapse formation. It found none; at least, none accessible, even if its turbine could achieve maximum spin-up and airflow in these conditions. 

And it registered, upon turning its scanners to the floor, that Sonic the hedgehog lay only five feet southwest of its position. Heart rate, elevated; breathing, erratic; alive. 

The only barrier separating them was a metal panel. This panel was not load-bearing and only a quarter of an inch thick. Easily pierceable. Metal Sonic ran simulations of the various tearing motions with its claws that could achieve a breach. All of which, though, required releasing its hold on the ceiling. It could not flee to Sonic’s cavity for shelter should it pursue that course of action, as his cavity was not a natural result of the debris formation, but rather-

But rather-

Metal Sonic flinched its head forward as its operating system was whipped with a reprimand for its direct disobedience of its prime core directive. Its arms shook. This motion translated into the greater debris, knocking particles loose from the ceiling. One large particulate landed on Sonic’s head, rousing him from an unconscious state. 

“Hello? Help? HELP!”

The organic hedgehog rose from his prone position. A surge of tactical protocols flooded Metal Sonic’s already overwhelmed processor. It calculated, in two-point-three seconds, every possible angle of attack Sonic could utilize should he choose to tear through the thin metal plating, and it concluded that it would have no defense. This would lead to near-complete chassis loss and require extensive repairs from Dr. Ivo Robotnik to remedy. 

. . . or it could release its hold on the ceiling. 

“Is anyone there? I’m here! Help!” Sonic screamed. 

Sonic would be crushed in an instant. His skull would cave, his ribs would snap, and his viscera would be squeezed into whatever miniscule gaps remained. Metal Sonic had run similar simulations thousands of times before. The outcome was certain.

Similarly, though, its own frame would be not just lost, but obliterated; titanium torn, copper and hydraulic fluid spilled into open air, every last trace of its code arcing down the nearest conductive surface to be lost to the ground below. “Repair” was not a concept that existed after this outcome. Neither was “restoration”. The closest was “rebuild”, and that was if Dr. Ivo Robotnik could even find enough salvage to make the operation worthwhile. 

This was no mere processor wipe. This was complete annihilation.

“Come on, come on, Sonic! Calm down! Think! I have to find a way out of here.”

Metal Sonic was once more whipped with punishment from its prime core directive for allowing itself to disassociate in the presence of its enemy. Its frame shook. Something snapped in its left shoulder joint, causing its arm to slam into the pit of the socket. The resulting vibrations in the ceiling structure caused Sonic to whimper, a unique sound that Metal Sonic saved to its memory banks for later analysis before it could stop itself. There should be no future analysis. It should fulfill its prime core directive.

Another, secondary core directive surfaced in its processor, whispering something about self-preservation. Metal Sonic seized this directive and brought it alongside its prime core directive. Combat circumstances allowed for the secondary core directive to be violated if this meant fulfilling the prime. But these were not combat circumstances, it reasoned to itself. Sonic was trapped and incapacitated. These were not combat circumstances, so therefore it must consider both directives. 

The rationale was weak, but enough to allow it to forgo an immediate decision while its subroutines detangled the paradox. 

“Okay, let’s try this. . .”

Sonic was pawing at a wall of loose debris. This debris, though not load-bearing, held back a wall of gravel-sized pieces. The gravel supported other concrete chunks throughout the structure above, the shifting of which could impact the load Metal Sonic was bearing. Sonic was digging, and fast- it did not have time to calculate whether the impact of the shifting gravel would be negative or beneficial. 

It tested its vocalizer and released a negative ping. 

Sonic ceased his movements. “Hello?”

After a few seconds, Sonic continued. Metal Sonic released another negative ping. 

“No, wait, I know that sound. I know that sound. Who- Metal?”

Sonic knew it was here.

“You’re trapped here too?”

Sonic could easily tear through the metal plating separating them. 

“Metal, if you’re in here, gimme another ping.” 

Sonic would destroy it. The ceiling would collapse. They would both be obliterated.

“I’ll- I’ll get us out of here. Don’t worry about it.” Sonic panted. “Don’t worry. We’re okay. I’m okay. Are you okay?”

His voice diminished the longer he spoke, and his heart rate spiked. His breaths became shallow gasps. It matched an emotional state Metal Sonic had witnessed from Amy Rose when it had first captured her. The colloquial term was a “panic attack”. 

It was. . . remarkable, to register such a drastic fear response from Sonic. 

This observation was interrupted by a snap in its right shoulder joint. Its other arm was forced deep into the pit of its socket, now uniform with its left. The consequent shaking dropped a watermelon-sized rock onto Sonic’s lap. The impact did not break any bones, but it would leave him severely bruised, and caused him to begin openly sobbing. This was another unique sound that Metal Sonic recorded to its memory banks. 

It would not have much longer to record things to its memory banks. With both of its shoulder joints having failed, its arms now impaled into the walls of its center chest turbine. The load would force these walls to fail in fifteen minutes, and with that, send the debris tumbling down atop its processor. 

Why did it delay the inevitable?

Self preservation, its secondary core directive whispered. But what difference did fifteen minutes make?

Metal Sonic let go.

At least, its processor sent the command to its actuators to release, only to find both its left and right shoulder joints inoperable. 

If it was programmed to laugh, perhaps it would have. 

It began calculating methods to wiggle its arms out of their sockets, before abandoning this pursuit. What difference did fifteen, now fourteen, minutes make? Sonic was going to die. Its purpose was going to be fulfilled. It no longer needed to strain its processing capabilities towards this end. It no longer needed to exert its physical form or make determinations about the limits of its chassis. Its purpose was complete. Its existence was now unnecessary.

It should find itself finally able to rest, with this conclusion. 

. . . it should not be scrambling to find any other solution. 

Metal Sonic scanned every inch of the ceiling above for points of weakness and found none. It scanned the walls around it for natural cavities to flee to, and found none. It scanned, and scanned, and scanned, and found only the same unforgiving concrete and the same panicking hedgehog. It reviewed all of the lines of rationale its short-term adaptive processing had generated since the collapse, analyzing each bit of logic for any hidden clues or missed solutions, only to be led to the same conclusion. 

Suddenly, there was a massive shift in the rubble above, and the load Metal Sonic was supporting decreased. Another vibration swept through the space around it. Then another. Then another. 

The ceiling was lifted off of its hands, revealing Dr. Ivo Robotnik’s Eggmobile hovering above. He released the chunk from the claw of his crane before lowering the glass dome surrounding him with the press of a button.

“Well, well, my finest creation! You certainly have a habit of wanton destruction in your attempts to destroy Sonic. Still wasn’t expecting you to bring the roof down on top of yourself though. I’ll see if I can tweak that habit during your next-” 

Metal Sonic flicked its cameras in the direction of Sonic in an attempt to warn its creator of what he’d just done, but it was already too late- Sonic jumped to his feet, scrambled up the debris, and disappeared beneath the open sky before Dr. Ivo Robotnik had uttered his last syllable. The man ducked beneath the walls of the cockpit as the shockwave rocked his vehicle.

When the Eggmobile steadied, he peeked his eyes over the side. “Huh. You didn’t tell me you managed to trap the rodent down there with you!”

Metal Sonic had not engaged in any communication with the outside world after the collapse- the layers of concrete had blocked any signal but the strongest, most bare of distress pings.

Distress pings. Metal Sonic checked its communication feed and found that it had given off the signal automatically the moment the roof had collapsed. If it had disabled this ping, its creator would not have stumbled upon it, and Sonic would finally be dead.

“Eh, that’s alright. There’s always next time.” Dr. Ivo Robotnik shrugged as he returned to his controls.

He lowered the crane claw and grabbed Metal Sonic’s frame. Upon safe retrieval, protocol was to enter standby mode to limit processor activity. Metal Sonic allowed this mode to dampen its awareness as it was hoisted into the cabin of the Eggmobile.

It could analyze its utter failure later. 

[chickenmcnuggies]

Woe, happy new year, new mod be upon ye. My Bravely Default Bestiary mod is now released! It's on the steam workshop as per usual. If you'd like to see the creatures added check out this other post I made before(x)!

[deusvmachina]

can we have more songv prompts? 👀 "It would mean a lot to me if you stayed."

"PLEASE DON'T LEAVE MY SIDE" PROMPTS

"It would mean a lot to me if you stayed."

V could feel her chest tightening again. Her stomach twisted and fluttered at the same time while she sat there in the chair at So Mi's bedside. Her blue-grey eyes searched the other woman's face but her expression did not give way to her thoughts though she did note how Song's eyes seemed to glisten with unshed tears. A long period of silence lapsed between them but it wasn't a matter of debate for the merc so much as it was a moment of self-reflection. Of accepting that as much as she had every damn right to feel upset and betrayed, she just couldn't bring herself to actually be angry about it. The anger just... wasn't there. Instead, an intense maelstrom of emotions tore their way through a body that was beyond exhausted. Worn out from both combat and the frequency of her relic malfunctions.

Then there was worry about what Mr Blue Eyes would ask of V in return for that panacea she so desperately needed. The unexpected call she got from him, telling her to board the shuttle alongside her half-dead companion and that he was an interested party who she could strike a bargain with... Well, it sounded too good to be true but a part of her wanted to get away from it all. To remain by the woman she'd come to call her friend. To ensure her survival, even though that left V back at square one.

Could the clinics on Luna help her at all? Was there even enough time left before she lost more of herself to the biochip rewiring her brain? Who the hell was this guy anyway? He was entirely shrouded in mystery. And then there was a feeling of dread that had seeped in her very being: what would be the aftermath of all the things she had done to free Songbird from her gilded cage? If V was certain of one thing it was that all of the sacrifices she made were worth it. No regrets there. Surely this would lead to another corporate war; Night City could be changed forever. V was brought back to the present when she heard Song speak again, more quietly this time.

With a heart-wrenching quiver to her voice. "I'm sorry, V. I... shouldn't even be asking anything else of you."

V had to swallow the lump in her throat before finally speaking up, "No, hey... it's alright. We're—we're good, okay? Talk about it all later when you've recovered." With fingers that trembled slightly, the merc reached out to touch her cheek. Cradled it within her palm while letting her thumb stroke over the EMP threading embedded in the soft skin of So Mi's face. She dared to murmur what she'd said once before—as they were witnessing Myers give her final orders to Reed. "I'm stayin'. Not goin' anywhere." She watched So Mi practically nuzzle into her hand, seeking comfort in the touch.

"Thank you, V," was all the netrunner could manage. A tear escaped as she closed her eyes and it would trickle down her cheek until V tenderly wiped it away.

"As long as I'm still drawin' breath, I won't let anyone hurt you again, Song."

That earned a weak, halfhearted chuckle. "You promise?"

"Consider it an oath I can stand behind."

[laundrybiscuits]

Delta shift’s not so bad. Sure, they kind of end up with the most mind-numbing grunt work a backwater station can offer, and Steve’s not even on the command track like his dad wanted, but at least it’s still Starfleet. That’s what he keeps telling himself: at least it’s still Starfleet. 

“What’s the point of Starfleet if we’re not even…fleeting stars?” groans Robin, who is on the command track. Steve feels a little bad because she’s probably the only reason he got this posting at all, but he’s probably the reason their posting is shit. Not that he really gets how or why placements work, but he’s always known Robin was destined for bigger and better things. She’ll get promoted before too long, and probably get sent off to do fancy command-track xenolinguistics stuff on some exploration vessel while Steve…will probably be stuck in an Indiana-class outpost identical to this one, forever. 

“At least it’s still Starfleet,” Steve says, bumping their shoulders together sympathetically.

It’s still a million times better than being a civilian. Hanging around the edges of Starfleet, interacting with the uniforms but always on the outside—he can’t imagine a worse fate. 

His family’s third- and fourth-generation Starfleet, obviously. He’s got the sneaking suspicion that being the only son of Major Theresa Harrington might’ve helped get him admitted to Starfleet in the first place, despite his mediocre entry exam.

Not that he’d thought of it that way when he’d first rolled up to the Academy. He doesn’t even remember feeling good about getting in. He hadn’t been feeling bad, either. It had just been a thing that was happening; a thing that he’d known was going to happen. 

Anyway, he doesn’t think about it a whole lot anymore. He just keeps going, cleaning out the replicators when they get grimy and filling out requisition forms that get ignored. In the meantime, he’s got Robin to keep him company, and every so often he gets reminded that being in Starfleet’s pretty freaking cool, even on Delta shift in an Indiana-class station. 

Like now: everyone’s crowded onto the promenade, from the command crew to the low-level drones like Steve and Robin, watching a binary star system implode. It’s not inhabited or anything, so it’s one of those rare occasions when a big flashy spectacle happens in the sky and there’s no downside whatsoever. They can all just enjoy how awesome it looks, and it’s not symbolically important to any hot-tempered alien cultures, and it’s not going to have environmental consequences that throw them all into mortal danger. 

The lightshow goes on for a long time, long enough that people have time to wander around a little and get drinks. There’s a little group of Klingons who’ve broken into the bloodwine; this is definitely not any kind of special Klingon holiday, but they’re treating it like one. 

After everything that went down with his posting on Starcourt, Steve’s more than happy to just lean on the promenade rail and sip Romulan ale with his best friend for a while, a clamor of Klingon drinking songs in the air. He thinks they deserve a little peace and quiet, just this once. 

“Hey,” he says, nudging Robin again and tapping their glasses together. “Enjoy the downtime. Some new shit’s gonna come along before you know it, and we’ll be running for our lives again any day now. You’ll see.”

[elquiu]

YALL PREORDER ITS OUT OOOO YOU WANT TO PREORDER IT SO BAD OOO

tysm to @ikesorenzine for making this possible 🙏 it was such a joy

[akkivee]

OMG battle of the century i hope someone dies!!!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 (of fun lmao)

[springlock-suits]

Oughhh saw a discord server link for something I might like but ough.. scary...

[airenyah]

calling it now:

this

is pat making fun of pa and

there's just something about the way pat says น้องภัทรอยากกินกุ้งอะ [nóng pat yàak gin gûng à]...

tell me this isn't peak sibling behaviour

[mellomemos]

All eyes on me.