#vague sci fi juice is vague

[timeshareindestin]

WIP Wednesday

was challenged by @marviless to post part of my first fic and it's her birthday and I've never been able to deny her anything so!!! here we go have some of my hard of hearing! buck fic <3 this is my baby

“Okay, wait,” Chris says around a mouthful of pizza. “If tardigrades are indestructible, what happens if you, like, yeet them into space?”

“They actually did.” Buck waves his slice in Chris’s direction to punctuate his statement. They’re sitting at the loft island, capping the end of what Chris – to Buck’s delight – still refers to as a “Buck Day” over pizza and cranapple juice. He had picked Chris up from school and said Hey bud, do you wanna go to the library? and Chris had shaken his head and said No, I wanna go to the aquarium, and to keep the illusion that he isn’t as agreeable as Eddie has him believe, had responded with a laugh and Don’t they close in a few hours? and Chris had quickly jutted back Don’t you have season passes? and who was Buck to argue with that logic? 

And anyway. After learning the aquarium, in fact, closes at eight, the trip was bookended with a headache-inducing drive home and a last minute decision to grab a pizza from the chain across the street. The faint glow of the horizon is imperceptible through the overhead lights coating the loft in a soft, warm light, and a conversation about the new exhibit at the aquarium had devolved into a dissertation on tardigrades, thus: “So, in 2007 they… yeeted…” He curls his finger in a faint air-quote gesture around the word. “them into space, on a satellite, where they found out they can survive in a vacuum and, like, a bunch of radiation.”

Chris swallows, nodding, and says something, vaguely sounding like “Wood’n a little light?” which, Buck knows, makes absolutely no sense in any context. He shakes his head in confusion.

“Say that again?”

“What do they look like?”

“Oh,” That’s not what he said at all. He grabs his phone with his free hand, swiping it open and thumbing “tardigrade pictures” across the keyboard. Google loads the images, and he taps the first one – a computer generated image of a beige blob floating in a green space. It might as well be a still from a cheap sci-fi movie for all anyone knows. He holds it out to Chris, raising his glass to his mouth. “Here.”

Chris snorts. “Their faces look like assholes.”

“What?”

“I said-”

“Yeah, I heard you that time.” He flicks his wrist dismissively at Chris, juice sloshing in the suspended glass. “Why would you say that?”

“Look at them! They look like Doctor Who aliens, Buck.”

“Okay, well-” He tries.

“It’s literally in their name.” Chris’s giggles drown out Buck's attempts at honoring the little guys' dignity.

“Well… yeah. It is, you’re right,” he concedes. He turns his phone off and sets it face-down on the counter. 

“Are you…offended for them?” Chris stares at Buck's face which is, without a doubt, turning some shade of pink. He can feel the warmth underneath his cheeks. “I don’t think they have feelings.”

“You–you don’t know that!”

“They’re indestructible, right? I think they’ll be fine.”

[protoformx]

haii haiii!!! tagged by @localwarlockunion !!

Last song played: Incinerator by dreamcrusher and then ready by the oozes! figured i could put two lolol

Reading: "The Outside" by Ada Hoffman which is a sci-fi i haven't gotten too far into but it's fun so far! I'm also currently spending a lot of time staring at a tree species identification book that's vague but pretty. oH and I've been reading dungeon meshi? though I keep forgetting its open on my phone still so its been like two weeks since i picked it up lolol

Watching: uhhh me and juice are still on our mlp watchthrough! we just made it to season six! I don't watch much in general so that's one thing! and uhhh idk I've been watching some older wayneradiotv vods and I rewatched Magnetic Rose again the other day!

Current obsession: unchanging! still have tf brain as I have the past uhhh number of years. I've been getting more into sewing again though on a similar yet slightly unrelated note!!

Tagging: @gaychickenwinnersince2003 @dpthcharge @wa-u @goraturtle @robofile @protoform-xxx (and anyone else who may want to do this! and if I tagged yah and you don't wanna do this u don't gottaaaaa)

[courtneysmovieblog]

Trailers: The Juice is Loose!

Happy Easter to those that celebrate! We got a lot of big sci-fis and sequels coming up, so here's a basket of trailers to enjoy:

Rebel Moon Part 2: I didn't need see the first one, I don't plan on watching this one.

Atlas: Jennifer Lopez has to team up with a robot to save the world from artificial intelligence. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, I always say...

Unfrosted: The Pop-Tart Story: Jerry Seinfeld's parody biopic starring himself, Melissa McCarthy, Hugh Grant, Dan Levy, James Marsden, and many others. This looks utterly ridiculous, and you're damn right I'm going to watch it!

Bad Boys: Ride or Die: I think it's long past time we move past that particular Oscar ceremony, don't you?

The Crow (remake): I never saw the original with Brandon Lee, but I'm inclined to agree with everyone that doesn't want this to be remade, given how he died making that film.

Kinds of Kindness: Yorgos Lanthimos' next film with Emma Stone appears to be a collection of different plots and characters. Time will tell if it'll be another success.

Alien: Romulus: How many sequels and prequels and spin-offs has Alien had? Seriously, I lost count.

Harold and the Purple Crayon: I vaguely remember the children's book. Not sure if I liked it enough to want to see the movie.

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice: Almost 40 years later, and Lydia (Winona Ryder) still has that hairstyle? But seriously, I am psyched for this one.

[collapse-and-comfort]

Hero drugging villain for own good prompts?

Oof! I absolutely needed this in my life! Thank you so much for this ask! 🧪🧪🧪

(CW: Needles, forced drugging, death mention)

-Hero and their team have nowhere to take Villain when they capture them. They can’t kill them, or turn them in to the authorities just yet. An argument about taking Villain back to their base breaks out, but Hero cuts it short. They get a dart gun used for no-kill missions, and level it at Villain. Hero doesn’t relish the fear that flashes across Villain's face. A dart is kinder than a clout to the head, and it’s better than what Villain would do to them if their positions were reversed. But when they pull the trigger and the dart hits Villain, the fear is replaced with angry defiance, as though to accuse Hero of cheating. Villain struggles, but the drug takes a powerful hold on them. Their limbs go slack and their head falls forward as they’re held like a ragdoll between two of Hero’s teammates. “Get them in the van,” Hero tells them.

-Superpowered villain is taken into custody and held in a secure government facility. They were injured in their capture, but they got patched up. When they wake, their pain doesn’t stop them from making an impressive escape attempt. Superhero is the only one with any hope of subduing Villain. A doctor gives them a syringe loaded with a dosage that will bring Villain down. Despite their obvious pain, Villain fights and taunts Hero. They dredge up the past and make threats for the future. Villain’s words might have given Hero pause if they hadn’t sounded so desperate. The needlestick in their thigh elicits a sharp “No!” from Villain and they continue to fight against Hero. Hero is sparing with their comfort, but they advise Villain to relax and let them help.

-Hero finds Villain shackled to a wall. They’re relieved to have found them, but it’s immediately clear something is wrong. Hero had warned Villain, practically begged them, not to go up against their mutual enemy alone. And this is the result. Someone bigger and badder had outplayed them. Villain watches Hero approach and they let out a strangled growl and try to pull away when Hero reaches for them. Villain twists against their manacles and begs incoherently as Hero tries in vain to calm them. They’re forced to resort to using the hypodermic from the med bag they’d brought with them and as they plunge the needle into Villain’s prone arm and depress the plunger, Hero continues to hush them and assure them they’re safe now. Nobody deserved this.

-One of Villain’s experiments backfires on them and they are left a gibbering, frantic wreck. Hero, their one-time partner in discovery, finds them cowering in their lab. They’re grateful Villain won’t be able to enact whatever they’d had in store for the experiment, but they can’t bring themself to let Villain suffer. And they have to admit, they’re curious. They know Villain isn’t foolish enough to develop something without also creating an antidote. Finding it is the easy part. Hero’s attempts at gentling Villain fall short and have to resort to wrestling them down and forcing them to drink. Hero remains with Villain as their agitation ebbs away; it’s a slow, taxing process that  leaves Villain slumped in Hero’s arms.

-Villain is in a situation that requires them to be able to keep up with the superpowered Hero they’re in an uneasy alliance with. Without asking, Hero injects Villain with a serum they use to amplify their own powers. Villain is horrified and Hero rebuffs their “What did you do to me?!” by saying “You’ll thank me later.” Villain can feel their senses sharpen and reflexes quicken. Their strength is multiplied and their heart hammers in their chest. When “later” comes and they’re both safe, Villain doesn’t get the chance to be grateful. Coming down from the serum is a horrible experience for Villain, but Hero remains by their side and guides them through the illness and pain that they inflicted on them.

-In a battle, Villain loses someone for whom they care deeply. Hero, who can manipulate consciousness, comes upon the aftermath and they know they need to get Villain out of there, No matter how Hero reasons with them, Villain refuses to listen. Their eyes are vacant as they cradle their lost loved one and when Hero begins to pull them away, Villain rages and fights. Their hurt is palpable as they scream and weep. It’s eerie to see Villain this uncontrolled; Hero wouldn’t have guessed they could feel such depth of emotion. Hero keeps one arm around Villain’s chest and with their other hand, they place their fingers on Villain’s temple. They will Villain to sleep and as their enemy collapses in their grip, they whisper their condolences.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #36 — There Are So Many Double-Page Spreads in This Issue, Dear Lord

Four million years ago, before the war, a very special something happened.

That’s right, it’s baby time once again.

Of course, Cybertronians can’t be normal about shit like this, so there’s a brawl going down over who gets custody of all these sparks. Star players include Orion Pax, Roller, Roller’s juice box, and all those college students from the Matrix heist. They’re facing off against the elite guard, who are getting their asses handed to them for what’s probably the eighth time this week.

Christ alive, Windcharger, save the dismemberment for the war, will ya?

Roller jumps off a cliff and transforms, because he’s a cool dude like that, when he suddenly he complains of lumbago. Is he suddenly feeling his age? No, he’s just had eight grown-ass robots timewarp onto his trailer.

Oh shit, Rung’s got his stick! Brainstorm’s about to fuckin’ die.

Back in what is the “present” for MTMTE, Rodimus gives his Time Travel Team (fellas who have compatible spark-types to run the timecase) the skinny on what the plan is: go back to the past, find Brainstorm, beat him up for trying to rewrite time, then be back in time for dinner. Perceptor adds that if Brainstorm isn’t stopped, their current timeline will cease to be, which is a bit of a problem, needless to say. Everyone is pretty high-strung about this situation, save for Tailgate, who’s decided it’s time to get an impromptu piggyback ride from Rewind.

The timecase has geotracking, which is damn convenient for the TTT, but Perceptor’s having a spot of trouble getting the thing calibrated, so things are sort of vague at the moment. Rodimus theorizes that Brainstorm will be targeting Orion Pax, as was established last issue, so they ought to figure out where he is whenever they end up in time. Luckily, Rewind was Orion’s biographer, and knows where they need to be for this first jump.

The gang has a few minutes to pick out some very dangerous toys from Brainstorm’s private collection, something which greatly delights Whirl. Ultra Magnus can’t help but wonder if bringing Whirl along is such a hot idea, but having the incredibly violent, actively suicidal guy tag along is actually part of the plan.

Horrific.

Anyway.

There’s a few rules for this trip: don’t tell anyone you’re from the future, don’t mess with major events, and don’t kill anyone who isn’t Brainstorm. Chromedome’s coming on this excursion to act as white-out, should someone decide to get a little too chatty. They also have a sci-fi bullshit “time phone” to call the Lost Light with, so they can be updated and potentially call for extraction if needed.

Everyone got that? Sure hope so, because it’s time to get back to the start of the issue!

Rodimus basically immediately blows their cover, telling Orion that he’s an Autobot… which is a group that doesn’t technically exist yet. Chromedome and Whirl are also causing some issues just by being there, seeing as Chromedome is still a cop in this moment in time, and Whirl’s in fucking prison. Luckily, assumptions are made, and the TTT can masquerade as the reinforcements Zeta Prime was messaged about.

The gang is taken to the ramshackle base Orion and pals have scraped together, as they get the low-down on this Hot Spot situation— turns out that this is the first one to pop up in a million years, and the Senate’s been keeping it under wraps, in an attempt to keep Functionists from claiming the hand-shaped Hot Spot as proof of Primus being real. We get a taste of Skids’s religious phase, and then Cyclonus points out that there’s something floating menacingly in the sky above them. Nobody’s really sure what it is, but surely it can’t be good.

Anyway, here’s Trailcutter.

Excuse me, Trailbreaker.

With Trailbreaker up from his nap, Orion tells everyone to takes turns using the recharge slab— they only have one, my goodness— and to get to know each other, while there’s enough free time to do so. Rodimus takes this to heart, getting just a touch too handsy with Trailbreaker, who at this point has zero clue who he fucking is. Rung, meanwhile, accidentally gets high on Roller’s special cocaine juice, while Roller has a moment of insecurity over the fact that he’s not an Outlier, and just a plain ol’ One-Percenter. As if that isn’t also rare as hell, by literal definition.

This is when the Time Phone rings, and Orion Pax picks up— that’s right, our glorious co-captain of the Lost Light and leader of this time mission left his secret mission phone where just anyone could pick it up. Anyway, Orion picks up, and who should be on the other end of the line but Megatron himself. Megatron, instead of telling Orion to put Rodimus on the phone, stays on to chat with his once and future nemesis, while Magnus and Perceptor work in the background, having to just listen to this conversation. Megatron worries that his experience on Messatine— the one with Trepan— might have fucked with his brain, perhaps changing him from who he had been prior. Still, he can’t really change what’s happened, only reflect and regret. Orion acts like a centrist, despite admitting that the system Cybertron lives under is a nightmare hellscape. Megatron tells him that he’ll end up joining Orion’s team eventually.

Over with Rodimus, it seems as if rules were meant to be broken, as he’s just told Trailbreaker to stay away from Ofsted XVII, the planet where he died horrifically while trying to be a decent person. Trailbreaker doesn’t really get it, but agrees to do as he’s told, even if it won’t be relevant to him for several million years. Orion finally brings the phone to Rodimus, then gives a recommendation to his book club.

I’m sure this won’t have any negative repercussions in the future.

Megatron isn’t nearly as cordial with Rodimus, demanding to know what the hell’s going on. Obviously, Brainstorm hasn’t been found yet. There’s also this weird radiation drifting into the Lost Light from the past, which is weird.

Hey, wait a minute—

The science team back home does some scans, and we finally figure out what the deal is with that weird thing in the sky: it’s shooting radiation at the Hot Spot. To kill the sparks? Perhaps. However, Rewind has an alternative take— that this is all a big experiment, trying to create Outliers through scientific intervention, and that it’s not going to work, but instead just kill these sparks, and if one day the Functionists take power back and uncover all these positively heinous experiments the Senate is conducting, well, that’ll just give them way more credibility than they’d otherwise have. At least the Functionists aren’t doing baby-murder experiments, am I right?

If this sounds like he’s just a smidge too sure about this hypothesis, it’s because he’s actually pulling from his database, which is just chock-full of alternate history at this point.

Regardless of what exactly the purpose of the radiation is, it’s clear that it needs to be dealt with. Orion orders Trailbreaker to make the biggest force field he can to protect the sparks. Cyclonus says a prayer. Tailgate plants his ass on the ground full of sparks.

The thing in the sky doesn’t like any of this shit, and begins to fire on the group. Glitch is too far away to reach the thing and use his machine-breaker powers, so it’s time to call in the air force.

While the fly boys handle the barrage to the best of their ability, Roller decides to be a hero, by way of taking the spark-teleporter out into the danger zone, so he can get those bad babies to a safer spot. Orion tries to do it for him, but Roller “needs this,” to prove he’s just as good as the rest of the team.

Hey, Rung? I think this guy might be needing your services, homeslice.

While all this is happening, Rodimus gets a call from home base, telling him that Brainstorm’s jumped again, and they’re about to get sent after him. Rodimus demands a few more minutes, seeing as shit has really hit the fan. He finds Chromedome in this shitshow to tell him to not wipe Trailbreaker’s memories, so that he might live.

Roller gets shot, and Orion decides that it’s his turn to be a hero now. He orders Trailbreaker to tighten the forcefield until it’s only surrounding Orion, then has Windcharger toss him through the sky platform. It explodes, and Tailgate develops a minor crush.

Good thing Cyclonus isn’t in earshot.

And so the day is saved, the sparks are sent to Nyon— something which seems to shock Rodimus, as the man who blew up/will one day blow up that city— and Chromedome says his goodbyes, shaking hands with Orion and his crew, thus wiping their memories of the last couple of hours with his mnemo-hand upgrade.

Just as Perceptor whooshes them away, however, Trailbreaker comes up and shakes Chromedome’s hand, much to Rodimus’s horror and everyone else’s dismay. With that, his fate is sealed, and the Time Travel Team is taken to their next stop. Orion and his team forget about what’s happened, thus making it impossible to figure out where Roller disappeared to. And so it was, and so it shall be.

Not the time, Trailbreaker! Not the time.

[hyunnows]

destiny | jjk

PAIRING: Jungkook x reader

WORD COUNT: .7k / 727 words

RATING: pg13 / teen and up

CONTENT/WARNING(S): angst, implied post apocalyptic!au, implied sci-fi+dystopian!au, implied ot6 deaths, mentions of death, weapons, mass destruction and death

SUMMARY: for the HOI Seasonal Blues Event! // "None of this is a coincidence, because we’re the two who found our destiny"

FIC SONG: inspired by BTS DNA

BTS TAGLIST: @imbonibi @fangirl125reader @geniejunn @sunshinelixie-lee @akshreads @6-ucci @tazishereforu (unable to tag)​

A/N: still not really sure if im making "tomorrow" a series, but here's a little part two drabble kind of thing. im still working on the Hyunjin series, but im in a bit of a writers block so its taking more time than i like, but i guess this will help get my brain juices flowing. plus i really like scifi and dystopia so why not indulge a bit! hope you all enjoy and have great days/nights!

Tomorrow

Positive note | Navigation | Taglist

The gentle whirring of the aircraft fills your ears, your eyes focused blankly on the plain white roof above you. You clutch the fluffy black blanket the boy with the spiked boots had given you earlier, searching for some sort of comfort.

Your entire world, in smithereens.

Why did you survive?

Out of everyone, the three million people in the walls, the boys—why did you have to be the one to make it out? Why not Taehyung or Namjoon, Hobi oor Jin, Yoongi or Jimin, a scientist or engineer?

Why you?

You could recall a conversation between your friends and two others, one you barely heard but managed to make out the last two sentences.

“If it comes down to it, be ready to sacrifice everything, including your life, for her. She has to survive.”

At the time you assumed they meant the oracle who had guided you all through your missions, the one who created the underground. You still do, for the most part. Still, you can’t help but find it odd that out of your entire squad—filled with the best of the best in the underground—you were the only one to escape.

Which also raised the question, how did the boy know you?

The first time you saw him through the rubble, he called your name, looked at you as if he knew you. Your memory is foggy and vague, but that much you can recall clearly. How did he know exactly where to find you, at the exact time? That was far too many coincidences for comfort.

A knock sounds at your door frame, the same boy plaguing your thoughts standing in it awkwardly, only now his spiky boots were gone, replaced with more comfortable boots. Now that you think about it, the craft is always extremely cold. Peculiar.

He rubs his clothed arm. “Can I come in?”

Hesitantly, you nod, not turning your attention from the roof. Why did he save you? Why didn’t he save the others instead? Why did you have to be the one to live through the blasts?

“Are you hungry? I have food in the kitchen. It’s not the tastiest meal, but it’ll fill you up.” He offers, hovering around your bed uncomfortably.

You ignore his question, frowning. “I shouldn't be alive. My friends should be here, not me. I just happened to be at the right place at the right time, while they were heroes. It’s not fair.”

The boy stares at you, brows scrunched as he crouches down next to you, a curious look in his eye. He shakes his head at your words. “They weren’t meant to survive. It might not feel fair, but it’s supposed to be this way.”

You sit up, shaking your head at him. “No, it’s not. The plan failed. The boys, my friends, they were supposed to live, I was back up, expendable.” Your voice more frantic and strained.

Peering up at you, he shakes his head once more, his hair bouncing as he does so. “Don’t you know? Everything happens the way it’s supposed to. You were always supposed to survive, and I was always supposed to save you.”

“What are you talking about? My friends weren’t destined to die—they were special, all of them. They were the ones with important destinies and bright futures, not me. I’m just another pawn.” Your eyes shining over, your mind filling with the dreams they shared with you, their aspirations and hopes.

“You’ve always been special, [Y/N], that’s why the oracle told us all to protect you, at any cost. Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung, they knew what they were going into. This has always been the plan, it’s always been the course.” He pauses, standing to look you in the eyes. “You and I were always supposed to survive, together.”

The two of you stand in silence, staring each other down. Who is this man, and why does he know all of this? How did he know the boys and the oracle?

Why seems to be the question of the hour.

Quirking your brow, you start, glare filled with curiosity and confusion. “Who are you?”

“I’m Jungkook, assigned to protect you until we reach Tomorrow.”

“Assigned by who? And what do you mean ‘tomorrow’?” Perhaps it’s just the questioning hour.

“The stars, they’re the ones who assigned me to protect you eons ago. As for Tomorrow, it’s what we’ve been trying to find since day one, the endgame.” Jungkook holds a distant expression, sighing. “Now, are you going to come eat or are you going to starve here?”

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[tyrantisterror]

Which Kaiju inspired each of your ATOM Kaiju?

Long reply below:

Tyrantis is inspired by Godzilla, Gamera, Yongary, Gorgo, Reptilicus, Lizzie from Rampage, Togera from War of the Monsters, and every other big, green, fire-breathing reptile kaiju that makes up that archetype, as well as Gwangi, the beast of Hollow Mountain, and the T.rexes from the Jurassic Park Franchise.

Ahuul is loosely inspired by Rodan (in that's he's a pterosaur monster paired with a fire-breathing theropod monster), though his character arc is more inspired by Kumonga (big voracious antagonist monster has a sudden face turn when it's time to fight aliens)

The myrmidants are inspired by the ants from Them!, while Girtabane is inspired by the black scorpion from The Black Scorpion, and also Sasori the giant scorpion from the Scott Ciencin young adult Godzilla books.

Tyranta is inspired by Gorgo's mother and the T.rexes from Jurassic Park. The Terror/MechaTyrantis is inspired by the various incarnations of MechaGodzilla (CyberGodzilla from Godzilla the Series being the most prominent). Tricerak is loosely inspired by Anguirus (in that he's a chimera of different herbivorous dinosaurs and has an enemies to friends arc with the main kaiju) and Toho's Kong (in that he likes to get drunk off soma berry juice).

Gorgolisk's personality is a loose homage to Mothra and King Shisa, being a heroic monster who's implied to have been worshipped at some point in her life. Mothmanud is inspired by the real life folklore of the Mothman.

Crustakra's design is actually based on a Destoroyah redesign I did when I was younger. Mantiresia is a loose homage to both The Deadly Mantis and Kamacuras. Chlorespa is a SUPER loose homage to the giant bees from The Monster of Green Hell - I actually came up with Chlorespa before I found out about that movie, and retroactively looked for a movie with giant wasps that she could fit the same way the other giant bugs do. Bobo is inspired by the giant spider from Tarantula, as well as various other giant spider movies, though her personality is also loosely based on Mothra's (big creepy crawly that's also the most explicitly benevolent monster).

The various dinosaur/retrosaur kaiju on Typhon Island are just me having fun making retrosaurs.

Karamtor is just me making a goofy retro alien monster, with, like, vague stylistic influences from the monster designs of 50's/60's/70's comic books and sci-fi magazines. Nastadyne, like Crustakra, is basically a redesign of a Godzilla kaiju I made as a teen (in this case, Megalon) that I repurposed as a new character. Kurokame wasn't inspired by anything at first, but the way I described his wail in the novel is inspired by Gamera's iconic scream. Burodon is inspired by Baragon and the various Ultraman kaiju who were built using Baragon's suit.

Herakoschei is loosely patterened after various clunky 50's/60's movie robots, as well as Cherno Alpha from Pacific Rim. Glypton and Mastemuth are purely original creations. Gorale is based on taking Godzilla's name (which is a combination of the Japanese words for Gorilla and Whale) very literally. The Writhing Flesh is inspired by various final bosses from the Resident Evil Franchise. Pathogen is based off of a monster I made while playing with dinosaur legos as a kid, though his personality and the dreadful violence he unleashes is in part inspired by/patterned off of Showa MechaGodzilla.

Minerva is based primarily off of the 50 foot woman from Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, though various other giant human movies from the 50's and 60's also inspired her. Kraydi is just a big dragony lizard. Promythigor is based on King Kong, Mighty Joe Young, George from Rampage, Congar from War of the Monsters, and the many other giant apes that make up that archetype in kaiju fiction, with his personality being a result of me trying to give that archetype a villainous spin in the same way I gave the fire breathing reptile an explicitly heroic one with Tyrantis.

Atomoton is more or less original, though his color scheme takes a little after Jet Jaguar.  Ullawdra is loosely inspired by Audrey II and Biollante. Kemlasulla is a flesh and blood version of the tripods from H.G. Wells's The War of the Worlds. Podritak is a flesh and blood version of the war machines from the 1953 adaptation of The War of the Worlds. Sombarvot is based on the big multi-legged lizards from the John Carter of Mars novels.

Frightron is just me having fun making a weird robot. Dhorazor is based on various space dragons in various stories, with Ghidorah being an inspiration for his name and role as a destroyer of Mars, but not much else. Pleprah is based on the one-eyed, one horned, flying purple people eater from the song Purple People Eater. Googora is based on those little novelty monster erasers that used to be so popular when I was a kid but now don't exist because the molds used to make them decayed into uselessness. The rest of the Beyonder aliens are just me having fun making goofy as fuck designs.

Diablosaurus is based on various attempts to make Carnotaurus the new T.rex in dinosaur media. Dominox is based on the Indominus Rex, Boney the Dinosaur from Weinerville, and outdated theoretical reconstructions of Deinochierus and Therizinosaurus from when we only knew what their arms looked like. Juggerdon is a Charles Knight-ified version of the Ultimasaurus from Jurassic Park: Chaos Effect.

Chowgarh Khan is more or less an original design. Sirinost is loosely based on la Carcargne from The Giant Claw. Raroga is more or less original but has the color scheme of Grimlock from the g1 Transformers cartoon.

Cudatra and Bigjaw are just me having fun making retrosaurs.

Kirclov is the Cloverfield monster if it was designed by Jack Kirby.

Stardrac is just me having fun making a big weird bat.

Gorilladon was inspired by an art jam here on tumblr where we drew apes that were built like tyrannosaurs.

Kramplauf is the yeti to Promythigor's sasquatch.

The Facsimile Ape is inspired by those hideous animatronic cymbal clapping monkey toys.

Deluxman is inspired by various Ultramans, Red Man, and the evangelions from Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Gomorel is a hybrid of Red King, Gomora, Baltan, and a loose vibe taken from Neon Genesis Evangelion's angels.

Big Iron is inspired by big clunky 1950's robots and also Megatron from Transformers. Cukaroch is inspired by the rad roaches from Fallout. Gulgek is inspired by the giant geckoes from Fallout. Necronychus is inspired by the deathclaws from Fallout. Lobjob is inspired by the mirelurks from Fallout. Helhornet is inspired by the cazadors from Fallout. Cerberat is inspired by the giant mole rats from Fallout. Gabelgill is inspired by the Mirelurk kings from Fallout, and also the Gill Man from Creature from the Black Lagoon. Atomic Frankenstein is inspired by the super mutants from Fallout, and also Frankenstein. Pamultimate is inspired by the Final Pam from Monster Factory's Fallout 4 arc, as well as various Resident Evil bosses.

And that's all of them so far!

[pricklerick]

can’t stop thinking about vapor morty

mid-twenties.

so many pockets. wears cargo pants, multiple belts/hip holsters, a thin, laser-resistant vest, and a hooded cowl scarf. all have pockets. he’s even got shit squirreled away in his shoes and socks. morty’s life has literally depended on the spare sci-fi junk he has jingling around on his hips many, many times. pockets are almost an obsession at this point.

smokes baquusa (a medicinal plant native to the deserts of quuin V). baquusa is not commonly used recreationally because the stems and juices are very poisonous - its leaves must be dried and treated appropriately. morty is an expert at preparing baquusa for all of its uses. enemies, watch your drinks. when smoked, baquusa is a mild stimulant, but hit too much and it acts as an aphrodisiac and a hallucinogen. oops.

not great in a melee (can hold his own mostly), but fucking lethal from a distance. morty is a worlds-class marksman, the best crack shot in the central finite curve, a dead-eye accurate sniper with anything he gets his hands on.

is always, always tinkering with a gadget of some sort. usually it’s something of rick’s. or something inspired by something of rick’s.

great with weapons - morty picks them up, assesses them, modifies them, reassembles them, and uses them almost without thought, and with deadly efficiency. this is how he makes a living, as a junk collector/weapons dealer. morty finds old discarded space shit, repurposes it, and sells it to the highest bidder.

doesn’t make a lot of eye contact.

wears soft, high top sneakers. lightweight, good tread, great for sneaking, even better for running.

facial hair.

massive burn scar to the left shoulder and flank, extending from hip to the edge of his neck and even onto the lateral side of his right arm. morty had been working on re-routing rick’s portal gun to accept an alternate energy source. it exploded.

considered public enemy number four by the New Galactic Federation and labeled a terrorist by the media. morty has never been captured and is always careful to keep his face and identity hidden. to those in the know, he’s simply called ‘vapor,’ as the only evidence of his presence is a smoldering bullet hole and a whiff of sweet-smelling baquusa smoke.

another nasty scar extending down the right side of his neck. a weapon’s deal gone wrong. morty fought for his life with a broken beer bottle. you should have seen the other guy.

wears a tiny external tooth washer on a leather thong around his neck. it’s just a normal washer that you can find in any hardware store on earth. rick’s last words to morty were, “he-here, hold this, moo-OOOURRGHH-ty. it’s, it’s, just don’t fucking drop it, okay?”

taller than when rick last saw him, but still not super tall. fit, but not buff by any means. scruffy, but weirdly androgynous features. morty’s not a big guy, or a particularly strong one, but he’s fast, and he’s dangerous.

understands more languages than he speaks. doesn’t always let on. morty keeps his ears open and his mouth shut, and it serves him well in his line of work.

huge brown eyes. wears glasses because his vision is shit from all that low-light tinkering.

only loses his stutter when he’s exceptionally angry, or in a very intense situation. like, life or death intense.

has an uneasy alliance with The Circle, an underground weapons cartel with vague connections to several poorly contained uprisings against the New Galactic Federation.

needs a hug.

is not a freedom fighter. vapor morty is just a kid trying to survive in a harsh universe. and maybe, if he’s very lucky, get rick back.

[citrus-femur]

What happens during your Kid!AU

Basically what happens is that after Gordon gains a gun for a hand, courtesy of Darnold, he decided to step out of the lab and take a breather, heading towards a nearby washroom to splash his face with water.

However, once he there and turns on the sink, he hears and feels an explosion go off causing him to immediately run back to Darnold's lab to find him covered in soot, and sitting on his counters are four children that suspisciously look like his friends.

Darnold then explains to Gordon that a potion sudden went off, probably due to Benrey just fucking around, and caused everyone to turn back into children. The only reason why Darnold wasn't affected is that he was wearing proper potion-handling safety gear, and oh boy does he let Gordon know.

Of course, Gordon is a bit skeptical about the situation, trying to deny the fact that they're infact his friends as he simply cannot put up with anymore sci-fi bullshit. However everything goes out the window whenever one of the kids overhears Darnold's and Gordon's conversation, and hears Gordon's name which prompts them to shout a vague yet familar phrase: "Hello Gordon!"

This is the nail on the coffin as Gordon cannot deny it anymore that these kids are indeed his fellow coworkers. Of course, Gordon has a little freakout as now he's the father of five kids, four of them not even belonging to him, and states that this day keeps getting worse and worse. Darnold is then quickl to tell him that he might be able to create a cure, but it might take him a while. He also expresses his concerns to Gordon and tells him to stay in the lab for the time being as it would be dangerous to traverse Black Mesa with a bunch of 7-9 yr olds at your side.

Of course, Gordon is thankful for Darnold's hospitality, but he doesn't want to waste anytime and wants to immediately get out of Black Mesa ASAP. So he decides to state the following proposition of continuing to traverse through Black Mesa and having Darnold meet back up with them once a cure is made.

Darnold, of course, isn't fond of the plan as he doesn't want to be held responsible if something would happen to Gordon and his coworkers. This prompts Gordon to assure Darnold that he has nothing to worry about, and that everything was going to be fine. (He was a father himself, he's pretty sure he can handle any kid.)

What happens after the team leaves Darnold's lab (secretly raiding his fridge which was full of orange juice) is complete and utter chaos as all hell breaks loose; you have yourself the usual, rough housing, name calling, whinning, setting almost everything on fire, using your extendolimbs to steal a bunch of snacks from the vending machine, using the Black Mesa Sweet Voice to peirce everyone's ears, you know the usual. This leads Gordon of regretting his decision of not just staying at the lab. (Don't even get Gordon started on the aliens from Xen.)

However, not everything's bad as as the team continues traversing through Black Mesa, everyone eventually starts to get along pretty well. (Sure there's still commotion here and there, but it's not that big of a deal.) Hell, the kids themselve even get better at defending themselves and Gordon from stray headcrabs and other Xen creatures.

After a while, Darnold finally meets up with Gordon with the cure, which actually works, turning the science team back to normal with no recollection of what just happened. Afterwards Darnold bids everyone goodbye before proceeding to leave in classic rocket boots style.

[sophiamcdougall]

I keep thinking that the immortals give Nile a lot of authoritative-sounding information about how being immortal works, and yet their sample size is never more than six and frequently it’s one.  Including Nile, there have only ever been seven of them ... that they know of. Obviously, there might have been near-immortals who lived and eventually died before Andy was even born, but also, until encountering Quynh, Andy had no way of knowing that new immortals inspire clairvoyant dreams in each other. Even after the dreams and meeting Quynh in real life ... if I were in her shoes I think I might have read the situation as “destined to find my soulmate” more than “all immortals come with a sort of built-in homing beacon which broadcasts equally to all other immortals.” Not for centuries would either encounter any further evidence either way. And even now -- having dreamed of, and then found, Lykon, Joe, Nicky and Nile, how do you know you’re dreaming of the world’s entire population of immortals, rather than a random selection? Or those Destiny or whatever particularly wants you to meet? Nicky and Joe can only ever have had this experience once before, relatively recently, and Booker can never have had it at all. I guess it doesn’t matter, as acknowledging the possibility that there might be others out there wouldn’t practically change very much, but it’s part of a pattern of jumping to conclusions.  

“Eventually you stop healing.” This has only happened once (that they know of, see above) and only one member of the current team was there to see it. “Immortality has limits and in time, this will happen to all of us” is a good theory, but it should only be a theory. How do they know that something hadn’t happened to Lykon, and only Lykon, to rob him of his immortality? What if he got a defective dose of immortality in the first place? Or, given that their own existence proves the existence of the supernatural, is it out of bounds to think that he might have pissed off some other form of supernatural being? Now, I don’t exactly mind them jumping to conclusions on this one, because they all have good reason, actually, to want this to be true -- Booker and Andy because depression and grief and burnout, Nicky and Joe because wonderful as it is to share centuries with your true love, you’d probably rather not stick around for the sun boiling away the oceans. And in fact bearing in mind that they couldn’t truly have known this was coming adds tension and urgency to the scenes after the revelation of Andy’s mortality. But I kind of wish it had been expressed, because it makes the possibility that this might be happening to all of them now - when they’re surrounded by enemies -- even more compelling. It’s somewhat implicit in the acting choices but imagine if they were explicitly grappling with the possibility that Lykon was an outlier in a different way - the rest of them were always supposed to run out of immortality juice now, today.  “Your family will reject you.” This is the one that actually bothers me,  because Christ, NILE’S POOR MUM. And this isn’t a statement about how immortality works anyway, it’s a statement about anyone who happens to be related to an immortal. The whole team seem to offhandedly agree that Nile is better off not going back to her family, but the only person who actually explains why is Booker, and ... why is anyone accepting Booker’s experiences as representative of anything? Especially after discovering the betrayal! Booker is suicidally depressed! Obviously he thinks the world is terrible, interpersonal problems are insurmountable and every bad thing that’s happened to him is a universal law of nature! You don’t have to believe him! Especially since his situation, as described, has pretty much fuck all in common with Nile’s and there’s little reason to think it has anything much in common with the others, either. And yet even when Nile has her “refusal of the call” moment, she doesn’t say argue with Booker’s predictions, she merely says that she can defer the moment she must vanish from her family’s lives until her immortality becomes impossible to hide. But why? Booker does not mention parents, only his children. There’s no indication any of the others had offspring, but even if they did, it’s largely irrelevant to Nile who clearly doesn’t. She’s concerned about her mother and brother. Nile discovers her immortality a lot younger than the rest of the team, in a period with a much longer average life expectancy. All the rest appear to be in their mid thirties to mid forties. Given how far back in time their origins are, it’s unlikely that all of them had living parents when they discovered their immortality, and any that  they did have would have been decidedly elderly by the standards of the time. So how plausible is it that any of the others experienced any version of what Booker describes? I’d say not very, and it’s downright implausible that they experienced it with a parent. Children are supposed to outlive their parents. Booker’s situation was agonising specifically because it was a tragic inversion of that rule. Booker’s son had to die in pain while his father now looked younger than he did. But Andy, Joe or Nicky’s parents, even if they were around to witness anything, would have seen ... what? Their 45-year-old son still passing for 35?  Even if they knew about the immortality ... how exactly would they have wanted/expected their child to pass it on? Wouldn’t an 11th century parent have been far more likely to take up the unequal distribution of miracles with God rather than their kid? So why should Nile accept that her mother will behave like Booker’s son? Isn’t it enormously more likely that a woman who, like every mother, has always wanted and expected to be outlived by her daughter, and yet has been living with the daily terror of losing her in combat, will be enormously relieved to know that she’s not going to die prematurely? Is it even vaguely likely that the pain of not benefiting directly from your daughter’s magical healing powers, decades from now, is worse than the pain of losing her at 20? OK, so then there’s the brother. Outliving a brother isn’t like outliving a child either, but it’s at least somewhat easier to believe there could be jealousy and conflict there eventually. But is that possibility of pain worth inflicting absolutely certain agony now? Is it impossible to talk through potential issues now just because it didn’t work out that way for Booker? OK, but for argument’s sake, let’s accept your family will inevitably ask you to share your immortality with them. Booker says that of course you can’t pass it on, yet his entire freaking arc is predicated on the possibility that maybe you can. (Which is cool, actually! But it has unexplored implications!) One thing that I actually really liked about film is it made “getting kidnapped and vivisected” a convincing threat, whereas many sci-fi shows vaguely invoke it as a reason that superpowered characters must keep their abilities secret, without ever bothering to show how that would play out in practice. I mean, people with unusual abilities exist! Michael Phelps produces less than half the usual amount of lactic acid! And has twice the normal lung capacity! Which we know, because researchers have studied him! Yet nobody has ever carted Michael Phelps off to a secret laboratory and if they did he would have various legal options!  It works here, but part of the reason it works is that Copley raises the obvious objection - why should being a subject of medical research mean anything more than donating some blood, a cheek swab and maybe at absolute worst some bone marrow? That would be enough to map their entire genome ... what else does even the maddest scientist even want? The Old Guard is the first show I can think of which actually had a decent answer, and it’s that Merrick is a greedy hypercapitalist psychopath who doesn’t want to share. Which is brilliant, but acknowledges it isn’t actually the science that’s the problem. But none of that was available in Booker’s time! He not only had to deal with an apparently unique situation among the immortals, he also was caught at a unique moment in history: far enough advanced that his family was less likely to accept “miraculously chosen by god/gods/fate” as an answer, far enough advanced to contemplate the possibility that medical science could replicate his immortality, but nowhere near advanced enough to meaningfully try. But if you’re immortal now and your dying relative is freaking out ... wouldn’t you at least agree to giving them a blood transfusion? They’d know you tried. It’d probably calm them down. It might even work!  What is the wider significance of this? Basically fuck all, but it feels like it’s been years since I got to nitpick something that I genuinely enjoyed for the sheer, innocent love of being an insufferable killjoy rather than because I thought it was Problematic.  

[vimbry]

web history look into my thought process of wanting to check out that online sci-fi story about the space probes I vaguely remembered from 4 years ago that looked good with the only details in my head being it was about space probes and one was called juice

[theamberwriter]

Drawn to Love [Katsuki Bakugo]

[ONE]

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Word Count: 2982

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: Lmfao, so - Lumix and Aurelius may or may not be from a comic of my own that I came up with ages ago! I’ve been having a lot of fun writing this! I hope you guys like this just as much as Drawn to You!

"Why don't we hang out in your dorm tonight?" Katsuki asked as the two of you walked back to the Heights Alliance. You panicked, there was a reason you hadn't let him in your room.

You smiled warily. "Why would you wanna do that -"

"I've never been in your dorm, first off. Second, my floor is getting too freaking noisy to study." He glared straight ahead, his grip on your hand tightening a little. He was right though. The people on his floor had been running amuck lately. 

You groaned. "Fine."

"What? Got something you don't want me to see?" Katsuki teased. "Did you save one of those Papergos to sleep with at night?"

Your face grew hot as you remembered the incident a few months before that lead to your dating. "No! My room is, uh, just a little cramped. That's all."

Katsuki rolled his eyes. He wasn't buying it. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

Your stomach twisted as you got closer to your room. He was going to think that you were weird. You just knew it. Your quirk was fun, what could you say? It brought you endless hours of entertainment.

"Uh," you stuttered, standing in front of your door. "Are you sure you don't want to -"

"You're not getting out of this, nerd." You could see the amusement in his eyes. No matter how he tried to hide it.

Your shoulders slumped. "Rude."

To say Katsuki was a little confused when you opened the door was an understatement. There was a lot going on at once. Lots of movements, noises, and colors. Shapes he recognized but were a little off. Mostly due to the materials they were made of.

Over the years, you'd drawn and brought to life many things. One of your passions was making pets and plants that didn't need upkeep. As Katsuki stepped in, a little paper dog and cat circled around his feet. Tiny creatures scurried and flew about the room. A colorful paper toucan was propped on a paper tree growing out of your wall. On the other side of the room, an owl hooted from a tree trunk jutting out.

Paper vines hung from your ceiling, clinging to the walls. All pulsing with life. Paper plants, which actually had color and scent, were growing in real pots. Some were even sentient, nudging your leg as you walked by. You patted them on the head. Your room was alive, basically.

"Uh, welcome to my dorm," you said, stretching out your arms. The owl flew out, landing lightly on your shoulder. "You see why I didn't want to hang out in here? I - uh - I got a little carried away -"

"This is amazing," you barely heard Katsuki muttered. You could see the slight freak out in his eyes as the toucan flew to him and landed in his hair. It nuzzled down, apparently not planning on moving anytime soon.

That's when your bathroom door slid open and out walked two people. An extremely tan boy with cinnamon red hair and facial stubble was talking to a pale girl whose purple hair dragged the floor behind her.  "- No, you're an idiot, you can't just - [Name]! You're back!"

The girl flew over and wrapped you up in a hug. The owl hooted at her aggressively and went back to the hollow in the tree trunk. "[Name], you're back! You've been gone forever."

"What the f -" Katsuki started.

You grinned at him anxiously. "Aurelius, Lumix - I brought someone."

The girl, Lumix, dropped you and got in Katsuki's face. The toucan in his hair didn't even flinch. The guy, Aurelius, pulled her back by the shoulder. "Lumix, don't be rude."

You rushed over, grabbing Katsuki's arm. He looked ready to blow them up. "GUYS, this is my boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugo. Katsuki, meet Lumix and Aurelius. They're, uh, characters from my comic."

"AAAHHHH, FINALLY!!!" Lumix yelled. "You're a lot cuter in person."

"They're what?" Katsuki sounded angry and baffled at the same time. "You can bring people to life?"

"You know it!" Lumix cheered, spinning around in a circle. Katsuki realized then that she was in futuristic garb. Nothing like he'd ever seen.

"Uh, yeah," you laughed nervously, pushing him towards the far end of your room. "It's a war story about different countries. Each have a theme. These two are are sci-fi and steampunk. It's a whole - nerdy - thing. Uh, let's get to studying."

"Why are some things colored but some not?" Katsuki asked suddenly. And something dawned on him. Something that made his insides burn with guilt. He really could be dense. He had so many questions. About your quirk, about you, about everything. 

"Wha -" you started, turning to find Katsuki's face scrunched in obvious annoyance. "Hey, 'Suki, you okay?"

Katsuki could act cool and hard all he wanted. But, and he found it weird and irritating, he'd already imagined his whole life with you. Even after only knowing you since the school year started. You'd really gotten under his skin and into his heart. Katsuki sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just realized, after all this time, I don't actually know a damn thing about your quirk. Or about you, really."

You smiled and waved him off. "I'm nothing interesting. My quirk is stupid and full of rules and technicalities. It's all super boring -"

"I don't care how damn complicated it is," he started. Katsuki sat on your bed. Your heart ached. He really looked like he belonged there. Amongst all of your drawings, and the craziness that you could bring to life. You sat next to him. He turned your face to look at him. His eyes were very serious.

"I don't care how dumb you think it is. If we're doing this, being together, then I have to know. - I want to know. About this." He pointed to the toucan. Then to Lumix and Aurelius who were listening intently. "About these nerds. About you."

Your heart felt like it swelled. An overwhelming feeling of happiness overtaking you. But it was cut short as you watched in horror as he reached for the toucan. Your eyes grew wide as he tried to pull it out of his hair. "Wait - no! The toucan -"

But it was too late. Katsuki's gentleness disappeared as the bird chomped down on his finger. He immediately lit it on fire. Only realizing as ashes fluttered in front of his face what he'd done.

"Bites," you finished weakly. You barely held in your laugh.

"Oh, shit," Katsuki muttered, then louder, "Damn it! I didn't -"

You got off the bed. "It's fine. I can remake him."

You rummaged through your desk until you found your drawings box. You took out a binder and held it up to show him. "This is a comprehensive collection of everything I've brought to life. This is a technicality of my quirk. You can destroy what I've made, it will simply go back to being a drawing. However, if you destroy what it's drawn on -"

"Then it's gone forever," Aurelius stated dramatically.

You nodded, then flipped through the pages. "You can see these are all blank. - Except for this one, with the toucan."

"Are you sure that's a toucan?" Katsuki asked, squinting at the page. It was just a vague shape. You thumped him on the head with the binder. That earned you a small glare.

You rolled your eyes. "I was small when I drew him. We'd gone to the zoo and wanted to make one for me. It may not look like much, but I bring to life what's in my mind's eye. Watch."

You focused for a second. Thinking about how you wanted the toucan to appear this time. Then put your hand to the page. In a glow, the marker toucan peeled away from the paper as you lifted your hand. Bringing life was a bit more elaborate than just producing a building. The marker outline rose, rotating until the toucan was up and down.

The marker lines bent into a recognizable outline of the toucan. Then the outline started to expand like a bubble. Soon a white, 3D, paper bird floated there. Then the colors flooded in, like someone pouring paint. They were totally different than they'd been before. With a final flash of light, you could see the spark of life flood in.

You cupped your hands under the toucan to catch it. It plopped right into your waiting palms. Katsuki stared in amazement, not even trying to hide it this time. That's when the toucan turned to stare him in the eye.

"I must thank you," the toucan said. The color drained from your boyfriend's face. "If you had not blown me up, I may never have gotten the gift of speech. Also, thank you, [Name], for the new coloration. It's quite beautiful."

"Why thank you," you said, smiling. "Back on the tree, then?"

The bird nodded. "Yes, please, if you would."

You climbed on your bed to put the toucan back in his perch in the corner. You sat back beside Katsuki, who was weirdly silent. He looked disturbed.

"You okay?" you giggled. "Not used to the 'miracle of life'?"

He was silent for a long moment before asking, "That bird isn't going to hold a grudge, is it?" 

"Sir Beaksaplenty?" You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "No. He's a very forgiving bird. I've destroyed himself by accident before. I just have to promise to bring him back better than the last. I'm thinking about giving him a top hat and monocle."

Katsuki eyed the bird's perch warily. "And he remembers everything?"

You nodded. "Only if I want him to."

Katsuki nodded, but you didn't think he was convinced. You were quiet as you watched him take in your abilities. You could see something flicker in his eyes. He kept looking around. His eyes going to where Aurelius and Lumix were arguing over a board game on the floor.

You took Katsuki's hand gently, giving him a smile. "I'm an open book. Ask me anything you want to."

He seemed to flip through a few ideas in his head. "You never answered my question before."

"About the colors? Well some I accidentally brought to life, like the Papergos. And some I was too tired that day to give color. If I don't have enough juice left or enough focus, they come out the same color as what they're drawn on." You shrugged. "Some I colored before bringing them to life. Like the flowers, I used scented marker so they'd have smell nice. Others, like Beaksaplenty, I had to concentrate. See the colors in my mind as I brought him to life."

"So far nothing you've told me has been complicated," Katsuki teased. "Can you bring something to life out of anything?" 

You nodded. "Yep, I drew Lumix and Aurelius on chunks of wood meant for carving. Their bases are in this box." You pulled out two one-inch wooden cubes, showing your boyfriend their blank sides. "I keep everything in here for safekeeping. I don't think I could reproduce these two."

Lumix grinned. "We're one of a kind!"

"Do they just follow you everywhere?" Katsuki grunted, thinking about how this would affect your future living arrangements.

"I did try to leave them with my parents," you groaned, glaring them down. "But two someones decided to sneak into my suitcase."

Lumix pouted. "We didn't want to get left behind! School is much more fun than home!" 

"How the hell you even fit in a suitcase?" Katsuki asked.

"Easy!" Lumix shrugged, shrinking down to the of a doll and then growing again. "We can shrink to the size of the object we're drawn on. And as big as we are in context. We can't grow any bigger than this. But we'll also never be the size of ants."

Katsuki looked at you. You shrugged, laughing, "I told you. Rules, technicalities."

"I guess I still have a lot to learn, huh?" he noted, mostly to himself.

You took his hand, interlacing your fingers. "It's nothing time won't fix. And we have all the time in the world."

Katsuki's heart fluttered at those words. Not that he'd ever admit to being soft. You two spent the night talking. He would ask you questions; when did you draw this? or how did you do that? or what was the biggest thing you made? His subtly slipping the more you talked. The closer the two of you got.

Before you knew it, it was late and dark out. The two of you wrapped up on your bed. He was thinking deeply about something, you could see it in his eyes. But he didn’t say anything. Aurelius and Lumix were passed out on the floor. Lumix had asked Katsuki a million questions of her own. She’d finally worn herself down.

“I’m sorry about them,” you said softly. “I should’ve told you. - But I was afraid.”

Katsuki grunted, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “Afraid of what?”

You hesitated, playing with his shirt. Katsuki grabbed your hand and turned his head to look at you levelly. You sighed. “Of you. What you would think. How you would react. I was afraid that you would think I was weird. That you’d leave me because of ...all this.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “You’re really an idiot sometimes. - Do you really think any of this would change my mind about you? You’re mine, damn it.”

“Katsuki…” you breathed. You lifted your head to look at him, his cheeks were pale pink.

“You have a damn cool quirk. You’re strong and use it well. All this is just like training,” he said, a bit softer. “There’s no point in being able to bring shit to life, if you don’t use it to make yourself happy every once in a while. - How many people can say they do what you do? I’m guessing not fucking any. Leaving someone for their quirk is damn stupid. Especially someone as amazing as you. So don’t be an idiot.”

Katsuki kissed your forehead, which sent a herd of butterflies teaming through your stomach. He yanked your head back down to his chest. Then he pulled you tightly against him. Your heart felt warm as you wrapped your arms around him. You wanted to be like this forever.

After a long while in silence, Katsuki spoke softly. “Why would I think your quirk was weird? I knew damn well what I was getting into. I wanted to be with you, even after you unleashed a bunch of mes into the dorms. - That paper runt was right. I was flattered that you’d drawn me.”

You played with his shirt again. You muttered sleepily. “Well - there have been a few times in the past that people haven’t reacted well to my quirk. They want me to draw them. Then bring them to life. But people never see themselves from the outside. They accused me of messing with them when I brought them to life. But I hadn’t. They just didn’t like themselves, and who they truly were from the outside. Mina loved the doppelganger I drew for her. That’s how we became friends in the last year of elementary school. In middle school, I hid my quirk. But, when someone asked me out, I always made something. The few that asked me out thought I was some sort of mad scientist. Saying they’d heard about me and the things I’d made before.

“So I was terrified for you to meet Lumix and Aurelius. I thought you were going to think I was some sort of freak. Assume I was doing something pervy. Or that I was so pathetic, that I had to create my friends. Or some sort of mad scientist, just like the others had called me. Or just - completely freak out about something else. I know those two can be a bit much to handle. And, sometimes, they’re very 2D. So you can tell they aren’t real. But I gave them the ability to learn and become more of themselves. Not just how I imagined them to be. I just laid the groundwork. They did everything else. They’re much more real now than they’d been when I made them. I love them like family, regardless. Even if it makes me Dr. Frankenstein.”

“You worry too much,” Katsuki stated. “And those people were idiots. What you do is fucking awesome. Raccoon eyes gets on my damn nerves. But I’m glad she stuck around.”

Your face filled with heat. Mina was the only one to ever call you awesome, or call your quirk cool. No one you were interested ever though what you could do was neat. Or they only thought it was a pathetic parlor trick. They never took your powers seriously. You grinned to yourself, thankful to the darkness. You were embarrassed, honestly. You silently chuckled in excitement. 

“Also,” he added, sounding more asleep than awake. “Frankenstein would be a fucking cool hero name.”

Soft snores followed. Katsuki’s breathing evening out, his heartbeat slowing under your ear. You honestly felt so relieved. He was going to stick with you. Even after you’d accidentally brought a bunch of Papergos to life. Finally, someone who didn’t think you were a joke. Finally, someone you could actually invite into your paper world. Someone you could actually love. Someone who would love who and what you made, just like you did.

You gave Katsuki a light squeeze. Letting your mind wander. Playing around with ideas about raising children in your world of drawings. How Lumix and Aurelis would be as babysitters. How you all would be as a family. How Katsuki would handle an apartment with you. You could see it all. You fell asleep to a sweet, warm image in your mind that you hoped you could bring to life.

[marvilus-magpie]

Meet the Muse

Tagged by the ever-awesome @tarberrymentats. Thanks!

|| The Basics ||

Name: Charlotte Elizabeth (Charlie) McKay

Nickname(s): Chuck (Deacon), Soldier (Danse-yes I totally HC that becomes a pet/nickname)

Age: physically 30, actually 240

Species: Human

|| Personal ||

Alignment: Neutral Good

Religious Belief: Agnostic

Sins: Lust / Greed / Gluttony / Sloth / Pride / Envy / Wrath

Virtues: Chastity / Charity / Diligence / Humility / Kindness / Patience / Justice

Primary Goals In Life: Do what she can to make the world a better place. Keep her loved ones safe.

Languages Known: English, some Spanish

Secrets: Not as confident as she lets on

Quirks: Can give Cait a run for her money in the drinking department, collects holotapes, is completely grossed out by cram (what even IS that stuff??), curious to a fault, is usually pretty mild-mannered, but has a vengeful side, LOVES rad-chickens.

Savvies: Excellent sniper, good at stealth, great negotiator, fast learner, fairly talented singer, will wreck you at pool/billiards.

|| Physical ||

Build: Slender / Scrawny / Bony / Fit / Athletic / Herculean / Babyfat / Pudgy / Obese / Other

Height: 5′5″

Weight: 120lbs

Scars/Birthmarks: several scars, most notably one above her left eyebrow, one on her chin and a large one running down most of the left side of her torso. she has a small birthmark on her right hip bone that vaguely resembles a four-leaf clover.

Abilities/Powers: Is very, very good at being persuasive.

Restrictions: Almost debilitating fear of vaults/being underground, a bit claustrophobic, has terrible nightmares usually brought on by the cold.

|| Favorites ||

Favorite Food: Dierdra’s tarberry pie, Danse’s brahmin steak and tatos

Favorite Drink: Rum and Nuka, whiskey neat, tarberry juice

Favorite Color: blue

Favorite Music Genre: rock-n-roll, gaining a fondness for country though ;)

Favorite Book Genre: comic books and sappy romances

Favorite Movie Genre: Sci-fi

Favorite Season: Summer

Favorite Butt Type: Danse’s

Favorite Swear Word: F*ck. Though she doesn’t swear a lot so it’s extra impactful when she lets loose.

Favorite Scent: Power armor grease and testosterone XD

Favorite Quote: “Although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming of it .” -Helen Keller

|| Fun Stuff ||

“Boss” Theme Music: United We Stand - Divided We Fall by Two Steps From Hell

Loud Burper Or Soft Burper: Loud / Soft / Neither

Sings In The Shower: Yes / No

Likes Bad Puns: Yes / No / Only if they are relevant to the situation

Tagging: @purple-martin111, @sharonaw, @from-the-stone​, @metalforhands, @mars-colony, @slothssassin, @bellaciaofallout, @kittinkanin, @mrninjapineapple, @its-sixxers @ronqueesha @scorpio-skies, @val-rampage​, @robobrainmurdermysterytheatre and of course anyone else that would like to do this! I’m terrible at remembering who’s already been tagged so if you’ve already been tagged feel free to pick another OC...or ignore this :D

[midnight-circus]

sometimes you just gotta meme for the new guy.

this is two memes combined so sorry if theres similar questions i couldnt be bothered to post them separately lmao

it’s fuckin huge My Bad

-

Names? If you were to choose another name for your oc, what do you think it would be? Did you choose their name for how it sounds or for its meaning?

Tbh it was a toss-up for a long time between Mallory, Felix and Everaud, and eventually the first two won. I chose it for how it sounded, but as it turned out the meanings of his first two names juxtapose pretty well together (first name Mallory - ‘unlucky’, second name Felix - ‘lucky’). His surname, Valkner, I also picked for the sound - the meaning of ‘warrior’ doesn’t really pertain to him lmao

He hasn’t gone by his legit first name of Mallory since he was about 12, and has used Felix almost exclusively since then. he fuckin hates it. most of the time.

Can your oc play any instruments? Have they ever wanted to learn how to play any? Why?

No, he grew up without much money and instruments would have been a luxury. He’s vaguely considered it as an adult, but is pretty certain he’d be useless so hasn’t bothered trying.

How does your oc fare in the dark? Are they scared? Do they trip over things really easily or navigate like they have night vision? (Or do they have night vision?)

He doesn’t like the dark much, but he’s not scared. He’s just got bad eyesight.

How well would your oc fare as a teacher? What subject would they be best at teaching? What about the worst?

tbh he’d probably be pretty good as a teacher to a group of like...primary school kids, maybe from 5-11 in age. He’s quiet-voiced, fairly mild-mannered, and has a strong sense of fairness and justice - the problem would arise when it came to older pupils, teens and up, trying to get the upperhand, bc he’s not authoritative in the slightest and would probably cave. Give him a room of toddlers tho that he’s only responsible for in short bursts and he’d cope pretty well. Either history or english lit would be his forte; sports would be worst. the boy can’t run.

What was your oc’s relationship with their parents like? If they didn’t have any parents/didn’t know them, who in their life was the closest to a parent to them?

It’s...good? I guess?? It’s complicated. his parents love their kids dearly and Felix didn’t go wanting for affection, but if anything it went too far the other way. He was absolutely smothered as a kid - after several near-death experiences with childhood illnesses (bacterial meningitis, which developed into encephalitis, then sepsis in his leg), his mother wrapped him up in cotton wool and never really let go. He couldn’t leave the house alone, he couldn’t go outside on cold days, he couldn’t move at anything faster than a walk - after being in and out of hospitals from 5-years-old to 8, and then being kept on a shelf from then, it really had an impact on how he learnt to interact with other kids his age. It’s also given him an unstable footing in life itself - he’s never quite certain if he’s going to lose everything at the drop of a hat, because that’s how they used to act around him. Now, with the distance of adulthood, he loves them and appreciates that they were trying their best, but he can’t help but resent them a little if he really thinks about it. He gets around this by not thinking about it.

Does your oc have any allergies, intolerances, or other sensitivities? How dangerous is it? Does this affect their daily life in any way?

he’s got an allergy to letting himself be happy it’s very serious

Does your oc prefer being in a crowd or being completely alone? How many people can be around them before they get uncomfortable?

Generally he’s more content alone - conversation doesn’t come naturally to him, particularly if it’s a crowd of strangers, and he’s more content in his own company. If he does find himself in a crowd, he will take himself to the edge of the room and people-watch rather than mingle.

How open is your oc to trying new things? Are they the adventurous sort, or would they rather stay in their comfort zone? Why?

He needs to be talked into things, otherwise he’d never try anything - he knows his comfort zones and he’s very comfortable in them, and is not inclined to venture outside. If he’s nudged into doing something, he may end up finding that he enjoys it - doesn’t necessarily mean he’d do it again under his own steam, but he doesn’t always regret the experience.

Does your oc have any best friends? Who was/is their closest friend? What about their worst enemy?

Pathetically enough, he doesn’t, really. Sylvia was his best, and to be honest his only friend, and when she left his social life left with her. He loves her still, but he loves her platonically (even if he hasn’t realised that yet) and that wasn’t enough for her, understandably. Outside of her, there’s not really anyone else.

No enemies. He’s not important enough to have enemies.

How dangerous is your oc? Are they completely innocent, or someone to be feared? Do others know?

tbh Felix’s level of danger is about the same as a puppy with a knife in its mouth. like yeah it might get you by accident but its way more likely to hurt itself and its not really done anything to deserve that so really its more important to get the knife away from it for its own benefit than yours

What is your oc’s vision like? Do they require glasses, are they completely blind, or do they have 20/20 vision? Does this have an effect on their life?

He wears glasses for pretty much everything - he’s not blind without them, but his vision’s bad enough that he wouldn’t be able to cope for the whole day if he left them at home.

If your oc were to be arrested for something, what would it be for? For being too kind, for a legitimate crime?

Probably for getting mixed up in something he didn’t mean to get involved in - Felix is the sort of person to say ‘yes’ to one request because he felt pressured and then find himself 20 ‘yes’s down the line embezzling money from the government for the Serbian mafia with no idea how he got there. He’s quite easy to manipulate - a person who knows how to press his buttons can generally work the answer they want out of him. 

How quiet or loud is your oc? Are they easily capable of sneaking around without being heard, or do they feel it’s impossible to stop talking?

He’s pretty quiet - tries not to draw attention to himself if he can avoid it, and he doesn’t really speak unless he’s spoken to.

How stylistically fancy is your oc? Or would they rather go for comfort and plainness instead?

His primary concern is durability and price - he needs something that will either last for as long as possible so he doesn’t have to replace it any time soon, or something that is cheap enough that it doesn’t matter if it wears out, and ergo, Primark. He oftens window-shops for nice-fitting, fancy clothing in the London boutiques he passes on the way to work, but has never bought anything like that in his life and can’t bring himself to even consider it.

What’s your oc’s preferred mode of transportation? Walking, vehicle, (or in a sci-fi/magic setting) teleportation?

His preferred mode of transport is a car, but his isn’t always working properly so when he has to, he takes a bus - he doesn’t like walking if he can avoid it, partially because it wears him out and partially because he’s kind of physically lazy.

Is your oc always late, always early, or always right on time? Is there any reason for this?

He’s always early, because he leaves early, because he’s already envisioned about 20 different disasters that could make him late on the way and he’s trying to circumvent all of them.

How empathetic is your oc? Or are they closer to being a sociopath? Any reason why?

Felix doesn’t really realise that he’s empathetic - he thinks he’s just doing what everyone does, but in fact he will go out of his way to improve a situation for someone if he thinks they’re being hard-done-by for no benefit to himself, even to the extent of bending or breaking rules. It’s partially why he got into the law-scene - he wants to see things bettered for people who need it.

How much does your oc swear? Or do they keep completely clean? Why is this? Is there any situation where they would be the opposite?

Swearing doesn’t come naturally to him - he’s one of those people who will swear only under their breath and still manage to feel guilty about doing it. If he is going to swear out loud, he does it in German and it always comes out clumsily.

How does your oc’s own perception of themselves compare to how other people see them? Is your oc aware that other people see them differently (if it’s different)?

It’s pretty different. In his mind, he’s pretty useless - a bit of a waste-of-space who has coasted through life by pretending to be better than he is, kind of dull, kind of boring, kind of unattractive, altogether too much of Nothing Special for anyone to really be bothered with. Realistically, he comes across as responsible and competent at his job, perhaps a little highly-strung and nervy but nevertheless perfectly capable of managing the responsibilities he has. It’s his own self-doubt that cripples him, for the most part - people see it in him, and perhaps it makes them wonder if there’s a reason for it.

Is your oc a workaholic, or do they find it hard to be busy at all? Do they find it easy to relax, or must they have something to do at all times? Why?

if he’s not working, he’s thinking, and that simply won’t do. Felix’s whole life is work, for the most part - he throws his all into it, and isn’t sure what to do with himself when he’s sitting at home alone in a dead-quiet flat.

How energetic is your oc? Do they have trouble sitting still or do they feel low on juice all the time? Any reason why?

He’s constantly exhausted. It’s because he’s depressed. He hasn’t figured that out yet.

How does your character sleep? Peacefully, fitfully? What position do they sleep in? What is their typical bedding like?

Not very peacefully - Felix is a light sleeper, so although capable of getting to sleep relatively quickly he wakes up in fits and starts throughout the night. He tends to sleep curled on his left side, on bedding that is cheap, serviceable and durable. He can’t afford to buy anything decent. He finds it easier to stay asleep if there’s ambient noise in the room - white noise, the TV, whatever.

Does your oc have dreams or nightmares? What are they like? Is there a recurring one?

He’ll suffer a pretty bad nightmare here and there, generally to do with hospitals or medical procedures, but they aren’t chronic.

How easy to annoy is your oc? Do they have common pet-peeves or are they stoic in response to everything? What is their reaction if the source doesn’t stop?

he’s real easy to annoy lmao. He’s got a list of pet peeves a mile long and he’s very easy to get a rise out of, so people who enjoy getting a reaction (Lyon) find him very entertaining pickings. He keeps telling himself not to get so worked up because it only encourages things, but he can’t help it.

How does your oc view housework? Do they absolutely hate it? Do they enjoy having their surroundings neat and tidy or do they not notice?

He hates doing it, but he really enjoys a clean space afterwards and goes a long way to keep things organised. Disorder stresses him out - he particularly can’t bear people coming into his space and messing it up.

Your oc has to make something for an art exhibition. What would they make? How terrible is it? Would they enjoy making it?

oh christ. the thing is, he’s actually not that bad at art - he’s got a good handle on anatomy and perspective and can reproduce images or photpgraphs fairly well - but he thinks he’s useless and has never shown anyone anything. he’d produce a pretty solid sketch of like a coffee shop at 5pm or something dull like that, apologise profusely for the result, and hate every second of it.

What is your oc’s vocabulary like? Does it match the way they talk? How would you describe their speech?

He speaks pretty well - he’s precise with his words and keeps a quiet, even tone, and his vocab is fairly developed. If there’s a flaw with his speech, it’s that he speaks rather too quickly, because he’s used to being constantly interrupted - it becomes a race to get the sentence finished and his point across, before someone can cut him off.

He has a south German accent, but it’s a little softer for years of living in England - it gets stronger when he goes back home to Munich.

Is your oc more likely to follow instructions exactly, throw them out and figure it out on their own, or make it all up? What are the results like?

He follows instructions to the T, and doesn’t have the impulse to experiment and mess around with them for fear of making a mistake that he’d then have to clean up; that being said, if it becomes a matter of fair treatment, he may be inclined to bend the rules here and there.

Is your oc afraid of touch or do they actively seek it out? Is there a reason for this? What are the exceptions?

lmaoooOOOOO he’s petrified, whilst at the same time desperately craving it. He’s horrendously touch-starved, but his childhood lizard-brain learnt to associate touch with painful medical procedures, so he shies from it by nature.

How is your oc about medical care? Do they avoid any form of healthcare that they can, do they seek it out over every little scrape? Do they treat their injuries/illness all by themselves?

Felix carries an awful lot of medical trauma with him; he’s terrified of medical care, whilst simultaneously being something of a hypochondriac convinced he’s got some sort of Terrible Disease at all times. to be fair, this is because he once had a Terrible Disease, which then led to a second and then a third Terrible Disease before the first could even be treated, so he does have form for it. He also can’t handle blood and has been known to pass out at the sight of it, but would rather do that and recover on the floor than go to hospital.

He will avoid hospitals At All Costs.

How competitive is your oc? Is every little task something that they can win, or are they just in competitions for the fun of it? Is there anyone they’re most competitive with?

He’s sort of competitive accidentally - he doesn’t want to be, but he feels like he needs to be in order to succeed. He is desperate to prove himself, desperate to show his mother than he is more than capable of managing his own life, but he will run himself to exhaustion trying to get there. He’s happiest when he’s left to do his own thing without feeling like he’s competing against others, when he’s content that he’s appreciated by the people around him and is able to take that appreciation at face value, but he hasn’t come to that realisation in himself yet - he just thinks he’s doing it wrong.

How skilled at lying is your oc? How frequently do they lie? For what reason? What situations would be the exception?

lmao he can’t lie to save his life it’s actually kind of sad to watch. he’s a Blusher, for one, so he’s already tripped coming out of the gate, and then he starts falling over his own tongue the second he’s asked a question he can’t give a truthful answer to until it’s painfully obvious to everyone. it’s just sad.

What is your oc’s immune system like? Are they invincible to illness, or are they compromised completely from the slightest of dirt?

His immune system is terrible - a side-effect of his childhood. If there’s an illness going around, he will catch it.

Does your oc do anything “just for the aesthetic”? Or are they completely practical in everything?

Totally practical by habit, but perhaps he’d be happier if he wasn’t. He’s not used to doing things just because he wants to, because he’d enjoy the experience - there has to be a reason for it, else he’s not justified in doing it. Same goes for purchasing things that he wants - if he can’t come up with a good, solid, practical reason to buy himself something, he won’t buy it. ‘Because you want to’ is not reason enough.

If you had to choose a single object to act as a symbol for your oc, what would it be?

One of those candles that re-ignites itself when you blow it out.

If your oc could only eat one thing for the rest of their life (while miraculously not suffering from malnutrition), what would it be?

He’s got a massive sweet tooth and spends a lot of time baking, so probably cake - he’s fond of little gay French patisserie nonsense.

How prepared is your oc? Ready for the worst no matter what, or completely lost in every situation? Would they have a medkit when it was needed? Would they have an umbrella if it rains?

As much as he panics, in a legitimate bad situation he is capable of keeping his head - he runs on adrenaline and suffers the consequences later. He carries a first-aid kit in his car, but has never needed to use it, and yes, he always has an umbrella.

How charitable is your oc? Or are they more stingy with their resources and money?

god. He is stingy, but not out of a miserly nature - he just legitimately does not have much money. He never has, ever since childhood, and that shit is ingrained in him - you watch what you’re spending, because you never know when you’re going to need to make an emergency payment.

If someone was describing your oc to someone who had never met them, what distinguishing features would they mention? How would one identify your oc in a crowd?

Short guy, kind of round-faced, round glasses - kinda looks like he’s lost even when he isn’t. Jumps if you bump into him.

Does your oc have any pleasure that embarrasses them so they keep it secret? Or are they open about all the things they enjoy?

literally everything that he enjoys, he’s embarrassed about. He likes old black-and-white movies and he’s embarrassed about that. He reads shitty romcom fiction and he’s embarrassed about that. He enjoys cooking, he’s embarrassed about that. He actually enjoys sex, believe it or not, and he’s embarrassed about it. Don’t even fuckin get him started on his kinks because he’s embarrassed about them. tbh Felix doesn’t really know how to enjoy himself without guilt or shame, because he always feels like he needs to justify the things he likes and he doesn’t know how to do it. He’s just embarrassed.

What is your oc’s stamina like? Would they be able to run a marathon, or not run at all? What about walking/another physical activity? How are they with exercise in general?

Shitty stamina - he’s got weak lungs and the extent of his running ability is running for a bus and then needing literally four hours to recover. He sort of makes a vague attempt to exercise at home, but is easily discouraged and would just rather lie on the couch having a crisis of body-image.

How long can your oc stay focused on one task before they get bored? Do they constantly have to switch things up or do they hyperfocus? What sort of things is it the opposite for?

Felix is the king of repetitive, menial tasks. Set him in front of a diary or a spreadsheet and he’s well away. He really doesn’t mind thoughtless admin labour, even as he insists that he’s capable of handling more responsibility - and although he is more than capable, he also feels comforted by the predictability of data-entry. A nice mix of both would be ideal.

What smells bring back specific memories to your oc? What are those memories like?

Antiseptic and rubber floors, with that underlying stink of sickness. They’re not good memories.

How jumpy or easily spooked is your oc? Do they have a fight or flight reflex to being startled, or are they never startled at all?

He’s super-jumpy and easy to startle, which is delightful to some people. Between fight or flight, he’ll fly.

How polite is your oc? Do they do everything with the utmost courtesy, or do they completely refuse to say please and thank you?

He’s unfailingly polite, because his mother would have beat him with a shoe if he wasn’t.

How flexible is your oc? Can they touch their toes or do they have trouble just sitting down because of how stiff they are?

He doesn’t think he’s flexible at all, but certain intercurricular activities with Lyon suggest that he’s more flexible than he thinks he is.

What is your oc’s typical walking like? Do they speed-walk everywhere, do they take quick short steps or long paces? How loud are their footsteps?

Because his legs are kinda short, he walks pretty quickly just to be able to keep up with people - quiet steps, because he’s trying not to draw attention to himself.

If your oc was in a video game, what would their idle animation be?

Cleaning his glasses, putting them back on, squinting through them, then taking them off and cleaning them again ad infinitum.

What topics does your oc know the most about? Are these obvious or would these be surprising to others?

He’s a talented cook and has absorbed quite a lot about flavour profiles and all that shit that I know nothing about so I’m not going into details lmao. He’s also got a bank of knowledge about classic films that he keeps to himself, as he’s never convinced anyone would be interested. He’s got a lot of shit that he keeps to himself for this same reason, and therefore there’s quite a lot he could surprise people with if the right topics came up.

What time of day is your oc most awake? What about most tired? Do they get up at the same time every morning without need of an alarm, or is their sleep schedule all over the place?

Tries to tell himself he’s a morning-person. He isn’t. Left to his own devices he’d wake up about 10 and fall asleep about 2am, but he’ll insist if asked that he’s naturally inclined to wake up early.

What would someone blackmail your oc with? Would they be successful in getting what they wanted?

they’d get hold of a list of his pornhub browsing history and yes, they would absolutely be successful.

How easily does your oc get attached to things? Does everything have a sentimental value to them, or do they see nothing as more valuable than its practical use? What about with people/animals?

He gets attached to people and animals very easily, but as for things - he gets angry when he breaks or loses items, but that’s more to do with being stressed about having to pay to replace them than anything sentimental. He’s thrifty to a fault and won’t throw anything out until it’s absolutely unusable, to the point that he’s gotten pretty skilled at sewing repairs in order to avoid getting rid of clothes. He does have sentimental attachments to a few things, but not the majority.

How stubborn is your oc? Are they easily convinced of the opposite opinion, do they not agree but let it happen anyways? Or do they cause conflicts with their inability to budge in their decisions?

He’s not stubborn, as such, but he does know his own mind. He can be talked around or into things quite easily, but he does like to feel as though his voice has been heard.

How much has your oc traveled? Why is this? Would they like to travel more? Or are they perfectly fine with staying home?

He’d prefer to stay home - there’s too much room for error travelling abroad, and the risks don’t really outweigh the benefits for him. He travels back and forth between England and Germany, and he has visited France before as a boy, but that’s about it.

What signs tell that your oc is nervous? Do they fidget, is it in their expression or the way they say things? Or are they very skilled at hiding it?

He fiddles with his glasses and fidgets his hands around, and is also (as mentioned) a blusher - he’s Not Subtle when he’s nervous or flustered, which in turn makes it worse.

How superstitious your oc? Do they end up following them ‘just in case’? Or are superstitions incredibly important to your oc? What are some that they believe? What about the ones they don’t?

He says he isn’t superstitious, but I’m not certain that’s true - I think he’s superstitious despite himself. He follows them, then gets annoyed with himself for following them and assures himself that he won’t do it again, but then when it comes to it next time he follows them again anyway. He won’t walk under ladders, won’t open an umbrella indoors and he broke a mirror once and almost died. The only one he doesn’t believe is unlucky black cats, because he’s never met a black cat that was unpleasant.

[filianoctis]

Thoughts on a Marriage.

My partner (of nearly a decade now. WOOHOO!) and I got engaged on a fiery hot day in March. Necessary Disclaimers: The lock down has been on the whole deeply kind to me and my family. There is enough food, water, cold air, and medication. We are doing a LOT better than a lot of people. And I haven't felt cabin fever in the nearly six weeks of knowing nothing except the walls of my tiny house in a quiet lane of a small city in India. In fact, this is the only way in which my much abused, slightly disabled body has managed a break--an actual break-- in more than four years. But even as my illnesses ebb a little with all the naps I have been taking, and my family finds itself in a good place, I continue to be in a long-distance relationship with her for the fourth year in a row. Just because we are good at it (and are deeply relieved by that) doesn't mean we like it. And of late, probably because I am beginning to resurface from the dark pit of a combination of diseases, it keeps getting harder. So, I am glad she is well, and we talk on WhatsApp and share stories and books and talk into the night, giggling sometimes like we are 15 instead of nearly 30; I am glad that we know to work around bad days, and familial crises and illnesses by the score. But, if I had an uninterrupted house arrest with her by my side for even a week, I would go to hell and back to get it. The yearning is a howling pit today, and no matter what books I read or writing I do, I seem to have no defense to it. Worse? I am glad it is happening. As that sci-fi TV show's Cop-Dad said, "The hurt is good." But all my defenses are low, and any romance I read, write, or create a soundtrack about echoes with how much I miss being married. So, even as I reel cackling from fanfic of people getting together. I want to talk about the DELIGHT and disaster that was us getting engaged. Hyderabad is a lovely city to live in for eight months of the year, in terms of the weather. But for the remaining four, it is a furnace of heatwaves and a rocky pit of dehydration. One afternoon, it was too hot to eat or do anything vaguely resembling productivity, so we lay on a reed mat on the floor of our hostel room after a lunch of (probably) watermelon juice and buttermilk. I was 24, she was 24 and four months, just beginning to settle down in our doctoral degrees. We had already been together for four years by then (yes, we met as baby undergraduate and barely postgraduate). We talked lightly of plans for the future, the hows and whats and whens of possibilities. I mentioned that I always thought I'd date someone I knew I could be close friends with, and then, in a few years, if it managed to work out, I'd like a commitment ceremony. It didn't matter that we were/are in a homophobic country with homosexuality still deeply decriminalized. It was just something I wanted. It wasn't about the size of the banquet or the hundreds of relatives who could fuss over me for days. I wanted to make the commitment, and I wanted to do it in a small, intimate way. If we were legal we would sign on a paper and declare it to each other. Since we couldn't do that, we'd have to turn to our religion and find the smallest, simplest ceremony that could be meaningful to both of us. It wouldn't change anything, practically speaking, (Did I mention I was/am the most horrifically resourceful Slytherin when I commit myself to a cause? In our relationship, she got the toaster, and I wanted us to get a decent chance. Homophobic country meant closeting except in front of a few close friends, so I decided we needed to move in together so that we could get 'one' lone space to figure out what we could be to each other). So, we were already sharing a life, a room, a kitchen (IN the room, both of us lived off our stipends). It was just important for me to be able to say it, make that promise. (It was a wedding fever like no other, and the moment we were done with the ceremony, I emerged, happy and secure that-- patriarchal homophobes or not--I too had a wedding in the exact way I wanted. Neither of us or our best friends could wipe the smile off our faces that day. BUT. That's a story for a different time.) She nodded along, and we moved on to talking about something else (about how both of us planned to support our baby sisters' education or something similar). Five minutes into it, she suddenly pauses, turns around, and says, "WAIT, DID WE JUST GET ENGAGED?!" I remember how badly my ribs hurt after I was done laughing. She DID get a kiss, but a chaste one, it was awfully hot to kiss for too long anyway. I miss being able to hold her hand or watch her smile whenever I feel like. I won't back from my responsibilities as a sudden materfamilias of a family of orphans. But every step I have taken in the last four years has been a step towards being able to share our lives and grow old together like we instinctively wanted, despite assurances of how we didn't want it to become too much or coming on too strong for either of us. Who were we kidding? We were and are that exact boring couple I have always known us to be, the kind that never gets bored with each other's voice (or silence) and drinks four types of tea. She is still a bitch to buy things for. I am still a bitch to feed. Here's thinking of her, and about sharing a household, once this is behind us. I will NOT real Atwood's Habitation and weep. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian's child-rearing skills make a happier reading. That way, I get to tease her later about her sad penchant for grumpy gay boys full of manpain. I wish @walburgablack'd treat this post as flowers.

[ethelindawrites]

October 10

Fictober, Prompt 10 - “Listen, I can’t explain it, you’ll have to trust me.”, Original Fiction

Warnings: none? Brief space-related danger.

My breath echoed hollowly inside my helmet, and I kept it as slow and even as I could. Panicking now would do nothing to help retain the dwindling oxygen supply strapped to my back.

“Any luck?” I called over the comm. The systems I was looking at gave me hope, but the ship had been floating dead in space for…well, a long time. The wiring was intact, which was a good start.

A grunt was all I got back, and I rolled my eyes. “Arun.”

“There’s an SFOG,” he said, “seems to be intact.”

I let out a breath of relief and felt the worst of the incipient panic lift from my chest. “Let’s stay on our tanks for now,” I suggested.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ve got at least three hours left, maybe more.”

“I think I’m about the same. That should be enough time to get us moving, and we can fire the SFOG at that point.”

“Which you’re going to do how, exactly? The reactor’s dead-cold. Suit’s not picking up any radiation from that direction, must have run out.” I could hear the frown in his voice; the ship had been drifting for a long time, but probably not long enough that all of the reactor’s fuel would have been consumed.

I pursed my lips, decided I wasn’t quite ready to explain yet, and certainly not over the comm. Arun was going to have a hard enough time accepting what I could do when he could see it for himself. “For now, we just need to get pointed in the right direction and get moving, so a burst should be enough. We can worry about steadier power and steering after that.”

“We’re only so far out of the debris field,” he warned, “but you’re right.”

“Check about the reactor?” I asked, buying a little more time. “I’ll come down to see the engines once I’m finished up here.”

“Yeah.” He clicked off, and I turned my attention back to the panel in front of me. I was going to have to give the engines a pretty good kick, but I did need a little bit of steering and diagnostic information first.

It was harder to do with gloves on, but I always made sure mine didn’t have the wrong kind of insulation in them, so the magic flowed out slowly but steadily into the discreet, five-finger port built into the control panel.

After ten, heart-stopping seconds of nothing, the screens around me winked into life.

I fed them a little more power, then began to shut off system alarm notifications as quickly as I could. It would be safest to assume that everything was dead or malfunctioning, and we could tackle most of it later.

Finding the reactor and engine diagnostics, I confirmed my suspicion that they had been deliberately shut down with magic. The good news was that meant both were probably intact.

The bad news was that if I couldn’t get the blocking magic off, then we were in serious trouble. I could give the engines a kick of pure power to get us moving, but that wouldn’t help us back into atmo when we got to the planet I was hoping was within range. We could resupply on a lot of things there, but only if we could land safely.

Checking a few other small things, I confirmed that the electrolysis water reserves were nonexistent and that there was probably another SFOG in a part of the ship we hadn’t gotten to yet. That would double our potential oxygen supply, and we had enough of our own food and water to see us through to that planet.

If we could get moving. If I could figure out how to steer us around any potential obstacles. If nothing else went wrong.

I muted the system interface and floated deeper into the ship, following Arun back to the reactor and engine rooms.

“It’s weird,” he told me when I joined him by the reactor, “it’s dead-cold, like a said, but it looks like the fuel cells are still there are pretty intact.”

“That’s because they are,” I agreed, steeling myself for this conversation. “The reaction has been stopped.”

“By what?” he demanded, giving me a weird look. “What could possibly do that?”

“Magic,” I said bluntly.

Arun blinked at me, then burst out laughing.

Raising an unimpressed eyebrow at him, I fit my hand into another conveniently placed five-finger slot and let my power flow again. The reactor interface flared into sudden life, flaring the bright green of my magic at first before settling into the soft white of the displays.

Arun wasn’t laughing anymore.

“This,” I showed him on the big screen that projected a diagnostic image of the reactor, “this weird film that seems to be covering the fuel cells? That’s the dampening spell.” With my free hand, I wrote a few sigils on what seemed to be a touch-pad, altering the color of the spell so that it was more visible.

Arun was still staring at me as if I’d grown a second head. I turned as far as I could away from the interface and glared at him. “Look, do you want to get out of here alive or not?”

“I— Ye— What—”

“Listen, I can’t explain it, you’ll have to trust me.” This wasn’t strictly true, but I definitely didn’t have time to explain it right now, and I couldn’t do this alone. “I need your help, because I’m going to have to get that dampening spell off the reactor if we’re going to have any hope. So, are you with me?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“Okay, then here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to give this interface enough juice to keep it running for an hour,” based on the current rate of magic it was pulling in, that should be feasible. “I need you to work the controls – letting me into the reactor chamber, opening the fuel cell compartment, all of that – and give me some feedback from the diagnostic here while I go in to try and break that spell.”

“Okay,” he said, gruff. He was frowning now, and I knew he didn’t like the idea of me that close to the reactor, but we didn’t have a choice.

Getting in went smoothly enough, and I got what turned out to be the first of several spell layers undone without any trouble.

“It’s flashing, that spell-thing,” Arun’s voice came over the comm. Then, more urgently, “It’s flashing red.”

“Star-gas,” I muttered, trying to figure out what trap I had just triggered. There hadn’t seemed to be anything strange in that first layer of spell.

Sigils unrolled before me suddenly, counting down to—

With another curse, I flung myself back, scrawling protection and holding sigils with one hand and slapping at the compartment door control with the other, hoping it would close in time…

It did, barely.

A vague whump came as a panel in the floor dropped open, venting the chamber into the vacuum of space outside. I wasn’t sure if this was entirely a cause of the spell, or if it was a last-ditch containment mechanism in case something went horribly wrong with the reactor. They had sometimes put strange solutions on these older ships, when the fear of such things had been higher.

Either way, I had managed my own spells just in time, holding myself and the fuel cell structure in place.

“Hold on!” Arun’s voice sounded distant in my ear, but after a few, agonizingly long seconds, the venting doors were closing, and at last sealed with a hydraulic hiss.

I dropped my spells and collapsed to the newly-intact floor with an exhausted gasp.

“Are you all right?” he shouted, and I managed to get a hand up to wave at him.

“Fine,” I said after a moment. “Fine. Give me a sec.”

His silence had a displeased quality to it, but he let me be. After a few minutes of just breathing (and that stunt had certainly depleted my oxygen tank more than I had hoped, I was able to get up and check things again.

“Okay, no more surprises,” I told him, “just one last layer of spell to take off. The nuclear reaction should kick on again as soon as I take this off, so I’ll get out quickly.”

Arun just grunted, but it sounded like an assent, so I didn’t push for more.

I had just enough brain-power left to manage a small countdown in my own sigils, such that the dampening spell was taken apart just after I got out of the fuel cell compartment and the double door had sealed itself again.

“It seems to be working again,” Arun admitted, still gruff, as I rejoined him by the interface. “Pow- Regular power seems to be coming back into the system.”

I snorted a little. He was definitely going to make me explain it all properly later, but that was all right. With the reactor going again, the engines would run, as would the rest of the ship’s systems. And, since it seemed to have been built and run originally by those like myself, I could use my power to supplement anywhere the electric systems might fail or be beyond repair.

We had time now, and a good shot at getting somewhere habitable.

“Thanks for trusting me,” I told him.

“Thanks for saving us,” he said bluntly.

I smiled. He’d be mad at me, but he’d get over it.

It wasn’t so bad, to have finally told him, I realized. There were so many neat things I could show him now.

(I really wanted to write a cybermage today, so here’s some sci-fi/fantasy. Sci-fantasy? Tumblr says that’s a tag, let’s go with that.

SFOG = Solid fuel oxygen generator, in which a chemical reaction “burns” iron and sodium chlorate to create oxygen.)