#virus: morris

[forthedancingandthethriving]

Tis ANOTHER collection of incorrect quotes

Tulip: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

Juliano, already removing every potential hazard in the vicinity: How about you don't?

----

Lily: But when all hope seemed lost, I had an epiphany!

Lily, earlier: I'm going to throw myself into the sea.

----

SMG3: What’s that off in the distance? Could it be? It is! My last damn, disappearing over the horizon. Be free, my old friend… be free…

SMG4: 3, hun, I literally JUST asked you to be nicer to Boopkins.

----

Lil Coding: And that's when it hit me. The best idea I ever had!

*After everything goes to shit*

Lily, glaring at Lil Coding: That was the worst idea you've ever had!

----

Morris: You played me like a damn fiddle!

Root: You're wrong. A fiddle is beautiful and difficult to play. I played you like the cheap kazoo you are.

----

Cody: LC, I am questioning your sanity... 

Sage: I never questioned it, I knew his sanity was missing from the start.

----

Cody: I always wondered how a living person could kill another living person.

Cody: And then my siblings got threatened and I was like "oh okay!"

----

Root: I'm friends with this family for the same reason people visit the zoo.

Root: Oh! Shh, look at that!

Root: *turns to watch a screaming Mario chase a screaming Luigi*

Root: Nature is amazing.

----

Cory: I'm six, so I get six cookies!

Cody: Cory, bub, that's now how it works-

Lil Coding: *pocketing 12 cookies*

----

Cody: What did you guys get in your yearbook?

Lily: 'Prettiest smile'.

Root: 'Nicest personality'.

Lil Coding: 'Most likely to start a bar fight'.

Bowser Jr: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'.

----

*The Crew right before Domain&Forum's wedding (potentially idk lol)*

SMG4: Well, we have to go, we have a wedding to attend.

Abyssal: Wait... Oh! I have a wedding to attend too!

Mario: Oh, I have a wedding to attend as well.

Umbra: I THINK WE ALL HAVE A WEDDING TO ATTEND!

Vitality: I THINK I HAVE A WEDDING TO OFFICIATE!!

----

Meggy: Where's the other kids?

Welony: They're playing hide and seek.

Meggy: Where?

Welony: I don't think you get how this game works.

----

Luigi: How late were you up last night?

SMG34 & SMG3, in tandem: Me?

Luigi: No, not you two. You stay up late all the time.

Luigi, to Mario: You.

----

Buffer: CPU was sitting next to me during the meeting today and offered me a sip of hisbdrink because I mentioned that I was thirsty...

Buffer: I was not fucking expecting to take a sip of vodka cranberry at 9am.

----

Forum: God, you’re so clingy.

Domain: YOU came to MY USB?!

----

Buffer: CPU, I need a gun, but you can't ask why I need it.

CPU: As long as you don't ask how I've gained all these.

Buffer: Deal.

CPU: *sets 20 different guns on the table*

Buffer: ..

CPU: ..

Buffer: *points at one* That one will do.

CPU: Good choice.

----

Tari: Why are you still drinking? It’s 10 in the morning.

Bob: I know how bad this is gonna feel when I sober up, so I'm just gonna keep drinking a little bit.

----

Lil Coding: Boil up some Mountain Dew. It's gonna be a long night.

Sage: You could have said anything else.

Lily: Cauldron boil and cauldron bubble, baja blast to fuel my trouble.

----

Lil Coding: Lily suggested the idea of putting me on a child's leash, and I think everyone honestly considered it.

----

Umbra: You didn't happen to bring any coffee, did you?

Abyssal, handing him a thermos: Milk and sugar.

Umbra: Oh, awesome. You're a lifesaver.

Umbra: *drinks it*

Umbra: Wait, is this just milk and sugar?

Abyssal: That's what I said.

----

Root: How petty can you get?

SMG3: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

[takec0y]

🐦‍⬛🐺

[stupid-and-cute-are-enough]

cough. here's a little super short fic i wrote bc i make those too. be sure to check out the silly extra details i added in the tags!

@get-rammed

Monty lets out a heavy sigh, sitting on the much too small couch in his room, his handler close by his side, messing around with wires in the open compartment on his arm. Something went wrong with his claws again, and management is convinced that it’s the programming or the wiring that’s the problem, sicking his handler on the problem again and again. Monty doesn’t think it’s either of those things.

He huffs again and drops his head onto his free hand, boredom clawing at his... shell. His handler bumps with a small clank.

“Sit still, you big baby. I’ll be done in a minute.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’ve never been one to sit still, sweets.”

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna today.”

He rolls his eyes again, resisting the urge to let out another huff. He knows fusing over this is only gonna make it take longer. That and… he can see the bags under his handler’s eyes. It’s late. Far later than any other employee stays, except those working the graveyard shift. It seems like even the other animatronic handlers have gone home for the day. He can tell that they’re tired, but they never bring it up to him. They probably don’t want to worry him, all things considered, but that just makes Monty even more anxious. They look half asleep already, so Monty decides to occupy them with the most meaningless conversation he can muster.

“Hey, so, like…” Monty trails off, rolling his free hand at the wrist. “I barely saw any, uh, human staff around today, even though it was super fuckin’ busy. Why’s that?”

His handler stops, blinking for a second. “Oh, it’s, uh, Labor Day. It’s like a national holiday about unions or something, and people usually get the day off.”

Monty raises a brow. “Why didn’t you get the day off?”

They snort. “You don’t get the day off, so I don’t get the day off.”

Monty hums. “... That’s pretty shitty for us then, huh?”

They laugh, patting his arm. “Yeah. It is. Hey, I just finished up re-wiring everything. Give me a test and see if everything works right?”

Monty obliges, clenching his fists and spinning them around at the wrist. He mimics plenty of movements he makes while playing on stage, and nothing stutters, nothing stalls, or makes any weird noises. His internal diagnostics show no issues, either. All seems well, so he leans back and gives a smug, shit-eating smile. One that’s familiar.

“All’s workin’,” he replies, keeping up his smile when he sees the weight lifted off his handler by the news. They don’t like being comforted. Not directly, anyway.

“Great,” they sigh, slouching into a more relaxed position. They close up the compartment on Monty’s arm, giving it one last, solid pat.

“You good to recharge and everything?” They ask, packing up their small tool bag and tossing it in some random corner of the room. They barely put it away anymore, but management hasn’t caught on yet. Or maybe his handler just doesn’t care that they’re supposed to put it away. Either is possible. “Do you want me to lay with you?”

Monty thinks as they bustle around the room, turning down the lights and doing a cursory glance at his recharge station. He does want them to lay with him. He always does. But Monty sees the exhaustion in their shoulders and feels some kind of misplaced guilt. They’re this tired because he’s a Glamrock now, not just a side attraction. He became more of a handful. He broke more. He needed them more at all hours of the day. They’re his handler. He’s tired, and he’s not even human.

“Naw,” he says, tilting his head and smiling. “I’m good.”

“Alrighty then,” his handler puts on a brave smile, grabbing their oversized Monty jacket and slinging it over their shoulders. Before, Monty would’ve teased them about being such a simp, how they don’t need his merch because they already wear his face all day, or how they could literally just zip up their uniform, but he lets it go for tonight.

“Se you tomorrow, big guy.”

Monty doesn’t comment on how today is already tomorrow.

“Goodnight, cher.”

His handler leaves, muttering about how they’ll probably need to catch a bus because they “don’t think they can drive like this,” and Monty wants nothing more than to invite them back. To give them the whole couch and let them sleep. But for all the crazy hours Fazbear Entertainment expects of them, they’re not allowed to stay overnight. No one is allowed to stay overnight, except for the night shift workers, who all had to sign crazy amounts of paperwork, and they both know it.

So, instead, Monty watches them make their way to the entrance. He watches as they struggle with their ID until the heavy metal doors rise, and they can slip out the door. He strains his eyes to see them disappear into the dark until the metal doors obscure them from view and hopes for all it’s worth that tomorrow will be easier.

___

please ignore any silly typos im p sure i got them all but its super late. i wanna post this tho so im posting it. i may or may not repost this later but like. as a better version lmao ram pls tell me if monty is OOC i was punching AIR trying to write this guy 😭 i thought i knew him well and then BAM no the fuck i dont

[apavlovs]

Felt like sharing some old(ish) art today so here’s a thing I did of one of my various virus guys!!! :]

[h20milk]

i can't believe my computer virus is this cute!

play the game -> morris<3 !

[mineral-vulture]

Attack for mushroomprince featuring the various virus ocs such as Happy99 (top left), Elk Cloner (top right), Heart angel virus (middle left), Morris Worm (middle), Christmas Tree (lower right), and Creeper (bottom left). I also put my oc, Stanton into the piece as well since he IS a virus. This person's computer is completely fucked.

[tenth-sentence]

Geneticists sequenced the syndrome's DNA in thirty-one days (as compared to fifteen years for HIV) and aggressive international action nipped it in the bud.

"Why the West Rules – For Now: The patterns of history and what they reveal about the future" - Ian Morris

[funeral]

We are born in debt, owing the world a death. This is the shadow that darkens every cradle. Trauma is what happens when you catch a surprise glimpse of that darkness, the coming annihilation not only of the body and the mind but also, seemingly, of the world. Trauma is the savagery of the universe made manifest within us, and it destroys not only the integrity of consciousness, the myth of self-mastery, and the experience of time but also our ability to live peacefully with others, almost as if it were a virus, a pathogen content to do nothing besides replicate itself in the world, over and over, until only it remains.

David J. Morris, The Evil Hours

[seth-whumps]

strings universe masterpost!

Character Introductions for JJ and Morrigan

Reference: In-depth description of Morrigan's anatomy

My favorite part of Morri and JJ's backstories

Whump fic: Morrigan's filtration systems

Drabble: Morrigan and a cuddle glitch

Whumpfic: Morrigan with hypothermia

Whumpfic: JJ and a debilitating fever

Songs for Morri and JJ

Whumpfic: JJ with heatstroke

Crossover with Bug's silly guys 1

Crossover with Bug's silly guys 2

Mello's drawings of the silly guys!!!!

Morrigan&JJ and physical affection

Reference: Morrigan and computer viruses

Ask game group 1 (cat calling, dumb injuries, punching their best friend, sleeptalking)

Ask game group 2 (hearing their voice recorded, first thing when they get home, dancin')

More asks group 1 (sleeping behaviors, does JJ resist Morri patching him up, JJ's reaction to Morri with a computer virus)

Ask game group 3 (face, stillness, formal, change, hair) (from this ask game)

Crossover with Bug's silly guys 3

More asks group 2 (drinking, favorite feature of the other, casual clothes, biggest regrets, secrets, pet peeves)

Songs part 2

WWE: JJ, self-done stitches

WWE: Morri, car accident

More asks 3 (JJ's midwesternisms, accents)

Languages they speak

WWE: JJ, vertigo

WWE: JJ, chronic pain

JJ's robo nicknames for Morri

Drabble: significance of JJ's strawberry earrings

Misgendering and reactions

Traits I (author) admire in Morri and JJ

Positive and negative character and person traits

JJ and Fall Out Boy

[mostlybroadway]

i’ve been thinking a lot about crutchie recently.

charles morris. charlie. crutchie. born to a “loving” single mother who abandoned him when he first got sick. the convent was better equipped to handle the polio virus anyhow, and that’s just where he stayed. the fever subsided fairly quickly, but his leg never worked right again. at the age of five he has to learn to walk with a third leg, without a family by his side.

the nuns were nice enough. they gave him food, helped him learn how to live after his paralysis hit. but they weren’t family. the solace he didn’t find in the nuns, he found in God. he prayed nightly, hoping for someone to come along and save him. a family to take him from the convent and show him what truly living was really like. and then he met jack kelly.

crutchie was convinced that jack was a literal godsend. they were both thirteen and too scrappy for their own good. jack and his expert persuasion convinced the sisters that crutchie was ready to be off on his own, beginning a life as a newsboy. crutchie was over the moon. his disability suddenly became a goldmine, and he had the closest thing he’d ever had to a family. he had a brother, hell, many of them, and he was happy.

his leg never got better. not that he had expected it to. not that it mattered.

it was him and jack for years in their penthouse above kloppman’s boarding house, until the strike. until david jacobs. and suddenly jack had a new right-hand man, a new protege. and crutchie found himself in the refuge.

he had a lot of time to think there. he realized that he’d likely been in love with jack as long as he’d known him. it was impossible not to be. jack kelly oozed charisma, and his smile could melt anyone’s cold heart. crutchie fell instantly. but he also realized that they would never be more than friends. crutchie saw how he looked at davey, like his eyes held all the stars in the sky, and it didn’t hurt him. not like he thought it would. he still wrote to jack, but as brothers. and just as soon as he realized his crush, it was gone.

strike settled, snyder imprisoned, and crutchie is back to selling. jack sells with davey and les now, which doesn’t bother crutchie as much as it should. they’re still best friends—jack still stays in their penthouse when he isn’t at the jacobs house. and besides, crutchie has finch now. finch who wouldn’t leave his side after he got back from the refuge, who bandaged all his scabs and listened to his sobs when he got a particularly bad reminder of his time in the refuge. they sold together now almost every day, and crutchie had honestly never been happier.

charles morris had lived more, lost more, and loved more at eighteen than most people did in their entire lives. and he did it all on one good leg.

[forthedancingandthethriving]

OKAY SO.

Morris and Root's whole arc/storyline is that Morris is purposely getting close to Lily to destroy everyone else she cares about from the inside out, while Root is suffering from memory loss and trying to figure out who she is.

As things continue, Root gradually remembers her and Morris's origins, to Morris's absolute delight, but Root is mortified. She's met Antivirus before, and while she's blind, she knows that he felt something off about her. And she knows why now. He knows she was a product of Ozymandias.. and yet he did nothing about it.

Because she's a kid, who doesn't have any memories of what she's meant to do.. and her 'true nature' as a Virus isn't winning her over. So the other Admins discreetly check her out and confirm that she isn't a threat, and she's probably able to reign Morris in.. except she can't. Morris is as dead set on destruction and revenge as their creator.

And Root realizes she has a choice to make. Join Morris, and doom all these people who welcomed her with open arms to death.. or kill Morris, and prevent Ozymandias from getting what it wants. When Morris starts gaining access to more dangerous code, code that she knows Morris will use.. she comes to that decision.

But she has to make her choice public when Morris threatens the lives of everyone. No one knew or realized she had been discreetly draining power from Lil Coding, the SMGs, and any Admins whenever they came by. In small doses, but enough for her to have a legitimate threat of opening Ozymandias's prison.

While Root stands by her.. she may be blind, but she's dangerous with her rapier.. and so she moves.

It's through Morris's chest in less than a second, and her sister is down in moments. Gingerly, she plucks the key Morris made..

Before she crushes it and spits on her sister's now cold body. And she blinks in surprise, because she can see. It's very blurry in one eye, but she can see.

Root can see as Lily rushes up to her, hugs her, and thanks her. Root can finally pair the kind voices she's been hearing to faces, faces filled with relief..

And Root let's herself finally, finally feel safe since she and Morris arrived.

(And to explain, Root gained some of Morris's ability to see when she killed her sister. Unless there's direct intervention from someone with medical/code repairing knowledge, this will be the extent of Root's ability to see. Aaaand she has some memory issues on account of the whole 'being made wrong' thing.)

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

The Very Last Resort

(Arron Bushnell self-immolates)

Stephen Jay Morris

3/2/2024

©Scientific Morality.

A normal person cannot comprehend someone walking up to the Israeli Consulate and pouring gasoline all over themselves, striking a match, and burning to death while screaming, “Free Palestine!” Was he insane? Back in the 60’s, Vietnamese Buddhists set themselves on fire to protest America’s occupation of their country. They believed in reincarnation and had faith that they would return to earth for their sacrificial good deed. But Arron? He was a member of the United States Air Force. It is alleged that he was a Gay Anarchist, which makes me very inquisitive about him. Why was he in the Air Force? Was he a weekend leftist? I wonder if this question will ever be answered.

Let’s talk about his political suicide. Or was it suicide? This is a very controversial point. This act was, indeed, an existential shock. As for me, I am afraid of death, even were it to occur in my sleep. But many brave souls are willing to die for a cause, or for a loved one. I would die for my wife. That is understandable. But for my country? People who send others to war would never die for the USA. So, why would I?

Why would a 25-year-old man self-immolate? Was it because he was experiencing a moral panic? Maybe. If you are a moralist and hear continuous, daily death tallies of innocent men, women, and children, you feel helpless. He may have had fantasies of being a Rambo type and going into Gaza with an AR-15, shooting IDF soldiers, and freeing Palestinians. Or, perhaps, parachuting into Gaza with food and water to help. Maybe Navy Seals could complete such an unimaginable act, but without professional help, it is not really feasible. What Arron did was apparently self-determined and purposeful. It was his protest of the ongoing humanitarian crisis in Palestine, the genocide of the Palestinian people, and the U.S. support of the Israeli government in these actions.

The mainstream media played this down as suicide. The reactionary element of America has played it cool. Oh, there have and will be insensitive memes or hateful posts on X, but I would be very surprised if some conservative pundits pose analytical theories on Arron’s motives. Maybe some MAGA lunatic will set himself on fire to stop abortion. (Am I now a participant in stochastic terrorism? Sure, why not.) I doubt that it would ever happen. It would be fun, though.

What Arron Bushnell did was a humanitarian act of altruism; the highest form of altruism, which is putting someone else’s needs above your own. America is so indoctrinated with the Ayn Rand virus of, “Fuck you! Me first.” Sacrifice is more moral than self-interest. What Bushnell did was the highest form of morality: sacrifice.

If you are willing to die for a cause, die in the anarchist revolution. Bakunin once said, “A revolutionary is a doomed man!” There is nothing romantic about revolution. It is full of hardship, bloodshed, and death. If that scares you, then become a Democrat or Republican, and waste your vote.

Me? I’m almost 70 years old. Unlike President Biden, however, I know my limitations.

[tattlestarbeepbop]

Holy shIT-

Okay, so the new update is amazing, but one things stuck out for me and I'm putting it under the cut because spoilers.

This just downright broke my heart. I felt so god damn guilty about what happened to these two. Their shop is in shambles and the only time I actually got to do anything there was to get madge's glasses there... I could hear a beasty scuttlin' around in there. And chapter 4 confirms it, I think.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls

I think next chapter, the world comes unfurled

Ladies and gentlemen, packs and derms,

Everyone, next chapter, we might date a worm.

Of the virus variety.

Was that a good poem? You think mine'll ever compare to Morris'?

[aquato-family-circus]

After Otto introduces cool technology to Lucy, Lucy introduced cool technology to her family! Cool phones and stuff like that, make kinds tech savvy

Augustus is excited about the access to new tech, so fascinating! man who will immediately get into flash games.

Donatella & Augustus are is happy to let their kids have access to phones and stuff bc now they can all call each other in case of an emergency. they've probably used burner phones or payphones before but now voila, more reliable and consistent option has become available.

also Donatella now access to a new way to try to advertise the circus online, she's ready and willing to forcibly learn how to build a shitty little website with a custom cursor that sparkles when it moves. it barely works. she's trying.

Frazie Dion and Raz have been kids who used library computers whenever they were close to one so they all have varying levels of experience with being Online so they aren't foregin to the concept, but damn the psychonauts' computers run so fast the pages load in less than a minute

Queepie is going to download 100s of songs on sketchy websites Morris showed him and be the first to have his internet access temporarily revoked when he accidentally downloads a virus that infects the motherlobe's computer lab

Mirtala doesn't really get it, she's gonna go run around and do a cartwheel now ok

[scratchandplaster]

Stack The Deck - Tremors

CW: withdrawal, emetophobia, Carewhumper

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"I get the feeling that vomiting is like a hobby of yours."

Even thought Chris had to fight for this privilege, he manged to bring them into the bathroom again. Elliot perched between the wall and toilet, his tormentor sitting right across on the tub's edge and keeping a watchful eye out for him.

To Chris, it felt like they had been here before, in fact, more than once. He was certain it also would be the last time.

"I hate you," Elliot wheezed through chattering teeth and spat limpid bile into the bowl.

"Then you are in the best of company, I hate myself too. Look how much we have in common!" 

A sob, so defeated and frantic it hurt to listen, made Chris back off with a sigh: "It was just a joke. But you're not in the mood, huh?"

Sniffling and rubbing his nose against a sleeve of his sweater, too dried out for any tears, the trembling form was practically begging to be consoled. It had been a massacre when Chris handed out Elliot's old clothes. Sure, maybe it was a bit weird that he kept these old rags for months, but there was no need to shout himself croaky over a bit of memorabilia.

His mother told him that she gave them away - short and simple. Elliot had thought in terms of Goodwill or her coworkers' children, not right into the hands of the man he wanted her to stay miles away from. They had met, he knew that much now, and it made him dizzy with disgust again.

But Morris just stared, with these hungry eyes Elliot was caught in day in and day out.

He wanted to hold him, softly kiss his pain away or try a certain something else that could brighten Elliot's mood but Chris knew how a person in his condition was likely to act. Usually, he left this kind of behavior on the streets.

Speaking of which, Morris was still plagued by the hours spent in the dark. He had to figure out the truth, sooner rather than later.

"Nothing happened while I was gone."

The sallow face adorned with blood-shot eyes looked back in annoyance. Drenched in hot-cold shivers emerging from the inside, he just swallowed thickly. 

"Dutch, he...he didn't do anything, right?"

To his relief, Elliot quickly shook his head. Apart from the emasculation, they both got off cheaply, an untypical graciousness Dutch would surely love to dangle in front of Chris' face for the next few years.

Another retching came over Elliot's lips, just as sour tasting as the words he continued to repeat after each wave of nausea: "I'm not a junkie, nor your boyfriend."

Both was false, both were fallacies. Yet today was not the day to argue about labels, maybe it was the word itself that upset him so dearly - partner sounded too distanced in comparison. A lover one day, but well, for that Elliot needed to loosen up a bit more.

"Do you know the surefire way to figure out if someone's dope sick?"

"Enlighten me," Elliot gave a dirty hiss.

"You simply wait." 

He went cold turkey for what now, forty-eight hours? The worst was about to hit them both like a sledgehammer made from vegetative dysfunctions and paranoia.

Chris needed to brace himself for the collateral damage that waited for them during the mandatory week of isolation. After the storm, he could take Ell out for the first time to have a proper date, surrounded by the safe darkness of the docks and cheap gas-station wine. Or beer, or liqueur - whatever he preferred.

Elliot had other visions. As soon as the virus he probably caught on that goddamn bench eased up, he would be up and running out of Morris' grasp. And if he had to dig himself a hole into the floor below, nothing could keep him here for a minute longer!

Amber or what unlucky soul came before him knew too well what an unbelievable catch Chris was. With every minute spent in the same room, Elliot understood less and less how someone wanted to get involved with that man. He hoped Amber suffered twice as much under him. 

Not an ounce of sleep was granted to him, just fainting and dozing off for minutes at a time was possible, and even then he had to fear a curious hand hovering close above his nervous flesh. 

All he was given for dinner was a plastic cup full of soup. The ramen and broth were carefully separated in front of him, as if to show that it hadn't been tampered with and out of fear that the noodles would be spat out anyway, Chris seized them for himself. The now chilled instant terrine was not what Elliot had hoped for.

"Can I please have my meds?" he tried again, not consciously aware of why he made his voice soften and shoulders drop, "I'll do anything you want."

Chris' mesmerized gaze was entirely focused on the man who looked like death incarnate. If only he was allowed to kiss life back into his chapped lips. Anything, huh?

"Please!"

Morris shook his head sternly. Though it was nothing more than a temptation to withstand, he decided to let his deeds speak for themselves. New chances didn't wait around every corner, so he surely wouldn't waste this one: "Do you believe in fate?"

"Shut the fuck up," his lovely guest mumbled instead and twitched weakly away from Chris' foot, playfully searching for any sliver of contact.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername, @canislycaon24

[systemtermz]

We . Have a fictive of a character based on a virus? I don't think that counts though.

Ehhhh kinda? We straight up have ILOVEYOU, Code Red and Code Red 2, the first internet worm (the Morris Worm), and even Happy New Years 99/happy99 + several others.

-Sire + :p