Pondering path of apathy
Not today Justin

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

titsay

Love Begins
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styofa doing anything

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noise dept.

Andulka
Misplaced Lens Cap
$LAYYYTER
AnasAbdin

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Discoholic 🪩
RMH

ellievsbear

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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Mike Driver

PR's Tumblrdome

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@dotts-inkings
Pondering path of apathy
chainsaw man/dsmp au:)
really just bomb devil cwil, but as a whole the dsmp is VERY interesting if you make it chainsaw man,,,,, control devil cdream,,,,,, lmanburg sword.,,,,,, so many possibilities,,,,,,,
the goats @vulpesintuos and @/dotts-inkings (or bloodofghostbur) made the last two designs and GOD i love it so much, .also
AND my additions to the idea! really love playing with the concept of how chainsawman's Devils are *loose* distillations of a fear's concept—in being a bomb, cWill represents at the same time a form of hyperaccelerated decay, a crashing plane, a rapid and catastrophic downfall. The nuclear option, so to speak. A loyal scorned!
his head is based off an American (because smth smth US revolution themes smth smth Hamilton smth smth) Air Force (because bird) earthquake-maker bunker-buster bomb, mostly due to 1) his underground living stint in Pogtopia 2) the fact that nov 16's eruptions came from deep underground, much like how a bunker buster... busts bunkers. It destroys itself, the underground, the surface.
Damn im thinking about him again
postwed pics
HAPPY WEDDING DAY.......... Why tf is she smiling at you like that. What is she thinking
do you like my evil and awful wife i married out of your family
WHAT THE HELL? THAT'S MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT SOCIOPATH YOU'RE BEGGING DOWRY ON
did i stutter? pull up
Fuckkk fine i guessss
do you like my evil and awful wife i married out of your family
WHAT THE HELL? THAT'S MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT SOCIOPATH YOU'RE BEGGING DOWRY ON
So I cry, and I pray, and I beg,
You were never dead, and you've painted yourself in the image of a mausoleum. Or; Why wear your finest suit to work if it ain't your last day on earth?
Wip
Path doodle dump. #keepherweird2026
Vinnie · I take a lot of pictures. I don't like to let 'em go, even if I never look at 'em, right? I think I even have a photo box somewhere around here-
Vinnie · woof- Yeah, right here. Let me set this thing down. What's in here, rocks? You can take a peek, I won't mind. There's what, festivals from a few different towns... here's a starscape from the north side of my homeworld... The last time I saw a proper stone forest...
Vinnie · What's my favorite...? There was this hill in the colony I grew up in, and it had the most worn down and broken tree you ever saw. It had probably eroded half out of the soil, cause it tipped so far over you could sit under its roots. I don't know. It was a nice view.
·
3 4 5 7 9 10 11 13 16 20 21 22 24 for path or the other bomb goes off
4) Does she have an accent or dialect? There's some Yorkshire under her very machinated RP. It comes out when she's particularly caught up in her own glory.
3) Does she have unusual speech patterns? Generally, she speaks very precisely, and enunciates consonants clearer than her accent usually demands. She speaks like every word is on a timing clock with a low, low timbre that rolls out when she can't be bothered to put up a farce. When he's agitated (in that whistling head voice he gets), he might 'slip' his words, the punctuation of them causing a rapid fire sequence to back up behind his tongue and lose a few along the sides.
5)Does he like to sing? Is he good at it? He does not sing at mandatory holiday gatherings. He will not sing at mandatory holiday gatherings. If you forced him on pain of violent and brutal anti-memeticizing, he would sound bad.
7) Neat or messy handwriting? She practiced her block lettering down to a T as an underclassman, and shares all written documentation in mm precise symbols. Personal notes however are kept in writing more closely taxonomized near Real Character than arabic lettering.
9) Is he good or bad at making handicrafts? He's made a lot of paper mock-ups in his time. If he starts waving an very extremely detailed model at you and frustratedly tapping it with a pen, you should focus. He's one failed demonstration away from getting you fired.
10) Does she need her hands occupied a lot? If so, what does she do? I SAW LIVVY GIVING HIS ASSISTANT A SPINEJOB UNDER THE CHRISTMAS TREE- (yes. he likes pens, dongles, eccentric paperclips, and conductor's batons- mostly for fingerfeel.)
11) What's his favorite, and least favorite, food? As lax as he is about bloodborne illness in the lab, the doctor is strict about the meats that go into his body. He enjoys fish, and savoury foods in general. 5 Hour Energy also works in a pinch. If there's anything he'd hate...? Perhaps pastries. He has a vendetta against most processed grain products, but the combination of flour and grease does horrific things to his GI.
13) Is there any food she avoids for reasons other than taste? See above. Also, see human byproducts: if God were to consume man, She would be diminished by the very notion of the fascimile running through Her body.
16) Does she prefer to eat alone or with company? Honestly, she barely eats at all. Alone or with others, she's more likely to be not-so-subtly wolfing honeyed tea like her life's work depends on it.
20) Light or heavy sleeper? She doesn't sleep enough. Give her one benadryl and she's knocked the FUCK out for the next 7 hours (wheruppon waking she immediately takes 5 amphetamines and explodes)
21) Does he move around a lot while sleeping? He sleeps unnervingly still, and on his back. However, he usually sleeps alone: with another in the bed, his cold, unconscious hands will quickly find one's warmest areas. Mortifying for everyone involved when he's forced to rest with his guards on an outing.
22) Does she feel more comfortable alone or sleeping by others? She finds sleeping around others amenable enough- so long as they're owned by her. For safety's concern, of course.
24) Other sleeping habits? This thing always wakes up with a dry ass mouth because he goes so limp he can't keep his mouth closed. BIG drooler. Sleeps like a fucking crypt lich.
4, 6 and 7 for olivia null path please :>
4) Does she have an accent or dialect? There's some Yorkshire under her very machinated RP. It comes out when she's particularly caught up in her own glory.
6) What hand does she use? She would have been ambidextrous, but trained herself to be right-handed exclusive. Some people get the strangest notions.
7) Neat or messy hand writing? This doc has the world's most god awful chicken scratch pseudo-code language you've ever seen. And it's on purpose 😭
OC habits ask game
🗣️ Voice 1. Are they talkative? 2. Is their voice quiet or loud? 3. Do they have unusual speech patterns? 4. Do they have an accent or dialect? 5. Do they like to sing? Are they good at it?
🖐️ Hands 6. Left handed, right handed, ambidextrous? 7. Neat or messy hand writing? 8. Do they draw/paint a lot? 9. Are they good or bad at making handicrafts? 10. Do they need their hands occupied a lot? If so, what do they do?
🍛 Food 11. What's their favorite food/least favorite food? 12. Are they a picky eater? 13. Any food they avoid for reasons other than taste? 14. How are their table manners? 15. Do they rather eat too much or too little? 16. Do they prefer to eat alone or with company? 17. Are they good at cooking?
🛏️Sleep 18. Morning person or night owl? 19. Easy to fall asleep or insomniac? 20. Light or heavy sleeper? 21. Do they move around a lot while sleeping? 22. Are they used to sleeping around others or alone? 23. Do they snore? 24. Other sleeping habits?
so um uhm um um 3, 4, 6 for path..
3:
We don't talk about his impulse buying problem, you understand?
4:
If you are ever blessed with the unparalleled opportunity to exist within Path's domicile, you'll notice first the disarray, and then the emptiness. There is one steel chair, for her desk, and one plug-in stove.
There's something warm and peach-hazed settled obvious from an open doorway. On her slim bed is an old comforter quilt, with rag scrap filler peeking out of the seams. No one important made it for her. It's been laid on every bed she's owned.
6:
Hah! She doesn't like laughing. Anything you draw out of her is involuntary: there's an ugly inarticulacy that bubbles from the back of her throat when she sees something she can't quite believe, and then there's the high chirp of cackle that comes when she finds you genuinely amusing. Rarities.
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Links from the third question screenshotted under the cut, for all who may not be able to see them:
can i also hauev 28 30 34 35 for path.tghabjsk. Or the bomb goes off
30)
She'd like dogs, if they weren't such a 'solved' animal to train. Might have worked with afghans, in a very different life.
34)
She tastes plastic. She tastes like fluoride, and the blunt, revealing honesty of a mouth that hasn't kissed anyone in a very long time.
35)
You might think he'd smell more like blood. It's fresh laundry, it's latex and acetone. If you press your face right up to him, you might catch tangerine on his skin. Though lately, he's been smelling more and more like ketones.
28)
Your heart has been pulsing at above 120 beats per minute since that target had gotten off a bad shot into [the] shoulder. A lucky shot.
That's what you repeat to yourself, again, again, as [the] wound is packed in tight gauze, as [the] wound is veiled under the armor of layers of lab coat, as your people shoot the man with six counted shots to each limb. My scar will close, you speak to [the man/heaven]. The will of a god will leave his oozing body pounded apart for the buzzards to enjoy, but mine will heal. Was it worth it, to you?
You drop the bullet in a flask and fill the flask with 90/10 gelatin mix and leave it to set with the man's crosshairs still set somewhere between your rapid heart and your outstretched will, and only by setting a cup of earl grey on the table (precisely oriented, you measured six inches from either edge, ten minutes of arranging all your references and active paperwork to perfectly fit on the table with it) and seeing the [heretic]'s brain melt into the tea in your mind's eye do you finally close your lips around your bared teeth to close your eyes and take a breath.
One. Hold. You don't count these seconds. Out.
In the morning, you'll take the gel out of the freezer. You'll put out a tarp. You'll shoot it with as many bullets as can fit in the mess, before rolling it all up and dumping it in something very acidic and nonspecific. And then maybe you'll feed that to one of your old subjects needing disposal, just to watch their abdominal cavity cave and spill out onto the floor.
Tonight, you ignore the [] in your shoulder.
can i also hauev 28 30 34 35 for path.tghabjsk. Or the bomb goes off
30)
She'd like dogs, if they weren't such a 'solved' animal to train. Might have worked with afghans, in a very different life.
34)
She tastes plastic. She tastes like fluoride, and the blunt, revealing honesty of a mouth that hasn't kissed anyone in a very long time.
35)
You might think he'd smell more like blood. It's fresh laundry, it's latex and acetone. If you press your face right up to him, you might catch tangerine on his skin. Though lately, he's been smelling more and more like ketones.
28)
Your heart has been pulsing at above 120 beats per minute since that target had gotten off a bad shot into [the] shoulder. A lucky shot.
That's what you repeat to yourself, again, again, as [the] wound is packed in tight gauze, as [the] wound is veiled under the armor of layers of lab coat, as your people shoot the man with six counted shots to each limb. My scar will close, you say to [the man/yourself]. The will of a god will leave his oozing body pounded apart for the buzzards to enjoy, but mine will heal. Was it worth it, to you?
You drop the bullet in a flask and fill the flask with 90/10 gelatin mix and leave it to set with the man's crosshairs still set somewhere between your rapid heart and your outstretched will, and only by setting a cup of earl grey on the table (perfectly set, you measured six inches from either edge, ten minutes of arranging all your references and active paperwork to perfectly fit on the table with it) and seeing the [heretic]'s brain melt into the tea in your mind's eye do you finally close your lips around your bared teeth to close your eyes and take a breath.
One. Hold. You don't count these seconds. Out.
In the morning, you'll take the gel out of the freezer. You'll set out a tarp. You'll shoot it with as many bullets as can fit in the mess, before rolling it all up and dumping it in something very acidic and nonspecific. And then maybe you'll feed that to one of your old subjects needing disposal, just to watch their abdominal cavity cave and spill out onto the floor.
Tonight, you ignore the [] in your shoulder.
She's a peach! A peach!