Arc raiding

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Not today Justin
styofa doing anything
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Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
I'd rather be in outer space šø
Sade Olutola
wallacepolsom
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

tannertan36
Aqua Utopiaļ½ęµ·ć®åŗć§čØę¶ćē“”ć

Janaina Medeiros
DEAR READER

titsay
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Mike Driver
Monterey Bay Aquarium
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@rynmaru
Arc raiding
happy iron lung day to all who celebrate
āBeg. Borrow. Steal. You've certainly done much of the second, haven't you? But we do what we must to survive. Persistence is everything, right?
But not many can see the grey area you dwell in, dancing between the devils you bargained with and those damned by their curious pursuits.
Red in the ledger and lead on the pedal. Maybe that's all that matters anyhow. Freedom, rare and brief.
Enjoy the road for as long as you can. Take the scenic route.
Welcome to the Lostlands.ā
Artist: @rynmaru
Writer: @draconichoard
I should lock the fuck in *half an hour passes* I should lock the fuck in *half an hour passes* I should lock the fuck in *half an hour passes* I should-
you'll never reach the stars
Thirty Null Shy
Mornings are dismal affairs. The extended stay capsule hotel Ryker stays in is hardly the most comfortable space, clearly designed for someone a lot less bulky to occupy, and even then not comfortably. The moment their eyes open, the daylight simulating bulbs begin to expedite their boot up sequence and steadily brighten to match the mid morning light outside the windowless āroomā.
The screen on the roof of the capsule directly above Rykerās face tells them that itās 9:56 AM on a Thursday. Weather is expected to be rainy with a low smog indicator.
Bullshit. Thereās always smog in the Skylock ward.
The screen flickers and a pop up window overtakes the display.
[Your checkout time is: 10 AM. Would you like to renew your stay?
[Yes] [No]
Ryker taps āyesā on the grimy screen.
Nothing happens.
They try again.
The screen goes dark with white letters stamped across.
[Oops! An error occurred. Your request cannot be completed at this time. Please see the front desk for assistance.]
āFuuuuckā¦ā the word is growled more than groaned. The capsuleās lights goes out. āFuck!ā
Ryker is left groping for their phone, and, upon locating it, uses the light of the cracked screen to see well enough to scoop up their duffle-bag of possessions before kicking open the hatch-style door at the foot of the bed. With some effort, they scoot themself out into the hallway, leaving the door open as they reach back in to grab their clothes. When they first got here they had attempted dressing in the confines of capsule, but that stopped pretty fast and with the state of the communal bathroom on this floor, they gave in and began dressing in the hall. Not like any of the other residents give a shit.
Shouldering their duffle bag and heading towards the stairwell, Ryker finishes swapping out the filter of their mask on their way down to the first floor, fitting it into place over their nose and the lower half of their face. The magnetized edges seamlessly clicking to the hair thin bands of metal implanted along the underside of their jaw, below their ears, and up over their nose and cheeks. At least thatās still useful.
Their heavy, booted footfalls announce their descent to what passes as a lobby down the enclosed concrete stairs. The chalice-shaped structure trembles with the distributed vibrations of some landing craft on the flat roof high above. When they had first arrived the sensation has them on edge, barely sleeping with the nagging anxiety of the thin stem snapping in the night, but they hardly bat an eye now. The brutalist architecture is sturdy and has withstood its use as dual living space and landing pad for far longer than theyāve been around.
They keep their head down as they approach the desk, passing four new arrivals waiting for an elevator thatās been broken for two months.
āStaff should put up a damn sign if they aināt gonna fix itā¦.ā
The front desk is little more than a glorified slab of concrete with a piece of imitation wood on top. The whole thing is covered in scuffs and graffiti and they learned the hard way the underside of the patron-facing edge is a graveyard of discarded gum, some more fresh than others.
A lanky, acne riddle young woman with a mop of brown hair in a ragged pixie cut is sat behind the counter, ratty sneakers propped up as she leans way back in a desk chair. She is biting her lower lip, eyes closed, and with the VR crown on her head Ryker would bet their rapidly depleting savings on the content sheās wrapped up in.
The green glow of the sign on the wall behind her dubs the hotel āThe Pharmacy.ā
Fitting name for a place full of capsules and desperate, strung out people all looking for something to take the edge off.
āYo.ā They rap their knuckles on the counter hard enough to alert the girl to their presence. She heaves a sigh and tips the crown up to glower at him with one blue eye.
āBellās there for a reason.ā
āBell?ā
āYeah the fuckinā,ā The girl looks towards the end of the counter then groans. āAw shitā¦third one this monthā¦ā
The crown slips back down over her eye. Ryker grits their teeth in frustration. āIām tryinā to renew my rent. Damn holo glitched when I got the checkout message.ā
āHuh. Bummer. Yeah Iāll ring ya up. Youāre capsule 5-103?ā
Ryker nods.
āCool. Price went up by the way. Three null a day.ā
āThree?!ā Ryker slams both hands on the counter and leans forward. āYou fuckinā cracked?ā
āLook man, I just work here!ā She throws up an exasperated hand in their general direction, flicking away the outrage like a buzzing fly, āTake it up with the boss if ya got a problem!ā
āFuckās sake!ā Rykerās fingers drag through their hair, pulling strands free from the hairtie holding it back in their agitation. āCan I at least get a capsule with a working holo screen?ā
āThe rest are all booked. Or down and out. Got a few stiffs up there for sure and I aināt up for dealing with the cops just yet. So you bookinā for the month or payinā by the day?ā
Ryker grimaces behind their mask. āBy the day.ā
āCool. All set.ā The check in confirmation buzzes on Rykerās phone as the girl leans back. āYou know the drill, vacate the pod for cleaning and give three hours before ya move your shit back in.ā
With that, the crown drops back down over her eyes and the girl falls silent again.
Three hoursā¦. Ryker glances at the āNo Loiteringā sign stuck to the front window by the door. Beyond it, the street is rushing with traffic and water from the deluge of rain pouring down from burnt clouds. Hell of a day for a walk.
They pull up the hood of their transparent poncho and step out onto the busy sidewalk, the street awash in a neon dawn. Rain patters on their poncho and they are jostled on all sides by the crowd. With no particular destination in mind, Ryker lets the flow of foot traffic take them a few blocks before they make use of their broad shoulders to push their way to the side and step off into an alcove that is miraculously free of crashed out junkies.
Planting themself firmly in the space and leaning up against the wall, Ryker pulls out their phone to take stock of just how close to rock bottom they are.
The realization that they are thirty null shy of bedrock makes them shut off the phone, tipping their head back to touch the wall. Raindrops fall on the exposed upper half of their face. Ten days. Ten days left with a roof over their head. And thatās if they donāt eat.
āāBout time my luck ran outā¦.ā
Maybe they can go back to the ripper-doc theyād worked for last. If he hasnāt gone and gotten territorial with his clientele between this week and last. People donāt trust newcomers in this ward and itās rare to find steady work that stays steady.
A notification buzzes the phone gripped in their hand. They glance at it out of habit more than interest, but the display holds their attention.
[Unknown]:
[Ryker! Sorry to hear about your rent, but you know better than most how pricey Pharmacies are nowadays!]
Eyes narrow. A nail picks at the cracked edge of the screen.
[Wrong number.]
[Ha! No. I donāt think so. Iāve got exactly who Iām looking for. Youāve got an impressive resume. PanInc certified paramedic, trained cybernetic technician, Panic Squad Security lead. Youāre smarter than you look. Shame those credentials wonāt do you any favors here.]
[Again, wrong number. I donāt know you. You donāt know me. Letās keep it that way.]
Ryker is already swiping over to block the unknown contact.
[Look, I get it. Times are tough! And some people arenāt cut out for life on these streets.]
[If thatās you, thatās fine, you wonāt be the first to let the city swallow you and you definitely wonāt be the last.]
[But if you finally feel like putting your talents to real use and stopping that free fall youāre in, we should talk.]
An address immediately follows.
[Ask for Kazamir. Talk to you soon, Ryker.]
The phone is shoved deep into Rykerās pocket without bothering to respond. Folding their arms, they glower at the opposite wall of the alcove over the top of their mask, brow knit and mind racing.
So their nameās gotten around somehow, and gotten to someone with the time, resources, and, concerningly, the interest to run down exactly who they are. Not good. Definitely not someone they should involve themself withā¦.
But they need the null. Need something to help them get their feet under them again.
āFuck itā¦.ā
Theyāve got a few hours to kill anyway.
A mech discord server with a vent channel where all the messages are just āFWSSHHHHHH -heat level reducedā
She failed.
āHe fellā¦ā
Thatās Louis Rossman, a repair technician and YouTuber, who went viral recently for railing against Apple. Apple purposely charges a lot for repairs and you either have to pay up or buy a new device. Thatās because Apple withholds necessary tools and information from outside repair shops. And to think, we were just so close to change.
Follow @the-future-now
Reblog if you:
Have an iPhone and are in need of repairs
Have a friend with that problem
Hate Apple and are more than happy to spite them in some way
No one will know which is it
This guy inspired me to repair my own macbook. First of all, you should know that I am not⦠like, I have to look up HOW to look up what my computer specifications are. Tech, that ware either soft or hard, is not a subject in which I experience comfort or competence. But my puppy peed on my keyboard, and I asked the apple store, or the fucking mac cafe, or the godsdamn Computer House Chill Zone or whatever cute ass name they have for their bullshit store, and they said it would be TWELVE HUNDRED DOLLARS TO REPLACE MY KEYBOARD. Iām not even exaggerating.
So I asked the internet, well how hard IS it to repair? And I saw this guyās video, and while I am no techie, I AM fueled by spite, so I was allĀ āoh, they do that shit on purpose specifically so they can charge me $1200 bucks or make me buy a new computer hunh? FUCK THEMā and I bought all the tools I needed for about $25 and I bought all the parts I needed for about another $25 and I watched a few tutorial videos, and I replaced my own keyboard.
So, once you are doing the actual deed, it becomes pretty obvious that they are finding creative ways to make this much harder than it has to be on purpose. On thing that stood out to me is, instead of all the tiny screws being the same size, there are about two dozen very slightly different sizes. They could easily be all the same size, or like, two sizes at most, but no.
These mother fuckers will take a panel that screws into place and theyāll use a different size screw for each corner. They are so close that you almost cannot tell them apart visually, but they each will only screw into the matching corner. Like, itās a pretty clear āfuck youā to anyone trying to do repairs.
anyway, this guy is also fueled by spite, and doing holy work, and I have mad respect
This is awesome. Man is doing good ass deeds 24/7 because heās giving people control.
How dare you not leave a link to his channel, this guy is the savior of the modern world.
vittoria alla ribellione
Fuck Apple, Fuck every big tech company
seeing straight men be disgusted by booktok smut recommenders has actually radicalized me to the side of booktok smut recommenders. girls your taste may be atrocious but i will never disparage you for exposing mainstream discourse to the concept of soaking through your underwear. spent my whole life listening to men talk about penises itās about time they get jumpscared by women talking about pussy in crude detail on social media. go forth and goon my warriors
I work at a bookstore and hearing one of my male coworkers call smutty romantasy "the downfall of society" because it's "literally just porn" radicalized me
Men have an entire industry. Entire industries dedicated to their sexualities. Let women have fantasy sex. there's not even a camera crew involved.
Left this in the notes
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Fuck the mechs? Sister, they wonāt let *me* fuck the mechs, and they fired me for trying. //The Intern
\\PIRATE RADIO FOREVER//
We need to erase the light in a character's eyes more often. It's enriching for them to look completely hopeless and lost
Heeere's Livia Post-Scott, my first Lancer PC! For real now, as a proper introduction ref sheet! She's a handful of newspaper and bird wordplay combined with math/compsci references (if you get them, I'm sorry). Background decorations are screenshots taken from her COMP/CON character sheet.
(Can't believe that after working on a bunch of commission reference sheets for 6 months, the first thing I draw for myself digitally in ages is... another reference sheet.) (Also starting my first campaign with Kidd and then jumping to Hydra sure was something LMAO)
Drink Deep and Descend, Priestess.
Local Lance Lead and Lich Pilot fucks around and finds out. āA refreshing change of pace!ā Says her team of fuck ups.
Pilot Art of Malware for my Bestie @erisangel
Hardest part of writing is accepting that some people will not fucking get it & you just have to like cope with that because over-explaining it just makes it worse
I will not over-explain my art to the stupidest people on earth. I'm writing for people who know what I'm talking about. Mantra that will save you. David Lynch was right