hey so i haven’t been on here in a hot ass minute and most of you might not remember me butttttttttttt...... i might be over here for a bit.

Origami Around
Cosmic Funnies

Janaina Medeiros
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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Keni
Mike Driver

@theartofmadeline
NASA
Monterey Bay Aquarium
we're not kids anymore.
Show & Tell
i don't do bad sauce passes

#extradirty

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
ojovivo
No title available
Claire Keane
Game of Thrones Daily
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

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@simulacrumist-blog
hey so i haven’t been on here in a hot ass minute and most of you might not remember me butttttttttttt...... i might be over here for a bit.
respecting the canon aspects of a character that are frequently underrepresented in media (be it their sexuality, ethnicity, disability, religious beliefs, etc) is fun, easy, and absolutely free!
kingsleigh:
everytime i check back on rpc icons be lookin like:
(nourish) 4 harper !
Send one for my muse’s reaction
Sometimes, when you’ve gone a day or two without a proper meal, you get so hungry that somehow even the thought of food turns your stomach.
Harper stares at the one single blueberry in her entire bowl of oatmeal, batting it around with her spoon. Steam rises, and the smell of cinnamon puts a nervous knot in her stomach. She’s finally gotten some rest, at least, after her last mission in an abandoned outpost kept her red-eyed and watching the window for intruders. Some kind of malware, spreading quickly from omnic to omnic until the base was nothing but metal zombies. Hard to sleep, let alone put together a proper dinner.
Angela watches, her hands folded at her lips. ❝Maybe a smoothie?❞ she offers gently. ❝They tend to go down easier.❞
❝You don’t have to–❞ But Angela is already up and bustling through the pantry, cradling a blender in one arm.
(Hide) for Harder
Send one for my muse’s reaction
Harper used to cheat. She’d peek through her fingers and watch Quinn run, stop, look left to ride, scramble for a place to hide.
One… two… three… four… fivesixseveneightninetenREADYORNOTHEREICOME
Did Quinn cheat, too? She’d always been the only one who could find Harper (and Harper always prided herself on the cleverest hiding places, like the washing machine, until she got to big to fit inside it), but Quinn was older, and smarter, and maybe she just knew her sister well enough to guess the places she would go to first. She always had a way of reading people, like that. Like she could see inside their mind, for a moment, and guess exactly what they were thinking.
Harper still cheats. She’s not seeking anymore. She’s perpetually hiding, cloaked in the safety net of military-grade invisibility and still terrified she’ll be found.
She knows Quinn’s the only one who could find her. Some things never change.
To build up a library is to create a life. It’s never just a random collection of books.
Carlos María Domínguez (via quotemadness)
(throw) - for your muse to physically throw mine - away from gunfire
Send one for my muse’s reaction
Critter lights the match on her teeth, and the dynamite’s string becomes a lion’s tail, whipping back and forth with a crackling tuft of fire creeping closer and closer to the base.
She stands and vaults it, watching it spiral in the air before it lands at the foot of a legionnaire fumbling to reload his rifle. In seconds, he is burst of blood and meat.
Critter laughs and hoots. ❝HELL YEAH! How d’ya like that? You yellow-bellied son of–❞
Then she’s tackled around the legs, her hat flies off her head, and Boone’s pulling her to the dirt. There’s a crack, and for a second Critter thinks it’s her knees slamming on the ground - but then her hat drifts back down and lands in her lap. She picks it up and peeks at Boone through the brand new hole in the middle.
Little boxes on the hillside Little boxes made of ticky tacky Little boxes on the hillside Little boxes all the same
platinumchip replied to your post: we give the fallout series a lot of shit for...
also worst: ppl may be using irradiated animal organs as condoms
OH NO YOU MADE IT SO MUCH WORSE
we give the fallout series a lot of shit for making people eat 200 year old spam but honestly what may in fact be worse is fallout 2 making it explicitly clear that people still fuck with 200 year old condoms.
Symbol meme starters.
Send one for my muse’s reaction! Feel free to alter context, switch muse’s positions, etc, as necessary. Contains some mild NSFW.
(chest) - for your muse to press a hand against my muse’s chest (hair) - for your muse to bury their face in my muse’s hair (backhand) - for your muse to backhand my muse (jaw) - for your muse to grip my muse’s jaw in one hand (lap) - for your muse to sit in my muse’s lap (whisper) - for your muse to whisper in my muse’s ear (bottom) - for your muse to rest a hand on my muse’s ass (or slap it) (undress) - for your muse to undress mine (may not be nsfw!) (pin) - for your muse to pin mine to a specified surface (yank) - for your muse to yank mine out of the way of danger (bite) - for your muse to bite mine (palm) - for your muse to clap a hand over my muse’s mouth (throw) - for your muse to physically throw mine (piggyback) - for your muse to leap onto my muse’s back for a piggyback ride (nourish) - for your muse to provide my muse with food or drink (secret) - for your muse to reveal a secret to mine (specify the secret!) (discover) - for your muse to discover information about mine that they shouldn’t know (rescue) - for your muse to rescue mine from danger (promise) - for your muse to make mine a promise, whether they intend to keep it or not (lie) - for your muse to lie to mine (specify the lie) (confess) - for your muse to make a confession of truth to mine (command) - for your muse to give my muse an order or instruction, which may or may not be followed (hide) - for your muse to hide somewhere with my muse (sleep) - for your muse to fall asleep on mine (misc) - create your own/sender specifies! useful if something here gives you an idea that isn’t otherwise written.
vorcotec:
Aides is inclined to agree. Her kind does not die, but deathlessness makes room for other kinds of painful eternity. She would prefer the cold.
“It is… A pity. About your tongue.” She moves closer to Critter, stepping past a crumpled wooden cross, a toppled headstone. “Some things… Must be lost. Always. On the journey.” Standing over her, she stops. “Perhaps… You pay for passage.”
She stoops–very low–and reaches unerringly for the black beetle tangled in the dirty locks of Critter’s hair. Plucking it out, she straightens again. Safe on the field of her palm, the beetle gathers itself, darts over the crest of her hand, scrambles for balance, pauses, unfolds the fragile membranes of its wings, and flies away.
“Where will you go?” she asks Critter, looking in the direction of the beetle’s flight. “Will you seek… The ones that buried you?”
Critter cocks her head, watching the beetle flutter off into the night. She wishes she had that kind of single-minded certainty, heading straight into the dark.
❝That’d be the most logical thing, huh?❞ Where’d she been last? It’s hazy, clouded by the mud, but she’s remembering a dusty town. A robbery gone bad. Blood blooming on her stomach. The distinct feeling of: Oh, fuck. Not again.
She touches her stomach and feels the fabric stiff where the blood’s dried. She’ll need a change. Or a wash.
❝Should probably, uh--thank them, I reckon? I mean, it wasn’t necessary--actually kinds makes things a bit harder--but, y’know... it’s the thought that counts, I guess.❞
It takes her a moment to remember she just climbed out of a grave.
❝Or--wait. No. That’ll probably just scare ‘em. Nope.❞
❛ run like the hounds of hell on a sinner’s scent! ❜ for harper!
SENTENCE STARTERS → THE REPUBLIC OF THIEVES BY SCOTT LYNCH.
Didn’t have to tell her twice. Harper activates her stealth boy and bolts for the roof of the nearest trailer.
The creature was the size of a supermutant, but had a ghoul’s grotesque. Six spindly arms and a dog’s muzzle in it’s belly, snapping wildly. A second head grew out of it’s jaw, blood-filled eyes glowing with radioactive hunger. Her stomach tightens to the size of an apricot pit at the very thought of trying to plunge her knife into it’s flesh. She imagines it being warm, melted, pulling her hand inside.
She’s still fumbling for her silencer pistol when Bert fans the hammer of his revolver and fires off five six shots, riddling the beast with holes. It gives a two-toned wail, shuddering to it’s knees as a viscous fluid leaks from each hole. Bert take his sweet time loading in one more round. Pop to the head.
There’s a crackle, and Harper is whole again, standing on the roof of the mobile home with her arms dangling limply at her sides. The pistol still isn’t loaded.
❝Show off.❞
❛ there is no last of the pain. it always hurts. always. ❜ / critter
SENTENCE STARTERS → THE REPUBLIC OF THIEVES BY SCOTT LYNCH.
What an odd pair they were - a man haunted by a past, and a woman without a past at all. Her emptiness haunts her in it’s own way, a nagging weight of What Ifs that might be better left as mysteries.
At least Boone knew his pain. Where it hurt and why. Critter had an ache she couldn’t place - and she can’t say if it’s benign or terminal.
❝Can treat it, though. Turmeric and Devil’s Claw.❞ Forgiving yourself. She scratches the side of her face. ❝Some things don’t ever heal, but you can learn to live with ‘em, I think.❞
The Penguins, Earth Angel
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