#seer9fblood

[8luespidergirl]

[[So um, sorry about vanishing like that for some time ;-; my laptop is under repairs, but I should be back in the game next week. I'll fork out any replies due then I promise >.<]]

[hellyeahomestuckrpdirectory]

( hey! this is a kankri vantas blog ( not au/genderbent or anything; mostly either canon verse or post comic+ ) is it alright if i'm added to the list? ; v ; thank you anyways! ) ;

Added!!

-Your lovely Aranea mod

[8luespidergirl]

Of Articles and Annoyances || College!Stuck || Seer9fblood

Ariadne was not having a very good day. 

Of course, the entirety of her second semester was essentially just a string of very bad days but this was the cake topper of them all. Every single one of her classes had been cancelled, due to some mishap with the electricity. Long story short, nothing works, several computers short-circuited an classes had been suspended in that building until further notice. 

Unfortunately for her, that meant all of them. 

Frustrated, the blonde ran one hand through her hair and huffed, trudging over to the library to see if maybe she could get some sort of work done. Soon enough she was in the library, pouring over some old archived newspaper articles to study the difference in reporting and journalism in the 1950's as opposed to present day. Of course she wasn't allowed to highlight or even so much as mark a tick beside some of the annotations and lines that stood out for her; Ariadne resorted to furious note-taking and cross-referencing.

Getting absorbed in her work was simple, and even the slightest touch to draw her out of her trance would be able to startle here out of her skin. 

[8luespidergirl]

✗!!

✗ - A ship I can’t stand

There isn't really any ship that I hate, per se, but I'm not a fan of Karkat<>Gamzee, because... I don't know they sorta just fell the fuck apart. Yeah Karkat was a good moirail to Gamzee but I'm not sure he did very much in return, it's a two way street you know?

[meenxh-archive-blog]

seer9fblood started following you

oh i sea another alternate of the red barnacle please tell me that you are like less annoying than the one i have or a bit cooler and less talkative dont wanna hear all the yak tak

[blingnbait]

k sooooooooo....followin sweater mctalks-too-much was probubs a worse idea than followin stitches but w/e

[teen-technocracy-blog]

>>Find your Bro

Torn up chunks of asphalt gritted beneath the soles of Dirk’s shoes as he walked along the deserted road that used to be Interstate 10. His tongue darted out to wet chapped lips with what little saliva he had left and he paused in his walk to turn his eyes toward the burning Arizona sun overhead, shielding his face with one tan arm, despite the protection the pointy shades he always wore afforded him. It was high noon and not a great time to be walking around what was as good as desert. Not only was he in plain sight (not that there was a soul to be seen on this road that had once no doubt been a lively highway), but he was parched.

Wiping the sweat off of his brow, Dirk pushed his damp, sun bleached bangs out of his face. What he wouldn’t give for a good shower and some styling gel. But all he had on his person were a few bags of dried meat, some dried fruits and vegetables, a number of (mostly empty) canteens, a change of clothes or two, and his trusty, unbreakable katana, which was sheathed at his hip and held in place by his belt. Fishing one canteen out of his black side bag, Dirk shook it, not pleased to hear the sloshing sound that indicated it was mostly empty. Despite needing to conserve his resources, he unscrewed the cap and brought the rim to his dry lips, swallowing the last few ounces of water greedily.

If he didn’t find any in the town he was now approaching, he might very well be fucked, but he could only hope that wouldn’t be the case. So far he was still alive and he had every intention of staying that way. What would his Bro think if he wound up dead on the side of a road after all those years of training?

Still unsatisfied and thirsty, Dirk sealed the canteen back up and placed the lightened container back in his bag. Now that he was approaching what used to be a city, he would need to be more on guard. The infected tended to stay clustered around the places where they were turned. A few would turn up in forests and deserts now and then, but they were definitely more densely populated in what used to be urban areas.

Lowering his hand to his hip, Dirk ran his palm over the hilt of the sword he’d started this goddamn apocalypse with. Hot metal greeted him and he glanced down to find a shiny hole in the worn hilt. Just like the soles of his shoes, his hilt was getting threadbare. Even if the blade could still slice through a zombie like nobody’s business, the hilt was not impervious and he would need to replace it soon.

Very soon.

Walking down the off ramp of the interstate, Dirk kept his eyes peeled, cautious of zombies as he picked his way over the cracked concrete interspersed with weeds. There was even a tumbleweed or two that he avoided as he made his way down to the city proper.

The place was quiet, completely abandoned for all appearances. There was even a desolate train half off the rails to greet him as he stepped onto the main street of Casa Grande, Arizona. For a long moment, Dirk eyed the train suspiciously, his gaze peering into the darkness of boxcars whose doors were partially rusted off before he turned away and headed off down the dusty road.

As he walked, Dirk passed an old restaurant and an outlet store, but he didn’t bother giving either much attention. By now, both would have been ransacked completely and out of most if not all of any goods he could possibly use. Instead, he kept on walking despite his thirst until he reached an old art museum. It had probably been raided just like everything else, but he found that places like this tended to be the most easily forgotten about. Not only that but they normally weren’t that popular back in the day and the fewer people that died inside, the fewer zombies there would be to worry about now. Hopefully there would be a locker room for the guards with an old shower that still worked. If he was lucky, maybe he’d manage to find some old preserved food, although that tended to be next to nonexistent considering two years had passed and food was worth triple its weight in gold.

Slinking into the museum as silently as a ninja, Dirk made for the nearest ‘Employee Only’ door and locked it behind himself after sneaking within. Back here there was even less likely of a chance of running into any infected, but he moved slowly, sword in his hand.

Relived about not finding any zombies on his path to the locker rooms, Dirk closed the wooden swinging door behind himself and propped one of the metal changing benches against it after breaking the rusty screws that had one held it to the ground. It wasn’t heavy enough to keep anyone or anything out, but at least the sound of someone opening the door and knocking that thing over would be enough to alert him of incoming potential danger.

With that out of the way, Dirk set his sword aside (though still within arm’s reach) and pulled his sweat slicked black wife beater up over his head, sighing as the slightly cooler air of the mildewy room ghosted over his defined chest. Taking his sword with him, he made his way for the showers and tried both of the stalls. After a few minutes of nothing more than a soft hissing noise, some rusty looking water began to pour out of one of the shower heads. It wasn’t great and it wasn’t sanitary, but it would do and Dirk turned off the tap quickly to save the water while he scoured the room for some old shampoo and soap.

It must have been his lucky day, because he found some and he returned to the shower to disrobe completely and set about washing off his sandy body and his clothes. 

[voleuse-blog]

krillthemwithkindness

jaded-inking

seer9fblood

... se sont abonnés à votre blog

Unusual of the lot of you to come 8other me at this hour. Did you need something, or is it just the magnetics of my resplendent personality?