Claire Keane
we're not kids anymore.
ojovivo
Jules of Nature
No title available
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
taylor price
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Origami Around
hello vonnie
Misplaced Lens Cap
sheepfilms
roma★
★
h
One Nice Bug Per Day
Kaledo Art
oozey mess
pixel skylines
ellievsbear
seen from Netherlands
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United Kingdom
seen from T1
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
@warwaited
du·ty /ˈdo͞odē/ noun noun: duty; plural noun: duties 1. a moral or legal obligation; a responsibility.
Indie, semi-selective multimuse RP blog featuring (female) Student from Sifu, and a D&D OC paladin of Bane. 13 years' experience, open to plotting, shipping, pre-established relationships, crossovers, and other OCs.
An exploration of: predetermined outcomes, sacrifice for a cause, the cycle of violence, and acceptance of self.
Rules | Student | Despot
Art credit: @yngai
Jesus, how pretentious. Jack's eyes almost roll back in her skull, but that would imply she gives a shit about this conversation. " What kind of dumb fuck question is that ? I don't try to be scary. I just AM. People take one look at me and how I act and go, ' oh, shit, she's fucking crazy ', and run in the other direction. "
What is she supposed to think, then ? That she isn't scary ? Jack doesn't ' seek to inspire fear ', she doesn't seek to inspire anything. She just lives her life and how people react to her is how they fucking react to her. She crosses her arms and lifts her chin. " More to the point — explain to me why I should explain shit to a bitch who fucking laughs at me. "
The Empress, similarly, does not roll her eyes. That gaze is fixed steadfastly upon Jack's face - searching. Cataloguing, maybe, taking the measure of one of the people with which she's to work. "Well. One would presume that if you care enough about an aspect of your presentation to boast of it, you would take some action to properly embody that trait."
Another sip of coffee. Some South African blend that she's not especially pleased with, boasting notes of "chocolate" and "a deep body" that she's yet to encounter.
"More to the point. I am attempting to know you, as, I find, your ilk generally desire even if they do not wish to say so. Is that not what you want? To be seen, and heard? To be understood? For someone to..."
Rachella can't quite keep the laugh out of her voice, leaning back and gesturing vaguely. "Look past the slapped-on layers of affect to attend to the whipped, trembling child within?"
STRONG WOMEN ( tm )
YEAH BABY
New ask game:
Reblog if you want your followers to tell you what your trademark ™️ is. Like, what’s that thing that really identifies you.
@warwaited : "Big?" A few seconds' pause, and a rich, contemptuous chuckle. "…scary?"
" ... " Oh. Boy. Here comes the metaphorical dick-swinging. " Yeah. You got a fucking PROBLEM with what I just said about myself ? Think it's fucking funny or something ? "
"It's of some amusement, yes..." Rachella lifts her coffee cup to her lips - porcelain, thank you, not paper, with finger extended just so to better call attention to her narrowed eyes.
"Explain to me, would you, in what way you seek to inspire fear."
@baeflame
“Do not refer to me in those terms,” she intones, casually shaking her own hand as if the force with which she informed him of her displeasure even stung herself, “or I will show you much more than my open palm.” Empress had barely looked in his direction to apply her punishment, golden eyes only roving over to catch him in their scope now that Flambae has been chastised. A few seconds pass - she removes her “shirt”, an immaculately tailored button-down that has had the sleeves removed to give the appearance of business formal while still giving her the opportunity for a dramatic reveal.
A sigh through her nose and a gravelly chuckle. “But… neither am I made of stone. I suppose the debt incurred for having commissioned this conversation piece is that it, indeed, sparks conversation.” Rachella reaches, hand closing around the chunky grip of the weapon, and tips the muzzle towards the sky. “It was designed to defeat body armour and light cover, boasting a large, subsonic round that, though slow in comparison to other options at its size, displays very impressive terminal effect.” The cylinder swings out - five rounds, each as thick as his ring finger (or her pinkie) fall into her palm.
“Treat it with the respect it deserves.” And, with a lazy motion of her wrist, the Claw makes a half-moon turn - the barrel pointed towards herself, resting lightly in her palm, and the grip extended towards the fiery former villain.
“I will take it from you if you do not.”
"Why does everybody in this building always talk about this. I'm so tired of it... but if I say somethin' they're going to start talking about it with me, and I can't have that happening. This sucks."
An independent, private and selective multimuse blog featuring characters from Blizzard’s 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇. All muses are multiverse and multiship. Please read guidelines before following. Penned by 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄 / 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍. — ˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
「 ༀ - if you wish to. you seem as one that struggles to sit still. 」
bent spine straightened; joints locking into place with a hiss of pistons.
「 ༀ - you may also shadow me in my duties; to get a better understanding of this monastary. 」
Sounds almost like sneaking around for a purpose. She's got a... functional idea of the term "shadowing", and nods along like she knows what he's talking about. As far as she knows, she does! Not so sure she appreciates getting called out about her nervous energy, though.
"...yeah."
Can't call him wrong, though. "But, uh, y'know, I'll do whatever. I'm not gonna just hang around not doing any work." Maybe she'll graduate to carrying pails of water across her shoulders or something. "...when do we eat?"
CHARACTER ASSOCIATIONS ⤷ repost & fill in the words you most associate with your character .
Animal : tiger, jaguar Colour : red, gold, purple, white Month : September, April Song(s) : Sarajevo (Sabaton), 999 (Kid Kapichi) Number : 1, 5 Day or night : day, night Plant : poppy, catmint Smell : smoke Season : autumn, spring Food : barbecue, wonton soup Astrological sign : sagittarius, libra Element : earth, fire Drink : wine, the most kidney obliterating energy drink you've ever seen in your life
tagged by @estarion tagging @s-paceape, @separateways, @lanshiang, @apolytia and @watchiingover (juno)
Somehow, the majesty of the city's managed to escape Riley. If not for current circumstances, she would probably be marveling at everything — she enjoyed first arriving in San Francisco when her family arrived, after all. Big cities are just jaw-dropping. But leaving San Francisco to try to go back to her small town in Minnesota, and ending up in ANOTHER BIG CITY ... the anxiety has wrapped her up and prevented her from really enjoying anything.
And there are so many people. So many. It's difficult to get around without being noticed, people are always running into her, and it's so loud even at night. Riley's been here for maybe a week ; she's struggled the entire time. People probably look at her and can tell she doesn't belong. But everyone's so concerned with their own problems, no one has time for a runaway kid who's got something really, really off about her.
That's for the best, kind of. Trying to lay low, to stay out of sight, has served her fairly well. That magic almost-not-quite-invisibility has just popped like a bubble, though. She could kick herself for running into someone like that.
Not only that, this woman looks ... scary ? Not scary, exactly, no, more like SUPER INTENSE. Something about her eyes and the way she's looking down at Riley makes the kid feel like this woman knows literally everything about her. She's tall and looks really strong and her gaze just sort of pierces right through Riley.
Even the casual way she's trying to speak isn't helping to quell the rising agitation. No matter what Riley does, she can't just shove it down. Her heart thuds in her chest, big blue eyes staring up at the woman as she asks questions. She knows the right question at the very end, at least, because this kid is ... clearly not good.
Honestly, until now, Riley hasn't been actually perceived by anyone like this. It's uncomfortable. If she opens her mouth, she's positive that she'll confess that she just stole something, and stealing is against the law. In her mind, if this woman knows she stole something, then Riley's gonna go to jail.
So. After staring at her for a minute, as soon as she feels like she's no longer rooted to the spot in terror — Riley pulls the sandwich she just stole out of her pocket, tosses it onto the ground, and pushes past the woman. " — I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'M SORRY !!! " She's running as fast as her legs can take her, with the hope that maybe if she leaves behind what she stole, this woman won't come after her.
Of course, she's headed for the nearby alleyway. The one that's a dead end. She's not gonna get very far.
"Aw what the hell-"
Opposite outcome is true, actually. When the sandwich hits the ground (still wrapped, thankfully) and the kid bolts, Xue is hot on her heels. She picks up the food, breaks into a "gentle" jog and gives chase. No idea why her response was to wail like she's about to get sent to prison, but obviously something's up here, and not just the horrible look on Riley's face when she'd caught herself under the gaze of the Protector of Chinatown.
Granted. This isn't quite Chinatown... but maybe just for the evening Xue can expand her borders.
The alley's got a couple of doors into other shops, but at this time of night they're all surely locked. Nowhere to go. Weird to be running after just getting asked about her shirt, though. She comes to a stop, seeing the little fugitive out of options... and holds up the sandwich.
"You dropped your food."
A few seconds of silence. The plastic-wrapped ham and Swiss is lifted a bit higher, waggled back and forth- and she chucks it underhand with a lazy, thoughtless motion that, nevertheless, carries it practically straight into Riley's hands. She doesn't even need to take a step.
"I got a pretty good feeling you're not supposed to be around here, kid. But you caught me on a good night and I'm in a fixing-things mood, so, uh, what's up."
The fact that a headache is already beginning behind Melisande's eyes, steadily mounting, has nothing to do with the admittedly little she's drunk. It's nothing to do with the discussion she's having with Rakatak either, really ; it's certainly frustrating, and it's entirely possible the point her companion is trying to make will click eventually. The more she thinks about it, most likely. That doesn't mean she has to like it. Melisande knows she's not perfect, and she doesn't think every single choice she's made has been right. Certain ones, yes. Like the one Rakatak brought up.
All she's really doing is trying her best. This is the reason she doesn't particularly enjoy being in charge — because she's not a natural leader, she doesn't take to giving orders and seeing her actions as authority. She just sees them as the actions of a woman living her life and trying to do what she thinks will prevent the most suffering. Her morals are strong and they're her own, but ... at the end of the day, Rakatak's argument just brings on the same feelings, the same thoughts, that Melisande has wondered since everyone started looking at her to make decisions. And it's the simple question of WAS WHAT SHE DID THE RIGHT THING TO DO ?
There's no clear answer. Not with anything. The only clear answer is dictated by her own morals, and like anything with nuance, sometimes her clear answer isn't the right one. It's a heavy weight she never asked for or wanted, one that she's just trying to bear as gracefully she can. Doesn't always work, of course.
A soft sigh leaves her as she feels Rakatak's more intimidating aura fade, and ... suddenly, she's just another face that Melisande is viewing as a friend. Or something close to a friend. That's a comfort, despite everything. And she wants to talk plans.
Good. A good idea. A better idea than the previous, at least for the moment.
" You're right about that, " the cleric murmurs before reaching for her cup again. Although she isn't usually much of a drinker, this occasion calls for it just as much as philosophy. She takes another long draught, shaking her head. Those bouncy blonde curls, streaked with LAVENDER, shift over her shoulders. " And regardless that we might have different views on some things, I do value your input. Particularly considering this whole ... leadership ... position, it's not ... it's not something I'm used to. Even the best leaders have advisors, and the less-than-stellar ones like me, well ... can use all the help I can get. "
Her indigo-polished lips quirk slightly, then settle into a straighter, tired line. She looks more exhausted than ever. Looks her age. " ... So. Halsin says there are two certain paths to Moonrise. One through the mountain pass, and one through the Underdark. He recommends the Underdark. And I ... don't know. It might be slightly quicker, but the risk is so much greater. And for what ? Maybe half a day's time saved ? But then ... I'll admit we can use every advantage we can get, including and especially time. " Another sip, and Melisande peers over the rim of her cup toward Rakatak. " What are your thoughts ? "
"Indeed. Unfortunately, it seems that you are the only one in our merry band whom all of us will listen to, and I imagine an attempt to wrest control from your hands would be received... poorly. Continue to perform adequately, I suppose, and we shall have no reason to confront that possibility." Her ambition is, after all, not insatiable, and Rakatak is well able to recognize when someone brings their own traits to the table that she lacks.
Another thing she lacks is the insight to know the tumult she's created behind those eyes. Her cup empty, the conqueror rises, moving from the more comfortable furniture in front of her tent's opening to the purloined map on a table within. Melisande is bidden to follow, and only once she's got eyes on the same things the hobgoblin does will her companion continue to speak.
"Significantly, from what I understand, the creche that Lae'zel has been bending your ear about is on the overland path." She turns from the table to retrieve a rather ornate pipe, calmly packing it while she considers the implications of their next tactical decision.
"I imagine if you were to try to keep her from that, she would abandon the group outright. If you mean to keep her on retainer, then a small foray into the pass will be necessary at the very least. Personally, I believe we could do without her lust for violence and lack of decorum, but, as we've discussed... I am not making the decisions in this group." A mote of flame is summoned to her fingers to light the bowl, and Rakatak breathes in.
"The Underdark will present its own challenges, though likely of a more... mundane nature. We have little awareness of what the curse entails, though I presume Halsin would not knowingly send us to our deaths after we kept him from his."
Xue's battle prowess was indeed rather impressive, as the doctor would note down as she taps away at the tablet in her grasp. Their new addition seemed to be in peak physical condition - ready for field deployment, she could recommend.
It was rather nostalgic, watching from the observation deck as the other dashes around, scaling walls and ledges as if they were nothing. It reminded her of the time she would spend monitoring a certain ninja as he adjusted to his new cybernetic body all those years ago. How time flew.
A short lift of her hand in greeting is offered as Xue's gaze is cast upwards - a smile too, though perhaps the distance between them was too far for it to be noticed. Their first meeting hadn't gone... particularly well, but Angela knew all too well that not everybody immediately trusted doctors. It would take time to build that trust with Xue it seemed, and she would allow her to set the pace.
After a while longer, a finger gently presses to the button of the intercom.
❝ Very impressive, Xue! I believe we have enough data for now. Would you like to take a break? ❞
There's an immediate and significant change when the little warrior goes from "switched off" to "switched on". Not just the speed of movement, either. Originally just having been going at the dummies with her fists and feet, whatever is riding sidecar to Xue's biological processes clearly enables some extra combat capability as well.
Warbling arcs of purple "flame" carve outwards from her kicks, not quite matching the range of a real gun but giving her some options from... further away. She's getting into her rhythm, finding a flow, when the intercom goes off.
Xue seizes, straightens, and looks up towards the observation deck directly. A couple seconds pass in relative silence before she "extinguishes" herself, and, not having a way to communicate back aside from hollering as loud as she can, starts moving to join the good doctor up behind the glass.
Rather than use the stairs, though, she crouches down and launches herself up to the second story direct. Maybe just to show off.
"I could keep going." It's said from outside the doorway, the automatic sensor holding it open while she sticks her head in. Still... not trusting, but at the very least not actively combative either. Small steps and incremental progress are probably going to be the name of the game here. "You should see me when I'm really fired up."
"First and only time, I hope." He'd taken care, in all his reports and research on the Slipstream incident, to withhold any truly significant details and data, lest someone get the bright idea to create another 'Tracer'. He stands by that decision, even if it means that now everything related to the case is stuck with the label he slapped on it way back when. Though all her restless activity makes him antsy just watching it, he only observes the back-and-forth and up-and-down with a thoughtful frown and a sigh.
"If only we had even more heads around to put together. Back in the glory days - that's, uh, Reinhardt's words, not mine - this place was an international hub of scientific innovation! I wish I'd been around to see it," a wistful reflection he's mourned all too often. By the time he landed on Earth, Overwatch was already dwindling down to a shadow of what it once had been. Now a mere handful of them remain to serve in a research capacity. "A team like that could have solved anything. But... but we can probably get close."
His smile does not inspire confidence, per say, but it is sincere. Winston can't aspire for innovation these days. Can't hope to solve any of their problems, only keep them at bay. If he can keep the team they have, small as it is, alive, frankly that's the best he can hope for. It's a bit more grim than the endless acts of effortless heroism he'd imagined when he first signed on, but then that was a long time ago.
"...Close enough that we shouldn't get ahead of ourselves and plan for the worst."
After all, he has no doubt she can handle herself on the field. He has unwavering confidence in all of them, really; and therefore in her ability to know her limits and not disastrously explode, or - ah, see, now he's catastrophizing, too. Fidgeting, he rises to his fists and feet, paces one way and then the other, then forces himself to sit back down. Better to worry on the inside.
"Hm. The... idea of playing god never sat well with me." And that's all he can think to say on the matter, for even his own mentor had been... like that, at first. Good old fashioned human curiosity outweighed the simple moral question of whether his work was hurting someone, even if that someone was only an animal. "Science is only valuable when it's ethical! I wish everyone agreed, but humans aren't very good at agreeing on anything." He casts a brief glance upwards. "I suppose gorillas aren't, either."
She scrunches her face up, tilting her head this way and that like she's trying to guide the thought he's offering her into a proper hole. A ball bearing in a maze, rolling around... "Hmmmh. That does sound kinda cool... as long as it's the right kind of innovation. But, uh, it seems like Overwatch were pretty good guys, so..." An uninformed opinion, but an opinion nonetheless. Xue finally finds herself at rest, sitting down again and rummaging in her bag for a drink.
"You don't really sound like you're gonna get close but I don't really blame you. I mean, I don't know what I got, nobody else seems to know what I got, all of the stuff we're doing is like "oh, well, Xue can run pretty fast and climb pretty good, that makes her a flanker". Sure, I guess."
And a proficient one at that, if the training tapes are to be believed. Quick runner, great at approaching from off-angles and... well. Assassinating is a little sensationalist.
She stretches. Sighs. Drinks. "Gonna really suck for all of us if we end up getting the worst and didn't plan for it, Winston, but I guess you'd know better than me. I don't even really know what I'm gonna be doing here long term. Don't get me wrong, you guys are cool... really cool. I'm pretty sure some of the agents are some kinda freakin' famous. But that's not me."
But it could be. Xue breathes more deeply through her nose and takes another drink.
"...anyway. I should probably scoot. If I don't show my face around the place people are gonna start wondering where I am and I don't wanna be the reason Sojourn is up on the freakin' roof again, even if she can just jump up there with her rocket legs. Stay easy, big man."
The Mun has an impressive Meme collection
And don't you forget it.
What is your first impression of the mun of this blog?
Feel free to send on or off anon!
Gonna take a walk to take care of my Pokeymans. After that? All drafts shall be destroyed.
