#new levels of randomness
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HAPPY HALLOWEEENN
they broke out of their icons. i stole the chip from my friend go see him?
#ttcc#toontown corporate clash#corporate clash#duck shuffler#buck ruffler#public relations representative#winston byrd#chainsaw consultant#chip revvington#i tried a new style for these to make them go faster. it didn't work but it was fun anyway#they all look so funny next to each other. goofy levels multiplied. world's most random lineup happy halloween everyone#tw spiders#my art
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if you know this image, your therapy is prepaid
#top#twenty one pilots#tyler joseph#josh dun#reverting#is it 2020 again??#level of concern#loc#random top posting#its the new era#am i 14 again?? (in a good way)#twentyonepilots
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Ice and Mav start taking part to random couple activities- from dancing to cooking classes and even a very epic pottery class where Mav had to put the whole Ghost scene in motion to have Ice laugh for a good fifteen minutes - and some of the most epic results of what they learned are I the front row, between Bradley's school crafts and old photos. They like to show it off just as much they like to show Bradley's craft.
#domestic life#they have fun taking random classes just because they can#that's the whole joy in it#and then they discover they actually like what they are doing#post-DADT#fluff#they are in love your honor#on the side note yesterday night my pain went up to a whole new level and this morning we are all (mr dude too) cranky as hell#icemav#tom iceman kazansky#pete maverick mitchell#bradley rooster bradshaw (mentioned)
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lower decks and its gorn wedding lead me to believe that the gorn were a fun goofy species, like tribbles or maybe cardassian voles at worst. anyway im now watching strange new worlds and apparently this is not the case
#star trek#snw#strange new worlds#lower decks#guys why was i not told that they were on like a species 8472 level#this is what i get for watching star trek in a random ass order
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a simple explanation of the stats if you aren’t familiar with dnd
and as a bonus, maybe tell me in the tags what you think your LOWEST stat would be!
#personally I think mine would be intelligence#like as in just base level book smarts and knowing a lot of random information and being able to learn new concepts quickly#lowest stat is absolutely strength I cannot even do a single push-up and even if I worked out more I still have the body of a stick insect#I ain’t beating NOBODY at arm wrestling#sunny polls#dnd
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1:30am & thinking about all the bipoc women writers who went out of their way to be so incredibly kind to me while only having met briefly… like the author I met a couple months before moving to school who was so excited & encouraging when I told her I was studying writing… & like the caribbean poet who bonded with me after learning we were both guyanese & who comforted me when I was struggling in first year in a majorly white city & as one of the only bipoc in my department… & to the Black poet who kept in touch with me when I was transitioning to university & who was one of the first ppl to message me when I got off my first flight to a new city… & to the Cree poet whose reading I attended in 2021 who talked to me outside the venue in the cold about indigeneity at a time where I badly wanted to learn more about my ancestors but didn’t know where to start… she has no idea that that one conversation drove me to research (as best I could) my ancestry & in doing so learn more about my family & the language I couldn’t name standing on that corner… literally ily bipoc women !!!!
#no but this level of community is extremely sacred to me#while womanhood etc is a Topic for me personally LOL I feel rlly grateful to be seen in these spaces#random realization based off nothing btw it just hit me the compassion I’ve received#from woc writers in particular <3#not naming ppl obviously bc idk if that is weird lmao but I’ve talked about all of them at some point#sooo many bipoc women unknowingly came together to save my ass at 18 who had no idea how to deal#with this new and isolating experience…!!! anyway women!!!!
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The Target
Angst, back from the dead, memory loss, amnesia, guilt, implied past abandonment, referenced past captivity and torture, referenced past illness, therapy mention
[Directly follows Tea]
The set up was cliche for a reason: it worked. No fancy equipment, as few moving parts as possible, and complete deniability. Jackson had taken the target to a small tea shop in the heart of the city. Crowded but not too busy. Bribing the waiter to sit the pair behind her table was easy.
The hard part was resisting the urge to turn around and look at him -
(She needed to be patient. Even if it was her Wolf back from the dead, she wasn’t sure her presence would be soothing.)
(…)
(If it was her Wolf, if Ghost had left him for dead, if he had survived all these years - would he hate her? Would he forgive Ghost?)
“You’re looking well, East.”
“Thanks. Helps to not be half dead and sick as a dog.”
The voice was…wrong. Too gravelly, too low - the accent though, the cadence of his words…oh, how desperately she wanted to believe it was him. A waiter brought her the tea she had ordered, creamy and warm and sweet. She didn’t have the stomach for it, thinking about the target behind her.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately. I know it must have been a…rough adjustment.”
The man behind Liza scoffed.
“It’s been…an adjustment, to be sure.” He sighed, voice softening. “But I’m…doing better. Thanks to you - ”
“Oh, don’t you dare give me credit. That’s all you. And Nate, of course. I just dropped you at the door and left.”
“You didn’t have to. Help me, I mean.” East clearly meant to elaborate, but a waiter came by to take their order. Liza forced herself to swallow a few sips of her drink. She told herself she didn’t shiver at his coffee order - it didn’t mean anything, anyone could enjoy black coffee and four sugar cubes without milk.
“Speaking of, helping you, how’s Judy been?”
“Helpful.” The word was clipped and professional, but East worked some levity into his voice as he continued. “Starting to feel like a real person again.”
“I’m glad.” The warmth in Jackson’s voice almost took Liza off guard. So sickeningly tender and genuine. “You have no idea how relieved I am that you’re - ”
He cut himself off, their drinks served by an unwitting waiter. There was the clatter of tea cups and coffee mugs and sugar stirred with honey.
“Careful, it’s hot.”
“I know - it’s still good.”
“How can you tell with it burning your tastebuds off?” Jackson’s amused huff and East’s chuckling sigh only made the pang of nostalgia all the louder in Liza’s heart. Wolf (her Wolf) never waited for his coffee to cool; too impatient to wait - he always claimed it tasted worse once it cooled to a drinkable temperature.
“I’m glad you’re back, Jackson.” East’s voice was still warm, but there was a tension under his words. “How have you been? Is everything…alright?”
“Fine. I’m doing just fine - happy to be home, if I’m quite honest.” Jackson’s reply was immediate and open, but dreadfully vague. “Everything’s just fine.”
Liza couldn’t see East’s reaction behind her, but whatever it was compelled Jackson to continue. She could almost see him, in her mind’s eye: her Wolf…a decade younger, face pinched in worry - always worried - and eyes bright with determined preparation for every scenario.
“Things are dying down. Americans are keeping to themselves for once, and it’s looking like a cold case.” Jackson’s voice was almost too quiet to hear, but Liza could practically feel the tension bleed from the man behind her. “Almost out of the woods - just some finalized paperwork and seals of approval.”
“And what happens…after?”
Liza stared down at her tea, trying to picture it. The great and terrifying Ghost - who swore off apprentices after losing his first, his last - being told the man that was practically his son had survived. (Had been abandoned.) Wolf - who went through a hell at the hands of the enemy, who spent years abandoned and alone - survived and he could come home. (To a stranger in his room and the dog he loved long dead.)
(Her one regret in her life burned bright in her throat - oh, how he would have loved to meet Casey. How different things could have been if Wolf was around to protect her boy.)
“After…we get you home.”
“Which is?” East (Wolf?)’s whisper was hoarse, laced with a sad desperation that broke Liza’s heart. Jackson had told her he might have - she didn’t really think, she hoped -
(She was a fool, always blinded by hope and it’s empty promises.)
“I - I thought you said things were going well with Judy - ”
“Nevermind. Your tea’s getting cold.“ It was like a switch had flipped, words suddenly steady and strong. Whatever fledgling hope Liza had that this was her Wolf, that he could come home, died in her chest.
(Wolf hadn’t had a home to come back to in along time.)
“Hey, I just - East…it’s fine. We said it would probably take some time. We’re not in any rush - ”
“You seem to be.” There was a thin bite to the words, defensive but still smothered in that muted parody of nonchalance. “I don’t know. I don’t really want to. It sucks to think about. I thought maybe you…figured something out that I couldn’t.”
“East…love, I - ”
“It’s fine. I like my job. I like my friends. Think Al and I might get a flat together - rent’s too high to not have roommates in this economy.” East’s sigh was decisive, a harsh swallow before he continued. “I just - God, fuck - I like my life right now. And I don’t want to leave it all behind. But I know - I don’t know - what you need or, or want me to do in return for - ”
“Nothing. East, I’m not here to take you away I just - I didn’t know if you had somewhere else you’d rather be. But, if you’re happy here…I don’t see any reason for you to leave.”
“Really?”
(Why did the relief in his voice sound so much like a nail in the empty coffin they buried for him?)
Liza wanted to get sick; she stood up a bit too quickly, chair bumping into the man behind her. She pulled on the mask of a stranger, perfect and apologetic and calm, and looked a dead man in the eye.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry - ”
“No worries.”
Her heart dropped to her feet, his polite glance failing to betray recognition, even though she knew that face and those eyes so well, even a decade removed -
(He looked so much older than she remembered him. Tired. Contented. Scarred and worn by time and it’s ravages. Where was the soldier more boy than man she remembered? Where was his fiery eyes and burning passion? Where was his fight?)
(…)
(Was it better, she wondered, for him to live a life without that fight, that fire in his heart? God knew how it had burned her and everyone else who knew him when it was snuffed out.)
Liza took her leave, heart in her throat.
—
“Did you - ?”
“I don’t know him. This was a waste of my time.”
“I’m sorry - ”
“I’m sure you are.” Liza let her voice soften as she looked out at the rain hitting her hotel window. She sighed into the phone, speaking before she could regret it. “Agent Jackson?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know this Wolf of yours, but it sounds like he’s having a pretty good life.” She almost paused, almost stopped to consider telling him the truth before deciding better of it. Liza was far more comfortable in a lie. “Don’t fuck it up looking for something he doesn’t need found.”
“…Thank you, Liza.”
She snapped the phone closed, and closed her eyes, remembering the face she knew on a man who didn’t know her.
It wasn’t worth unburying that empty casket. It wasn’t worth uprooting a good, clean civilian life. It wasn’t worth opening old wounds. Wolf was dead, as he had been for a decade. Liza needed to make sure he stayed dead, and that East stayed alive and well and untainted by the world he left behind.
[Before Smoke Break]
(Part of my Freelancers: Changing Tides series)
Taglist: @stargeode @sacredwrath @genuineformality
#whump#angst#back from the dead#memory loss#amnesia#guilt#abandonment#past torture#past captivity#past illness#therapy mention#freelancers#*squeezing Liza like a squeaky toy* her track record for deciding she knows what’s best for people in her life sucks so bad#but she keeps doing it because she cares too much to let anything be anyone’s fault but hers.#and east…oh east. this is just a random Tuesday for him. it’s the last time she’ll see the face of her friend and he doesn’t even know it.#I am unwell abt my own ocs. *autism creature stare* I just think they’re neat.#in other news it’s [redacted] today so. worst case scenario I’ll explain whatever the fuck keeps me away from the internet#whenever I can get back. best case scenario nothing happens and life goes on as usual for my blog schedule here. o7#regardless just gotta get through the week and I’ll have a better bead on the risk level we’re looking at.#personal rambling done. mwah I love you people who read my goofy tags.
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Booked
Pairing: Billy Knight x You
Summary: Billy Knight didn't like to read... until he met you.
Contains: Way-back flashback, fluff, nerves, nerds in love.
Word Count: 1k
Billy Knight loved to read.
However, he did not discover this until he met you.
When he was a child, reading was something he had to do in school. He only read the books he was assigned, and they did not excite him. He went through the motions to get a passing grade - or else - and thought no more of it. The only books left in the Knights' cottage, after his father burned everything that reminded him of his wife, were either instructional or political, and those did not interest young Billy.
The first time he visited your home, he couldn't take his eyes away from your bookshelf. You'd noticed it and tried not to say anything, but eventually, you just couldn't help yourself.
"See something you like?" you asked with a smile, tilting your head into his eyeline from your place beside him on the couch.
"No… sorry." He glanced into your eyes and then down at his hands.
"It's alright. I know they're a mess, but organizing tends to be an all-day project, and I just haven't had the time," you explained, suddenly very self-conscious. Why hadn't you cleaned up more?
"S'not that. It's just… you read all those?"
You laughed softly. "That's the dream. I'd like to read everything, but somehow, I just keep reading the same ones over and over again. Y'know?"
He didn't. He looked up nervously. He did everything nervously in those days.
"Do you have a favorite book?" you asked, hoping to find some common ground. He shook his head, a blush spreading across his face and down his neck.
"That's alright. I had to read so many awful books in school, sometimes I thought I'd never voluntarily pick one up again."
"M'not very good at it," he said quickly.
"Good at what?"
"Reading."
You paused, not entirely sure what to say to that. His fingers picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of his sweater.
"You don't have to be good at it to enjoy it," you said gently. "I suppose that's true for just about everything."
He looked thoughtful, like he was considering it.
"Have you ever read a book you liked?"
He chewed his bottom lip as his eyes drifted around the room. After a moment, he spoke slowly, not meeting your eye. "My mum used to read me stories about animals."
Your face lit up. "I love stories about animals."
"These were for kids." He shifted nervously. "It was a long time ago."
"There's no age limit on a good book. I still have most of my childhood favorites. Just finished re-reading one last night."
"You still read kid books?" He stared at you with a mildly surprised look. If it had been anyone else, your face would have been burning at this point. But you could sense that Billy wasn't judging you for reading children's books. He was genuinely curious. You nodded.
"Sometimes when things aren't going great, diving back into one of those helps. Suddenly, I'm not a grown-up struggling to exist. I'm a kid who's learning how to use magic, or sailing the high seas, or sneaking into a secret garden. I've lived on the prairie, in castles, on a deserted island, in…" Suddenly aware that you were very close to getting carried away, you decided to cut your rambling short, before he invented an appointment he simply couldn't be late for. "Sometimes I just need to be anywhere but here."
He stared, and after a moment, asked, "You get all that from books?"
"Yeah," you admitted with your eyes on the rug, fearing you'd scared him off with your nerdy little tangent. Well done, loser, hope your books are a great source of comfort for you as you die alone.
"I think I've been reading the wrong books." Your head snapped up. You thought he'd be running for the door by now, but he's still there, giving you a shy smile. Your heart felt like it was about to burst.
"Shall we fix that?" Please say yes, you thought, trying to keep your face from showing just how happy you were to share this with him. He gave you a nod, barely containing his own excitement. "Come on," you said, beaming as you got off the couch.
He followed you over to the section where most of your childhood favorites lived. You never let anyone borrow your books - a water-damaged copy of Eragon returned without so much as a "sorry" had been the last straw - but you trusted him. You didn't know why, but you trusted Billy Knight immediately, more than all the lifelong friends and family who were now on the Banned from Borrowing list.
He wasn't a strong reader, at first. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd opened a book. But he started small and worked his way up, and found that he genuinely enjoyed losing himself between the pages of a good book. You welcomed him into fantastic worlds he never would have discovered on his own. And when you talked about them afterwards, it was almost like you were living in those wonderful worlds together. That was his favorite part.
He didn't know it at the time, but when you realized he'd be making his way through all your old favorites, you read them again. You wanted to be able to answer questions and discuss the details with him. Billy was a very observant person, and you didn't want to let him down. He'd been so impressed at how much you'd remembered about those books from your childhood, not knowing that after he left each night, you had stayed up 'til the early hours of the morning to re-read your next recommendation. Years later, when you finally admitted this, he laughed and felt himself falling a little more in love with the person he wanted by his side in his favorite world of all.
#writings of despair#billy knight x you#billy knight x reader#so i have an annoyingly complex backstory for these babies#but because i've spent so long obsessing over it - and there's a lotta dark shit 'cause it's billy - most of it feels too personal to write#yeah you're only getting like 1% of this story#sorry kids#enjoy your random bits of meaningless fluff#i have ascended to a new level of crazy lady#but anyway#this would take place in their late teens
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Something seriously lacking in my art is the ability to tell a story in a single illustration.
I've gotten so used to drawing my characters standing around doing random things that I've never practiced telling a full tale/putting implications into my pieces that require more thinking/looking.
It also comes from a lower amount of details in my works by default [since I like to get pieces done fast], but I'm tired of using that as an excuse.
#vent#kinda#sorry I'm just having a rough one tonight but I'll recover lmao#I think the AI art thing is really getting to me cuz like.#Anyone can make pretty images if they study and practice hard enough#[not to detract from people who don't tell stories with their images!]#but something in my brain wants to fight back because AI will never be able to Tell a Story through its images.#It can't make narrative choices through its regurgitation of random elements. It will never tell a cohesive and interesting tale through#detail choice#the worst it can do is create surface-level 'pretty' images by smashing together a bunch of mushed up information#but storytelling? that's human touch#that's intention. Thought. Choices.#and idk it's really bothering me lately that my images almost never... 'say' anything about a character.#this does not apply to anyone else's art I look at#it's just a standard I'm starting to feel my head apply to my own work and nobody else's.#which I'm taking as a sign that this is something I'm unsatisfied with#but the thought of starting to develop a completely new skill like that? terrifyingly daunting.#Sorry for the wall of tags I'm havin' some hella moodswings tonight#happens a lot when I get inspired by art I see#which I'm trying to work on but yaknow#it's a long process#anyways how's your night goin#I'm gonna cheer myself up by eating some amazing asparagus casserole
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utmv creators stop using disorders as cute little additions challenge (super hard)
#like yes!!! give ur characters disorders and stuff#but actually somewhat understand them for the love of god#im so sick of the new disorder sans of the week#or going haha this guys schizophrenic this guy has did this guy is psycho#please#god im so tired#have characters with disorders!!#but stop using them as some random thing#or or or!!! massive fucking pet peeve#using a base level understanding of a disorder n comparing story details to it#sorry im so. god i have so many feelings about how ppl treat disorders
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I can't believe after stubbornly doing my best to not get into it, the first 2 chapters of Poppy Playtime couldn't tackle me but the goddamn third one with the discount care-bear animals did
They knew they had to go big or go home, so they reached for the furries
Unfortunately
I am furries
#the way the quality and everything else are on a whole new level#and frickin catnap and dogday....... ughghg#random squeak
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You know what would be the worst? If at the end of the war when all is said and done, after the clones lost every little thing they had, after Vaders rise and the Jedi’s fall, after all that death and hardship and misery? It would be terrible to be a clone and wake up like suddenly coming out of a coma, in a stasis chamber that they grew up in and rarely left, there was the craziest dream just before and there’s the lingering feeling something important just happened, this is Kamino 35bby, all the information they were just fed is already neatly stored in their perfect flash-memory brain. No ones died yet, all of that was a simulation based on a calculation of events to instal orders and hone the discipline of troops. It’s dark, there’s no way of telling if anyone or anything exists beyond the boundary’s of the inside. There’s a designated call sign and designation along with vitals displayed in the line of vision, it’s also counting down the seconds to when a new simulation is set to begin.
#as like a fanfic idea tho#how high am I? this high:#it’s like a matrix kind of deal#because even though the body is under the conscious mind is awake and active fully living years of time in minutes#and they’d be grown and raised in the tubes they were made in#never leaving until peak physical maturity has been achieved and there let out to learn physical skills#like building muscle and reflexes and social interaction and all that#imagine the new level of fucked up that would be#the clones would be robbed of literally everything#it’s also like everything everywhere all at once#the clones neural pathways and connected through wires so they get the same brain response they normally would when normally interacting#WTF am I even talking about no one is going to care about this this is random nonsense#tcw#the clone wars#Designation CT-7567 Call sign R-E-X slated rank Captain track 406 group 501#and the entire war is one big simulation#only the prequels are cannon and everything is Freeform for all#so the clones lived a different war every couple minutes while in hyper growth tubes for 5 years so they learned from so many mistakes#this is me making the clones spartan like in an attempt to make them immortal because they would be the perfect weapon and person#imagine how crazy smart and unshakable they would be#clone troopers#the clones#captain rex#commander fox#commander wolffe#the prequel trilogy#arc trooper#star wars legends#the clone wars 2003#rep com
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apparently the phone number on shirosaki's business card will actually connect to him (or another character) if you call
#crab watches#atarashii joushi wa dotennen#my new boss is goofy#like you can get a random pre-recorded message at that number (i think)#from shirosaki or momose or the others#someone said they called 27 times to hear them all lol#this is taking the qr code that goes to the anime website gimmick to a WHOLE NEW LEVEL
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Imagine if Sean caught White with Todd on the motorcycle. Like the tail end. What if he told the others and they thought black had a secret boyfriend. That would have been hilarious.
#not me the series#nmrewatch23#not me ep 2#like they see black dropping off this random dude are are like bro wtf#new level of misunderstanding#especially if we push the gramblack agenda#and the toddblack exes agenda#honestly it gets funnier the more I think about it
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i started all of these games at wildly different times, took varying levels of breaks partway through each of them, and then finished all of their achievements in the same two days
i don't know what to do with myself now
#buenos dias short people#tunic was like. i played to maybe halfway. took a months long break#when i picked it back up i didnt remember what i was doing so i started a new file and played like a third#months long break. but this time i resumed the second file and played through to the end#the game is very cryptic but starting over gave me a handle on the mechanics and what was important#outer wilds took like four tries even though i knew it would be good i just wasnt hooked#the game is about knowledge even more than tunic like knowledge is the whole deal and it comes slowly at first#but when it hit it really hit. god damn#please play outer wilds#spyro? um. it was good#i don't know that i took any big breaks from it? there were some but a couple weeks at most#spyro levels are not particularly complex. or content rich. and i really felt that 60 hours#playing the whole trilogy all back to back can really burn you out#its a collectathon you're bound to spend a good while just wandering around to find that one last thing you missed#and i didn't know i could left stick for sparx to point out the nearest gems until like halfway through 2 so that was a time waster#im not saying it wasn't a good game but spyros moveset is like. glide fire charge and you do this for three games#until they throw in random nonspyro playable characters in 3 and they all control really bad and weird. but its still mostly spyro#i could have taken big breaks between each game and it would've been better probably but its a collection im gonna roll to the next one
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I didn’t even tell you fuckers (fuckers being the blog, ur not real this is my vore journal and ur all snacks) I had to go to the hospital for a psych evaluation.
The conclusion was that I was just drunk, not manic like everyone was worried about. Told you fuckers
I didn’t join the grippy sock gang tho.
No more booze for M for a while. Been sober of it for a month and a bit now I think.
Also I’m good n safe rn but I mean, you don’t run a vore blog unless there’s something fucky with your brain/j
Don’t drink alone gang :) and if you do and/or you’re in a pit you’re not a bad person, you just need help, those are two different things. Love u
#taking vodka aunt to a whole new level#I hate how good I am at chugging those mother fuckers lmao#m’s random shit#tw alchol#tw hospital
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