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#thank you for reading my dumb rambles
lee-the-yeen · 1 month
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I’m yelling into the void a bit more about Don’t Starve, don’t mind me. Specifically about Wilson, his medical know-how, his weird relationship with death, and the origin of his Forbidden Knowledge.
Let’s start with the easy one, Wilson being medically trained.
To start, Wilson’s quote for the Peg Leg.
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Then in the Forge, Wilson’s special ability is to revive his teammates twice as fast with more health.
Wilson’s Victorian Skin is an old-timey doctor, even mentioning the four humors (even if that practice was far outdated by the Victorian Era).
I remember once seeing a quote about Wilson getting kicked out of a school for setting something on fire, but take that with a grain of salt because I am struggling to find it.
Now onto Wilson’s weirdness with death of his fellow man.
It’s clear the Constant has left him quite jaded with death as a concept, which is very fair.
But you cannot tell me that a man with a normal view of death would find a skeleton under the floorboards of his new house and just…put the boards back. Or hell, that skeleton is very likely to be the one we see strung up in Wilson’s lab in the very first short!
There’s also Wilson’s quote for Skeletons from Don’t Starve classic:
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As well as his disregard for the sanctity of graves.
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So yeah. He isn’t normal about human death, just like how he isn’t exactly normal about science.
Wilson is confirmed to be the creator of several items that everyone is able to craft and use.
Obviously the Meat Effigy, but it doesn’t stop there.
Maxwell isn’t particularly enthused about the Think Tank:
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The Fire Pump is bemoaned to be his:
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The Booster Shot is another item he’s very likely to have made, seeing as he’s the only one truly enthusiastic about it. Further connects him to his medical know-how, as well.
From the Survival Tips, Wilson is also very likely to be the one to have made the first Telltale Heart.
Revive: “We nearly lost one of our numbers today. In a mad daze I created…something…that managed to pull our friend back to the land of the living, but…whatever it was, I fear I cannot rightfully say it was within the realm of science…” -W
Gardeneer: “I’ve finally perfected my design for an ingenious (if I do say so myself) device that stores important garden-based knowledge. Certain naysayers might point out that it looks like nothing more than an overturned flowerpot worn on the head…some people simply don’t have an eye for science.” -W
The tips are (almost) all signed with a W, but it’s clear who wrote these ones, especially since Wilson wore the Gardeneer hat during the Reap What You Sow trailer.
That hat leads me to my next point. It is something that Wilson made, he invented it.
Then tell me why you are able to upgrade it at the Ancient Pseudoscience Station, when literally everything else you can do at it is craft fully ancient artifacts?
And doesn’t the storage of knowledge sound eerily familiar? Such as…
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Whatever depths Maxwell snagged Wilson’s Forbidden Knowledge from, it definitively has origins with the Ancients.
Which…
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…is quite concerning.
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questionably-humanoid · 15 hours
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catzgam3rz · 11 months
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If ur still taking dino requests please consider the oviraptor, my misunderstood king
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THE misunderstood king, we stan
unrelated but I could not for the life of me find a breed name for the rooster I used as a reference so I guess it's just the default American chicken????
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the-n3w3st-g1rl-g1rl · 8 months
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I'm realizing that the fact that Rudy and Noelle call Kris "Krismas" implies that Christmas is still a thing in Deltarune's universe. Like, it's not called something else or anything. So even though their religion centres on an Angel, I guess Jesus is still part of at least a religion in their world idk I'm tired
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asinasura · 8 months
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if i ever get around to making a flcl themed cosmetic for tf2, i know the perfect thing to reference that both:
fits the art style / setting of tf2, and would look snazy as fuck
i'm talking about canti's jacket !!
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yeah my boy Joseph canti ( according to the wiki ) has just what i'd want to reference >:D
firstly, the jacket itself. the jacket is an ma-1 flight jacket ( specifically, the vietnam era type ma-1 flight jacket ( specifically SPECIFICALLY the japanese replica. )) tf2 takes place around the 1960's, meanwhile the jacket was produced around the 1950's, if my information is correct :p
this would fit for both the setting and art style, as i don't see the jacket itself obscuring much, nor being too small of a change. also, due to the jacket being mostly a sage-greenish colour, then it'd be easy to swap out for ( perhaps ) a mellow red colour
( actually, the jackets were initially produced in midnight blue and sage green, with blue being the original colour for the military. then it was replaced by the sage green )
secondly, the jacket is a jacket that was primarily worn by pilots during wars. this would fit with the pvp-styled gamemode that tf2 is known for. personally, i would see this being a cosmetic for scout, soldier, and demo. however i don't think it'd be out of place as an all-class cosmetic
all in all, i think this would be a good cosmetic that would fit the game, while also being a fun, subtle reference to flcl. i know the jacket itself isn't a reference to flcl, but if i were to theoretically Make this and theoretically Name this, then i'd imagine the name would be a subtle ( or not-so subtle ) allusion to flcl. maybe something like "fool's cool flight jacket" or some shit like that lol. idk i'm not clever, tell me if u got ideas tho >:J
ok little ending thing: if i were to make a cosmetic that references flcl without caring about the art style and setting of tf2 i would make pyro wear mamimi's uniform because firestarter >:D
that or give scout / demo a rickenbacker 4001 that makes a loud BWAAAHHH bass noise on hit, so its obnoxiously loud like the frying pan
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borathae · 2 years
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one of my biggest pet peeves as a reader? when people don’t put a Read More and you have to scroll for five minutes to get to the end of the post
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kimberkingrivers · 8 months
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Life just feel like it’s kicking anyone else’s ass?
Things are kinda looking up I actually feel hope, hope that doesn’t feel stupid or false, but still kinda feel like I’m drowning. That whatever I do it’s still not enough for the people around me.
Not wild enough, not old enough, not loud enough, not enough free time, not making enough money, not pretty enough, not religious enough, not smart enough
Or I’m too much, too straight forward, too traditional, too boring, too quiet, too busy, too focused, too aggressive
#justmedealingwithsomeseriousquesyionsaboutmyself
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m0th-hours · 1 year
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hi welcome to my ace attorney brain rot headcanons once more
today i bring to you this scenario:
In 2000-2001 ish, Pokemon Silver was out and about and probably REALLY popular. so like. That made me think. Thats the age the lil trio of blorbos wouldve been pals. So i like to imagine Miles begging his dad to get a gameboy so that he could play pokemon with his friends,, and since in pokemon silver i think you can go to kanto, i would imagine miles catching a moltres and naming it phoenix. why? idk just feels cute,,
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udon-udon · 2 years
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Introspective post time  
One thing I seem to notice that I always come back to and makes me down is when I scroll through on Twitter and see someone I know get big numbers on their post, there’s a 50% chance (85% when I’m on my period PMS-ing) I would be like “Why can’t I have that/that happen to me”. 
But Udon, you don’t draw fan art/things that are popular, you don’t have super super pretty art, and you’ve come to the conclusion that you just want to draw art as a hobby and you’ll be drawing whatever you want, whenever you want. It’s hard to get big numbers unless a miracle happens. 
I’ve said I don’t care about numbers anymore. So why??? Do I, deep down, still care about clout? Does me wanting to be noticed/recognized = wanting clout? If so, there’s no way I can get clout with the way I go about with art. I’ve always and still am always fueled by Validation and Positive Reinforcement in more ways than just art (i’m like a DOG, dude, praise me and i’ll be the happiest bitch on earth). Is me wanting validation for my art = wanting clout? Is that in actuality what it actually is? Cause if it is, damn bitch fuhget about it. Like I said earlier, I don’t draw fan art/popular things. So Udon, you either draw popular things, or you shut up and entirely stop caring and actually stop caring about numbers/a dream that you never worked hard for/is not working hard towards. Stupid thing is I keep telling myself that, and I’ll always be like “OK!! YEAH I DON’T CARE ABOUT NUMBERS!!!” and then randomly one day it hits me again knowing that friends are doing really good!!! and I’m not hating on them don’t get me wrong, I’m just wondering why I can’t be apart of that.  Well, you can’t be apart of that because as mentioned earlier 1. You don’t draw fanart and/or 2. Your art isn’t super pretty or noteworthy. And it just becomes a vicious cycle, rinse and repeat. 
“OK!! YEAH!! I DRAW WHAT I WANT I DONT CARE ABOUT NUMBERS!!”
“-Sees people doing really good- -Gets sad and feels down-”
“Well, Udon, you don’t draw fanart and your art is not noteworthy enough so stop complaining and stop caring and stop being sad about it”
Repeat Steps 1-4
It makes me wonder if this cycle would stop if I stop drawing or even stop going on twitter (?) Would things be better and would i stop thinking this way if I stopped drawing altogether so I won’t have numbers/being noticed to worry about. 
Even back on deviantart/13 year old Udon days, I would daydream about woahhh having a lot of art friends and having a lot people like my art and always being like “ohoho that’d be so nice one day” but I still only kept drawing original art. LOOOL. Make it make sense, Udon. 
And it’s still carrying over now. I only draw original stuff or stuff no one cares about. I only draw what I want and things only I care about. I only want to draw things that really gets me riled up and excited, but nothing makes me feel that way easily anymore. For example, the new G Witch anime. Yuri!!! Yuri!! LESBIANS!! I love yuri. Definitely did pick the anime up even though I know nothing about gundam, but am I excited enough to draw the characters? No. I don’t feel the urge to draw them (er, well at least not now). Nothing gets me excited anymore. (Though I guess this is getting off topic) 
Anyway, bottom line is/TLDR: Udon has inner demons about wanting to draw stuff that she likes, but at the same time wanting clout/validation (which usually happens when you draw popular stuff instead of things that ppl don’t care about). Which doesn’t really work unless a miracle happens. It just seems like my mind is confused about what it truly wants and each side is contradicting the other hence making me go crazy about this topic all the time.
Perhaps I’m tunnel visioning. 
Maybe it all just stems from me wanting to be loved. 
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segemarldoodles · 1 year
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So one of my friends sent me their drawing practice they were doing the other day, and I just love seeing people improving their crafts. Like I enjoy looking at art from professionals and people who like do comms for a living, and I didn't really say it in that reply to wingedwoif the other day, but having done it for a bit, and seeing what they're going through I feel like turning it into a job can suck the joy, wonder, and excitement out of art, so when I see pure hobbyists growing and exploring with their art/craft, trying new mediums and just creating for the sake of it, I love it! Don't ever let a lack of formal training stop you from making something, wing it, slap stuff together, throw stuff at the wall and see what sticks(figuratively or literally). So long as you're putting your heart into it it will be amazing, even if you don't think so yourself, and even if only a handful of people see it, you'll have put net positive creativity into the world.
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derekgoffard · 2 years
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Your funny posts give me life. (And a much needed smile to my face. Thanks. Just keep being you <3 <3 <3)
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G.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!7!!!!!+++-!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!()()()!!!!!!!!+!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!____!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOSH?? THIS. THIS IS SO SO INCREDIBLY NICE IM???? * MELTS AND DIES * GUGHH GHVHB
OH GOSH;;;;;;;;;G.GUHH;; OH GEEZE+++ BHG. THIS IS SUCH A KIND THING TO SEND ME MAN,,,,,,,LIKE; THANK YOU SO MUCHHHHHH WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
;;; Haha I'm not really good at articulating things sometimes but I really really appreciate that you'd take the time to send me something so sweet like this;; T_T you are too kind!! ;o; Thank you very much;;;;;;;;;🥺;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
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dewitty1 · 2 years
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Saturday Six (Stuff)
We're going through the storage shed full of stuff from our old house, (we moved here 8 years ago) and I can't believe it's taken me this long to get to this. Ughhhhh...
Our (new) cat Boots (BooBooBoots, BootScootinBoogie) hates the pee mats I have to put around the cat box for KittyMeow. We came home yesterday to find he had ripped them all to shreds. Such a goofball.
I am not looking forward to the disgusting high temperatures were supposed to have this coming week.
Work is getting busy-ish. Which is good, because I have to pay for this dang Disney vacation in September for @super-ultra-mega-kami-guru-blog birthday somehow.
There were too many people for my taste at water aerobics yesterday. I like it best when there's a small group, and I we can spread out.
Stealing artist's work, and l/or giving them hate/nonsense is totally not cool y'all. Stop it. Get some help.
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ifwebefriends · 2 years
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Hehehehehhahahahah
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capetowncapers · 1 year
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Possible ? Brain fog ? On top of normal adhd spaciness/forgetfulness/executive dysfunction is its own special hell. I keep starting to do something and then staring into space for A Good While, completely unable to remember what the fuck I was just thinking. I hate it here.
#i kind of wish that if I had to get Covid it had been back when employers and professors still seriously gave a fuck about it#like ‘possible sick time being super lenient’ give a fuck about it#the grad assistant jobs here don’t account for sick time so I’m out here still not quite at 100% and trying to make up two weeks of hours#while doing my current hours. and trying to make up for two weeks of missed course work. while keeping up with current coursework.#i know it’s all gonna work out fine but I kind of just want a day off. which sounds dumb but like what I mean#is that even in my down time I’m trying so hard to make myself stop thinking ahead and worrying about work#sigh.#AGHHHHH#cape town rambles#we’re good it’s fine we’re fine. in a way this probably isn’t even as bad as the fucking nightmarish assignment i had for work last fall#like several nights staying up til 3 am in a row leading up to finals week to try to finish the shit for my job#then it still needing more stuff done and I was doing it during finals anyway fjdkksks#somehow against all odds did well on my finals and aced my classes. somehow#my last paper I turned in at 2:00 am and I didn’t edit. and I was so sleep deprived#it felt like a fever dream and I had barely any recollection of writing it#and my professor was like wow this is a great research paper I enjoyed reading it thank you#i legitimately had to go back and read it bc I was like pal I do not remember what I submitted I’m glad it was fine#health updates
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s-4pphics · 5 months
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click! 1 (e.w.)
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SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]
WORD COUNT: 3.7k
WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a reputation :p, they’re both rude as shit, crack, all ocs are black coded yeeahhh yeah, awkward meetings, slut-shaming, brief cunninglingus, mention of eviction, smut later yall know tha vibes 
two. three. four.
A/N: short part just stay w me lemme cook... excited 2 write this lets get this shit yall
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“W-What do you mean you’re moving?” 
Your roommate and best friend wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you close. Tears flooded in your eyes as she whispered the daunting news, your heart cracking in your chest. 
“I’m moving soon, stink.” Too soon, according to her. She’ll be gone by next week. Amaya snickered sadly as she cooed in your temple. “It's for good reason, though.”
Your ears perk, a curious hum vibrating her shoulder. 
“I got that internship— “
All sadness melds into excitement for your favorite person. You leap into her arms with squeals of congratulatory joy, planting smacking kisses all over her squishy cheek. 
“Oh my god! You should’ve said that first, bitch! What the fuck!” You wipe your tears on her hoodie. 
Her laughter rattles through your neck, “I just found out after class! I almost got hit by a fucking bus reading the email.” 
Amaya sets you down, rambles about her new position as a songwriting intern spilling from her like an overfilled glass. Tears of joy flow from you and her as she retells every detail about her acceptance. She’s leaving in a week and a half and going farther than you thought. 
“Girl… you’re really moving to New York?” 
“Only for like… four months, max. But yeah… Boutta be on BET come next year— “
“Maya.” 
“Hm?”
“… I can’t pay rent by myself,” you whisper, cringing and embarrassed. 
You hate to ruin her moment, but you’re concerned; Living off campus isn’t cheap and moving in the middle of the semester is less than ideal. It’d be a fucking hassle, and — to be frank — you’re not a people person. 
People like having you around because you’re fun, sure. But your reputation isn’t what you hoped for it to be when you moved out of your dad’s place for school. You wanted to be recognized for your creativity, and while your professors never hesitated to praise your talents, your peers failed to see past the status that was placed upon you. 
Frankly, you’re deemed as a dumb whore, especially after your falling out with one of the campuses best softball pitchers. 
It wasn’t even your fault. One raunchy snap to the wrong person and people think you live for sex and sex only! Just when you think everyone is over slut-shaming… 
“You thought I was gonna leave you to fend for yourself? Guess what I did.” 
Oh God. “What?” 
She twiddles her fingers together villainously, “I may or may not have set up an application on the student homepage— “
The small glimmer of hope washes away, shoulders dropping, fingers coming up to massage your temples.  
“Maya…” You exhale, trying to keep calm, “You know those things don’t fucking work!” 
Roommate compatibility is a fucking scam. No one ever notes how they actually are in the application. You think you’ve found someone that’s clean, quiet, stays out of your space without permission and the next day you find dead roaches under your couch. College attendees have no idea what bleach is and it makes you sick. 
“Damn… you’re usually optimistic.” 
“I’m optimistic about good ideas. I’m gonna be living with a fucking freak from Craigslist, thanks a lot.” 
“C’mooon! You’ll be fine, babe, trust me.” Amaya wraps her arms around your neck once more, wetly smacking your cheek before turning to paddle to her room. “Plus, you’ll meet someone new!”
When you don't follow, she spins. She must’ve noticed your impassiveness, poutingly asking to help me pack? Tears overwhelm your ducts once more, quietly taking her extended hand as she leads you to her bedroom. 
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DAY ONE of roommate searching began, and you were already prepared to move back in with your dad. Amaya had enough time to orchestrate the housing agreement with you, making sure to highlight some of your most important characteristics in a roommate. One of the main ones being cleanliness. Some form of organization. 
DAY TWO was easier… Someone finally made it to the in-person interview stage. They didn’t make it far, though; They wouldn’t stop smacking their gum and it drove you crazy. Back to square one. 
DAY SIX came around and you were losing hope; Why are frat boys applying to live with you? You’d rather jump into oncoming traffic than house with any of Abby’s annoying, dirty friends. You've seen their house on numerous occasions and it never fails to make your skin crawl. 
It’s DAY THIRTEEN, and Amaya’s gone. After the sobbing fit with your best friend at the airport earlier, you got back to work. 
DENY REQUEST. 
DENY REQUEST. 
DENY REQUEST. 
You sigh in exhaustion and lean back in your chair. If you don't take a break from your screen in the next five seconds, your eyes will bleed. 
Why are people… so odd? 
The number of applications you’ve had to deny in the last week is criminal; Why are cis-het men continuously filling out applications knowing they’re not welcome in your space?! 
Even the people that made it to the in-person interview stage are incapable of being… not strange. You’d rather die than live with someone who collects dead maggots in mason jars (yes, you did almost call the police when they described their fascination with death in depth)!
All you need is one fruitful application with an identity to match! Just one. 
Amaya still calls from New York whenever she has a moment of peace to see how the roomie-search is going, but you can’t ignore the sadness that fills your heart every time she misses a call. Her laughter is gone, and your day-to-day life feels empty. 
They’re already working your bestie to the bone; You hope she can feel your encouragement from thousands of miles away. 
You scroll and click, scroll and click, scroll and deny deny deny until you pause, your eyes skimming over the application with a familiar name. 
ELLIE WILLIAMS. 
Ellie from stats, you instantly recognize. Curiosity perks and your brows furrow, sipping lukewarm tea as you skim over her contact information, her pet preferences, all the way down to her additional commentary. A snicker left at her blunt statement. 
temporary request. my last roommate moved and i’m poor. just waiting on this job approval. 
… Ellie in a nutshell. How relatable.
At least she’s not a complete stranger. Every interaction with her stirs in your mind as you jot her number down on a lone sticky-note. They were nothing special from your perspective: the two of you exchanging notes, her holding the door open as everyone scurried out of class, you asking for a pencil (and her asking for it back after the lecture), and you can’t help but wonder why she would want to apply to share a space with anyone, let alone you. 
She's only ever been described as standoffish by your peers. From the outside, Ellie’s blank. Flat tone, flat expression, plain appearance, and the fact that you never know what she’s thinking is unsettling. You’re thrown off your game whenever she’s near and you hate it. 
But the spot is temporary; Amaya will be back in a couple of months, and it seems Ellie’s leaving sometime soon by her small note. 
You down the rest of your tea and stretch where you sit, pondering. Trying to imagine Ellie in your space.
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“I don’t know why I can’t take Maya’s spot. I’d make an excellent roommate.” 
Your expression flattens, glare piercing through your good friend. 
Abby scoffs, “C’mooon! I mind my business...” She pauses, leaning across the table, nearly knocking your coffee over. Her whispers send a shock down your spine, “…and I give good head. I’m a package deal.” 
A brow raises. Abby’s sweeter than candy and she puts it down, but you already made the mistake of living with someone you fucked before, and you vowed to never do it again. If Amaya hadn’t given you a place to stay after the blow up between you and your ball-throwing sneaky link, you’re not sure where you'd be. Definitely not a student; The stress would’ve forced you to collapse. And drop out. 
“Sorry, stink. Not happening.” 
She rolls her eyes, “Whatever.” She takes a sip from her drink, “Can’t believe you’d let that freak in before me.” 
You pause. “You’re a freak, too— “
“I’m the good kind!” She searches like someone’s watching her, voice dropping to a whisper, “Ellie’s fucking weird, dude. When’s the last time you’ve seen her interact with anyone? A literal fucking NPC. All she’s programmed to do is stand and look.” 
“And give out pencils,” You interject with a snicker, “Who cares. I don’t like most of the idiots here, either. I barely put up with your ass.” 
Abby raises her glove-covered palms in surrender, “Fuck it. When I see an alert about a missing student, I’ll know who it is.” 
“You’re so fucking extra— “
DING!
Your neck cranes towards the opening cafe door, shock surging through your body at the sight of the NPC in question. Ellie silently stands at the back of the line, headphones secured on her head and nose red from the cold, classically bored expression plastered on her face. 
“Oh, this is hilarious,” Abby huffs, “Go greet your new housemate.” 
Another glare is sent in her direction, “Can you shut up? Her name’s not on any lease. I barely talked to her.”  
“Do it now, then. Triple dog dare you.” Abby smirks behind her cup. 
You sigh and raise from your seat, “You’re a cunt.” 
“The wettest. Go.” 
You flick her forehead before making your way over to Ellie, who’s mindlessly scrolling through her phone. Her sniffles get louder with each step you take, metal music blasting through her speakers. 
You tap her shoulder and she jumps, sliding one of her ear cups over to hear. 
“Hey, Ellie,” you smile politely. 
“… Sup,” she mutters hoarsely, turning her body towards you, eyes filled with… nothing. Expected. 
Silence passes, and you fill it, “I got your app yesterday. Just wanted to come and introduce myself.” 
“Alright.” 
More silence. You can see Abby out the corner of your eye, mockingly swiping her tongue between her index and middle finger. You flush and stutter, and Ellie’s staring like you have two heads. 
“I, uh… yeah. I’ve been having interviews with some people that submitted a form. You free sometime this week?” 
“Uhh…” She glances down at her phone. “Yeah. Around five tomorrow.” 
More silence. Fuck, this is awkward. 
“… Cool.” You pull your phone out and text her saved number, the alarm ringing from her phone. “That’s me. Just call before you stop by.” 
She nods and turns her back to you, cranking her music to full volume. You gawkily shuffle where you stand before hustling back to your table, Abby cackling to herself. You plop down and kick her under the table, but she laughs harder. 
“What’d I say!” 
“Not a thing,” You hiss, “She’s just a little awkward. It’s not that serious.” 
“Oh, yeah.” 
“Oh yeah what.” 
“She’s definitely your fucking housemate.” She tsks in disappointment before a smirk appears, her eyes darkening. “Can I eat it one last time before she moves in?” 
A jolt surges in your tummy, your hand closing into a fist. You kick her again and she giggles. 
Time passes as you and Abby’s conversation carries on like normal. Another ding rings through the coffee shop after some time, and you watch Ellie’s backpack bounce as she rushes down the sidewalk; Abby’s rambles about a soccer player she’s trying to smash sound like gibberish. 
Ellie has a Spider-Man charm and laminated polaroid latched onto her zipper. 
… Cute. 
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You’re going to fail statistics over a random.
Your professor’s voice sounds like white noise; Every pause she takes is used as an opportunity to sneak glances at Ellie. None of your notes are useful; The doodles and sloppy scribbles are solidifying that incoming F, for sure. Only fifteen minutes until you’re out of here. 
She’s two seats down from you, jotting down whatever she deems necessary for the midterm. You didn’t even register her answering the professor’s question, her rosy lips curving around her teeth with each syllable. 
Ellie blinks slowly, twice, three times before her eyes lock with yours, brows furrowed, evidently confused at your gawking. 
Your stomach drops with your gaze, fingers curled tightly around your pencil. 
The lecture finally comes to a close as your thoughts flurry, wordlessly shoving your books into your bag. A light tap on your shoulder yanks your attention. 
Ellie stands before you, puffer cinched under the bands of her backpack and cheeks just as rosy as before. 
“Hey. Can we switch the time?” 
“Huh?” Don’t stare, don’t stare. 
She sighs, “The time for the interview. Can we change it?” 
You blink dumbly, “Uh… sure. To what time?” 
Agitation creases her brows. “Now. Something came up and I can’t miss it.” She pauses, eyes flicking awkwardly around the room, weakly adding, “If that’s okay.” 
“Um… yeah, no problem…” You peer at the clock on the wall, “You want a coffee?” 
A slight wince from her. “… Yup.” 
She clearly doesn’t by the way her fingers are anxiously tapping on her thigh, but you nod nonetheless, hurriedly grabbing your belongings and leading her down to the student lounge. 
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“I don’t want you thinking this interview is one-sided,” You pray your gentle smile is calming the evident nerves of the freckled girl. “You can ask me anything you want, as well. If you have any concerns, any questions, shoot.” 
Ellie’s eyes are glued to her coffee cup, but her head bobs, expression void. Silence simmers between you. 
“I usually start these off with an icebreaker to get the jitters out! Just list three facts about yourself and I’ll follow.” 
Ellie’s lone hand comes up to scratch underneath her ear before meeting your gaze. Her eyes are so pretty; Too bad there’s nothing behind them. 
“Or I can go, sure, so!” Your hands clap together, “I’ll start with myself. I’m majoring in graphic design, I’m secretly a theater nerd, and I dream about owning an eggplant farm.” 
The girl before you clearly didn't expect that last statement. Her brows crease and the corner of her lip arches upward in a barely-there smile. Foreign to her face. 
“That’s not a fact,” She mutters, the shell in her pupils cracking. Just slightly. 
“Who cares, I love eggplant. Best vegetable by a landslide.” 
“Sike.” 
You scoff in disbelief, “What?” 
“Everybody on the planet knows that squash is god-tier— “
You squint, “Squash? Are you deadass?”
“It’s fucking versatile!” Ellie’s voice pitches higher, and your grin widens, “You can put it in everything and you don’t have to do much. Eggplant sucks up everything in the pan and still comes out soggy and tasteless— “
Choked laughter leaves your mouth, “If you don’t know how to cook, just say that.” 
Her mouth drops in exaggerated shock. “I know how to fuckin’ cook.” 
“Right.” 
“I do, what the he— “
“Fun fact about Ellie: she can’t cook!” You kiddingly sneer. She chuckles and shakes her head, tongue poking the inside of her cheek. You almost miss her statement, “I take pictures.” 
“Hm?” 
“I wanna be a professional photographer... At some point. I take pic— “
Ellie’s phone vibrates on the table and she leaps into action, snatching her bag from beside her and standing from her seat. 
“Wait— “
“I gotta go,” She mutters as she straps her bag around her shoulders. “Sorry. See you later.” 
Ellie throws some bills on the table before dipping, her phone pressed against her ear, rambling about making time. She barely touched her coffee. 
Could’ve been worse, you utter to yourself. 
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Days pass, and you don’t hear from Ellie. 
When you saw her in stats two days after the interview, she hardly acknowledged you, morphing into the hermit that you knew her to be. You noted how tired she looked, though. You would’ve asked if she were okay if she hadn’t run out of class without a word. 
You’re weighing your options: allowing a random oddball into your apartment, or allowing a random oddball who hates eggplant into your apartment. Rent is due next week, and Amaya’s space is still vacant. 
At this point, the roster is almost nonexistent, and Ellie was the least concerning candidate. Despite Abby’s concern, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to bury dead bodies in the front lawn. 
“I dunno, friend. She’s a little weird. Getting mad incel vibes from her.” 
Your eyes roll back into your skull as you munch on cashews, “You’re getting vibes from someone you never talked to. She seemed cool at the interview.” 
“Yeah, 'cause vegetable debates are so note-worthy,” Amaya scoffs. 
She’s starting to sound a little too much like Abby, “I think y’all are forgetting that this is a temporary solution. I’m not tryna spend the rest of my fucking life with her! I need rent paid and she needs a place to stay for a few months.” 
Your best friend’s sigh drags through the line, “Alright… It seems like you made up your mind.” 
“Like I said, rent is due. I don’t have many options.” 
“Stop stressing. You found my replacement, apparently.” 
She pauses before hollering, “BITCH, IT’S SATURDAY! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU INSIDE? WHERE’S ABBY?” 
“Out smashing soccer players.” You huff. 
“Damn… My fault.” 
“I’m chilling. I just need head.” 
“Go out! Find somebody!” 
You groan, “Then I’ll have to shave— “
“Nair exists, you bonehead! Just go! You keep calling in a bad mood and it’s getting on my nerves!” 
You ponder and glance at your digital clock. It’s not even ten… Abby did tell you that Kappa was throwing.
“I can hear the engines turning in your big head. Bye.” 
Laughter explodes from you at the dial tone. 
“Hey, Siri… call Abby.” 
“CALLING ABBY BIG DICK SLUT— “
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Tonight has been a blur since you left your apartment. 
You remember making it halfway through Blam Boom before your speaker died, downing your last couple of shots of 1800, and Ubering to the location Abby pinged. 
It only took a few minutes for her to scoop you up onto the packed kitchen counter and shove her tongue in your mouth. One shout of I’m horny from you and she was yours for the rest of the night. 
Now you’re pressed up against some bathroom sink upstairs, Abby’s head shaking between your legs, your jeans and underwear flung onto the shower rail. Each flick of her tongue is both clumsy and precise, applying pressure exactly where you need it. 
Your clit’s throbbing under her tongue, the muscle igniting the flame in your tummy as your climax builds, zaps in your spine. Cries of her name meld with the booming music from outside, the walls rattling like nerves in your toes. 
Abby’s gorgeous under you, you know it, the drunk part of your brain knows it, your desperate cunt knows it, but you’re no longer thinking about her compared to earlier. Your mind is elsewhere, somewhere it shouldn’t be. 
You’re thinking of freckles. Green eyes instead of blue. Chapped, rosy lips, and you don’t know why. But you succumb to it. Ellie’s trapped underneath your eyelids, crowding your senses, your empty head suddenly full of images of her in any way you could conjure. 
Your orgasm shatters you, but you’re silent, trembling hand glued over your mouth as Abby groans in your cunt. She’s a doll, easing you back down to earth, dragging your underwear and pants up your shaky legs and getting you back home safely. 
When you’re showered and your teeth are brushed, she tucks you in, gently kissing your forehead. You beg her to stay with you, but she declines with I know how you get before silently departing. 
Your phone is squeezed between your fingers after minutes of trying to sleep, eyeing Ellie’s saved contact until darkness overtakes you. 
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The pounding on your door is worse than the ones from inside your skull. Fuck Tequila, from the bottom of your heart. Waves of nausea crash over you with every waddle, hobbling your hunched form over to yank the front door open. 
A bored Ellie stands in front of you, a large camera and headphones hanging from her neck, seemingly cozy in her sweater and puffer, large duffel bags packed to the brim with clothes dangling from her shoulders. Your cheeks warm instantly. Gray sweats, gray sweats—
“I’m here,” She states plainly. 
“… Why?” You croak.
Ellie’s seems just as confused as you, her eyes piercing as if her appearance is obvious. 
“To move in.” 
“… Why?”
Ellie sighs and snags her phone from her jacket pocket, swiping a few times before nearly blinding you with her screen. 
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Your jaw nearly hits the floor. When the fuck did you send that? 
“So, I’m here,” she slips her device back in her pocket. “Which room am I in?” 
“E-Ellie, uh… there's been a mis— “
“Look,” she holds her pale, veiny hands up. “I don’t wanna beat around the bush anymore. I got evicted and I need a place to stay until I secure this job. I’m willing to put down whatever’s needed for rent but I don’t have time to bullshit.” 
Ellie proceeds, sarcasm slipping, “Respectfully.” 
She pushes past your stunned form, bags accidentally brushing against your bare legs. You can't even move to stop her; You merely watch Ellie shuffle to inspect the living room, the small kitchen, pausing in front of the abstract painting you made for your dad before eventually moving down the hall and into Amaya’s empty space. How the fuck did she get in the building, anyway?
Your deer-like eyes lock with her void, mossy ones as she peers over her shoulder. 
“I still have some stuff to pick up. Please leave my key under the mat if you go somewhere.” 
Before she enters the empty room next to yours, you hear her gruffly say, “Leave the lease on the table so I can sign it, too.”
Amaya’s — Ellie’s door slams shut seconds later, the soft click of the door locking follows suit. 
What the fuck just happened. Gall almost surpasses your anger. The audacity...
For the first time, you’re grateful that your shift is in two hours. You need to get the fuck out of here before you cause a scene and catch a case. 
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tagggiiiesss missed yall ;3 : @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane
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n3ptun1cal · 28 days
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I MADE ANOTHER REGRETEVATOR AU. YAAAAAAAAY
this time its where I make all the NPCs into CRITTERS!! MORE ABOUT IT BELOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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the ABOVE lampert design was made by @lucid-daydreaming-art hi lucid the above infected design was made by @unoriginal-and-dumb hi unodum also the isopod (kasper critter) design was made by @deceasedabyss YAY If you wanna know more about what I have so far read below LOL
BASICALLY this AU is just a universe where all of them are small, everything in their world is small so they never evolved to be bigger because they didnt have a need to. not super creative but I might expand on that later the NPCs names have been replaced, so Prototype is named Byte, Kasper is named Isopod, and Lampert is named Grub. Essentially, their names can be anything but they must be short and sweet. obviously im going to tie IKEA into this because I can, basically how I see it is that IKEA is one of the only floors that acts as a central hub for multiple people from different universes to meet in, which would probably explain the reason why theres multiple lamperts who know of each other's existences.. (if that was already explained though let me know LOL im a little dense) ANYWAY the reasoning for how or why lampert or infected would ever be able to hold Grub and Isopod is because these stupid critters somehow got trapped in IKEA and made their way onto the elevator out of curiosity and a need to escape.. although I doubt the employees would even bother to attack things that are literally the size of an apple tldr; i made an au where there are smaller versions of the npcs because i thought it was funny and also a silly idea but I wanted to expand on it because making an AU just to make small versions of the NPCs is BOORRRIIIINNGGGG and everything needs to have a story because I am!!! in love with this game and its characters. YAY thanks for reading my 7 am ramble I need sleep i almost forgot to mention that this all stemmed from this stupid doodle that I made in jackbox today
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