COMBXTPULSE;
an independent, selective, original character based in various military / medical IPs.
mains: @pittmash / @pittbats / @drhalepitt
[ GMT / 25 / written and regularly ruined by Lowen (they/them) ]
[ BIO / RULES ]

pixel skylines
Sweet Seals For You, Always

blake kathryn

Origami Around
Mike Driver
One Nice Bug Per Day

Kaledo Art

titsay
KIROKAZE

let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
will byers stan first human second
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

Discoholic 🪩

wallacepolsom
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Today's Document

#extradirty

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seen from Romania
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@combxtpulse
COMBXTPULSE;
an independent, selective, original character based in various military / medical IPs.
mains: @pittmash / @pittbats / @drhalepitt
[ GMT / 25 / written and regularly ruined by Lowen (they/them) ]
[ BIO / RULES ]

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Hangman is a great childhood game where you slowly draw a man killing himself if another child can't read your mind. I said what I said.
"This is why you were cut off after the fourth drink -".
i’m one of the lucky ones. because you survived? …aye, that too.
Floor Time
Send "Floor Time" to find my muse lying on the floor.
Did he remember how he'd ended up in this particular predicament? Not even slightly - though that didn't come as a surprise to the quiet, militant rational part of his brain, the part currently being smothered under a questionable amount of cheap liquor. Elias' tendency to wander off after one too many drinks was a well-documented, and occasionally amusing, habit that had dogged his heels throughout his adult life, regardless of the trouble it invited along with it.
The floor was blissfully solid, a stark contrast to his own unstable limbs, and the persistent urge to drift off , even against the rhythmic thrum of the club floor , was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. He didn't care. He wasn't moving from the spot he'd claimed, no matter who had a problem with it.
He cracked one eye open, squinting at the blurry silhouette hovering over him. "What? Take a picture - it'll last longer than starin' like that."
Floor Time - Reagan
Send "Floor Time" to find my muse lying on the floor.
Five minutes - that wasn’t too much to ask, was it? Just five minutes of not dealing with anyone or anything, save for the lingering warmth of the concrete against his back and the touch of a light breeze cutting through the humidity during his break.
Admittedly, the location wasn't ideal for a relaxation spot. But the far corner of the parking lot was blissfully quiet compared to actually being inside the building, and he was tucked safely next to his bike, well out of anyone’s way or interest.
At least, he’d thought so.
The crunch of footsteps on gravel shattered the illusion, and Elias’s shoulders tightened instinctively before he forced himself to relax. Apparently, even this sliver of solitude wasn't safe anymore.
He didn't bother getting up, merely tipping his head back against the concrete and offering a weary, slightly defensive glance.
"I’m down here on purpose, I swear."

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Call my muse by their full name, see how they respond.
I’m okay.
Floor Time
Send "Floor Time" to find my muse lying on the floor.
The first words out of Elias' mouth had, he wasn't ashamed to admit, been a truly impressive string of profanity in at least two languages - possibly three, if the indistinguishable, strangled noise he'd made upon first impact counted for anything. As far as Elias was concerned, the outburst was entirely warranted. Of all the places he’d been tagged during the usual paintball skirmishes, a direct shot to the back of the knee ranked pretty high up there on his list of grievances, having sent him to the floor with a bone-jarring, undignified thud.
It took him a good minute before he bothered to lift his head toward the sound of approaching footsteps. Whether his delay was due to the lingering, sharp throb in his joint or simply his severely wounded pride, well - that was for him to know. He offered a grimace that landed somewhere between genuine pain and practiced annoyance as he squinted up at the familiar face peering down at his sprawled form.
"If you don’t avenge me for that one," Elias wheezed, finally pushing himself into something resembling a seated position, "I'm taking it personally."
Floor time
Send "Floor Time" to find my muse lying on the floor.
Elias was almost certain that if it had been anyone but himself in the unfortunate position, he would have been in hysterics. The sheer, cartoon-like velocity with which he had gone from a composed speed-walk down the corridor to being flat on his back - slightly winded and staring up in bewilderment at the ceiling - was objectively absurd.
Instead, his immediate thought was hoping that the puddle beneath him was nothing more than spilled water, and that his ungraceful display of involuntary acrobatics had gone entirely unseen. That hope, however, vanished the moment he realized he was being watched, a realization that spurred a flush of growing, prickling dismay.
He remained on the floor , collecting his breath and his fractured dignity before looking up with a wry grimace.
"Well... I suppose that serves me right for rushing-".
🌸 from Merrill
Send a '🌸' for my muse's reaction to yours putting a flower in their hair.
It wasn't often that Elias found himself truly enjoying the morning, especially when it was, by all metrics, a rather mundane affair for him. He was as far as he could possibly be from his next shift and as close as he could get to his much-needed bed, yet there he had remained - perched on the front steps of the apartment building, entirely lost in his own head as he watched the street slowly stutter to life before his eyes.
He blamed this irregular wistful state of mind for his failure to immediately register that he had company. The sudden, sharp spike of adrenaline-infused panic at the lapse in hypervigilance and faint contact was quick to fade, however, calmed by two distinct realizations: the 'visitor' in question wasn't stranger at all, and that his own work-weary appearance had been quietly adorned with one of the random blooms that dotted the building's landscaping.
He didn't move to brush the flower away, a rare, soft smile replacing the concentrated frown that had been etched into his features.
"I'd ask what brought this on, but I'm probably too tired to handle the answer," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep-deprivation but warm with genuine affection. He glanced up at the Merrill, eyes crinkling slightly. "You sure picked a pretty one."

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characters who get the "i can fix him" urge not because theyre a saint who loves everyone inherently but because they think "if i can prove there's good in everyone, maybe i can start feeling like i'm worthy or being seen as good too."
@combxtpulse slid this across the desk: "How are you supposed to choose flowers? Like - do you go expensive or not? What even are half of them? I stood in that shop for twenty minutes muttering to myself. Pretty sure the florist looked at me like I was planning to turn up with a houseplant to a funeral. I'd have gone with just bringing her coffee but that didn't seem like a date thing. I do that every morning - feels a bit too 'we work in the same building' and not enough 'I'm trying to be sweet to you.' for a - first proper date."
"Okay well first of all." She gave the biggest grin, her voice turning a little gremliny. "I'm so fucking excited for you!"
Willow took a deep breath and recenters a little, "Okay, okay, okay." She brushed her fingers through the bottom of her braids. "So there's like a couple ways you can go about it. You could go the really old fashioned route which I'm actually a big fan of and pick based on the Victorian Flower language. Certain flowers mean certain things."
"So did you actually get any or do we need to remedy this still? Cause I kinda used to do a lot with herbology and still remember the flower language pretty well."
Elias let out a long, ragged breath he’d been holding since that morning and scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. The prickle of heat climbing his collar was a dead giveaway, despite his best attempts to play it cool.
"You’re the second person to semi-congratulate me." He let out a dry, self-deprecating huff, "I honestly don't know if it's a ringing endorsement of my charm or just a damning indictment of how much of a hermit you lot thought I was. Or, you know, still am."
In fairness, it wasn't a completely incorrect assumption to make.
He tilted his head, his brow furrowing in that inquisitive, quiet way , a mix of genuine relief and amusement settling in. He gestured vaguely toward her. "I really shouldn't be surprised that’s in your wheelhouse of tricks - it’s actually pretty fitting."
He gave a curt shake in the negative, looking down at his hands before meeting her gaze again "And no, I didn't want to show up with a half-dead cactus or something. If you're offering to save me from my own incompetence, I’ll take all the help I can get. I don't need to make some spectacular mistake on the first shot."
Swaying back on his heels, the true absurdity of the situation finally hitting him, and he let out a short, wry chuckle. "It’s ridiculous, isn't it? I feel like I've got the nerves of a teenager on prom night."
A mood , honestly.
"No such thing as too much cake - my sweet tooth is reaping the spoils. I'll deal with the regret later-"
Himiko - preceives Eli as like a German shepherd that glares down everyone but like a hand full of people then its like goofy dog. ( theres a more serious answer but i thought this was more fun)
HOW DOES YOUR MUSE PERCEIVE MY MUSE?
Spot the difference-

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HOW DOES YOUR MUSE PERCEIVE MY MUSE? ( bonus points for adding initial impressions versus how their opinion has changed and developed over time ).
If you, by some measure, end up in Elias’s inner circle or extremely close to him? Some symbol or the like that he links to you will eventually be incorporated into his tattoos.
It is not something he announces, nor something he explains outright. There is no ceremony to it, no quiet confession offered across a table or in the dim lull between conversations. In truth, most would never notice unless they were looking for it, and even then, they would not know what they were seeing. To anyone else, it is just another piece of ink among many, another fragment in the patchwork that maps his history across skin.
But it is always deliberate.
Elias does not carry sentiment in obvious ways most of the time. The tattoos are the exception. Not in their visibility, but in their permanence. They are the closest thing he allows to something lasting, something that cannot be shrugged off or dismissed. An eternal reminder of those connections that keep him around.
So when someone becomes… significant, in the rare way that matters, it finds its way there.
Not names. Never anything so simple or so easily understood. It is always something more abstract, something that requires knowing the person in question to even begin to interpret. A shape, a motif, a line worked subtly into an existing piece. Sometimes it mirrors something that belongs to them. Sometimes it is something he associates with them alone. The meaning is precise, even if the design is not immediately clear.
Here's a rather sharpish rundown of the tattoos he currently has that actually have ties to other people. Most are smaller, hidden, or worked into larger pieces he already had, as to not stand out too much. But all have a decent amount of dedication put into them, in his own way.
Jack: There's two; one meaningful, one partly joking. The meaningful one is a leaf from a Rose of Jericho, a plant known to cycle between death and life and survive hostile environments for long stretches of time without much in the way of water or care. It felt like an obvious choice. The other is a teddy bear, in reference to the long-standing nickname. ( @pittmash )
Weylen: A peony, entwined with the leaf from above. Often associated with recovery, renewal, and bouncing back from hardship, it felt more than a little fitting. He was genuinely tempted to get a rubber duck at one point, and part of him still thinks that would have been funnier - if a little less aesthetically pleasing.
Dylan: Though it sort of seems like another joking one, he has a small pair of angel wings on the same side as his bullet scar. Originally it was a tongue-in-cheek nod to him joking that she was his guardian angel that day. It's taken on a lot more meaning since then.
Himiko: The outline of a book spine in abstract, specifically one with visible mending along the edges. Worn and repaired and still standing. ( @pittbats )
Igraine: A forget-me-not flower, worked into the bouquet of sunflowers representing his late sister, because 'you two would have gotten along and paired up to annoy me.' He means it as the highest possible compliment too. ( @drhalepitt )
Bonus:
When he's told he's going to be a godfather, he has a small flower bud added to the entwined pair. It sits closed, tucked between the peony and the leaf, waiting. The understanding at the time was that it will later be replaced with a flower of his goddaughter's choosing, whenever she's old enough to pick one.