âNo one should have to feel alone on Valentineâs Day. If you need some LOVE, Iâve got plenty to go around.~â
â...â
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

Origami Around
Show & Tell

⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
noise dept.
Misplaced Lens Cap


çĽćĽ / Permanent Vacation
trying on a metaphor

oozey mess

#extradirty
Jules of Nature
occasionally subtle
wallacepolsom
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Cosmic Funnies
hello vonnie

pixel skylines

Kaledo Art
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from T1

seen from Germany

seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Australia

seen from Italy

seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Italy
@felledchild
âNo one should have to feel alone on Valentineâs Day. If you need some LOVE, Iâve got plenty to go around.~â
â...â

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@felledchild
Something small and warm barreled right into her â but naturally, she was much bigger, and the poor thing bounced right off of her belly.
âMy goodness! I am so sorry! Are you alright, my chiâŚ?â
She trailed off, eyes widening.
âMy childâŚâ
Her heart seized in her chest, body tensing. First Asriel, and now another poor, innocent youth she had failed, staring back at her. It could be no one else; they were even wearing that same striped sweater, from so very many years ago.
âChara?âÂ
Kneeling down immediately, her eyes welled with tears. She placed both hands on the childâs shoulders, looking them up and down for any signs of harm. Their cheeks were rosy, their eyes bright, body warm, so warm that Toriel could not hold back from crying. It felt like only moments ago that she had held her childâs hand, cold, frail, and limp. But in this place, pale sickness was nowhere to be found â death had not taken the honey gleam from their eyes.
Placing a hand on Charaâs cheek, Toriel smiled through her tears. Whether or not her heart believed in second chances, her hands could feel a warm, kind truth.
âIt is you, is it not? Are you hurt? How long have you been here alone?â Her expression faltered, her smile thinning with pain. âI was not here with you⌠I could not protect you. But I am here now, Chara. And I will not leave you.â
[ âż ]Â Â Itâs HER.
     Certainly, Charaâs eyes aimed to deceive. Toriel Dreemurr stood before the child, her voice just as somber and as gentle as Chara had remembered clear as day.  They remembered clearly the sound of her voice when the child had initially fallen into the underground, when they had initially been invited into the Dreemurr familyâs home as one of their own.
    Chara remembered this clearlyâthe womanâs voice spurred this on.
    Torielâs fur felt just as soft as Chara recalled. It tickled just a bit. Torielâs hands, huge just as she herself is, remain firm upon the childâs shoulders. Her voice saturated with worry and fear, Chara could only stare blankly at her. Even now, they struggle with conveying how they feel. Still, they struggle with reciprocating in KIND. Toriel was brought to TEARS and Chara couldnât even respond properly.
    Instead, the child simply SMILES.
    âIâve been fine, Mrs. Dreemurr.â Still they could not bring themself to call this woman âmotherâ.
    âI did not expect to see you⌠I see sunlight, and⌠the barrierâwhat happened to the barrier?â
    Charaâs eyebrows perk, the smile long faded.
    âAnd Mr. Dreemurr? And⌠and everyone?â
Anon or not I'd like to hear your thoughts on how I play my character! Critiques as well as good points welcome!
Itâs a tiny little thingâ smaller than most of the fleshies heâd seen. Stubby legs, tiny limbs, and a pair of glaring red eyes to go with the whole package. He never cared much for the inhabitants of that rock then, and he canât say he does now. It had balked as he approached, clearly not what had been expected to emerge from the darkness, so he took some personal satisfaction in the unsettled expression plastered on their face.
That, and the way the struggled for the toothpick that had clattered to the ground. What had they intended to do with it, maybe chip his paint? Hah.
âNot lookinâ for a fight? Not what it looks like to me, saddling one of my mates like heâs your private transport.â Said âmateâ is promptly the recepient of a sharp look, which is understood immediately. Legs clank as Righty crawls to his side and scales his body, metal shifting with a hiss as it promptly molds out of shape and attaches to the empty spot where his right arm was, and now is. One flex of the newly returned digits, a satisfied nod, and Chop Shop attention returns to his so-called âcaptiveâ. Of all the things, the âmonsterâ comment draws a snort-like noise out of him.
âSounds like somebodyâs never learned manners. Ainât no monster, fleshie, Iâm a Cybertronian. Cybertron isnât nearly as muddy as your scrap planet. â Now with a free arm at his disposal, he hoists the child up a bit higher and jabs a metal finger at their stomach, both a warning and a need out of curiosity.
âOi, Iâm the one asking the questions here. Donât get ahead of yourself, not when ya got nothing to back it up.â As if to drive it home, one pede inches dangerously close to the faux weapon on the ground. âLetâs get down to business, then. Why did ya decide to follow Righty, and what makes ya think Iâd care for a hostage? You ainât worth much.â
[ ⿠] Cyber⌠tronian?
     Charaâs brows knit together, confusion clear on their face. No such thing existed, the child thought momentarily. For the briefest of moments, all shows of struggle ceased in favor of bewilderment. Red eyes narrowed and examined the mechanical being from top to bottom, taking in the creatureâs very make-up to the best of the childâs own analytical ability.
    Truth be told, Chop Shop is an incredibly ALIEN creature to Chara.
    In fact, if Chara wasnât in the right state of mind, they would consider themself to be dreaming of something theyâve once watched on a Saturday morning. Besides, that little robot bug just attached itself to the robotâs shoulder as though it had always belonged there!
    âScrap planetâno, this place isnât made of scrap, as much as it is made of dirt and water⌠Are youâare you an alien?â
    The childâs eyes seemed to light up.
    âAn alien⌠robot? If I am not mistakenâŚ-- ahââ
    The metallic digit dug hard into Charaâs torso, resulting in the childâs brief recoil to clutch an sore stomach. That bewilderment washed away instantaneously afterward. Now, Chara felt ANNOYED.
    âI expected your arm to be someoneâs pawn. ⌠Someone more human.â Charaâs response was given at a slowed pace. âI didnât expect it to be a pawn for a robot. Now, put me down. If youâif you have no use for me, then put me down.â
    Chara would find a way to weasel back into this mechâs personal space, anyways.
ok kids for this beautiful little event, chara will be traveling forward in time, specifically down the true pacifist route piggybacking friskâs soul, basically! what that entails is chara slowly relearning âloveâ and âcompassionâ through friskâs general kindness towards the other monsters, so in turn as the time hiccups happen, chara will mellow out bit by bit!!! for anyone interested, please like this post~

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   [ âżÂ ] âYou lotâll yell and complain about anything, huh.â
It was jarring to hear that Chara didnât know them. Frisk was aware that time was not linear in this city, but they expected Chara to know them. They couldnât show weakness, though. They had to make themself seem calm. It seemed they had a chance to start over with the other child.
âThereâs no need to call me child. If I know you, you should know me too, but it seems we havenât met yet for you. But weâve met in my time, and I was hoping youâd know me too.â
Frisk gave the a respectful nod of their head. They tried to seem less formal and more friendly, but it was hard. They didnât really get on well with Chara.
âMy name is Frisk, and Iâm the eighth human to fall into the underground, and the last. Itâs good to meet you when we arenât sharing headspace.â
[ âż ] Charaâs head tilted to the left, eyes narrowed as ideas ran their course. Frisk knew who Chara was, yet the same could not be said in the inverse. Charaâs confusion shows through brief frustration highlighted upon twisting features.
   The-- the eighth human to fall into the Underground?
   Now, Chara committed Friskâs name to memory. A child from the future? Or was Chara from the past? The child could not be too certain and if they sat down to think about it then their head would just spin. Time travel just isnât feasible. Not realistically, anyways.
   âYouâre lying.â A pause settles in. The whole time travel thing is actually being taken into consideration. Sharing a headspace, though? Slightly more conceivable, provided Friskâs intentions mirrored Charaâs. After all, one thing that Chara could not doubt was their own DEATH. (Being alive and breathing was something to consider as well, but in this particular circumstance it was an unimportant detail)
   â... What date is it? Whatâs today?â Where am I, even?
Unlike Chara, Frisk knew who they were looking at right away. They didnât like it, not one bit. They had never gotten along with Chara. they knew Chara wasnât all bad, but they also disliked that Chara just decided to take a lift in their body. It basically spoiled any affection they could have for the ghost.
Their eyes were draw to the blade. They felt their hand twitching for their pocket, where they used to keep a weapon of their own. Of course, there was nothing there. Not even a stick. Instead, they met Charaâs eyes, like a dog challenging another for dominance.Â
âHowdy Chara. I see youâre in the city as well.â If this was Chara, surely they knew them as well. Their eyes flicked to the blade once again. âWould you put that away? Unless youâre planning to stab me, good luck with a wooden weapon, itâs not going to do you any good here.â
[ âż ] âThat weapon wonât do you any goodâ.
   That child was absolutely RIGHT, too. How disgusting, thought Chara. A forced chuckle slipped past an equally forced smile as Chara withdrew the blade.
   âMy apologies,â was the childâs haphazard response.
   It was nothing short of DISTURBING how this stranger not only bore Charaâs appearance, but knew Charaâs NAME as well. Why was that? Who IS this child, anyways? Curiosity nags at the childâs nerves, further grounding their feet into the ground and further browsing mental cabinets for QUESTIONS to ask.
   âHow do you know me?â The village had no such person in its populace. As far as Chara remembered, they were the only human in the Underground back then. So how did this child know Chara at all?
   â⌠Forgive my prying, but it is a valid concern. I hope you understand, child.â
[ âż ] Chara must be just seeing things.
    From this perspective, it appeared as though there existed the childâs splitting image. Itâs a little disturbing, if one were to ask for the childâs opinion of this. The thought to approach and question did not befall Charaâs mindâinteracting with oneâs doppelganger is an omen of DEATH, or so the legend foretold.
    Well, it was far too late for that. The stranger approaches and the grip on this wooden blade tightens.
    âDo you need anything?
    Just go away, they thought.
//Â âż @passafrisk
âż Kinship
@felledchild
This was the first time that Daisy had actually considered back alleys to be a good thing. He could avoid people here and thus avoid the urge to mindlessly slaughter them all. He would also have more space and more quietâŚ. Less light⌠Less everything. It was to be appreciated here.
    Well, back alleys were good within reason.
What the young man didnât like was the fact that there were certain kinds of people that liked to dwell in these places. People that he didnât want to deal with at all. Heâd much rather deal with your standard passerby compared to whatever else he could encounter in these sorts of places.
Though the kid he had in front of him right now wasnât one of those kinds of people. Perhaps in spirit, but definitely not in body.
It gave Daisy somewhat of a melancholic feeling, watching them clutch the wooden knife they had probably gotten from the scientists as if he was longing for something else. Longing for whatever those cruel people had taken away from them. Sentiments such as these were something that he didnât often share. He had found that they were bad. Bad thoughts and feelings that he should repress, no, he should erase them from his mind.
That had been drilled into him for years and years, but he was out of there now. Free from that spiel⌠Only to be trapped in another one.
He dangled Bubu in his hand loosely as he approached the kid, clearing his throat before speaking.
         âI was disappointed too when I saw what they had done to my weapon⌠These scientists are awful.â
He had already dropped his act before even talking to this child. It wasnât necessary to play pretend with them.
[ âż ] Chara needed to get away. Somewhere. ANYWHERE. Anywhere that wasnât here. Anywhere where there wasnât such a disgustingly abundant with people. It felt as though in every direction was another clump of disgusting NOISE that the child felt compelled to ignore. It was difficult, however, when cities were quite literally SATURATED with men and women all scrambling to get to their next destination without so much as a sliver of care for their surroundings. Chara had been pushed and shoved aside in this condensed sector enough times to incite the decision to FLEE.
  And so, Chara FLED.
  The only place available to detach oneâs self from the living in a big city is damp alleys where no self-respecting human being would dare get close to without reason, or if they were scummy enough. With breathing room now bestowed upon the child, those eyes now settle downward in order to stare at this pathetic excuse for a weapon still in their hands.
  A KNIFE crafted with wood.
  A stranger cleared their throat in the childâs vicinity, resulting in a stiffening of the shoulders and a swift swivel to face this new DISTURBANCE.
  âAre you⌠patronizing me?â
  This stranger bore the likeness of some sort of ABOMINATION. That probably tells many tales of why this particular individual chose to wander into a damp alleyway and converse with a child.
  âTsk. There is no point for knives to be made of wood.â A pause settles in as the childâs gaze flickers back to the wooden weapon. âHaha⌠am I supposed to defend myself with something so brittle? I suppose it doesnât matter now. I understand that you hold a wooden weapon of your own?â
  âThatâs just sad.â

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âlets do my startersâ i said just before getting stupidly invested in threading with a robot
Itâs very clear the thing has no intent of letting go, tiny hands clinging tight to shiny metal despite his best efforts to dislodge them from his person. Itâs ridiculousâ grip like steel and voice like a whisper. A turned head only offers him a glimpse of stripes, and pale skin, and the idea of a fleshie clinging to his exterior is enough to earn a wince.
Nevertheless, he doesnât give up, flailing limbs and attempting to spin faster, only to end up confusing his processor in the process. Righty stumbles, nearly ends up tripping up one leg before the soft voice rings out. It draws confusion at first, then a displeased noise at the suggestion. Hostage for what?Â
âBoss wouldnâtââ
This is interrupted by an abrupt screeching sound, the door on the clearly decrepit garage a dozen feet away, sliding up on unoiled gears. The interior is dark, and for a moment nothing moves, but a large red shape emerges slowly with loud footsteps accompanying it.
âOh, ferââ The voice that comes out is clearly unimpressed, full body finally visible as a servo rests on a hip. Bright yellow optics take in the scene with disbelief, merely a second passing before the larger robot crosses the short distance in a mere few strides.Â
âThâ scrap is this, Righty? Ya canât even handle one of these itsy organics?âÂ
That being said, before the child can react, a pair of digits lean down and pinch the back of their shirt, hoisting them up to his level to more evenly get a glimpse at all four eyes boring into them.Â
âArenât you a little cocky, thinkinâ you can hitch a ride on one of us? Iâve drank energon cubes bigger than you!â
[ âż ] In hindsight, the hostage situation was a WEAK bargaining chip. Nevertheless the child refuses to budge. Â This unusual creature was far too intriguing a catch to even consider releasing for a momentâs notice. Chara wished to know what kind of BOSS this robot worked for. Bit by bit, the childâs grip reaches its limit. Every so often, they would slip further and further down the iron-cast abdomen. Â Desperately, determinately, Chara maintains a steadfast grip, refusingâabsolutely REFUSING to let go. The childâs face strains itself with concentration and struggle, fingers trying so hard to dig into flesh that simply did not exist if only to hold onto this panicked prey for just a moment longer. Perhaps it will tire out. Perhaps the boss it called out for would not come.
  That was, however, simply WISHFUL thinking.
  The nearby garage door creeks open, its harsh screeches startling Chara into attentiveness for surroundings. Silence plagued the twoâs surroundings. This very silence triggered an urge for DEFENSE. Swiftly, the child slid off the ant-like robotâs abdomen and raised a wooden blade forth.
  The footsteps that follow were not reminiscent of a humanâs. They bore heavy weight in each step. VERY heavy weight. Still, Chara is steadfast and ready. Though fear begins to settle upon the childâs nerves, the child stays strong. That steadfast stance, however, fades in time.
  The voice that pierces through its shadowy veil sounded loud, almost close by without being close at all. Whatever was speaking had to be HUGE. That was what Chara thought initially and now since proven wrong.
  What approaches was not human. It was not a monster, either. Charaâs eyes widen at the sight that peers beyond the darkness, mouth slightly agape. That grasp upon the knife trembles slightly. As theâthe, the THING approaches, Chara realizes just how SMALL they are in comparison. In one swift motion, the child was lifted off the ground with a startled yelp, the wooden blade clattering on the pavement below. As Chara was being lifted, both hands struggle to reach a knife too far away to even dream of regaining again. Once the forced elevation stopped, crimson eyes would meet a double set of yellow ones. How UNSETTLING.
  That THING looked robotic up close. Any child would find the sight of a real-life robot to be a dream come true, but in this particular situation, Chara wanted it SCRAPPED.
  âShut up. I was not looking for a fight.â  What a blatant lie. âYou must be that little creatureâs boss, then.â Charaâs calm voice betrayed the furious gaze cast upon that metallic frame. âMy expectations were not within this, um⌠range. I thought âRightyâsâ boss would be smaller. What are you? Youâre no monster⌠Monsters could not reach the surface unless the barrier has been shattered. Even so, youâre no monster Iâve seen before.â
Of all the places to end up, it had to be another rat cage. Larger, more populated, and certainly not in a stasis pod, but a cage none the less. And if thereâs one thing Chop Shop hated, it was being in a cage.
After a bit of rather angry destruction in private, heâd taken it upon himself to decide it time to do a more thorough search of his new home. Despite the limiting of his seperations (something he could hardly grasp as possible, but decided to keep in mind), heâd sent both Righty and Lefty out on a little excursion, their smaller size making it easier to scuttle around undetected.
At least, that was what had been thought. After a few hours of scouting, the smaller robot was making itâs way back to where he knew his boss would be hiding out from the prying eyes of the civilization around them. It hadnât even noticed the tiny fleshie hiding in the shadows, intent solely on return. Itâs when he pauses outside, taking a quick look around before moving to head in, that heâs promptly jumped.
A sharp yelp exits the Cybertronianâs mouth, scrambling around on legs in a panic from the abrupt large weight on itâs back. Righty didnât even see it coming, nevertheless prepare itself for an attack. Thereâs no way to zap the invasive creature, which leads to an attempt to take it off, but unfortunately, his arms werenât meant for reaching back that far.Â
Thus, this leads to a rather silly display of an ant-like robot trying to twirl in circles to shake off the thing attached to his abdomen, all the while itâs low raspy voice tries to call for assistance.
âB-BossâŚ!! Help!â
[âż] The prey has been nabbed and is now calling for help.
  Chara clung for dear life as the insect-like creature called out, running in circles trying its honest best to shake the child off. These hands were unwavering, however. Lest this robot has a glossy, waxed finish, the grip Chara held on this robot was STEADFAST.
  âBoss,â Chara mimicked in a whisper.  So, this creature had some sort of AUTHORITATIVE FIGURE to report back to, did it? Still, its calling for that particular individual spells trouble for the child. Teeth clenched beyond sealed lips at the realization that self-defense may prove useless in the end. Let go, or keep holding on. The child is faced with a split-second decision that challenged what Chara wanted out of this encounter. What did Chara want out of this? A pet? Bragging rights? Self-satisfaction?
  Oh, right. Chara was just having FUN.
  Nevertheless, curiosity now nags an already inquisitive childâs nerves. Still holding on tight despite grip slowly giving way, Charaâs lips parted and words burst through the ant-botâs cries for help.
  âYou should take me to your boss.â Another split-second decision surges. True, the child is ill equipped, but a little bit of DETERMINATION coupled with this onset curiosity will take this trip far enough to satisfy.
  âWould your boss not enjoy your taking home of a hostage?â
[ âż ]Â Monsters were not unusual for the child to see. They had come in all sorts of shapes and sizes, colors and attitudes, all of which exhibited what mankind would consider âsentienceâ. Monsters were BEASTS to humankind. Humankind, to Chara, is DISGUSTING.
   Chara wished to distance from the entire human race, to see that the world SUFFERS a fate it so well deserves. Thoughts dance within the childâs mind, depicting a vast distaste for humankind, for its horrid and self-sustaining nature and its desire to only survive and thrive if it is the most powerful species in the world. Humans craved POWER. A victim of circumstance and familial power struggles was what forged the child into a vindictive introvert.
  Curiously, those reddish eyes follow the every movement of an insect-like automaton as it skitters on by. Never in the childâs mind has such a creature ever been beheld. Sleek, like machinery, yet fully fluid in movements like a living creature typically was. Brows knit together as those eyes continue to lock onto their target. Slowly and confidently, the child follows on.
   It took a few minutes of walking before it looked as though the automaton stopped in its tracks. That was when the child POUNCED.
   The wooden blade had long been withdrawn (Chara needed TWO hands for this job) and the child launches upon the insect-like automatonâs abdomen, hands clutching at both sides as the child dangles with half of their own body still pressed down upon a steel coat.
   A certain SMILE crosses Charaâs lips; such a moment mimicked that of a child who just succeeded at catching a BUG for the first time.
   Needless to say, for some stupid reason, Chara felt PROUD of this catch.
//Â âż @rapinatrice
@felledchild liked for a starter!
   âOi, kid. Are you lost or something.â
   Although perhaps that wasnât the best way to start a conversation on how to get to his apartment, but it wasnât something thatâd make the conversation go downhill. Ichimatsu knew that it was probably a bad idea to ask a kid where to find a place or just randomly state that theyârw lost, but this kid doesnât seem that harmless to him.
   [ ⿠] âI donât need help.â
   Chara practically SPAT out those words. Anxiety fuels those unintentionally vicious words, tiny fingers enveloped a wooden bladeâs handle with a trembling grip. For the briefest of moments there existed an awareness that breath filters through living lungs. That a heartbeat exists and rattles this childâs ribcage in a rhythmic motion. This... NOISE from beyond disturbed this newfound self-awareness and in turn invoked a brief THREAT.
   Just as quickly as metaphorical fur stands on end, it settles down and the child eases up. Being surrounded by blotches of FILTH did not do the child any justice. All it did was invoke a since-dormant plan to wake up again.
   [ âż ]  â... My apologies, sirâ A disgustingly FAKE one at that. âI do seem to be lost. Where is this place?â

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Its 11am on a wednesday so RP AD!! ill cap it at 3, excluding castmates :V
   [ đź ] A... wooden knife.
   A WOODEN knife.
   A wooden KNIFE.