@theartofmadeline
occasionally subtle
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Misplaced Lens Cap
⁂
Three Goblin Art
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
titsay
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
will byers stan first human second
DEAR READER
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
JVL
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
noise dept.
Not today Justin
tannertan36
Janaina Medeiros
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@hopevariable
@gutrage @tosball @teleidoscopic @thefifthtm @kingtaker23 @calculatur @astralyte @anautisticaquarius @dumewolfa @negotiiator @captain-atom @roseabove @goldauric @herheal @intensediscipline @hraunwyf @blvebee @emergentai @synthmama @cosmicrayed @archived-dcvilcomplex
Ray-Ban Sunglasses
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I live. Just so yall know.
a fun personal life update: i got a ton of money on christmas for building a pc with and i just got it to work and im 😢
Without a plan, technically nothing can really go wrong.
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like this post for a starter or for me to come into your dms to plot uwu
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|| synthmama ||
“Did I get your name wrong? Sorry about that – I’m better with faces.” The apology rolls off the tongue as easily as water might roll off a duck, and both hands splay out, placating. It’s when he brings out the Pip-Boy that something shifts in Quinn’‘s stare; a little sharper, a little more hawkish. She leans forward, eyes squinting to get a better look at the device for a brief moment before rising back to her height once more.
“Pip-Boy looks like it wasn’t taken off easy. You tend to see that when they’re taken offunwillingly.” Here, her statement is punctuated with a lift of a brow, and a thought that sinks like a knife in the back of her mind. How are you any better? Wasn’t yours lifted from a corpse? “What vault did you say you came from, again?”
“Yep. Plasma rifle. Burned like a motherfucker.” Hawthorne’s sleeves aren’t drawn; it can’t be seen whether he had the matching burn scar on either wrist. He pauses to take another drag from the cigarette. “Haven’t found any straps for replacing it yet. Every vault I been to has a different model. Too different to use.”
He turns to slide the Pip-Boy back into the rucksack when she asks him about his vault. His eyebrow twitches, almost imperceptibly. That might be just the question to ask. Or maybe he’s getting tired of playing 20 Questions. Either way he answers quickly enough.
“Twenty Four.” He replies. “S’north of the Nevada wastes, but east a’ New California.”
Starter: @hopevariable
The days in Edgewater merged together, only adding to the vicar’s annoyance with his situation. All of these days wasted lazing around on his ass, when he could be out there finding that damned book.
Chauncey told him it would be here. Yet even with scouring nearly every corner of the city, Maxwell found nothing more than saltuna and sad, sad excuses for people. For all he knew, it was probably laying outside the city walls on some untouched shelf.
Yet he couldn’t risk the adventure himself.
A disgruntled sigh escaped the man as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Between getting imprisoned for even mentioning his sesrch for the book and purposely stationing himself in this shithole of a city, his patience was running very thin. The vicar clenched his eyes shut for a moment, taking another deep breath to keep from causing a scene within the OSI chapel.
And then he heard footsteps. They were a tad heavy, nothing too out of the ordinary for the town's citizens who trudged into the chapel with their boots covered in muck.
“Yes, what is it-”
Upon looking up from his desk, Maxwell saw an unfamiliar individual enter the room. They certainly did not look like any other Edgewater citizen. No. They were rather healthy and equipped. Not gangly and paled, their complexion was rather flushed.
And they were missing that signature look behind their eyes. They looked alive. Not worn down to the point of heightened nihilism or driven to the point of insanity.
Yet.
“You’re on outsider. Fantastic! Vicar Maximillian DeSoto, at your service. Or Vicar Max, if you’re the sort that prefers brevity. I so rarely get new people to talk to. Name your poison, anything at all.
Spiritual counseling? This season’s tossball predictions-” he scoffed a bit “-the quickest way out of town?”
The warm winds that heralded the rapidly approaching typhoon of glorious change walked into the chapel on that afternoon. He walked in on two legs wearing a getup straight out of some retro sci-fi serial, tubes and all. He had a shock of rocket-red hair in a lazy mohawk, and he appraised the interior of the chapel with equal parts intrigue and suspicion.
Swept up in the offworlder’s tailwind was Ms. Holcomb. She followed on his heels, and appeared no less uncomfortable within the chapel as she usually did. Her eyes were tracing the immaculate designs in the molding.
The stranger on the other hand had turned the corner into the Vicar’s office, and now gave his full attention to Max. If at a distance his eyes seemed alive against the backdrop that the residents provided, they seemed even moreso up close. Hazel irises sat within sockets on a face smeared with the remnants of engine grease. They met the Vicar’s gaze unflinchingly.
When he spoke, the stranger perched a hand on his hip, rested his weight on one leg. His voice carried the undercurrents of some sort of accent. Not quite a southern United States twang. Perhaps something from the midwest? It was both similar to and refreshingly separate from the accent shared by much of Edgewater. His whole appearance a breath of fresh air.
“Spiritual counseling? What sorta organized religion does a town like this have?”
Well, if he’d seemed particularly knowledgeable when he’d walked in here, the stranger had certainly disproved that notion with one sentence. The question was clearly genuine.
og atom: i dont feel real
tow atom: its dissociation^2!
thinking about reintroducing og atom's loss of identity following amnesia, since that was like, his whole THEME originally and im sad that i left it behind when moving him over to tow.
im thinking he was shot and lost his memories back on earth, was eventually found by his brother(s) and reintroduced to his old identity. but he still has trouble remembering things, and his memories of earth are fading fast. which exaserbates his anxiety when it comes to [SPOILER]
so now he feels a dissociation from time (because skip flu/TTD) AND a dissociation from the people and places around him when he cant recall them AND a dissociation from his place of origin because he cant remember it and will likely never go home. his desparation to crack open the HOPE and let the colonists free stems mostly from a scrambling sense of panic that he might lose every identifyable part of himself again. his ties to his past and thus his identities die with time and with the colonists if he cannot wake them.
would not be surprised if TTD exaserbates his memory loss and dissasociation.
SEMI-SELECTIVE || CANON ROLEPLAY || OC/CROSS-OVER FRIENDLY
VICAR MAX FROM THE OUTER WORLDS
SITE || RULES || BIOGRAPHY
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thinking about reintroducing og atom's loss of identity following amnesia, since that was like, his whole THEME originally and im sad that i left it behind when moving him over to tow.
im thinking he was shot and lost his memories back on earth, was eventually found by his brother(s) and reintroduced to his old identity. but he still has trouble remembering things, and his memories of earth are fading fast. which exaserbates his anxiety when it comes to [SPOILER]
Gently easing back into Atom by reblogging gay posts
Ok imagine cuddlin a boy and hes half asleep nd got his hand on your chest and you wrap your arms around him and he makes a cute little noise and cuddles closer to your chest and his hand grips your hoodie….. im Soft…
man. what is it with the intrinsic gay urge to boogie. i literally cannot stand still. at any given moment i am gettin down just a little bit. grocery store line? im dancin. waiting for my water to boil? you betcha. why don’t we just let Go
hey whats up i just got back from a vacation to visit my grandparents for christmas. it was amazing. now im sick. these cough drops taste terrible. help.
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|| synthmama ||
“Tourist, huh?” Her stare matches his own in its even, unbreaking manner, but there is something almost catlike in the way she stares at him. A hand brackets the jut of her hip as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other; glancing absentmindedly at the crowd milling over by the noodle joint. Amidst that cluster, a man in shades tilts his face just barely to look back at her. Her mouth thins, but she turns back to Hawthorne.
“Never would’ve guessed from looking at you – you got a geiger counter, Alec?”
“It’s Alex.” He corrects her. “And yes. Why, you lookin’ to prove my vaultie status? Got my pip-boy right in.... here.”
He reaches back into his rucksack, digs into on of the front pockets, and pulls out a worn looking Pip-Boy. It’s not the same model as hers, not by a long shot. Boxy angles and a wider screen, even what looks like a completely different control scheme, if the buttons are any indication. The reason he’s not wearing it is very clear. The wrist strap is burnt through completely. The rest of it looks like it’s been replaced part by part over the years, and had its guts ripped out multiple times. But the strap stays unfixed.
i just turned in my last paper. please celebrate by liking this post for a starter!
I might jump in your dms to plot.
