wuzzafuzzle: (Ava Sokka big smiles)
[personal profile] wuzzafuzzle

okay so i'll put up some prompts for them..... once i can brain some D: but in the mean time feel free to leave me anything - a prompt, a picture (or set of pictures), a tfln, or a like tdm style thing for any game i'm familiar with 8|a IDK I'LL ROLL WITH IT AND IF I HAVE QUESTIONS, I WILL TRACK YOU DOWN NO WORRIES
weareboth: icon by hollow-art, flowercrown slapped on top (Default)
[personal profile] weareboth
A.) Where are you and why are you fighting with a bird?

B.) I just had a sex dream about orange juice, so there's that.

C.) apparently i came home last night raving about goats and singing songs from muppet treasure island

D.) I had a spiritual reading tonight and my dead grandmother called me a whore.
mazemaker: (pic#8329212)
[personal profile] mazemaker
[ CDC-VERSE; last drop's prompts ]
[ It's all too familiar - he remembers it again, that too blue room, with Teresa's face above him, those words 'Wicked is good'. But there's more added in there, flashes of a room more sterile white, people in coats he knows are lab coats, masks covering their faces. Not all human faces, and Thomas remembers panicking, but he'd been so bleary, so out of it, limbs moving slow and words coming slower. After that, it was the hanger bays, all kinds of bizarre and grand mechanics he's never seen before. While they aren't as monumental as the maze, the complexity is still startling, building the anxiety in him that's already sky rocketing, making his heart pound in his chest. 'CDC' he sees on one of the walls, and the memories start to flood back again. They'd made it out. Lost so many of them, but they were out of the maze. It seemed like the home stretch, but they reached that operations room, with the carnage scattered around and the pungent stink of decay only just beginning to set in.

The blond woman on the screen. She offered him a deal. Thomas goes, only Thomas, and completes this job for them. Joins this Cosmic Demolition thing and apply himself as best he can, fight to survive as he did in the maze, and the rest of the Gladers would be free. They'd be given safe haven, taken back to their families (whose pictures flashed across the screen). All he had to do was work for them. Not WICKED. Another group. But how different could it really be? He wanted, so badly, to tell her no. Not again, never again. But with the others, and Chuck, who he'd promised to get back to his parents, there wasn't another choice. Against the others' protests, he'd agreed. And now, here he is, near hyperventilating as someone in what looks like a very slim space suit shoves a duffle bag into his arms, and starts to push him towards the edge of the hanger dock. Mind catching up with his body, finally, despite the light headed dizziness, Thomas's eyes turn to the direction he's being pushed, and over the edge of the dock. Into the gaping worm hole in the middle of goddamn space. The CDC officer behind him gives him another terse shove at the back of his shoulders, and Thomas is digging his heels in, arms flailing as he tries to keep balance and get the hell away from the space-chasm. ]

No-- nonononono, wait! Wait! [ Panic is screaming in him anew, and it rings so much of when he'd watched Ben be shoved into the maze, exiled from the Glade. He manages to get hands on the CDC worker, clinging to his shoulders, but something along the lines of 'stop whining, recruit' is muttered out before he's bodily shoved over the edge. All he hears for so long is his own hoarse screaming as he falls, and then something like electricity striking all around him when the ship disappears, and all he sees are the luminous colors of the Bridge. It's shortlived, and soon enough, the scenery changes - frigid, icy air stinging at his cheeks like so many needles, and the rush of air past his ears, making his eyes water too much to see anything straight. The screeches of the Shai swarming aren't even heard until he feels himself suddenly flop onto the snow below. Not quite the fatal splatter that he'd been expecting, not that he's complaining.

All he has time for is a pained groan, as the teenager rolls over to his back, wincing at his aching bones, before there's that screeching that he's finally keying into. Coming from directly above him, and closing in fast. It speaks way too much of Grievers, minus the mechanical whir, and adrenaline spikes, eyes snapping open to take in the alien for only a fraction of a second, before he's rolling away and scrambling. So much like the maze, the same blaring fear pounding in his head, but luckily not freezing him. Just run. Survive, run. His worn boots carry him swift across the snow, pretty damn fast for a scrawny kid like Thomas, but he's had experience. He barely recognizes the massive nests as what they are - nests, but he's weaving through them as the Shai above tries its whole projectile vomit thing. Luckily, Thomas isn't hit head on, but some does splatter against the side of a nest and splash a good amount on his right arm. He panics, worried that it might be acid or worse, but instead, it's just gross. Ew comes to mind, inappropriately for the situation, but the alien's gaining on him from what he can hear. Risking a quick glance over his shoulder, he's nearly right on top of him.

He ducks around boulders, skids under over hangings, but there's no where safe enough to hide from this thing. These things. That's about when a large, steel crate slams down into the earth just a couple feet to his right, and Thomas jumps with a surprised SHIT!. He nearly loses his balance, but his attention snaps up from where it came from. The boxes are falling along with the other recruits. And boulders. Wow. Fantastic. That's just perfect.

Actually... it sort of is just perfect. Watching the sky, Thomas checks for the path the other boxes and boulders are taking, where they're likely to fall, trying to work up in his head about when they'll hit the ground. Finding the perfect one - nice and huge too - Thomas makes a mad sprint directly for it, the Shai not picking up on the plan here yet. Well, at least they're stupider than Grievers. At the last second, Thomas dives forward as the steel supply crate rockets downward, hitting the ground rolling to just barely get out of the way, and the crate itself slams into the Shai hot on his tail, making it a gross, vomit-bug pancake. Eat that, snow-freak. He's heaving his breathes, now, though, having to double over for a second, hands on his knees, and lungs and throat feeling on fire. More to himself than anyone else around, he pants, through strained breathing. ]

What the hell is this place?
[ MAZE RUNNER VERSE - pretend Thomas was there longer idk ]

[ It's been a month. Thomas has moved up to runner now, and after that first night Minho and he survived the maze, things have been strained. Gally's been on his ass every five minutes, nit picking everything he does. Side eying him and Teresa like they're the Grievers themselves. There's only been a couple run ins with them during the day of late, but they're never good. They've lost two other runners in the last two weeks. It's getting worse. They all know it is.

He and Minho have been working up a plan, though. Not running it past, Gally, as he seems pretty much obsessed with chaining them all to the Glade, but they have an idea. Maybe an escape. It's their best chance, either way, but they need to right time. Wait until sector 7's scheduled to open, and rally the others to go with. If they can win them over, at least. Either way, until then, it's life in the Glade as per usual. When Thomas isn't running the maze, he's out helping the others. Today, he's putting one of the huts back together from where some of the bamboo broke in. There's another kid off to his left, someone he hasn't looked at to identify yet, but he's a little busy trying to force the bamboo pole into the tight space it needs to fix into. He's known for his speed here, not his strength, so a second later, he's grunting out a request to the kid to his left. ]

Hey-- wanna give me a hand over here?
[ TFLNs ]
I. Can I chase this vodka with an onion?

II. Have you ever looked death in the face and had the urge to shit yourself? I'm in that situation right now.

III. I slept awesome next to you. You're like an electric blanket that I can have morning sex with.

IV. Psycho is an understatement. You were running around the house screaming I'M UNDER THE IMPERIOUS CURSE.
Just shoot me whatever! You can leave a starter, or give me some pic prompts or an idea or whatever, we'll do stuff. Cool with AUing shit too.
cicatrize: (Default)
[personal profile] cicatrize
It's been a long time since Jack's woken up with a body curled around him. Longer still that his immediate reaction wasn't to fling their limbs off of him and take his leave, letting his guards handle showing whoever it was the way out. There's nothing like that here, no posh flat, or government functions waiting for him, or bodyguards looming downstairs. It's just Jack, lounged easily in his bunk with the soundproof curtain still pulled, and the slim body of Dirk Strider half overlapping his, head tucked into Jack's shoulder and hand resting limbly across Jack's torso. Jack's arm is slung lazily around his back, just below his shoulder, and he can feel the warm puffs of air drifting across his collar bones as the teenager breathes out.

He remembers with perfect clarity what they'd done just a few hours earlier. It's likely not even 50:00 yet, but with bodies adapted to 24 hour days living in 72 hour days you end up with a lot of naps. Post-coital ones included, and Jack's intimately aware of how bare they are beneath the sheet when Dirk's leg shifts, brushing the inside of Jack's, Dirk's hips shifting against his as he adjusts and drifts soundly off again. It had been good. Incredibly good. Too good, probably, because there's a small ache in his chest now, as he watches Dirk's face, lifts a hand to carefully shift a few stray blond locks. Jack remembers how he'd looked before, face and chest flushed and lips parted, eyes watching him like he was his entire world. He looks worn now, but settled. Peaceful.

Jack's never really... felt a want to be responsible for another person. To protect them, or care for them. Dirk, as self-sufficient as he is and strong, is stll something fragile, torn up by his world, yet still new to so many things. This is a bad idea, Jack's been telling himself. He's so young, and still has a lot of growing to do, mentally and emotionally. He's only just out of his solitary life, only had one boyfriend that hardly went past holding hands. He still has to figure out who he is and what he wants and adjust to the world. Dirk couldn't possibly deal with the kind of baggage Jack carries with him, and he shouldn't have to. He ought to go out, find some cute teenage boy, and fool around like giddy teenagers do. Flirt, have one and off relationships, break hearts, have his heart broken, the whole process of it.

But still, somehow, that irks him. Prods at something that grumbles at the idea of some stupid little teenage shits toying with him to get off, or have their token gay curious experience. It took him so much just to be alright with Jack touching him, what if someone else isn't as careful and damages that?

Maybe part of this wasn't just benevolently introducing Dirk to things he'd need to know, giving him a safe and pleasant experience and working through his apprehensions. You never really forget your first, they stick with you and become the bar that you compare those after to. Maybe he wanted that, selfish and cruel as it is. Not things Jack's unaccustomed to being called.

He doesn't really know what to call it, or how to reason his motivations for it, but Dirk's starting to stir, stretching as he wakes and sliding this bare skin along Jack's as he shifts. For the moment, Jack decides it doesn't really matter, because the urge to tug him close, roll them so he's blanketed firmly and protectively over him, is too strong to entertain thoughts otherwise. So he'll do that, and he'll pepper soft, languid kisses along Dirk's cheeks, temple and jaw. He'll slip his arms under Dirk's shoulders to wrap him up close and nuzzle against his neck, and exhale a sigh. For now, Dirk's a boy waking up to gentle affection and arms holding him tight and secure that won't be going away until he wants them too. And Jack's, for once, learning what it means to allow himself to care.
cicatrize: (Default)
[personal profile] cicatrize
i was fucking around with some different options and stuff so some of these turned out really whack idk blah blah credit this comm blah

Jack Benjamin Sad Trash Gaze

cicatrize: (Default)
[personal profile] cicatrize
BTTTT STILL SHITTY CAMRIP ICONS. STILL BTTTTT ABOUT THEM. WEH. pls credit [community profile] amusebox tyty

Buckets Burnes

Bruck Rumrow

bigbaddaboom: (Default)
[personal profile] bigbaddaboom
{ ACTION; base camp }
[ Perhaps you're on your way to the mess hall, or the showers, or just getting back from a mission. Maybe you're tired and worn out or you've only just gotten up from a nap, but the Ajna snow is crunching gently under your shoes and the wind isn't too terrible today. It's actually fairly pleasant, as far as days in Ajna go. It's not until you get between the rows of rovers parked one behind the other, with channels left between them, that you start to hear it. An abrupt, sharp, whistle.

If you turn to look, you'll find yourself completely alone in that aisle, even if you peer up to the rooves of the rovers - no one. If you continue to walk, the same thing will happen several times in a row, before you start to hear the stomping of running footsteps on the metal topsides of the rovers, and perhaps a flash of bright orange disappearing behind the edge of the massive vehicles, if you're turning fast enough to catch it.

If you choose to simply stand and wait out your follower instead, eventually, after several minutes, a snowball will fly out from the edge of a roof and peg you in the chest. Stop ruining her game. :( ]

FROM: leeloominai@cdc.org

Where does one acquire bacon or a beast to create it from? Very important. Please respond quickly.
cicatrize: (pic#7757886)
[personal profile] cicatrize
[ Ajna was a bitch and a half. A cold bitch and a half, but still, still, when he hears the others rattling on about when do we go home and what do they miss, Jack's feelings on it are utterly void. He doesn't miss home. He'll never miss home. Not anymore. There's nothing left for him there, and the tablet settled in his lap, as he sits in one of the dining hall booths, is testament enough to that.

The month on mission settled a lot for him. For one, there are a good few who know the secret he would have killed people over back home, and care absolutely nothing about it. He's just normal, not diminished, not disgraced, not unfit, and what he wouldn't have given to have that back home. No one cares that he's a prince, and while that aggravates him on most levels, on those more subtle, uncommented on ones, it's freeing. And he's learned there's worse things to have lost, after spending time with the man sharing his face. Barnes. That doesn't make him any more willing to take the trip home, but it sets perspective.

Something he thinks on as he pulls one leg up on the bench edge, tucked against his shoulder, and watches the lips move on the face on the screen, sound muted. Joseph. If he'd been as comfortable in his own skin as he is here back then, Joseph wouldn't be six feet under. If he'd realized, then, that Silas was never planning on giving him what he wanted, regardless of what he did to appease him, Joseph wouldn't have made this video. Wouldn't have followed it up with an action Jack feels he can hardly blame him for, after what he'd been put through. After all that Jack had done to him. A hand reaches forward, pausing the feed on a sad smile for a moment, before Jack reaches into his jacket, pulling out the flask he'd filled on mission. About that time again, drowning out guilt and regrets with the first substance or venue of venting he can find. He's been doing a lot of that here. Funny how these things catch up with you, once you stop running from them. ]
wuzzafuzzle: (Default)
[personal profile] wuzzafuzzle
LAST UPDATED: 5/7/2014 @ 1 AM CST

✘ no more than 3 games
✘ aim for double ac with all characters in game
✘ must be making double ac with all characters in game for 4 months before apping a new one
✘ make thread limits for events before plotting
✘ make tdl for events, post to event plotting thread
✘ keep thread tracker updated
✘ if missed double ac for two months in a row, have a serious discussion about dropping
✘ if missed double ac 3 months in a row, drop

MAY, 2014

[community profile] exitvoid.
Jackson Whittemore
♕ Teen Wolf
➤ 5/3 | Network > Action Thread; Lydia Martin
➤ 5/7 | Network Thread; Stiles Stilinski
♕ Wanted
➤ 5/5 | Network Thread; Soandso
➤ 5/7 | Log; Open Thread
Sally Sue; Joe Bob; Whatshis Ass.
Prince Charming
♕ Once Upon A Time
➤ 5/9 | Network Thread; D'artboard
➤ 5/2 | Inbox Thread; Bucky Barnes
➤ 5/2 | Log Thread; Bucky Barnes

credit: [personal profile] manual

[community profile] havenrpg.
James Barnes
➤ 5/3 | Log; Open Thread
↬ Loki, Steve Rogers, Calypso
➤ 5/3 | Log Thread; Tony, Thor, Steve, Pepper
➤ 5/7 | Network Thread; Senji
➤ 5/7 | Log Thread; Cecil
➤ 5/8 | Log Thread; Jason Todd

credit: [personal profile] manual

[community profile] consignment.
Jack Benjamin
♕ Kings
➤ 5/8 | Log Thread; Lydia Martin
➤ 5/8 | Log Thread; Rapunzel
➤ 5/8 | Log Thread; Nikolai
➤ 5/8 | Log Thread; Wesley Gibson
➤ 5/8 | Log Thread; Jacob Keyes
➤ 5/8 | Drop Log; Open Thread
↬ Mozu; Steve Rogers
➤ 5/8 | Log Thread; Q

credit: [personal profile] manual


kulak: (Default)
[personal profile] kulak
please credit [community profile] amusebox. i'm still not all that thrilled with them but w/e. DANZY WILL MAKE BETTER.

CA:TWS - Bucky

kulak: (Default)
[personal profile] kulak
please credit [community profile] amusebox. slightly less shitty camrip icons durrhurr. danzy will be making some soon i think so go look at hers when they're up, they'll be better 8T

More Camrip Icons

kulak: (Default)
[personal profile] kulak
[[ continues from here ]]

[Yeah. Steve's not more thrilled because Bucky's hand worse. That might make it worse.]

Or you can just take the antibiotics and cross your fingers.

[Field surgery in an alley. He's been in war. He's not squeamish and he can do this, but he doesn't want to. Not to Bucky. He hefts the knife in his hand a couple of time, checks the blade with his thumb though he knows it's sharp.]

All right.

[And he does. For all the hesitation to that point he sets his jaw and when he does it, he doesn't flinch. Holds Bucky with one hand, solid and hard, and cuts in. Ignores the blood and smell of blood and the way it makes him sick, and keeps ignoring it when he gets his fingers into the wound, probing for the bullet.]
kulak: (Default)
[personal profile] kulak
so hahaha i couldnt find a download of the b-roll and it was so gd frustrating, soooo i capped the youtube stream of it :| so these are not that fabulous, but they're at least better than the camrip l o l? fuck

please credit [community profile] amusebox

Bucky: B-roll capped shittily from Youtube :|


amusebox: (Default)
Wuzzafuzzle's Muse Box

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