Out Of Context Discord Doodles

Biiiiiiiig stretch

Cat coded alternates they could never make me hate you

me and the homies got a bit silly and made this abomination

its terrifying LMFAO

@bagel1234 @disturbedpodzol @friedfrogs

Since everyone's been asking about Gabriel's fear I'm gonna try and guess it :D

He's afraid of being wrong

More specifically, he's afraid of being wrong about his perception of humans, and what that means for him and what he's done. Probably his whole identity, too, since we don't know a lot about him and what we do know leaves the impression that his identity is built around his hate for humanity

Obviously, it's not a 'cower and cry and shiver like a mouse' kind of fear, but the kind that can be easily ignored until something happens to bring the thought back to the front of his mind, and then be swiftly ignored again, rinse and repeat until it can't be ignored

So, in a way, it's more like the fear of losing sight of who he is and his purpose

But I'm just throwing wild guesses here :p

This is a really interesting take! I'm assuming for this you mean AiA Gabriel, and if so, then I think that's an informed guess!

On that topic, though, I really need some of ya'll to be more specific in your asks in you're asking about CANON Mandela characters or AU Mandela characters 😭😭 A lot of the time I have to guess who you're talking about, and my opinions/responses will change depending on who you're talking about. If you asked me what I think canon Gabriel fears, I don't think he fears anything, because I don't think alternates feel fear. But if you're talking about AiA alternates, who CAN have feelings, then yeah I'd say Gabriel can fear something.

This isn't a purely dedicated TMC roleplay/ask blog, and AiA AU content will get mixed in with canon TMC stuff, so if possible it'd really help if you clarified more who you're talking about in your ask (unless it's SUPER obvious, like asking Gabriel about his barista job).

Gabriel your not scary, youre attractive

“Hmm..not scary, but attractive you say?”

“Sassy, hm? That’s a new one. Much appreciated for the compliments. Could I offer you something to eat, in return?”

my grandpa was a good man. and it really wasnt his fault - recreationally lying to kids is a proud family tradition - but he told me, once, that cutting a worm in half resulted in two worms.

i think he said it so i'd be more morally okay with fishing? i actually dont remember the context.

point was, he told me this, and he understimated (by a very large margin) how much i liked worms. i was a worm boy. very wormy. and after hearing that, i went home, and i dug through the garden, flipped over every rock, did everything i could to gather as many worms as i could, and then i uh.

i cut them all in half. every worm i could find. all of them. with scissors.

i then took this pile of split worms, and i put them in a box with a bit of lettuce and some water and stuff and went to bed expecting to double my worms overnight. i have math autism, so i had a vague understanding that if i did this just a few times in a row, i would eventually have a completely unreasonable amount of worms.

i was very excited to become this plane's worm emperor.

(i think i was...six?)

anyway, i did not become the inheritor of the worm crown. i instead woke up to a box of dead worms and cried. a lot. i got diagnosed with panic attacks as a teenager, but i think i had them as a kid, i just had no idea what they were. i was kind of processing that a.) i had killed what i had assumed was every single worm in my yard, and thus would have no more worms, and b). i was going to like, worm hell.

(six year babylon spent a lot of time worrying about god.)

so i kind of freaked out, and i climbed a tree, because god can only smite you if you're touching the ground (?) and i sat up there mostly inconsolable until my mom came out and asked, hey, what's up? what happened?

so i explained to her that i had killed all of the worms, forever, and was also Damned, and she took me to the compost pile, and we dug for all of five seconds and found like twenty more worms.

the compost pile was full of worms.

and she told me that a). there were more worms, and we could put them back under rocks and stuff and recolonize our yard and b). that one day, i would die, and i would go to heaven, and i would be able to talk to the worms, and i would be able to tell them all that i was very sorry, and that i killed them on accident out of excessive Love, and that they would forgive me, because worms have six hearts and no malice.

at that point, i think i was sixty percent tear-snot by weight, and i had no choice but to gather enough worms that i could hug them. which my mom helped with. and then after that she helped me put some worms back under each rock.

and for my epilogue: i spent a significant portion of my childhood in trees. and for many years after, even when my mom didnt know i was watching, i would catch her giving the space under the rocks a light spritz with the hose. not because she loved worms.

but because she loved me.

I really love your art! (Especially Thatcher🙏)

Thank you both! And about Thatcher, I definitely think he’s alive, but he’s fighting for his life out here LMAO. I imagine he might have Adam with him, and maybe he’ll track down the rest of BPS? If not to interrogate them, that hopefully to help them, since they’re all dealing with alternates.

Have a 3 AM doodle-

Writing Prompt #266

“Please get out of that pillow fort. We’re supposed to have dinner with friends!”

“Counter-offer: you join me, we rule this pillow kingdom together, watch Hocus Pocus, and eat popcorn for dinner.”

I haven't watched tpot 9 /SRS.

Neurodivergent assassin who very casually uses their weapons as stim.

Turning on and off the safety of their gun. Tapping and spinning their dagger. Watching the poison in the vial move as they flip in and then back.

Nobody says anything because...well they're an assassin.

Turns on safety, presses trigger, turns off safety repeat.

People around them are in constant fear.

Chewing the end of their poison tipped dagger when they try to figure out a plan.

Wash their hands too much cause they don't like how sticky blood is.

However overtime it becomes a weird single to others.

Everyone is anxious trying to figure something out and they hear a little "click click" and it's just slightly calming to know that they have this person there and they are thinking of a plan.

Someone hands them a drink but it flows just a little too weird and they are like, "hmm that's poison" then chuck it because they have built up immunity.

No table that doesn't have something carved into it.

Never a situation where they don't have enough bullets because this person takes out the cartridge and puts it back as stim.

They take apart their guns and put them back over time being crazy fast and efficient with it.

Just give me a neurodivergent assassin/spy.

H