Everyone On My Dash Is Using The Same Gears As Me For Their Phighting Ocs Erm

oughh I have an assignment due in like 10 days but the brainrot is reaally getting to me

I gotta choose the grind or the ehehehee 😔

hey could y'all do me a favour?

Reblog if you're okay with "weird" compliments on your stuff!

things like "biting this" and such

My dealer: got some straight gas 🔥🔥🔥😛 this strain is called “Dandy’s world” 😳 you’ll be zonked out of your gourd 💯

Me: yeah whatever. I don’t feel shit.

5 minutes later: dude I swear I just saw some Twisted in the hallway

My buddy Tisha pacing: the shrimpo is lying to us

Controversial opinion:

Soup is gross

haha im about to finish 200 episodes and im so normal

*AGRESSIVELY SOBS*

I mean, look at this. its so obvious!! gah!!!

it has come to my attention that I’ve been accidentally drawing ankles as heels of the foot and that is why I could not draw feet.

it makes so much more sense now

what a fool I have been 😔

sorry, im not french 😔

Yeah, I think I’m just gonna come back after three days of nothing

I tried drawing them, but something weird happened and they’re too angular for my liking

I’ve got no clue how to draw Rocket’s prosthetics T-T

" I'll see you in Hell." (Click for better quality)

Hyperlaser headcannons under the cut as a special treat..

The blue section beside his visor are a bunch of cameras that send signals to the electronics inside the helmet that connect to his brain through the plate and wires at the back of his head so he can see around himself in a 360° range

His antenna do move up and down like ears. No I will not clarify

^ this also isn't a useless function- in his incident he also lost most of his hearing, so the antenna act like hearing aids of sorts, them being able to move around just help with it.

With the nature of his job, it also becomes very important that if he gets lost or... passes away on a job, he can be tracked and found. The helmet and gloves both have these functions added into them.

^ he is afraid of any kind of.. tampering with this and his cameras, though.

I like to think he also isnt fully blind without his helmet? He can see the difference of drastic light and dark and a few shadows, but it's tough to make out any shapes.

He absolutely went to Katana's place one time and painted a mug over there. He came back to BlackRock with a Princess mug and no one knows where he got it from

His gloves are made to trap cold to consistently soothe his burn scars, as they do tend to act up quite a lot

speaking of his gloves, he has a keyboard and hologram tabs he can open... IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT BUT ITS ON THE REF

the back of his helmet plates open up to show the outer cables that connect to his head!

His tail is a prosthetic, in the back mini ref you can see the attachment portion and in the full ref you can see the cross-section! It uses magnets and the willpower of science in the future to connect somewhat normally

yes his tail can move naturally too, he probably can't swim with it pretty well

Tempted to make all the blue stuff cooling liquid!! So it flows through most of his mechanics and he doesnt overheat like a bio

(Also yes if you can see those mini pages they are heavily inspired by @someduckwithagun's newspaper series thingy!!! I just found it so silly and. I had to...)

Miasma

Statement of Hannah Dean, regarding a sick patient she took care of. Original statement given August 12th, 20XX. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute.

Statement begins.

My name is Hannah Dean, I work as a doctor at Pearl Garden Hospital. Let’s just get right to it. I don’t know when she was admitted into the hospital, where she came from, who her parents were, nothing. All I knew was that I was to be taking care of her. When I first entered her room, she was sat in her cot and stared right at me. She looked to be around, 13 or 14 years old? Had greasy hair and old bandages around her arms and legs. I’m not sure why I didn’t notice how everything was so… dirty, at first. The walls were stained, the floor was grotty, and the patient herself was overall, filthy. I walked over to her nonetheless and introduced myself, like I always did. I tried to run a few checkups on her, but as soon as I got close I felt a wave of sickness… emanate from her, somehow. I immediately stepped back, and that sickly feeling went away.

Have you ever heard of the Miasma theory? Where diseases are supposedly caused by bad air and such? This patient—I’m not sure how else to explain this. She had… bad air. There was like an invisible ball of gaseous sickness all around her. It made me want to puke. She gazed up at me with an innocent and confused look, and I couldn’t help but feel bad for her. I went back to do a physical exam on her, checking her skin and eyes, looking into her throat and ears, checking her pulse, the usual. It was hard to focus though, the awful feeling of nausea and illness ruminating off of her and right back at me. She was in a rough shape from the looks of it, she could’ve be suffering from a myriad of things. I figured I’d prescribe some acetaminophen, so I told her I would be back, and left the hospital room.

When I exited, I instantly noticed the change in air quality. It was so much more fresh and breathable outside of the patient’s room, despite still being in a building with what should’ve been the same conditions. That’s when I realized the difference in cleanliness as well, the halls had a scent of rubbing alcohol and chlorine, but her room… honestly, was foul. I went to grab the medicine for her when a friend of mine and also fellow co-worker, Wendy Lovett, bumped into me. She was surprised to see me and said that I looked unwell. I didn’t know what she was talking about until she showed me with her phone. I looked like I had a cold or something, but it wasn’t that serious, could just be the long hours getting to me. I mentioned I was getting some medicine for the patient in room 43, but Wendy looked more concerned for me. She told me there wasn’t a patient in room 43. I said that there definitely was one, and that she could come with me to take care of the patient if she really didn’t believe me.

We came back to the patient and Wendy wrinkled her nose as she entered. The patient still sat on that cot. I poured one chewable tablet of the medicine in my hand and instructed her how to take it. I’m not sure why, but she looked a little disappointed when she took it. Wendy walked over to the patient and I could see her face shift from mild disgust to utter repulsion. She must have gotten a little close and experienced that… bad air. Once the patient was done, I gave her a glass of water and Wendy practically dragged me out. She shut the door to the room and told me that patient was not normal. It was hard to disagree with Wendy, there was something strange about her and we both felt sick after being around her. We agreed that I would give the responsibility of taking care of this patient to someone else, probably more capable of dealing with sicker patients. The next day, I asked another doctor, Vincent Roussel, if he could handle the patient for me, as I was feeling ill. He begrudgingly agreed, and I stayed home.

I came back to work feeling much better after that, but I couldn’t help but notice Vincent looked really bad. His usually kept hair was a mess, he had stains all over his shirt, and his glasses were smudged and crooked. I asked if he was okay. Vincent glared at me and told me he was just fine, but judging from his cough and sniffly nose, he was not. I didn’t see him for the rest of the day, until I walked past room 43 nearing the end of my shift, the door slightly askew. Curiosity got the better of me, and I took a little peak inside. The room looked a lot dirtier than I remember, now with insects crawling and flying around the walls and floors. Vincent was now lying in the cot and he looked like a corpse, but he was still alive, the shaky rise and fall of his chest showed that. The patient stood beside the cot, remarkably looking a whole lot healthier, with her hand on Vincent’s shoulder. I think she was saying or whispering things, but I couldn’t hear what. I… I quickly left after seeing that.

Vincent was found dead in the hospital a few days later. The police haven’t found anything about what could have caused his death. I’ve only told Wendy about seeing the patient with Vincent so far, since I doubt the police would find the information helpful. We’ve both been avoiding room 43, even though it’s probably perfectly normal and clean now. That patient… I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since. I hope I never do.

Statement ends.