Falscribbles

Any and all art, story, or otherwise relevant to the roleplay or TF2 in general. This can include screenshots.

Re: Falscribbles

Postby Tentacles » Sun Jun 24, 2012 7:21 pm

Falco these are fantastic really, and I love the way 12 consistently looks afraid in all your doodles

but

did you draw the monstar

with legs?
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Re: Falscribbles

Postby 12 » Sun Jun 24, 2012 7:24 pm

I don't actually know what those are. :'| Some kind of weird flipper-y things. That was kind of a test scribble to get down some ideas. I can give it another go, if you'd like?
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Re: Falscribbles

Postby Tentacles » Sun Jun 24, 2012 7:26 pm

No no its fucking wonderful.

I'm just always inordinately worried that I am not explaining shit properly.

you should draw more of puffins characters
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Re: Falscribbles

Postby 12 » Mon Jun 25, 2012 10:33 am

Okay so I did the voice meme thing. There's background noise and skips because my mic is shit and so is my recording program. |:
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Re: Falscribbles

Postby Tentacles » Mon Jun 25, 2012 4:12 pm

12 wrote:Okay so I did the voice meme thing. There's background noise and skips because my mic is shit and so is my recording program. |:


Image
All of these.
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Re: Falscribbles

Postby 12 » Mon Jun 25, 2012 7:28 pm

Kurt's plan to kill the GFSM. Yep.
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Re: Falscribbles

Postby 12 » Fri Jun 29, 2012 7:20 pm

Handwriting thing for my four, and a quick scribble demonstration of what needs to happen before 12-handwriting is possible.
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Re: Falscribbles

Postby 12 » Sun Jul 01, 2012 8:59 pm

I know this is not a scribble but it is a drabble and I'm posting it anyway. |: Twalf.

Spoiler: show
It had been years.

Years now since he'd asked for the wrong transfer, and less time than that since he'd managed to make an escape before they terminated him. They should have found him by now--should have, would have. He didn't really know why they hadn't come to collect their lost experiment, offering false reasons to instill an equally false sense of security while they tranqed him and moved him right along to a shipping crate. Would his teammates here believe them? No, he didn't think so. But in his nightmares, they did, going along with their requests and even lending a hand. 'Oh, he's sick,' they'd say, giving him a pitying glance. 'Best he goes back to where he can get fixed, right?' 'Yes, yes, we'll take good care of him.' Those voices ground into his mind in the worst way, like salt rubbed into a wound. He didn't think he'd ever forget them, no matter how badly he wanted to. Each voice snapped orders, barked threats, growled and roared their displeasure at him when he hadn't done something directly up to par. The rare show of false pride in him, when he knew they were too preoccupied with their own standing in their fucked up little community to really care about him. They cared when he did something above par, beat another experiment, or something along the lines of that. The reward for that was a sugar cube. He actually liked those.

Breathe, bird. Take a moment. It's gone.

He knew that he was messed up far beyond what some people thought. This was a fact that he'd come to terms with a while ago, back in the facility as they lined up another round of tests and he stopped fighting. That had just been the first step down a slippery slope, and look where it had gotten him. He'd believed that maybe he could make it better if he just went along with his orders, did what he asked and kept his head down. It hadn't worked. He'd managed to come out of that alive, but at a cost. That wasn't the only time he'd pay it, either; over the years, it just took more and more. He hadn't so much forgotten who he used to be as he did bury him under layers of concrete and iron, adding another layer every time he followed orders. The less lip he gave, the safer he was. The less he rebelled, the easier he was to work with, the longer his life was going to be, and the more he was going to lose. He hadn't realized that yet.

They sent him to a Badwater base in a cage. He'd passed training, and was shipped to his new handler--fuck him. There were few people in the world that he hated more, and practically nobody that scared him as much as that man did. Being out of that place did something. It gave him back a bit of spirit, a bit of backbone--enough to stand up to him. Enough. That was what he'd said, and then it had just gotten worse. He didn't want to remember that.

Relax, relax. It's okay.

He remembered a few things. Waking up in respawn changed was the first solid one--there were only the scatterings of thoughts from Before. Before was a place he didn't go. He wasn't that person anymore, and it felt wrong to tread in there. Before was mostly made of cold--cold, snow, white, and anger. Fights. Splashes of red where red shouldn't be, sudden black and then that same falling sensation he'd felt before he woke up for the 'first' time. That seemed to happen a lot. He hated that feeling. A few names, exchanged long before--Laura, Desoto, names without faces, names with no attachments other than a feeling of dread. There were a few faces--an older woman, a kid that looked like he used to, and their faces. He was never going to be able to block those out. They'd dance around in those sleepless nights, leering out of the darkness and glancing from around corners, silhouettes flickering just out of range of his vision. Screaming silently, though he heard them. He tried not to.

Occasionally, he'd be back there, just like he was to start with. Cold, terrified, alone--shaking and cursing everything that existed for dealing him that hand. Those were bad times. He wanted to avoid those, but they still happened. He'd be seeing things that weren't there, flashes of clandestine, sterilized tile where old wood should be, breathing air that smelled like chemicals when it should carry the scent of the swamp. He hid when that happened, as high as he could go in the rafters like he'd used to when he still fought them. They'd just gotten longer prods and taller people. He'd curl up as small as he could, trying to disappear into nothing, just vanish and finally be free of this whole thing, back to something he couldn't remember. Back to quiet, to a place he'd never been.

It had been years. It was time to wake up, but he didn't think he could.
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Re: Falscribbles

Postby 12 » Mon Apr 22, 2013 11:02 pm

Image

not until at least five beers
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Re: Falscribbles

Postby Henry Adams » Mon Apr 22, 2013 11:28 pm

Get this man a rocket. WE'VE GOT ALE TO HUNT.
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Re: Falscribbles

Postby 12 » Tue Apr 23, 2013 8:57 pm

Image
Image

guess who got the crayon tool working nice
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Re: Falscribbles

Postby 12 » Thu Jan 28, 2016 10:22 pm

okay sO i'm not sure if i'm just kinda hanging around in the void here or whatever but tbh i think about this place a lot and i still use my chars from here for stuff. which means that they get drawn sometimes!
(note: uh. most of these are a few months old, aside from the 12 one and scruffy-ass beard kurt. that one is provided as a whole 'here's what this douche looks like rn' for that thread that's going on.)
images under spoiler, it's gonna be a little long so i tucked them under one.

Spoiler: show
okay here's the new shit
Image Image

here's some shit drawn for an emoji challenge a while back

Image Image Image
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