[table][tr][td]
[/tr][/table]
[table][tr][td]
[td][/td][/tr][/table]
[table][tr][td]
[/td][/tr][/table]OCTANE
[/td][/tr][/table]
[table][tr][td]
OCTAVIO SILVA
High-Speed Daredevil
AFRICAN CHEETAH
TYPHOON
"Ooh, sick death, dude!"
[/td]High-Speed Daredevil
AFRICAN CHEETAH
TYPHOON
"Ooh, sick death, dude!"
[td][/td][/tr][/table]
[table][tr][td]
[table][tr][td]
It made Octane's blood burn at the idea, that's why he was running so fucking fast. He knew Caustic was prone to being cryptic, so he had been trying to decipher the message in his head the whole journey. "Come to me, I've figured out a work around," or perhaps, "Come to me, I miss you." Oh no, Caustic would never admit to missing him, he'd say it in his own apathetic way. "I wish to schedule another one of our... encounters." His fur shivers- because that meant Caustic had goodies and Octane had a quest to die in his hands.
He worries, though. The boredom in Typhoon was overwhelming and the people there could only provide so much entertainment. They weren't that fun! Someone need to like... blow something up already or just fucking kill him and get this over with.
Death doesn't bother Octane, not in the slightest. Death is a way of living.
He worries, not for himself, but for Caustic. After all, without what they had, what were they supposed to do together? What if he got bored of Caustic?
They couldn't understand Octane's brain, few could, and Caustic did. Caustic understood his needs and would meet them with full glorious blood and passion. He understood that Octane only desired the next high of danger and the scientist was always ready to welcome him with open arms. He didn't need Caustic to tell his (probably boring) life story and hold him gently.
He needs Caustic to pay attention to him. Bonus points? Show that attention with those big, powerful hands of his.
Octane hopes this is a booty-call, cause at least that was fucking something.
Ah! There's Tanglewood!
Octane picks up speed, paws flying over marshland, sucking in greedy air through his mask. His legs hit the swampland, and he's stopped dead in his tracks, body slinging backwards as his metal leg is pulled back and the cheetah is pulled by a snare. He groans, dragging across the mud and his leg stuck in the air, pulled by the snare. Octane leans over, his claws finding his leg and turning the lock system. He drops like dead weight. Octane's right hind leg pulled into the air by the snare, dangling over him like a fish hook.
"Carajo," he curses- this was gonna make him late! Caustic called him and everything! Motherfucker! Octane tries to sit up, reaching out for his leg, but it stayed right out of arms length. "Carajo!" he curses again, trying to stand, but quickly loses his balance and falls to his rump, staring up at his leg.
[/td][/tr][/table]// cw cause Octane thinks about death and murder a lot, only the last two paragraphs are important
Caustic never sent the bird back with a message- always left it empty. His personal way of leaving Octane on read, what a dick.
The message was simple. Caustic couldn’t write that well and couldn’t spend the hours hyperfixating on the task like he could. Octane understood that attempting to write was difficult, his own hut was littered with scrapes of paper of scribbles and scratches.
Octane had sent many letters of varying lengths, talking about his day or how he had been. The empty reply always made him want to slam his head in the wall.
This time, though, Caustic made the first move.
[align=center]Come to me.
Caustic never sent the bird back with a message- always left it empty. His personal way of leaving Octane on read, what a dick.
The message was simple. Caustic couldn’t write that well and couldn’t spend the hours hyperfixating on the task like he could. Octane understood that attempting to write was difficult, his own hut was littered with scrapes of paper of scribbles and scratches.
Octane had sent many letters of varying lengths, talking about his day or how he had been. The empty reply always made him want to slam his head in the wall.
This time, though, Caustic made the first move.
[align=center]Come to me.
It made Octane's blood burn at the idea, that's why he was running so fucking fast. He knew Caustic was prone to being cryptic, so he had been trying to decipher the message in his head the whole journey. "Come to me, I've figured out a work around," or perhaps, "Come to me, I miss you." Oh no, Caustic would never admit to missing him, he'd say it in his own apathetic way. "I wish to schedule another one of our... encounters." His fur shivers- because that meant Caustic had goodies and Octane had a quest to die in his hands.
He worries, though. The boredom in Typhoon was overwhelming and the people there could only provide so much entertainment. They weren't that fun! Someone need to like... blow something up already or just fucking kill him and get this over with.
Death doesn't bother Octane, not in the slightest. Death is a way of living.
He worries, not for himself, but for Caustic. After all, without what they had, what were they supposed to do together? What if he got bored of Caustic?
They couldn't understand Octane's brain, few could, and Caustic did. Caustic understood his needs and would meet them with full glorious blood and passion. He understood that Octane only desired the next high of danger and the scientist was always ready to welcome him with open arms. He didn't need Caustic to tell his (probably boring) life story and hold him gently.
He needs Caustic to pay attention to him. Bonus points? Show that attention with those big, powerful hands of his.
Octane hopes this is a booty-call, cause at least that was fucking something.
Ah! There's Tanglewood!
Octane picks up speed, paws flying over marshland, sucking in greedy air through his mask. His legs hit the swampland, and he's stopped dead in his tracks, body slinging backwards as his metal leg is pulled back and the cheetah is pulled by a snare. He groans, dragging across the mud and his leg stuck in the air, pulled by the snare. Octane leans over, his claws finding his leg and turning the lock system. He drops like dead weight. Octane's right hind leg pulled into the air by the snare, dangling over him like a fish hook.
"Carajo," he curses- this was gonna make him late! Caustic called him and everything! Motherfucker! Octane tries to sit up, reaching out for his leg, but it stayed right out of arms length. "Carajo!" he curses again, trying to stand, but quickly loses his balance and falls to his rump, staring up at his leg.
Original code by lexasperated / artwork by @R_HillPrime
![[Image: Tiny_Pixel_Octane.png]](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/420775002091028481/716860912790929508/Tiny_Pixel_Octane.png){kind=tracking}
Run fast. Hit fast. Win fast.
( [color=black][b]✌ ━━━━━ octane / tanglewood / pixel by kinglykingstone )[/b]
( [color=black][b]✌ ━━━━━ octane / tanglewood / pixel by kinglykingstone )[/b]