#you want a medal for being a piece of shit? here's your medal for being a piece of shit! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blingblong55 · 1 year

Text

Things said-141(and some more characters)

If you watched Ja'mie the private school girl I love you!

Pt2 to this post

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

R/n and ghost have a friendship where they basically share 1 brain cell every time they're together, this time its no different. They call for a meeting where they share their recent topic, basically 141 is forced to agree with their 'beliefs'

R/n: we'll be there for each other, like if one of us *nudges at ghost* got depression and wanted to k!ll themselves..

Ghost: then we as part of the 141 slayers promise, (name reader gave the team) we'll kill ourselves

R/n: yeah

Gaz: I didn't know it was that extreme

R/n: yeah it is

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Soap: where the fuck is my Coke Zero?

R/n and Ghost stare in silence

Soap to König: did you drink it?

*soap closes fridge and walks away*

Soap: fuck my life

König *clueless*: I ate a bread this mornin' it was amazing (please imagine him in his funny excited accent)

R/n: you're unique König

Soap: don't touch my Coke Zero! *in his harsh Scott accent*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Price, soap and r/n are having a meeting in private. Soap logged in to readers laptop and saw a folder with pictures of gaz. (Folders title was: "My pookie bear")

R/n: how did you even get in?

Soap: isn't your password, gazmylover69?

R/n: little bitch

Price: r/n *in a stern tone*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Price found out that r/n was trying to sell König on eBay for 14£, and Ghost was the buyer.

Price: the two of you are just as bad as each other, I'm disgusted

Ghost: good

R/n: *under their breath* next time I'll sell you

König is sitting outside waiting for the mailman

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Roach is now in charge of teaching r/n how to drive, this is after they 'accidentally' ran soap over. (he called r/n a little brit that looked like King Charles left butt cheek)

Gaz, Ghost, and alejandro are in the backseat. Roach, passenger and r/n driver seat.

R/n: why isn't the car moving?

Roach: because the hand brake is still on

R/n: well take the hand brake off!!....

Roach: r/n-

R/n: I told you to take it off before I get in!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Soap was named "best soldier of the week" this includes a medal price custom made. R/n is pissed that he got it.

R/n: what I'm accusing you of is awarding the medal to a dumb fat Scott,

price: here we go again*under his breath*

r/n: when the most incredible soldier to ever grace this base, is being completely ignored

price: roll the tears *under his breath*

r/n: and treated like their the scum of the earth!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Rudy and r/n grew up together. But after he told them they weren't allowed to date anyone from 141 they got mad at him.

Rudy: no, its a final decision

r/n: just because Valeria ditched you for ale back in the day doesn't mean I can't get some

Rudy: you're just saying none sense

r/n: nonsense my ass

Rudy: no dating, no nothing

R/n: I wished I fucking drowned you as a child

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It's no secret that König is crushing on r/n. However the feelings aren't mutual, because reader adores Price. This happened today after sparring.

R/n and König are sat in some stairs, resting from todays training.

König and reader are sitting side by side, he leaned in to kiss their cheek, this was the reaction he got:

R/n: okay..okay..so that was weird...

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Soap is helping r/n, they've been feeling a little low today. He was sitting in bed with them. Reader has been under their blanket all day

R/n: pass me my book please

Soap tries to give them their book but teases reader in the process. Reader is trying to reach for it but soap is really enjoying himself.

R/n: give me it! I've got clinical depression you fucking idiot!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I hope you all liked this one! and yes it was all inspired by that show. If you want a part to lmk! ?<3

Tags: @piece-of-shit-outlaw

252 notes · View notes

cinderswife · 5 months

Text

currently rotating rose red around in my brain so here's some outfits i designed for her (this is pre-meeting cinders btw)! bonus design notes under the cut :3

nude

i knew immediately that i wanted rose to be short and built like a brick shithouse. she is dense and compact and impossible to knock over. also, she gets to be a bear girl because everyone in my ouatis au is an animal eared person. its a fun concept i saw trawling the tumblr tag and i have decided it is very canon.

absolutely covered in freckles

yes those are top surgery scars. very recent in fact! its a cross between unrealized gender things and the pain of breasts that are just. too big. always.

her tail is usually too small to be seen from this angle but i wanted to show off her tiny red puff

most of her scars are from military combat with the exception of the top surgery scars and the one on her left hand which came from when she punched a window at the age of 15 defending snow from one of their dads getting super duper upset b/c snow was starting to date

she is 4'10" and so proud of it. will kick your ass if you're a dick about it

pajamas

nothing much to say here, she just. doesn't care all that much. tank top and sweat pants are the perfect combo of temperatures for her.

also she wears heart patterned boxers and we love her for that

military work uniform

do you know how hard it is to design a military uniform when you don't usually give a shit about the military. i spend so many hours going down worldbuilding subreddits and forums before i figured out something i was happy with. anyways! this is a non-combative officer's work uniform (aka the uniform rose wore when she was commander of the prison cinders was in). i picked red because it's the color most strongly associated with cole's army, but i figure that soldiers in combat would have better camouflage built into their uniforms.

the patch on her left shoulder (the one with the deer) is the symbol for colonel. it's also mirrored on a smaller scale on her breast. cole's army uses animals to mark higher ranks

the other shoulder patch marks her current assignment

i liked white as an accent color because of its prevalence in the album. also it looks nice!

the sleeve stripes and the chevrons both indicate that she is a very important officer

the other patches on her breast are the simplified coat of arms for her noble house (the house of grimm) and all of the medals she has earned in her 11 years of service

military dress uniform

the fancy version of her uniform for Events and Public Appearances. it's a bit darker in tone for the sake of visual interest and has a lot more accessories. this one was a nightmare to color i stg but i'm super happy with the way it turned out.

you get to see all her medals! she has complicated feelings on them but they are shiny and look very nice so.

the stripes, chevrons, and deer are all the same as the work uniform for some easy visual shorthand of her rank

the only time rose will ever wear a tie or any other neck decoration because it's regulation.

i liked the way a black undershirt looked over a white one, no other reason lol

the bear medal is because the bear is a symbol of her noble family. most people have a cougar of some sort instead.

the sword and the lion are both special awards granted specifically by cole. the lion in particular came from her first deployment where she accidentally changed the tides on the invasion of the perrault (cinders' planet) and became a war hero/propaganda piece at 19

the boots have buckles. they are never quite tight enough and its annoying.

casual dress

off duty, rose wears crisp, well tailored masc outfits. she knows how to dress herself to look effortlessly important due to being raised noble but she doesn't think too hard about it.

she wears shorts instead of full pants whenever she can get away with it. snow hates this.

no she is not buttoning up all the way. why would you make her put this much effort into it. she's hotter with it undone

fun fact: i initially made her vest and shorts green but i decided that blue looked nicer

fancy dress

i've elected to go with a 1700s inspired look for the nobility. it's very fairytale-esque and also allows me to have fun with it! i wanted to do more embroidery, but i wound up not having the patience for such a thing. ah well, what i've got looks nice enough.

rose usually wears cool colors in her formal outfits. this purple is a particular favorite of hers because it goes really nicely with her hair and ears without being obnoxious

once again, rose out here avoiding any sort of neck accessory or hat. accessories that annoy her for $10,000

the lilac undershirt is not connected to the off-white trousers it's two separate pieces.

the gold accents cut a very striking figure and also look very pretty <3

the boots are supposed to be longer and pointier but idk how well i pulled that off aha

she's very handsome and i love her

#the mechanisms #ouatis #once upon a time (in space)#rose red ouatis #planet's doodles #im really proud of this btw outfit design is not a strong point of mine but i think i really pulled it together for rose #please love and appreciate my blorbo #verse: dog star in ursa major

37 notes · View notes

socially-awkward-skeleton · 6 months

Text

All Along the Watchtower (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 3K+

Warnings: mentions of violence, human trafficking, morally gray characters, CIA Black missions = shady shit, swearing

Summary: The first flashback chapter for Rory regarding her time in Iraq working operations for the CIA (will tie into the overall story fyi, no ship stuff this chapter)

A/N: Rory Sinclair is a dual citizen (both Canada and the UK) who's been living in the UK since she was 14. She is 28 at the time of this fic, Price is 32. This series is set in 2017 before the events of the first MW game. Rory's thoughts are bold and italicized, other italics are used for emphasis. Will also be available to read on AO3.

2016 - Anbar Province, Iraq / Syrian Border

“All right, people, you have your orders. This ain’t gonna be pretty. So get your shit on right.”

Rory tried her hardest to ignore the droning voice of Officer Walker, the CIA operative assigned to the squad sitting in the front passenger seat, giving his best military impersonation for the crowd of soldiers jammed together in the armored vehicle. Crammed so tight her shoulders barely had room to bump against her fellow passengers as they drove along the rocky road. They were sardines in a tin can being boiled together on a hot stove – a pressure cooker – and the situation they were about to find themselves in only made it worse.

“We are fifteen minutes out from the Syrian border. I repeat one - five minutes. This is known home turf for ISIS. We’re expecting heavy resistance. I will remind you all that this is unsanctioned. We are heading into the Black. There will be no questions. There will be no reports. There will be no crying to your mamas on the phone when you get back to base, ‘cause believe me, we’ll be tracking it. That goes for you limey fucks too,” he said with a smirk, looking up into the rearview mirror with his amber eyes. “ God Bless Homeland Security. ”

Walker’s wry smile was enough to turn Rory’s stomach, but she didn’t get to choose her bosses in the middle of warfare. She had to nod her head with a ‘yes, sir’ and a ‘no, sir’ to make her way through this. He might have been American, he might have been CIA, but right now, he was in charge.

“We are dealing with a serious piece of shit in one Abdullah Al Ghulam, he is our target. I want him kept alive at all costs. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

She said nothing while the other soldiers around her offered their oath of fealty to the man. Instead, Rory kept her head down and her mind focused on the mission. Her mind always had to be on the mission. In situations like these, knowing she was about to see some shit, she did her best to block out the conscience her mother had instilled in her – doing good things for the right people . Out here there was just getting your hands dirty and hoping that it would be for the best, that it paid off in the long run and wouldn’t come back to haunt. The end justifying the means when things went dark like this, Machiavellianism at its very peak. There were no heroes out here, no matter who was patted on the back and awarded medals.

Across from her Lt. Andrew Owen kept his eyes on her, his blue stare darkened by the brim of his helmet. The corner of his lip curled as he noticed her looking back at him with a ‘can you believe this guy’ flick of her brow, his head shaking slightly in return. He was the second in command of her unit, they seemed to never be too far away from one another, having fought in enough foxholes together to trust that the other had their six, and despite what the mission was expecting to serve them, seeing him there in the vehicle with her did add a certain sense of relative calm to the situation. There was a face in the crowd of strangers that wouldn’t just see her as some waste of space. Andrew knew what she was capable of. All too well .

As the stream of armored vehicles came to a stop, the soldiers completed their final weapons check as the sun began to fade down into the horizon, streaking the sky in deep orange and red like the hellfire they were about to rain down. Readying their thermal scopes and night vision, making sure their tac gear was strapped on tight, the doors opened, and shadows crept out into the evening.

Rory swung the strap of her rifle over her head and across her shoulder, looking out at the sky turned purple, the sun nearly completely gone down except for one lingering sliver of light along the horizon line. Pulling down on the goggles that would help lead her into the dark, seeing only in green and black as she marched forward, she followed her Lieutenant into battle. He was quick to give her a bump to the shoulder, that last little bit of comfort from a friend before hitting any possible SNAFUs.

“You good, Sinclair?” he whispered into the comm.

“Yeah. Same old, same old. Right, Andy?”

Chuckling at the nickname, a smile cracked his otherwise serious face, “Fuck you.”

Tensions were relieved for only a moment, building right back up as boots crunched slowly through the sand and small bits of gravel towards the munitions bunker American intelligence had confirmed the existence of several klicks across the border with the use of drones. It was up to her and the rest of the squad to clear out the guard of enemy combatants, neutralize the weapons, and then collect the intel that would lead to who had actually shipped them in. Weapons didn’t come from nowhere, there was always a trail that led back.

Silently stalking into the night, radio chatter was kept to an absolute minimum, hand signals being used instead. They’d crossed the border into enemy territory, they were no longer within the boundaries they were meant to maintain, they were in a country they weren’t at war with – not yet anyway. The squad broke up into two units, flanking the building in a pincer movement that would leave the resistance fighting from two opposing directions. Rory was split off with Walker and Lt. Owen, coming in from the rear of the bunker along with several other NATO soldiers of different rank and file, while the others stormed the front with charges to the doors.

Shock and awe .

Explosions rang out into the night, flashes of white light sparking from the corner of Rory’s night vision, the heat blurring her view for just a moment. She gripped her rifle a little tighter as they moved forward, heading down towards the opposite entrance of the complex. The heavy doors were locked tight, so C4 was strapped on in order to breach. Flying open along with a blast of sand, the doors were left to creak on their hinges as the soldiers entered before the ringing in their ears could quiet.

Black figures stormed through the halls lined with flickering fluorescent lights, the sounds of gunshots and yelling echoing as the B squad moved to meet them in the middle. Bullets ripped through the air, bodies falling. This wasn’t a precise operation, a striking opposite from the way Rory usually worked. Shifting from shock to all out bedlam for the enemy, the dead littered the bunker as the force pushed through the halls. They weren’t taking prisoners here, no hostages, this was meant to be a clean sweep except for the target, clearing all rooms of anyone armed or considered dangerous.

Room after room, corridor after corridor, this place seemed to go on forever. Some passages ran tighter than others but would lead into expansive rooms and from them more men would appear, gun spray missing the soldiers as they fired haphazardly. There would only be casualties on one side tonight as the enemy seemed to swarm like insects, wave after wave, protecting what lay at the heart of the labyrinth of tunnels. Cut down as the soldiers expected more to rise from their place.

Heading down one of the tunnels, it steadily grew darker as Rory’s squad moved away from the main hall. The lamps above glowed with warm, golden light, yet shadows still bloomed against the walls of the corridor. Another heavy steel door blocked their path at the end, and Walker was sure that was the entrance to Abdullah’s private area, sectioned off from everyone else like the queen in a nest.

Taking point at the door, Walker motioned for one of the other soldiers to come forward with the charges to breach, and the blood in Rory’s ears began to thunder with each pump of her heart, the sweat starting to form on her brow. It didn’t matter how many times she was in a situation like this, how practiced of a routine it had become, she still had that frantic moment just before hell was about to break loose. When the anxious prey animal in her head was set free before the chomping jaws of the wolf would clamp back down again and she’d return to calm. Battle readiness swept over her as the adrenaline spread through her body, keeping her head on a swivel.

With a massive bang and a gust of rushing air, the door was breached and once more they dove headfirst into the unknown. The darkness dissipated and the lights of sconces on the walls lit their way to Al Ghulam who threw himself down on to his knees without an order, wasting no time in placing his hands behind his head, as if he already knew he wouldn’t be sacrificed despite his crimes.

Rory’s hawklike gaze travelled over their newly acquired prisoner, surprised to find a man who was still clean cut and wearing a well-tailored shirt and pants and smooth leather boots, despite having been in a bunker for apparently some time, using this as his headquarters. He was a man who still held onto his ties to the West, despite working with terrorist organizations that actively despised the nations that made up its colonial powers.

Stalking up to the man, Walker grabbed the zip ties from his vest and slapped them around Abdullah’s wrists. “Well shit, you went down easy, huh?”

“Allaenat ealayk." <Arabic: Fuck you.>

“You gonna call me an American pig while you’re at it?” He looked down at the prisoner, his brow raised waiting for an answer, but he was met with only silence. “That’s what I thought. So, Mr. Al Ghulam I think you already know why we’re down here, so why don’t you save us nice people some trouble and lead us to your stash, ‘kay?”

Dark eyes rose to look at the American through a furrowed brow. “There are no weapons here,” he said confidently.

“You can fuck right off with that bullshit; I know for a fact –”

“You know nothing, fucking CIA.” Abdullah’s eyes scoured the officer with a glare. “You are led by your masters, but you don’t know anything at all.”

Grabbing Abdullah by the collar of his shirt, Walker lifted him to his feet and looked him in the eyes. “I know what I need to. And right now, you’re gonna play your role and lead me to the containers I know you have kept here.”

“Containers yes, but there are no weapons.”

“Sure there aren’t.” Walker shoved the man forward, causing him to stumble as he was pushed past the soldiers.

Rory’s stare followed him out of the room, focused on Walker and Al Ghulam. Containers, but no weapons – what was that supposed to mean? She looked to her Lieutenant, the question caught on her tongue, but it came through in her furrowed brow. Andrew gave her no answer, he didn’t have any more to go on than she did, but his jaw sat clenched.

They followed the CIA operative down, further down into the bunker. Metal stairs clanging as the boots of a dozen soldiers stomped upon them. Finally entering a massive room with a large roll up bay door at the end of it. Storage space, a delivery system, this base was well-established. Placed in the middle of the room were six large metal shipping containers and Walker’s eyes went wide at the sight.

“Alright, people, I want those doors opened. We’re taking inventory and then sweeping for intel.”

Using large bolt cutters, the locks on the containers were removed by the soldiers, but upon opening the doors it brought no peace. There weren’t any weapons as was promised, just as Al Ghulam had said, there was something else. Something that made Rory’s stomach drop and her eyes go wide with horror.

Inside each container sat women and children. Weeping and starving, treated like cattle. Their clothes dirty, the smell of body odor near unbearable as it wafted throughout the room.

“ Jesus Christ… ” Rory could only speak in a whisper, eyes glued to the sight before her.

Bolt cutters fell to the cement floor with a heavy bang. Soldiers stood, shocked so quiet they could hear a pin drop. The flashlights of a dozen rifles travelled over the tear-streaked faces of innocent people caught in the crossfire of a war that had been going on for too long. Herded into pens, treated like property, to be sent off to God only knew where.

She seethed, a deep-seated anger in her making her blood run cold. Violence she’d seen and dealt with, able to manage it and push it down to where it no longer kept her up at night. Such abhorrent behavior towards human lives however, that was something she couldn’t shut out. Her gut twisted, the stoic exterior breaking as her mouth hung open and her eyes began to sting.

Children and women reached out towards the soldiers, seeing their captor pushed to his knees and a gag shoved in his mouth. They thought the forces were there to save them and it broke Rory’s heart. They weren’t heroes, they weren’t here to save the day, if Walker had his way these civilians would likely be left here for some clean-up crew to deal with. Lives didn’t matter, just having the upper hand in the fight did.

Walker stood, his hand pressed to Al Ghulam’s shoulder as he forced the man to stay on his knees, but his face never seemed to change. Even as his amber eyes travelled over the countless faces that sat before him, the sickening sight had little effect on the man who had filled his life with secrets, lies, and deception, all to keep the power imbalance for the empire of America going strong.

“What the fuck is this?” Rory looked to Walker, her lips drawn back in a snarl. “What the fuck is this, Walker? I thought we were coming down here for weapons.”

“Yeah, we were. Intel was wrong,” he said with a shrug.

“How did no one know about this?” She tossed her arm out towards the half dozen steel cargo containers filled with women and children.

“Calm down, soldier. You think in an active war zone we got the time to be looking for missing persons? You think that’s what we’re here for? You think we give a shit about that? We are fighting terrorists, we are not the fucking UN,” Walker snapped.

Rory took off her helmet and held onto it by the straps, stabbing her tongue into her cheek if only to compose herself. “I think that whatever the fuck this asshole has going on –” Her attention turned to the man on his knees currently bound and gagged before her eyes darted back to Walker. “It’s a lot worse than whatever you or anyone else has been led to believe.”

The CIA officer stared her down, his face growing harder as he glared at her from under his brow. Unmoved by her compassion for humanity, he had a job to do and she was hindering those efforts.

“Don’t go pulling any heroics, Sinclair,” Andrew hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her closer to him until he could talk low enough for only her to hear. “We don’t need to go any deeper than this. This is above our paygrade already. We’re just here to shoot, remember ?” His glare stabbed into her as if to caution her next move. “I'd like to keep it that way.”

Her brow knit together, her jaw tightening ever still. It was like she was the only one who could see what was happening, the only one with clarity of mind to know that something monstrous was going on here and it sunk deep into the bowels of things. There was an unseen side to war, and she had yet to have gotten a stomach for it. “There are women and children locked up in steel boxes like cargo. I don’t care if this isn’t the weapon shipment we were sent in for. You think I'm going to turn a blind eye to that?”

“I think we shouldn’t push our CIA friend.”

It was a warning. Andrew had been around this block more times than she, he knew how bad things could get, but still she couldn’t understand how he wouldn’t object to what was happening here. “ Andy ?” She was taken aback by her Lieutenant’s sudden willful withdrawal of his conscience. They were at war, weapons were something she expected, a human trafficking ring was not on her list of things to discover in a bunker.

“Listen to me, Rory. We let Officer Walker do what he needs to with our target, and you and I stay quiet. Do you understand me, Sergeant?” Rory’s eyes drifted away from Andrew and back over to Walker, still holding onto Abdullah like a hostage before Lieutenant Owen grabbed her arm and brought her attention back to him as her superior. “There’s a reason the CIA wants him kept alive when it would be so easy to just put a bullet in his head. I’d prefer not to be privy to all that. Clear?”

“Rog’,” she said sullenly.

“Good. Now then let’s say we help Officer Walker here find a private room where he can hold a discussion with Mr. Al Ghulam. The sooner we can get out of here, the better.”

Rory nodded, her face sunken into a scowl. She hated being beholden to a law that didn’t even truly exist, a shadow of the rule of justice that was meant to be carried out, where war crimes and human rights violations were swept under the rug so long as the right hands were greased and information could be swapped between hands. It was dirty, stained in red, and going into the black meant it would never come to light.

#cod fanfic #oc: rory sinclair #john price x female oc #ship: you are the sword to my shield

30 notes · View notes

jaegerisim · 7 months

Note

you know what? i'm not even going on anon for this. oh my GOD you have some of the worst fucking takes i have ever seen like dude what. What. several things. how are you gonna say eddie fans suck when you have taylor fucking swift in your bio like that's already a red flag in itself. yeah, you are the problem! congratulations, should we have a parade? you want a fucking medal? i dunno. try being a faggot metalhead in small town america with an alcoholic dickhead for a father and come back and tell me what you think of eddie, what you think of billy. you're entitled to your opinions but jesus fucking christ, you don't have to be a dick about it. that sounds hypocritical because i'm definitely being a dick right now but you're doing it every fucking day. let people live for fucks sake. if someone feels seen in/enjoys a character that you don't like, who cares? none of your goddamn business. i think will's annoying as fuck but i'm not gonna tell people who like bill that they're vapid or pieces of shit. live and let live, jesus fucking christ. i hope you can find some peace in your heart for real. being this much of a hater must fucking suck

hi. 🩷

why did you come here to tell me this? what do you want me to, bro? give you a round of applause idk, man.

"taylor fucking swift in your bio like that's already a red flag in itself. yeah, you are the problem! congratulations, should we have a parade? you want a fucking medal?" 🤓☝

billy is a fucking piece of shit just like you so lmaoo i have every right to shit on him. also "let ppl live" i didn't send hate to anyone bro. i just said a character is fucking disgusting. unlike you who comes here to insult me lol. touch grass and get a life. so ironic that you go around saying "live and let ppl live" lmfao

you after being the most hateful person ever: "being this much of a hater must fucking suck".

go back to thirsting over white racist men who enjoy trying to run 13 y.o black boys and abusing little girls <333

this is you while writing this btw <3

#you are ridiculous bro #clowncore #hate #you are not fucking cool or edgy by doing this fyi #also ur bio says “18 and numb” it should be “18 and dumb”#you reek of pretentious white 18 yo queer lib #fucking disgusting

22 notes · View notes

ask-the-royal-absol · 10 months

Text

Destino: Let's begin, peasants!

@ask-guardian-gallade

*Destino takes one look at Romeo and makes a disgusted face.*

Oh great. The walking stick over here decided to make an appearance. Your face reminds me of something. A Stunky's backside. Nobody wants to see it but it keep rearing it anyway. And you lost your arm too? How did that happen? Wait, let me guess. Your battling skills were so bad that you lost it to the first Pokémon you saw? I wouldn't be surprised if you lost it to a Sunkern. I've heard how pathetic they are. Perhaps you're a Sunkern in disguise, considering how weak you look. I could probably knock you over with a single breath. Snap you like a twig too. You should probably be more careful around other Pokémon. I wouldn't want you to loose your other arm because they gently bumped into you.

@spikyegg

*Destino laughs as soon as they see Derek.* You think that ensemble looks good on you? Haha! That's probably the funniest thing I've seen all day. You look like if a Trubbish decided to take a shit and proudly display it on themselves. And that head piece? That's probably the most flattering part about you. Then again, you're not anything special to look at. Main character? Of what novel? Because I doubt anyone would want to read a book with you as the protagonist. I think you probably misunderstood your role. You're one of those character who would appear for a second and get easily forgotten because of how little impact you more than likely have in this world.

@team-pokefriends

*Destino looks at Sophie, shit-eating grin on their face.* You know, I love it when other Pokémon create impossible dreams for themselves. Like you. Dreaming of being cool looking like that? How truly inspiring. The cape certainly doesn't help. Did you really think putting that ridiculous cloth on you would suddenly make everyone think you're cool? Perhaps you should change your dream to being the world's most deluded Slowking. At least that's achievable. And you're one of two leaders of a Pokémon team? However did your team mate allow that to happen? I mean, sorry to say this but it's clearly some elaborate prank they thought of to make you look stupid. I doubt I'd ever want you to lead a team if I made one. That's sending so many red flags. I'm surprised you haven't failed miserably yet.

@nobetternamethanthat2

*Looks towards Daniel, feigning surprise * Wow. I'm speechless. I truly am. I didn't think I'd find someone so ugly but here we are. I should give you a medal for going around looking like that. And the outfit too? Oh man, I feel sorry for anyone who decides to hang around with you. Then again, I imagine they're doing it for pity. And come on. At least style your hair a bit. Put a bit of effort into your appearance. I know not everyone can look as magnificent as me but at least try to have some dignity. I would offer to make you at least look somewhat decent but I doubt even my skills could help out in that department. How could you ever make yourself look presentable when each mirror you come across cracks at the sight of you?

@neverlandfaerai

*Destino looks at Agatha with a mock surprised face* The god of creation decided to make you look like that? I wouldn't be surprised if you were one of the idea they threw away and ended up accidently being created. I imagine they regretted that decision. I mean, who would even care for a decrepit creature like you? Do you even have any friends? Family? I highly doubt it. Why would anyone want to be around some washed up old crone? And please don't speak. It makes it much easier to maintain my illusions of your intelligence that way.

@ask-suicune

*Destino takes one glance at Zantzu and smugly smiles.* Well well well. If it isn't the water type who decided a scarf would be a good thing to wear. Perhaps you should get a bigger scarf to cover more of yourself up. And what is up with those ribbons? Born with ribbons coming out of your ass? Damn, I almost feel sorry about how ridiculous you look with those. And that hair. Purple. Did you dye it that colour to make yourself look a shred bit presentable? No? You were born with it? What a disaster for you. I'm surprised you wake up everyday telling yourself you look ok. Your scent is also incredibly interesting too. Did you attack a Stunky or did one just sneeze on you? I thought water types were supposed to be clean but the whiff I got of your stench makes me doubt what I've heard.

@askpokemoncrossover

Sai. You know, you amaze me. Being some mad scientist's fucked up creation must be so hard for you. That's not the case? How on earth would you explain your looks? I have the belief that every Pokémon can be strong. Looking at you though, I can see I was wrong. Those noodly arms would barely be able to get a single hit on an opponent. I guarantee that if I used my weakest attack on you, you'd flop to the ground in an instant.

And I doubt anyone would come running over to aid you. You look like the type of Pokémon not even a mother could love. Does anyone love you? If you said yes, that'd be the funniest thing I'd have heard in a long time.

@ask-lu-two-and-mew

Now, help me out Lucario because I'm really struggling to understand how you could ever think that face mask could work. That's natural? What an absolute shame that is. Perhaps you should cover up. At least then your friends wouldn't be embarrassed being around you. And a fighting type too? I thought fighting types were supposed to be these strong looking Pokémon that could hold their own against any opponent. I doubt you could even put a dent in a geodude. I imagine everyone else probably fights your battles as they would see how pathetic your attempt at fighting was and take pity on you.

Destino: Don't worry, I'll come at the rest of you later. I know you all crave my attention. I understand. Who wouldn't?

#destino's roasting session #destino you're gonna get your ass kicked with some of these #sorry no art #i did not anticipate how many of you would want to be roasted #gonna be honest i kinda felt overwhelmed by the amount of people wanting to be roasted lol #i know i said i would do art #sorry

28 notes · View notes

excessive-vampires · 6 months

Text

Danger in Numbers Part 2: Exo's Award

Masterlist with CW

“It just had to be Gemar,” Alex muttered, adjusting his sunglasses.

“Do you have something against all the colonies?” Cassie teased.

“It’s just so fucking bright.”

“Most people think that makes it pretty.”

Gemar was in a binary star system, and the different angles at which the light hit the planet meant that in certain places during certain seasons any prism would throw extraordinarily vibrant and distinct rainbows in every direction. This meant many public spaces were built to incorporate a lot of glass and crystal, bathing the entire area in patterns of colored light.

“Besides,” Cassie continued. “This is where Exohive’s primary residence is.”

“They couldn’t have picked any of their other residences? Or is it important that it be the queen bee’s nest?”

“You know that’s not how it works. Besides, would you rather be on Nova?”

“Not without a haz-mat suit.” Alex glanced around. “This is almost just as bad though. There’s got to be a ton of hives here but I have no idea who they are.”

“Why does it matter?”

“What if I’m talking with someone and they turn out to be a hive?”

Cassie clenched her jaw. Mel added a little something extra stress-reducing to the already drug-filled brownies they were making and said through Cassie, “Damn, looks like you’ll just have to not be an asshole at all for one whole day.”

Alex ran a hand through his short pink hair and muttered something under his breath.

“Hey,” Cassie said. “You didn’t have to come with me.” Sweethive had actually been disappointed when Alex had said he was accompanying Cassie. They had been looking forward to Cassie being around other hives and not having to hide for once. But he’d insisted. “You can always go back to the ship.”

“I’m not leaving someone with no self-preservation instincts alone in a city full of hives now that they can start recruiting outsiders.”

Sweethive’s patience snapped. Silas’s grip on the cold drink he’d just bought from a street vendor a few miles from Gemar’s largest public stage tightened. He had been close enough to make the journey in time and Sweethive figured if they were reconnecting with Exohive then the more the merrier. He lifted Cassie’s hand to Alex’s ear and roughly pulled him close enough to hear him whisper. “Shut the hell up before you get yourself kicked out. If you start shit here I’m not going to defend you.”

Alex pulled away, looking momentarily angry, then he deflated. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Cassie. I just start saying shit with no filter when I’m nervous. Not an excuse, I know, but I’ll try to keep a lid on it.”

“If you’re really sorry, I’m not who it should be directed at.” That was a lie, of course. But Alex didn’t know that. Cassie tried to quicken her pace to walk away but a sting of pain in her left knee slowed her down. She grumbled a curse.

“Cassie, whoa, slow down!” Alex sounded concerned. “You okay? Do you need your cane?”

“I need to be able to hold this camera with both hands. It’s an extremely expensive piece of equipment and I’m using it to document something that could end up in history books.” Carter said with Cassie’s voice. “This is worth a little pain.”

Alex had known Cassie long enough not to argue. Finally they reached the spot in front of the stage reserved for the media. Cassie scanned her temporary press badge and moved through the barrier, leaving Alex on the other side. He frowned at her.

“I’m fine. Go. Get some food, have fun, look at the pretty colors. Don’t stay where you don’t want to be because you’re worried about me for no reason. I’m an adult, I don’t need supervision to film a medal ceremony.”

Alex gave her a look but then sighed. “You’re right, Cassie, I should trust you. I’m gonna go back to the ship and see what ridiculous touristy shit they have at the refueling station gift shop.”

Cassie smiled. “Good luck.”

Alex smiled back and started walking away from the growing crowd.

Cassie’s shoulders relaxed. No more pretending for now.

“Your companion seems pretty grumpy for someone on leave from a ship,” someone behind Cassie said. She turned and saw a man with clear-framed glasses and faceted clear beads adorning his dreadlocks. The color of his badge identified him as a local reporter.

“He doesn’t do well with new things. His heart belongs to the past.”

“And how do you like new things?”

The smile on Cassie’s face was Silas’. “There’s nothing better.”

The man held out his hand. “Drew Findhive.”

There was only one reason a hive would introduce themselves in a casual context with a member name. Laughter from the collective left Cassie’s mouth. And Mel’s, startling a small bird from the feeder outside their open kitchen window. The rest of the members just smirked. Findhive looked confused. “You heard Alex call me Cassie, didn’t you?”

“Is that… not your name?”

“It is. My name is Cassie Sweethive.”

Findhive laughed too now. “Oh shit, we thought you were–”

“Some thrill-seeking quiet you could seduce with the mystery and exoticness of being a hive as long as you put me at ease with a singular name?” Carter commented.

“Okay, yeah, you caught us. So, your old-fashioned friend…”

“He doesn’t know.”

“Seriously?”

“It started as a bet between us and the ship’s captain. How long would it take the rest of the crew to realize? But then we got to know Alex. He’s fun to hang out with and a mostly good friend, but like you said, he’s old-fashioned.”

“Ah.”

The mood was dark, so Kara decided to lighten it. “Well, you weren’t entirely wrong about us. We do love a good thrill.”

“Really?” Findhive leaned in close. “And are you open to seduction?”

Cassie bit her lower lip. “We’re actually hoping to reconnect with Exo tonight if we can. But would you be terribly offended if we wanted to exchange information as a backup plan in case they’re too busy for old flames?”

“You know them?” Findhive’s eyes went wide.

“We haven’t talked in years, always had more actions in common than words, if you get me.” Silas explained.

“Hmm,” Findhive replied as they pressed a button on their wrist-screen. Cassie’s screen dinged with the incoming contact info and all of Sweethive smiled. “Would you be terribly offended if we say we hope they blow you off?” they said with a smile.

Then the stage lit up. Both hives snapped to attention, Sweet raising their camera and Find pulling out a screen and stylus to take notes with.

Earth’s ambassador to Gemar approached the podium, but Sweethive’s attention was fully captivated by the six members of Exohive walking up to the opposite side of the stage. Six was a lot for a hive, and one more than Exo had the last time Sweet saw them, but the addition seemed to prove lucky. Exo’s members had each dyed their hair a different color of the rainbow to match the light thrown by the stage’s many prisms. Silas laughed. Then Cassie’s eyes locked onto Rose Exohive. Orange was a good color on her. An amazing color. It made her look like she was on fire, which absolutely matched the impression given by Exo’s behavior. Carter reluctantly dragged Cassie’s eyes back to the camera screen to make sure the whole stage was still in focus.

The ambassador’s speech was short, which Sweethive was both appreciative of and irked by. They couldn’t help but think that if that medal were going to a quiet there would be a lot more fanfare. But still, the weight of the camera was making Cassie’s arms sore by the time the ambassador was handing the medal around Carlos’ neck. The ribbon was as bright red as his hair and his smile was wide and unapologetic.

Then there was a horribly loud crack. Silas, now at the back of the crowd, looked up so Cassie could keep filming.

All thoughts of getting more footage left Sweethive’s collective as Silas saw the crystal tower to the right of the stage start to fall. Cassie screamed for everyone onstage to take cover. Exohive looked up and began to scramble to the edge of the stage out of the crystal spire’s path. The ambassador ran stage right and threw himself off the edge. The heavy shimmering pole crashed into the stage without crushing anyone and for a second Sweethive thought the danger was gone. Then something backstage exploded.

#hive

10 notes · View notes

whatwouldmickeydo · 2 years

Text

I wrote this random thing sometime after season 10 aired and had planned to make it a part of something bigger but never actually got around to it.

Takes place after Ian’s release in 10x5 and before Mickey’s release in 10x6.

He’s on hour ten of a 14 hour shift, waiting in line for some desperately needed coffee while on break, the other two paramedics waiting impatiently in the rig outside. At least Paula hasn’t stopped them from having this little bit of joy yet. She’ll probably start back charging them for breaks too before long.

And then that’ll be when I finally fucking quit. Except not because he needs the damn money.

The lady at the front seems to be attempting to win a medal for how much shit she can fit in one cup of coffee. Who the fuck even mixes peppermint with caramel?

He’s glancing around the shop when his eyes lock onto another pair staring straight at him. Ian recognizes him slightly, seen him here a few times when he comes in to grab coffee for a long shift. One of those guys who never seem to specify what exactly they do for work but somehow always have a laptop open doing something.

He’s good looking, there’s no denying that – tan skin, tight shirt, slick backed blonde hair, artsy tattoos wrapping around his biceps. Not the right kind of tattoos though. Ian offers a friendly nod in his direction, gets a heat filled leer and a grin back. He knows the look, seen it enough times from his days at the club. Hell, he’s given that look to plenty of guys himself.

Ian’s finally next in line so he drops the gaze and steps up to the counter, quickly placing an order for three coffees to go.

He’s standing off to the side waiting for them to call his name when he hears a throat clear next to him, looking over to see the guy walking up to him with a friendly smile on his face.

“Hi there. Name’s Jackson. You work around here?” Ian turns to address him, slightly caught off guard at being approached so quickly.

“Hey. Uh, the rig out there is mine,” he says, gesturing out the window to the ambulance parked out front where his two other coworkers are standing outside, one of them tapping frantically at his watch.

Jackson turns to look, nodding in recognition. “Yeah, I’ve seen you come in a few times, there some medical crisis happening around here I should know about?” he says with a rakish smile, not hiding the way he’s clearly checking out Ian, eyes lingering on his lower body.

Ian flushes slightly, skin prickling at the obvious attention. He laughs lightly, scratching the back of his head. “No, nothing like that. This coffee shop is pretty close to our route and the two out there are actual coffee snobs who won’t drink shit from Starbucks.”

Jackson laughs, a little too loudly for a joke Ian thinks isn’t all that funny.

“It’s a pretty nice neighborhood, actually. Lots of cool bars and places to hang out. I could show you around sometime if you want,” he offers, and Ian thinks he finally understands what the phrase ‘batting your eyelashes’ means.

Ian glances at him quickly, trying not to make too much eye contact. “Uh, sorry dude… I’m uh… taken. I’ve got someone.” He flushes, heat spreading through his body at his own words. Because he is. Taken. He belongs to someone.

He doesn’t think a simple sentence like I’ve got someone should be having this much of an effect on him, but he can’t help it. Mickey is his and he told him he’d wait. It’s different than the last time, when they were separated by glass and prison guards, when he had lied to his face and spiraled out into madness. They’re both so different now, it’s hard to fit those parts of his life together with his life now.

“He’s a lucky guy then. If you’re both ever looking for a good time, hit me up,” Jackson offers with an easy smile and a wink, clearly not put off by the mention of someone else. He slides a piece of paper across the counter with what Ian can only assume is his phone number. He doesn’t make an effort to take it, because he already knows the answer.

Mickey doesn’t share.

And neither does he.

A sliver of want flashes through him, images of Mickey’s shit-eating grin shining bright behind his eyes, picturing that tongue curling around his teeth when he’s feeling particularly smug. God, he misses him.

He snaps out of his daydream when he hears his name being called for his order, nodding politely at Jackson before heading up to grab the coffees.

“No thanks man, we’re good.”

#this has been sitting in my drafts for forever #I had a whole 3+1 idea for this but ended up with only one idea lmao #anyway here’s some random writing about season 10 #gallavich #shameless

103 notes · View notes

clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years

Note

first ever request so I'm not sure if I'm being specific enough but

could I request something with the main iswm crew and maybe Mack finding out that the planet the colonists are being transported to is actually alien!readers home planet? (with reader's kind welcoming the colonists and crew with open arms) ((if that's too many characters, you can just pick which ones you want to do))

Slerapy anon

Mark

At first he’s stunned that you were an alien this whole time. You did a very good job masquerading as a human.

But does it change his opinion of you as a captain and friend who never gave up on him? Absolutely not.

He’s so excited to meet the rest of your species! And eager for the colonists to rest on the shores of your home planet.

Prior to disembarking you sent a simple request to your people: Never, under any circumstances, are they allowed to call the human named “Mark Iplier” ugly. That word was banned.

You've heard that one too many times from other rude aliens, and your species isn't gonna make the same mistake. No sir.

When Mark finds out about the extra step you took to make him feel more welcomed, he smiles.

And he beams with such pride as one of your planet’s leaders gives him a medal..and then you a medal..and then him a medal..and then you a medal..and that one female crew member a medal.

There’s no one he adored more than you, his alien captain.

Mack (Head Engineer)

On the other hand..

"I KNEW it!! You were an alien all along!!”

Of course, why wouldn’t you know how to reroute power or other troubleshooting measures on your own ship? ‘Only an alien disguised as a human captain wouldn’t!’ He thinks. That’s why he insisted on taking over and treated you so harshly when you refused. He was paranoid.

Now that the truth’s fully out, he plots a revolt against you for “espionage”.

Yet...nobody takes his side. They don’t really care and are just happy to reach their destination in one piece.

You lowkey get offended when Mack assumes you wanna enslave the colonists, so you explain that your people were hosting a festival to celebrate their arrival--and that the two species have been communicating long before this trip. It’s why you orchestrated this trip at all.

When he finally meets them, he remains hostile but soon sees how genuinely kind they are and realizes how wrong he was.

Then he stumbles into your cabin in tears, begging for forgiveness.

Celci

Ngl she was a bit surprised.

She thought the planet you chose was uninhabited and simply had all the suitable conditions for human life.

But the scouting crew discovered an alien civilization and that’s when you reveal your true form to her, smiling as you explain it’s your home and all of them are welcomed.

“We’re a kind species, CC. We’ve been in contact with humanity for a while about establishing a society together. I just..didn’t wanna scare you guys so I stayed quiet.”

Although a bit miffed you kept this hidden she forgives you, still proud to call you her Captain.

“You kept them all safe, and that’s what matters. I’m eager to meet your friends and family, Cap.”

Gunther

“Aliens??? Hm.....do they have high-tech explosive weaponry we can trade?”

Barely bats an eye at the big reveal that his captain’s an alien.

You find it suspicious, especially when you remember the timeline he betrayed you for that exact reason.

When you catch him alone you ask him what he genuinely thinks of you.

“I was shocked, yeah but..shit, you led us well, Captain. Probably better than any other human could’ve. As long as your kind doesn’t try to uh..probe us, it’s all good.”

Burt

You’re a bit nervous about what he’ll think, but he just smiles lightly and reiterates his little poem (from the end of part 2).

“Alien or human or..anywhere in between, you are still a child of the universe. So beautiful to behold. I look forward to the exchanging of our cultures with your species.”

And he just walks away and resumes his duties.

What a guy.

Wug (bc I love him he deserves a spot here)

"You??? Alien???? Alien like Wug????? :DD"

He's so happy when you’re comfortable enough to reveal your true form to him.

But at the same time feels bad for assuming you were human when you first met him.

You let him come onto your transport as you arrive on the planet's surface, showing him around.

"WOAH!!!! Wug find planet pretty..but not as pretty/handsome as [y/n]!”

He’ll use his translator to talk with your species, and after seeing how benevolent they are he might coordinate a meeting with other Wugs.

#clanask #slerapy anon #iswm x reader #iswm 2 x reader #in space with markiplier x reader #iswm mark #space mark #iswm mack #iswm celci #iswm burt #iswm gunther #iswm wug #headcanons #alien reader

232 notes · View notes

deputy-buck · 4 months

Text

Miscellaneous Tag game

Thank you for makin this and tagging me Mar!!! @ronald-speirs

Favorite place in the world you’ve visited?

I haven't been many places at all, and all of the places I enjoyed are neighboring states (Florida, SC, Tennessee, Alabama.) so it's almost the same as being home. I'll say Alabama, went to a cliff that my parents, aunt, and uncles used to climb and camp at all the time, idk what it's actually called but they always called it Sand Rock (take a guess what the rock is primarily made of...) it was entirely untouched when they used to go, but now there's fucking campsites and a huge pavilion there, I hate it bc the pictures my parents took made the place look so perfect and secluded, no trash anywhere. Now there's a fucking dumpster with shit leaking out of it and stupid "Beware! Cliff!" signs everywhere like no shit there's a cliff its a rock wall you idiots-

Something you’re proud of yourself for?

.... girl idk- I guess I'm proud of how regardless of the circumstances, I always stick to my morals and principles. Thanks for that one, dad.

Favorite books?

Oh!!! Yeah!!!!!!!!!!!! hmm-

One Bullet Away - Nathaniel Fick. Probably my favorite of all time, it's so well and personally written, made me cry every time I read it.

Islands Of The Damned - R.V. Burgin. I love how simply he wrote it, like he really put his authentic self on those pages and didn't try to seem "more educated" than he was because he was just a little Texas boy and I loved that about him.

Those are really the only ones I can recall details from so I'll stick with those, but I did enjoy Helmet For My Pillow - Robert Leckie a lot, I read that in the truck while waiting for my brother to get out of class,. Generation Kill - Evan Wright was also good but it read so... grade-school-y, ya know?

My To Read list is:

With The Old Breed - Eugene Sledge. Started it but couldn't continue bc it seems like he's censoring himself a bit and IIIIIIII don't fuck with that, I'll power through it eventually though.

Red Platoon - Clinton Romesha. It's by a Medal Of Honor recipient from The Battle of Kamdesh, the only reason I haven't read it yet is bc i will sob about it for days after and I'm not ready for that.

My To Buy list is:

China Marine - Eugene Sledge. I WANT TO KNOW EVERY LITTLE DETAIL OF HIS TIME IN CHINA AFTER THE WAR-

(switching to non-war books oops)

Call Me By Your Name & Find Me - André Aciman. I just want to kill myself really, I want to hurt so bad that I never recover. Both are written in first person though and I hate that shit...

The Power Of The Dog - Thomas Savage. I watched the movie first and now I need to base my whole life off of these pieces of ART like fuckkkkkkkk.

Fellow Travelers - Thomas Mallon. Uhhhhhh yeah I want to submerge myself in this series entirely. Supposedly there's an ass ton of changes from in the series from the book, like Hawk being in the Army in the show and not the Navy like in the book, and I need to know if there are Seaman jokes-

Something that makes your heart happy when thinking about it?

Maizie 💚💚💚💚 my goofy goopy gooby girl 💚💚💚💚 my baby 💚💚💚💚 my sweet little bully girl 💚💚💚💚 the light of my life and the hindrance of my life-path 💚💚💚💚 the most stressful thing I've ever had to deal with day in and day out 💚💚💚💚

also cock. yeah that makes my heart happy too.

Favorite thing about your culture?

The MEN- okay I'll be serious. I'm not exactly sure what my culture is since Southern culture is Black culture (no I won't fight anyone on this unless you've been here, experience life here, and looked into literally any staple of Southern culture and seen that yeah 99% of it is rooted in Black history) and I'm.... Ghostly- I love the sense of community and the general easy-going but also absolutely chaotic feel you get everywhere you go. Like yeah I could get called "baby" and "sugar" and "honey" by the sweet old cashier, and then right when I walk out of the store I could suddenly be helping some stranger pack a deer with ice and have blood all over my hands and arms, the polarity of Southern-ness is great.

When did you join the HBO War fandom? What was the first show you watched?

I want to say two and a half years ago, not really sure though- Band of Brothers was my first watched it back to back like four times, then Gen Kill and watched that one probably four times back to back as well, then The Pacific like two or three times back to back, and now I'm suffering through MOTA.

Have you read any of Easy Company’s books? If so, which ones were your favorite?

I have not. I don't really want to either bc I don't want to realize all the inaccuracies of the show vs the true events. Like the little things, I don't want to watch the show with distain-

Favorite HBO War character and your favorite moment with them?

Oh fuck you Mar, I can't choose!!

BoB: I cannot choose, I can't. I love so many of them way too much that it hurts. Loved whenever Johnny yelled "BULL!!" like yes bestie I would scream his name too-

GK: Poke <3 whenever he was on screen was my favorite. I think his "and all the love in their hearts, from their wives and children. And all that hate, dog. All the hate it took to blow these motherfuckers away. It's destiny, dog! White Man's gotta rule the world!" and that was the first time we saw Doc smile too, love that for them. Alternatively whenever he looks at Brad with his shark-like smile, I would FOLD if he looked at me that way.

TP: SID AND YOU ALREADY KNOW THIS MAR FUCK I LOVE THAT BOY SO MUCH I NEED HIM SO BAD. When he tore Gene a new one about why they were the ones that made it back and not all those other guys, like yes put your boy in line-

MOTA: *crickets*

Do you make content for any fandoms, if so; what sort of content?

HBOwar: Sort of? Not as of late but I have written a few fics and made a few moodboards, can find all of them in my masterlist. I'm sorta working on some TP stuff but it's so hard for me to write for that while FT is consuming my every waking thought.

Fellow Travelers: HAHHAH I CAN'T STOP- Oh I've already made so many little webweaves and edits and a moodboard, and rn I'm working on a puppyplay fic hahah

UFC: I don't make content though I kinda wish I had when I was super-super into the fighters on a personally level lmao

Favorite actor/actress and your favorite film of theirs?

I don't have one, like there's not a specific actor/actress I've watched shitty film for. I usually enjoy Mads Mikkelsen in whatever he does, Jabob Pitts is also lovely, Anne Hathaway is my If I Was Straight actress

Favorite quote/s that you wish to share with others?

"Give what you get and don't complain when you get what you give."

Random fact your mutuals/followers don’t know about you?

Mm, I don't know, I'm always cold and I hate it and will never willingly live any further north than where I currently live, also no further west than Louisiana cause fuck Texas on a personal level

If you’re a writer, do you need a beta reader (say yes so I can be your beta reader 🤭)?

I don't know what a beta reader is please explain SOMEONE-

Three things that make you smile?

Actually being on a job site regardless of how anxious it makes me, I've spent way too long doing what I do from home and not being a part of the installation process.

Hearing other people laugh, idk why but hearing anyone laugh makes me smile.

These pictures of my goofy goopy gooby girl

Any nicknames you like?

Buck is a nickname and I love it cause it's so fucking HICK like ME

List some people you love to see around on tumblr!

@ronald-speirs !! even though like none of your posts from any of your blogs are showing up on my dash?? hate you tumblr-

@ableedingpen !! BRO I WANT TO KISS YOU YOU ARE SO FUCKING AWESOME TO SEE IN MY REPLIES LIKE I GET STUPIDLY EXCITED-

@corkyviolet !! your screencaps are so fucking good and I cry at all of your edits-

@verawhisk !! we don't post the same content anymore but I do still love to see you around, V you are the GOAT

What would you do during a zombie apocalypse?

Shoot myself. No joke, I don't want to deal with that.

Favorite movie?

uhhhhhhhhh, All Of Us Strangers ripped my heart out, not sure if it's my favorite though

Do you like horror movies?

No (sorry Mar) they never appealed to me, I prefer a documentary about real fucked up and gorey events-

Tagging: anyone!!! have fun y'all!!!

#tag game #MarMar✿#buck brawls

4 notes · View notes

tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 1 year

Text

Long-ish story below the “keep reading” link. It involves being unnecessarily impressed with people who seem like a big deal.

I went to my parents’ place for dinner tonight, and with the weather getting colder, I brought out, for the first time this year, the warmest sweater I have. It’s a great piece of clothing, looks and feels like a sweater instead of a coat, but it’s nearly as warm as a winter jacket. I can wear it instead of a proper coat, pretty much up until the dead of winter.

When I grabbed it, I automatically thought, “Time to get out the [person’s name] sweater.” I’ve known it by that nickname for so long, that when I refer to it that way, I no longer think of why it has a nickname. But I thought of it tonight, so here’s the story. For the purposes of this blog, I’m going to call the person for whom it’s named Romesh Ranganathan. This is because Romesh Ranganathan seems to be everyone’s go-to example these days of a British comedian whose career is going very well, who’s achieved a high level of fame, and if I saw him on the street, I’d think, “Holy shit, I just saw a really famous person.” That is relevant to the story.

In 2013, I’d been competing and then coaching my sport in my own city for nearly ten years. I’d achieved a sort of moderate level of success; you could call it below moderate or a little above, depending on your standards. It was above moderate to the people in my city who only competed locally, it was below moderate to anyone used to international competition. Sometimes old teammates of mine who achieved way more than I ever did talk to me about how they “Never made it” because they didn’t get that world medal or whatever, and then I remember that there are many standards by which I fell short of moderate. But I feel just fine with anyone looking at my level and saying, “Yeah, that’s moderate.”

My city didn’t have a varsity team or a national-level training centre in my sport, so most athletes who graduated high school with the level of success that I’d had by then left town, going somewhere with more training opportunities. When I finished high school, I was good enough to have a couple of university teams express mild interest, recruitment-wise, and one even sort of mention the possibility of scholarship offers. But I ignored them and stayed home, for a whole host of reasons. A lot of those reasons involved wanting to try to build up the club where I’d been training for ten years. So I did that – became a coach of my club and local high schools, trained where I could, did a little bit of competing. I did that for five years.

During those five years, and during the four years before that that I’d spent as a properly competitive high school athlete, I followed the sport across the country very closely. This was before everything was on every social media, but there was one guy who went to all the tournaments and filmed matches for YouTube, and I watched every single video that went online. After every competition, I went to our provincial organization’s website to read the results of every category. There used to be a joke on my team that if you’re at a tournament and you see a name on your draw sheet you don’t recognize, I’m the person to ask, because I know who everyone is.

But knowing who everyone is is very different from knowing everyone. I didn’t really know anyone. Some of my old teammates had gone on to do big things, and they’d come home and tell me stories about the places they’d gone and the high-level athletes they’d met and what it was all like, and I’d think it was all so cool. But I hadn’t been good enough for almost anyone to know me while I stayed in the small scene in my own city.

Five years after I’d finished high school, it was 2013, and due to the path to my degree being a fucking mess, I still had two years of university left. I decided to spend them at a university with one of the biggest teams for my sport in the country, because I’d never given things a proper shot beyond the high school level, and I wanted to see what I could do. I made contact with the coach there, transferred my school credits over, and moved in with some former teammates from my hometown who had gone there to train with that university the year before.

I was so nervous to go to my first practice with that team. I went in with my friend, the girl from my hometown who was also my new roommate and was excited to have me join her on this big team. As we walked through the hallway toward the training room, the previous year’s national champ walked by us. I had spent years watching this guy on YouTube. I’d seen all his matches. I’d read all his stats. I’d studied his technical ability. I knew he was a member of the team I had joined, but somehow, before that moment, I had not fully thought through the fact that I should be prepared to be in a room with him. After years of knowing his name and seeing him on the screen, he was there in the flesh, displacing air.

I stopped in my tracks, turned to my friend, and excitedly whispered, “Holy shit, it’s [that guy]!” She said… yes, he’s at every practice, you knew he was here, right? I said yeah, I knew he’d be there, but still, it’s exciting. She said I’m going to have to get used to that, and then get over it, pretty quickly, or sharing that practice room would be weird. I then thought of all the other big name athletes whom I knew were on this team, and for the first time thought of the reality that they would be my teammates, and that seemed so overwhelming that I almost turned around and walked the fuck home.

My friend dragged me into the practice room with her, telling me to calm down, they’re just people. I did not calm down. I spent that whole first practice freaking out, and I barely got anything done. For weeks after that I went to every practice, only working with the few friends I knew from back home, not saying a word to anyone else, constantly in awe of my surroundings. The room was full of people I knew from YouTube, just hanging out, talking, joking around, being real human beings. My brain had so much trouble processing the stars of my sport as real human beings.

A few weeks later was the early season team bonding activity. The day involved being outside in the rain all day, and I spent most of it huddled with my friend off to the side. After the outdoor activity finished, the whole team went for dinner. At the restaurant, I ended up seated next to a guy whom I will call Romesh Ranganathan. Romesh Ranganathan was one of the most successful athletes on that generally high-level team. He was objectively one of the best athletes, but also subjectively, he was the one I liked the best. I loved watching him compete. His style was my favourite way to do the sport, one I wished I were good enough to emulate. At my home club, I had gone into practices and spent time trying to do moves the way he did.

He happens to be my age, so when we were both in high school, he was in the same year and at all the same tournaments. Even back then, I used to watch his matches in awe of his skill. My biggest high school achievement was the time I won the provincial championships, which I did in the same year and the same category as he did (he won it on the male side and I won it on the female side), and the day I accomplished that was the best day of my entire life up to that point. It was the best day because it was my big dream that I’d been working on for years, and it would be hard to have anything make that incredible moment even better, but when I realized Romesh Ranganathan had won as well and this made us counterparts, that was a very cool bonus.

So I was a fan of his in high school, and kept that going after we graduated. Watched all his videos, thought he was one of the coolest athletes from our sport in the whole country. I had never met him before I joined his team. Really, I hadn’t met him before that night at the restaurant, because even though I’d been on the team for several weeks and I’d seen him in the practice room, I’d been too shy to talk to anyone.

That night at dinner, I ended up sitting next to Romesh Ranganathan, and he was charming and charismatic and just cool as all hell, and I felt like this was the best place in the entire world. I didn’t say a word until at one point, he complained about being cold, because we’d all been out in the rain. That morning, I’d thought ahead and brought my nice, fuzzy, surprisingly warm sweater – such a good sweater that it’s almost like a coat – and then I’d left it in my friend’s car so it would stay dry, and I’d have something warm to wear at the end of the day. I was wearing it in the restaurant, and it felt great, but Romesh Ranganathan had barely finished his sentence about how cold he was when I heard myself say: “Want my sweater?” If I’d had time to think, I’d have gotten too nervous to offer. But I didn’t let myself think.

He stopped and looked at me, clearly noticing me for the first time. He asked what I meant, but I was already halfway through the process of taking the sweater off. I told him I know it doesn’t look like much, but it’s made of some really good material or something, because it keeps you way warmer than you’d expect. And I’ve been wearing it for a while so I’m fine, he should put it on and it’ll warm him up.

He hesitantly took it from me and put it on, and immediately said, “Holy shit, you’re right!” For the rest of that dinner, he constantly commented on how ridiculously cozy my sweater was. At one point, he went to the bathroom, and I used the opportunity to take my phone out without him noticing. I immediately texted my best friend back home: “Romesh Ranganathan is wearing my sweater. I’ve fucking made it here.” Throughout the dinner, Romesh kept joking that he loved my sweater so much and wasn’t going to give it back at the end of the night, and I kept pretending to be joking when saying he could keep it. I say “pretending”, because if he’d actually tried to keep it, I’d 100% have let him do that.

He did give it back as we were leaving the restaurant, and he thanked me for the loan. As soon as I got in my friend’s car to go home, I descended into excited giggles with her and my other friend. “Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Romesh Ranganathan wore my sweater. This sweater has been worn by Romesh Ranganathan.” My friends had already been on the team for a year, so they’d gotten used to all the stars who were around, and they were not overwhelmed by it like I was. But they also knew he was a big deal, and they knew I was a big fan, so they got excited about it with me. One of my friends told me I’ll have to never wash it, and I’ll know it forever as “the Romesh Ranganathan sweater”.

I have washed the sweater in the nine years that have somehow passed since that night, but the nickname stuck. I haven’t thought of that story in ages, but I did grab it from my closet tonight and think, “It’s getting cold, time for the Romesh Ranganathan sweater.”

I realize this sounds a bit like a romcom, and would like to clarify that Romesh Ranganathan is not one of those rare exceptions to my mostly gay-ness (that is true of both the actual Romesh Ranganathan, and the guy in this story, whose real name has been replaced with “Romesh Ranganathan” for a Tumblr post). It wasn’t like that at all. I had a massive celebrity crush that involved no desire whatsoever to sleep with him, but quite a strong desire to ask for his autograph, which I’m pleased to say I managed to resist.

Lots more things happened in my two years with that team, many of which took the shine right off it for me. Some boundaries of my shy starstruckness got broken the first time I got drunk with the team, and I ended up yelling at the team’s most accomplished athlete (even more accomplished than Romesh Ranganathan), who would go on to be an Olympian a few years later, because he would not stop asking creepy and invasive questions to a seventeen-year-old athlete about her sex life. I was too drunk to care how good he was, I just saw that the girl he was talking to was a recruit fresh out of high school, she looked a little like a teenage girl I coached back home, and before I had time to think, I said, “Hey! You can’t ask teenagers questions like that! Fuck off!” The guy looked at me briefly, and then went right back to questioning the girl. So I physically stepped between them, got right in his face (as much as I could, given that he’s about six inches taller than me and 115 kilos), and said, “I’m serious, you need to fuck off!” Then, to my eternal shock, he fucked off. Just sort of wandered away. The girl awkwardly thanked me, I said no problem, and then I went to buy another drink, have a panic attack, and text my friend back home: “I just told [athlete who was famous across the country for being on the Olympic track at the time] to fuck off, what have you done tonight?”

So that broke down a few barriers between me and the rest of the team, and after that night, I wasn’t quite so star-struck with everyone. I spent two years with that team, achieving what could generously be called, by some people, a moderate level of success, before moving home and going back to coaching my hometown club. During those two years, there were other barrier-breaking moments - some bad, some good. Many involved alcohol, at least at first. Some involved long road trips, team dinners, tough tournaments after which we all felt like we’d been through something together, the sort of things during which you can’t help but bond. I eventually learned to see my teammates as fellow human beings with whom I could occasionally communicate, rather than celebrities who’d graced me with their presence.

Those stories came back to me when I thought about my Romesh Ranganathan sweater today, because it reminded me that I’ve always been prone to starstruck-ness. Those athletes on my team were celebrities in our community, but I was intimidated by them to a disproportionate degree and for a disproportionately long time. No matter how many national medals he’d won, it is silly that I got that fucking excited about Romesh Ranganathan wearing my sweater. It’s definitely silly that I’d have been willing to give him the best piece of clothing I owned, just because I thought he was so cool.

If that’s how I reacted to people who are big in our small and insignificant niche, then of course I get way too excited about the existence of actual famous people. The part of me that would have let Romesh Ranganathan keep my sweater is the same part of me that was sitting outside a cafe in Montreal at the Just For Laughs Festival this summer, saw Dara O’Briain walk by, hit my mother way too hard to get her attention, covered my mouth and started giggling uncontrollably, and stared at him like he was a zoo exhibit. Dara and I made too many seconds of awkward eye contact, with me just sitting there wide-eyed and not knowing what to do, before he smiled and walked away. My mother said maybe I’ll see him after the show and can get his autograph, and I said I fucking hope not, I very much hope I never see that man again, and more importantly, he never sees me again. Also, when Nish Kumar very briefly spoke to me during his show at the same festival, I instantly knew what it was like to be one of those people who fainted at Beatles concerts back in the day.

I’d love to be one of those cool people who’s completely unimpressed by fame, but it turns out that any proximity whatsoever to anyone who has any level of fame within an area I care about absolutely messes me up. Having said that, I genuinely think I could walk past Taylor Swift on the street, say, “Oh, Taylor Swift,” and keep walking. I’m only impressed by people who do things I find impressive. But I’m really impressed by those people.

13 notes · View notes

dmclemblems · 2 years

Text

like bruh i been compilin’ some stuff for the miklan lore like screenshots and all?

and i just

im so glad i was right and that all my headcanons were true and ended up happening in this game

and it proves to me that miklan was a product of his surroundings and how terrible his family life was

he got disinherited first, and then his dad and step mom fucking sucked and couldn’t get along and according to sylvain weren’t even good parents and sylvain didn’t just say to miklan, he said it in general. nobody was paying attention to either of them and miklan was angry at what happened so he took it out on sylvain BUT MATTHIAS HAD TO GO AND TAKE THE GOLD MEDAL AWARD FOR BEST PARENTING and NOT EVEN DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT

like yeah you heard it here folks

HE DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING

UNTIL IT EVENTUALLY GOT SO BAD THAT HE DISOWNED HIM

BRUH U RLY GONNA WAIT UNTIL IT GETS THAT BAD TO DO SOMETHING? YOU COULD’VE EVEN SENT HIM TO LIVE WITH ANOTHER NOBLE TO STRAIGHTEN THE PROBLEM OUT, LIKE, YOU KNOW, THE PROBLEM YOU CAUSED

BUT NOOOO HE’S TOO BUSY FIGHTING WITH HIS WIFE

WHICH MIND YOU LIKE NOT ONLY DID MIKLAN’S BIRTH MOTHER DIE BUT NOW HE’S SEEING HIS DAD MARRY THIS NEW CHICK WHO NOT ONLY ISN’T HIS MOTHER AND IS THE MOTHER OF THE CREST BABY SYLVAIN, BUT THEY JUST FUCKING FIGHT. SO NOW ALL HE SEES IS BAD INFLUENCES IN HIS LIFE THAT SEEM TO CONGRGATE AROUND SYLVAIN’S EXISTENCE

like nah im not saying matthais is the scum of the earth and that he’s the worst man in the whole world bc he’s not and he’s good to his king and his friends and all that

he’s just a horribly pathetic father and should never have been a father no ma’am no sir he cannot parent like this isn’t a gustave situation where he left his family out of guilt but always thought about his family and wrote letters he couldn’t bring himself to send. this isn’t like gustave where he loved his family to pieces but felt like he didn’t deserve them/their love

this is a DUDE WHO JUST AIN’T MEANT TO BE A PARENT

AND MIKLAN NEEDED SOMEONE TO STEER HIM IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION AND DIMITRI FUCKIN’ DID THAT HE FUCKIN’ DID THAT Y’ALL DIMITRI SAVED A MAN FROM CONTINUING TO LIVE THE LIFE HE HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO LIVE

AND HE HAD NO CHOICE BECAUSE HE WAS DISOWNED AND KICKED OUT BECAUSE HE DID BAD THINGS BECAUSE NOBODY TAUGHT HIM ANY BETTER OR PAID ANY ATTENTION TO HIM AND PEOPLE JUST DIDN’T CARE ABOUT HIM

MIKLAN IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU SURROUND SOMEONE IN A TRASH ENVIROMENT AND THEN KICK THEM OUT TO LIVE IN THE TRASH

BUT THEN, HE’S STILL A PERSON, HE’S STILL A HUMAN BEING AND IF YOU INVOLVE ONE WHOLE SINGULAR DIMITRI IT FIXES A WHOLE LOTTA SHIT AND DIMTIRI CAN TURN LIVES AROUND AND MAKE THINGS OKAY FOR PEOPLE WHO OTHERWISE HAD NOTHING

what im saying is miklan is a very good character and not only is he someone who grew up poorly because he was raised poorly (if really even raised at all after his mother died since we don’t know if his mother was good to him or not but either way he lost her so it would still be a huge blow to how he’d turn out, bc either she wasn’t there for him either or she was and he lost the only good thing he ever had), but he’s someone who could be saved and turned to a better path if someone just F U C K I N G C A R E D.

someone who wasn’t sylvain tho bc sylvain’s existence is what caused all his problems and for a kid who wasn’t taught any better i mean obviously he’s gonna look at sylvain and be like it’s his fault all this happened like nah it’s your dad and step mom’s fault this all happened to you and they don’t deserve to be parents and i rly wish you and sylvain had been adopted into another family bc your lives both sucked

but also it’s very good of sylvain to give him another chance and still want to get along with him

psa don’t let me talk abt miklan bc this is what happens and i’ve bottled this up for three years and now bc of three hopes well i may as well just let it go boom

#Three Houses #Three Hopes #Three Hopes Spoilers #Miklan #so yeah this is a thing and this is what happens when i rly wanna talk abt a character but like #ppl legit hated him for a while and i even heard there was this one roleplay group that existed once #that they literally banned him as a character which i mean that's just stupid anyway bc u gotta have chars who #bring some kinda conflict like wtf is point if everything is just peachy in a roleplay group #but for real people legit hated him that it would've been harder to defend him than it has been for gilbert!!!!!!!!!

20 notes · View notes

idiopath-fic-smile · 2 years

Text

thewalrus-said

oh my god, geoff as a werewolf. please. i would read it.

okay, tell u what, i will post what i had, which was more than i remembered.

for anyone who wants to follow along at home:

nicodemus "nic" silver is a fictitious former reporter and current fictitious podcaster, host of the equally fictitious podcast Tanis, which concerns paranormal happenings around a migratory patch of forest. i can no longer remember if it's canon that he has a dog, or if my friends and i simply decided it was so. at one point, he is drugged by enemies, but don't worry, he's fine. he is canonically kind of oblivious, although i don't think he was written this way on purpose. it is, however, definitely In The Text.

geoff van sant is his friend, an interview subject who continues to hang around the edges of the narrative. he was in the military for a while. he mentions in passing talking to a woman named Sheila, which i only mention because it comes up here. he has a very friendly, bro-y energy and is helpful to the point of being a little mysterious. like he canonically lives an hour away but is always 100% prepared to drive out to wherever nic is. the show Tanis (which i did not finish and probably wouldn't recommend [ETA: DEFINITELY would not recommend]) has its reasons for why this is, and i've got mine.

story piece under the cut.

(trigger warnings for fleeting violence, and a brief discussion or two around the fact that nic was canonically drugged against his will at one point. further trigger warning that it happens again here, although geoff finds him and intervenes before anything happens.)

They were sitting on Nic’s front porch, starting in on their second beers and petting Nic’s ridiculous dog (Ness—allegedly a history reference and not some stealth lake creature joke but Geoff wanted proof, man) when Nic said, out of the blue, “Hey, so I have this thing on Thursday, if you—”

Geoff swallowed just this side of too fast and tried to ignore the way Nic had pushed all the words out in one breath, the nervous clench of Nic’s fingers around the bottle, the absence of the audio recorder. None of that meant anything.

For the first, oh, five or six months they’d known each other, Geoff had watched for signs like it was his goddamn job, like he was the noir detective Nic sometimes played at being—looks that lasted too long, smiles that didn’t quite make sense, any clue that the chemistry wasn’t one hundred percent one-sided.

But a year out from that first night at the bar, and none of it had amounted to anything. Nic still didn’t call without a reason, still responded to flirting with the same ducked head and muted laugh, no followthrough. Signs surfaced left and right but Geoff was 0 for about a thousand. False positives, far as the eye could see. Sooner or later, a guy got tired. Took a hint. Moved on.

Or, you know. Stopped jumping on the freeway to Seattle any time his phone rang, but—well. The embarrassing truth was: even more than wanting to suck his dick, Geoff just liked the guy. Nic was fun, easy to talk to. When you told him a story, you pretty much always got the reaction you were going for. Might’ve been a reporter thing, coaxing out the details, but Geoff chalked it up to something less calculated, more basic. Deep down, Nic Silver wanted to be impressed. He wanted to be interested. He wanted shit to move him and change him. It was hard to turn your back on that.

Also, he had a fucking great dog.

The sentence hung half-finished in the air for the space of a full inhale and exhale.

“If I...” Geoff filled in. As conversational volleys went, hardly a gold medal move. No way did it merit Nic falling silent, picking at the bottle label with a thumbnail.

“Do you know Forest Park?” said Nic. “In—that’s out by you, right?”

“Practically my backyard,” said Geoff, keeping his face as neutral as he could. Did he know Forest Park. At this point, all too fucking well.

He’d liked camping, once. He was almost sure of that.

“Because there’s—there’s this cultist,” Nic went on, and Geoff took another long pull of beer, less to hide his disappointment and more a bitter little toast to the universe. Of course there was a cultist. There was always a cultist. Geoff knew that by now. Should’ve known it. “Or, an ex-cultist, really, who said they wanted to meet up and tell me the truth about Paul, whatever that means. And the only place they’re willing to talk is—”

“The middle of the woods?” said Geoff. “Nic, buddy, hate to say it, but have you considered maybe it’s not a renegade but just a couple of true believer girls who wanna have their way with your nubile podcaster body? ‘Cause that is a problem you have in your life sometimes.”

It no longer counted as flirting, Geoff figured, if you didn’t do it with any real intent, any goal beyond the hilarity of watching Nic stumble with his words.

“I don’t really have, uh, any way of verifying what they’re after,” Nic said. “That’s why I was gonna ask if you wanted to maybe come along. Last time, with the thermos and the, the blindfold, that was—that was helpful, so.”

If today was the day Nic Silver admitted that only dumbasses visited super fucking shady mystery locations by themselves—the next mouthful of pale ale suddenly tasted that much brighter.

“How many more times do I play bodyguard for you before I start asking for benefits and dental?” Geoff said with a grin.

Nic coughed. “I thought maybe I could cover dinner beforehand,” he said. “If that, uh, works for. you.” NO HOMO, screamed his hunched-up shoulders, his downcast eyes, his thumbnail still doing damage to the beer label.

“Sure,” said Geoff, light as he possibly could. He nudged Nic in the side: Hey, just a pair of dudes being bros being pals, nothing to worry about. “Steak and lobster’s on you, then, man.”

“You don’t like lobster,” Nic reminded him. “You said the idea of it grosses you out, that it’s too close to eating a giant chewy bug.”

“Sounds like something I’d say,” Geoff agreed. Nic smiled at him, nudged him back for no clear reason. Geoff opened his mouth to point this out and then didn’t.

“So,” said Nic, reaching across him to pull Ness back by the collar before she could knock over the empties. He straightened back up, pushing the hair out of his eyes. “Uh, day after tomorrow at 7:30?”

“Sounds great,” Geoff mumbled, distracted. Did Nic usually smell that good? Then again, everything from the beer on his tongue to the line of the sky against the ground felt sharper than usual. More vital.

Pieces started to slide into place just then. Shit. Geoff reached into his pocket, unlocked his phone, opened the app he’d downloaded two months ago and checked the calendar.

Yup.

“Shit, sorry,” Geoff said, running a hand through his hair. “I actually—I can’t, I’ve got something that night.”

“Like what?”

“Plans.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket. With any luck, Nic would drop it.

“What type of plans?” said Nic, and okay, Geoff could’ve seen that coming.

“It’s not—people make plans sometimes.” At the end of the day, Geoff was not great at lying, but he’d gotten decent at muddying the waters. He tried for a grin. “Feels like I should be insulted you’re this surprised I might have friends outside of you.”

Nic’s lips thinned, almost imperceptible. “Plans with Sheila?”

It took a second to even understand what he was getting at. “What,” said Geoff, laughing, “with my sixty-year-old dental hygienist? I’m sure Sheila parties hard, but—” He shook his head. “Not so much.”

Could’ve been his imagination but he thought he saw Nic’s shoulders settle.

Nic had a whole social circle of his own. He had no right to be possessive of Geoff’s friendship. Nine out of ten days, it would’ve pissed Geoff off. Probably better to blow right past whatever part of his psyche was all but wagging its tail right now at the thought of Nic being possessive of him. Wagging its tail, or curling up at Nic’s feet.

“Is it a military thing?” Nic said at last.

Geoff breathed through his nose. “Ex-military,” he said. “But yeah.” You could argue that wasn’t even a lie. “Like, a recovery treatment kind of thing.” Okay: complete and utter horseshit, but in a ‘necessarily evil’ kind of way. At Nic’s furrowing brow, he added, “It’s ongoing.”

For some reason, that was the word Nic seemed to really find reassuring: Ongoing. Geoff’s plans were ongoing, alright. Ongoing for the rest of his fucking life, however long that was. He took another swig of beer. Here’s to you, universe. At least you know your way around irony. Kudos, asshole.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you from that,” said Nic.

“Can’t you reschedule?”

“I don’t have a way of contacting them,” said Nic, because of course he fucking didn’t. Of course. “Look, we’re meeting up right by the parking lot. It’s a well-traveled area. I don’t really think anything will happen.”

“Historically, how’s that worked out for you?” said Geoff, without thinking about it. He always forgot how spotty his impulse control got until it was too late.

Nic frowned.

Maybe, thought Geoff, it wouldn’t all be a fucking shitshow.

A guy could dream.

***

A guy could dream. He could. Didn’t mean Geoff was surprised when it all went to hell.

In the end, there wasn’t time for surprise, bounding into a moonlit clearing to see three strangers trying to drag Nic’s limp body across the ground. Geoff didn’t think. He lunged.

It was nothing like Afghanistan. There was no calculation, no strategy. He didn’t need one. Instinct pulled at him like an undertow, drove him forward. None of the men had thought to bring a weapon. Stupid. He threw his full weight at them, reared away when one man kicked him hard in the side, bared his teeth, and lunged again.

In his peripheral vision, a flicker as Nic lifted his head. Conscious, then. But sluggish, distant, a chemical tang underlying his usual smell. They’d drugged him.

Geoff wheeled back to face the strangers. All three had heavy boots, clenched fists, some amount of combat training. Fighting to stand their ground, but their nervous sweat carried on the wind. They were afraid of him.

Good.

***

Geoff came to with the first weak rays of sun streaming through the nylon of his tent. Every muscle ached. His arms and legs felt out of joint, like his whole body had been broken and then jammed back together in the dark. Go figure. He stretched as well as he could in the narrow space. Geoff didn’t need much room on his own—morning after an outing like this, and all he generally wanted to do was shut his eyes and lie real fucking still.

Not in the cards today, though. Not after last night. Fuck.

Could’ve been a lot worse. He’d managed to run the men off, no other witnesses in sight. Nic had been docile to a degree that was honestly frightening, but with-it enough to let Geoff guide him to safety. Unharmed, far as Geoff had been able to tell. Now he was sleeping, judging from the steady, even breaths. Thank god for that.

Geoff shook himself, trying to unstick the urge that tugged at him to crawl over and fit himself against Nic’s side, bury his face in Nic’s chest and drink in the tick of that heartbeat. Objectively, it was creepy as fuck. Geoff knew that. Most of Geoff knew that.

Point was, Nic would be up soon, and that meant Geoff needed to pull himself together. Act fast. Come up with a cover story. What had he been doing in the woods? How had he found Nic’s attackers? Could he chalk that up to the military background, too? Sooner or later, it was bound to wear thin.

Inside of his mouth felt thick and sticky, bitter but not metallic. Probably not blood, then. Just dehydration. He’d stashed a water bottle in the tent someplace, but—he scratched at the hinge of his jaw. Something dark flaked off under his fingers. This time, it might’ve been blood. Not his.

So, there was that.

He really, really had to get moving. He knew this. He turned to squint at the tent flap, wondering if he could make it out and back in time to—

“...Geoff?” Nic mumbled.

Shit.

“Uh, yeah, buddy?” Geoff twisted his neck back around, trying to keep his voice level.

Nic stared up at him, pupils too wide, even for the dim tent. Still flying high, then. Probably for the best, although seeing him like this made Geoff’s skin crawl.

“You were right,” Nic managed. “I think that was a set-up. With the—but after the guys, I thought I saw—makes no fucking sense, because it seemed like it had, uh, human cognition, awareness, but it was a—”

“You’re fine,” said Geoff quickly. Too quickly. Nic tilted his head to one side, slow, like a cartoon deer and Geoff looked back at his open, trusting face and cast around for the least disturbing explanation. Whatever the hell that was. “It’s nothing,” he heard himself say. “Just a dream.”

If they were both very lucky, Nic would forget this conversation by morning.

“I’m dreaming?” said Nic.

Geoff took a deep breath, pinned all his hopes to Nic’s skeptical streak. “Doesn’t that make more sense than whatever wild shit you thought you saw?”

Nic mulled this over. He craned his neck to fix Geoff with a long, considering look. “Is that why.”

“Is that why what,” Geoff prompted, itching at that spot on his jaw again. What were the odds he’d have time to wash his face before Nic woke up for real?

“Is that why you’re naked,” said Nic.

Geoff froze. He was naked because, far as he knew, there was no way to hold onto your clothes through a full—shifting, transformation, whatever. Fuck, did he wish there was. Never more than right now, with Nic blinking up at him.

Well. People’s subconsciouses came up with all kinds of weird shit every day.

“Uh, yep,” he said. “It’s, uh—Look, doesn’t mean anything, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not,” said Nic. He swallowed. “Not worried.”

Come to think of it, Nic really should’ve been. If Geoff had been drugged against his will and then woke up in a tent with a naked guy, he would’ve punched that man in the teeth and ran for the hills, no matter who it was. Then again, maybe Nic was just too high to put it all together.

“It’s cool,” said Geoff. “I’m just gonna stay on this side of the tent, and—”

“No,” said Nic. "C’mere.” He—”beckoned” was way too precise for his sweeping, noodly arm motion, but it had that general shape. When Geoff didn’t jump to follow, he waved his arm again. “Geoff,” he said, louder, insistent.

Geoff looked around sharply, out of habit. Forest Park had trails and stuff, but camping here wasn’t technically allowed. Geoff only went because it was closest, and driving could be a problem around this time of month. Slipping under the radar was the name of the game.

“Shh,” said Geoff.

“C’mere.” Even louder.

Mentally, he weighed the pros and cons. He would’ve rather kept his distance, for a lot of reasons, but priority one had to be keeping Nic safe, which meant keeping him calm. Priority two was dodging an arrest for vagrancy. Last thing Geoff needed was a record. Priority three—well, priority three was everything else, including how bad it hurt to move.

Geoff gritted his teeth and picked his way over to where Nic lay curled on one side. “Hey,” said Nic with a vacant smile. He gave another noodly arm wave. “C’mere.” It was hard to get much closer. Not without bringing his naked body uncomfortably into Nic’s space. Geoff levered himself back to the floor of the tent until they were lying side by side, faces level, like two kids on a camping trip. One with more s’mores and singalongs, less blood and claws and trespassing. “Nic,” he said, “Man. Bad news. If you’re about to tell me the secrets of the universe, none of it’s gonna make any sense to you tomorrow.” Nic’s flailing hand landed on Geoff’s bare shoulder. Geoff watched his eyebrows knit together, unable to take in the fact of flesh and muscle and bones. Just as well that Nic was visibly still tripping. He was barely here right now, not in any way that mattered, and that made it easier not to give in and wrap both arms around him, breathe in the smell of coffee and ginger shampoo. That constant ache to reach out went beyond a pang in the chest. It weighed on his skin, crept into his joints, ground at the back of his throat like little pieces of glass. But it wasn’t so bad like this. Geoff lay still, let Nic marvel at the texture of his shoulder or what-the-fuck-ever, counting the seconds until Nic lost interest, lost consciousness. Couldn’t be long. His eyes were already almost at half-mast. Nic would let go and nod off, and then Geoff would be able to crawl out of the tent, retrieve his nearest stash of clothes, get dressed and make a plan. Wasn’t so bad. Nic dragged his palm up the nape of Geoff’s neck, threaded his fingers into Geoff’s hair. Geoff swallowed. “It’s so soft,” said Nic. “That’s—that’s really just the nature of hair, buddy,” Geoff told him, level as possible. Nic hummed and swept his fingertips across Geoff’s scalp again, slower. “Like petting a spaniel,” he mumbled. Geoff dug his nails into the meat of his palms and counted to five, trying not to close his eyes against the feeling of a hand in his hair. How long since anyone had touched him like this? Impossible to say. It’d been a rough night, a rough week, a rough decade, and Geoff hurt all over, just wanted to sleep, just wanted to cuddle up to Nic and stretch this moment out, make it last as long as he could. His willpower was always the weakest the morning after a change. Every craving felt like a good idea. He felt his head tip forward. Nic laughed, seemingly at nothing, the way very stoned people did sometimes, and Geoff’s stomach curdled. No way around it: this was a fucked up thing to do with a guy too out of it to remember his own phone number. He started to pull back. Nic tugged on a fistful of hair, just hard enough to make Geoff’s nerve endings sing. Nic did it again, and Geoff’s mind went so blank that he did a very stupid thing: he let his eyes slip shut for a second, long enough to catch his breath.

Also long enough, it turned out, for Nic to press their mouths together. Geoff shoved him away. Nic tried to grab at him again, but it was no contest. Weak and shaky as Geoff was, it still felt like wrestling a kitten. Took about two moves to capture both Nic’s wrists, pin them to the ground. Nic looked slowly from Geoff’s face back to Geoff’s hands wrapped around his wrists and beamed like it was Christmas morning. Shit. Geoff let go in a hurry, scrambled to the other side of the tent. “Not happening,” Geoff told him firmly. “Absolutely not fucking happening.” Whatever they’d dosed him with, it must’ve had ecstasy in it or something. Geoff tried to force the bile back down his throat, tried to focus on something else. Anything else. The rush of blood in his ears. The birds resolutely chirping outside. The steady rise and fall of Nic’s breathing, finally starting to even out. Just before Nic went under again, Geoff thought he might’ve heard him mutter, “This dream is disappointing.” ‘Fucking tell me about it,’ thought Geoff.

#the great pacifica garbage patch

12 notes · View notes