sergeantcybug

[sergeantcybug]

𝗗𝗔𝗦𝗛 : 𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽 𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙴𝚁𝙰𝚃𝙾𝚁, 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃 𝚃𝙾 -- generate ten headcanons for your muse and then either accept   ✔   or   reject   ✖   them !

1. tamora is a chill player in stardew valley. ✖ ||‣ tamora really isn't a big video game kind of person. she might sit and watch a friend play stardew over their shoulder but that's probably the closest she'd get. 2. tamora has very many scars on their back. ✔ ||‣ oh absolutely. she's gotten to the point where i don't think she can even remember where or how she got every scar because of how many there are. 3. tamora is a cat person. ✖ ||‣ she doesn't dislike cats but she prefers dogs overall. dogs can be very loyal, protective and loving even if certain breeds are seen as 'scary' due to how people stereotype them. no she's not projecting, what gave you that idea. she's also a more active person so having a pet she could take out for a run with her suits her lifestyle more. 《» rest below read more because this got long. oops «》

4. tamora is an ugly crier. ✔ ||‣ if something makes her cry it's a very big deal since that means it somehow managed to get through like 5 layers worth of a 'if i show vulnerability people will think i'm weak and worthless' complex that she's had for literal years. which is to say; if something makes her cry it's either because someone she deeply trusts manages to get her to open up and talk about stuff or because someone went and poked one of her sore spots just a little to hard. if it's the former then it's a lot of tears and snot and her face all red and blotchy. if it's the latter, it's all of that plus her getting extremely pissed and potentially taking it out on them physically. the fun mix of the crying itself being ugly and what it might make her do being even worse. 5. tamora almost drank the lethal dosage of caffeine once. ✔ ||‣ i can see this happening in the wake of brad's death. she's already spiralling as is and it feels like every time she closes her eyes for even a second she's tormented by a nightmare. she'd probably drink coffee or energy drinks just to get through the day and that combined with her lack of other self care would all culminate....poorly. a mistake she'd definitely only make once. 6. tamora secretly hates the person they're shipped with the most. ✖ ||‣ as of right now, the person's she's shipped with most is felix and if she ever admitted to 'hating him' then i'm sorry to tell you but that is absolutely not her. someone has stolen her identity and you should be very concerned. that woman adores her husband so much it hurts. 7. tamora desperately needs a hug but doesn't know it and refuses to ask for one. ✔ ||‣ as i already said headcanon 4 , she has a lot of issues with vulnerability and asking or initiating any kind of physical contact beyond stuff like handshakes or brief touches is basically out of the question. i'm not saying a hug would fix her, but it would certainly do her some good to just cling to someone like an overgrown koala for awhile. 8. tamora was banned in my singing monsters. this is how it all started. ✖ ||‣ uhhhh no. that's all i gotta say for this one lol. just no. 9. tamora can't drive for the life of them ✖ ||‣ i don't think she'd have her job if she couldn't drive. in canon verse she can pilot a spaceship so i think she's pretty competent with a lot of vehicles. nothing crazy or super-human. just average. 10. if tamora likes someone, they will give them a martini glass. ✖ ||‣ i feel like i'm missing context for this one because i have never heard of giving someone a martini glass to express what i presume is romantic interest?? if she likes someone she'll try to spend more time with them but take absolutely forever before she even shows a hint of non-platonic affection. her trauma revolves around how she was widowed so any process involving romance is very, very slow and marred with a lot of denial and self-loathing and all that jazz.

tagged by ; no one, i stole this like the dirty thief i am. tagging ; anyone who sees this! i am still to much of a nervous weenie baby to actually tag anyone quite yet lol.

[sergeantcybug]

⸺     ♔.  ❝  Don't be fooled , I fair well with a shotgun . ❞   ⊹₊

"..."

“listen, kinger, i’m not doubting your competency with it, i’m just warning you that it packs enough recoil to—” she was going to say ‘splinter his arms like toothpicks’ but that didn’t exactly apply to the sentient chess piece, so instead she went with— “send those gloves of yours flying away faster than a firework on the fourth of july." she reached over her shoulder, pulling a rifle from the same hammerspace behind her back that the shotgun he held had also been summoned from. “it’s got enough oomph to gun down metal nightmare bugs triple my size and the intended user is someone wearing the kind of fancy-schmancy power armor that’d make getting hit by a car feel like a gentle bump—are you absolutely sure you don’t want my pistol instead?” there was a loud crash behind her, the door rattling on its hinges as something smashed against. whatever was trying to get in was getting impatient.

she flicked the safety off, partially ducking behind a wall and training the barrel on the rapidly bowing metal. “pick quick. i don’t know who or what is behind that door, but i got a feeling they aren’t going to want to drink tea and play princess with us once they get through.”

[sergeantcybug]

the slightest hint of recognition tugged at the back of her mind as she gave him a quick once-over. whether that was because she had actually met him before or because she was mistaking him for someone similar remained to be seen. a tall guy with black hair wasn't exactly a rare breed on base. her eyes flitted from his face to the patch on the placket of his jacket—three curved chevrons, same as her own—and then to the name tape to the right of it. she did a double take as she saw the name embroidered into the fabric.

huh. so he was a real person. the name ‘sergeant captain’ had been thrown around once or twice in passing, sure, but she’d never given it much thought. chalked up to just some in-joke or a gag that started to the tune of ‘someone walked into a bar’ that she only ever caught the punchline of. it was an unfortunate name to have in the military, especially if he was ever keen on climbing the ranks any higher. ‘captain captain’ wasn’t the kind of title someone would quickly forget—or hold any speck of esteem to. tamora wasn’t about to go vocalizing those thoughts so the only outward indication of them was the way her eyes lingered for half a second too long on the patch before she quickly refocused her attention back on the lenses of his sunglasses. her face scrunched slightly at the question. “hah—you think? all he did was barge in the second i peeled my sorry ass out of bed and told me there was a ‘situation’ i had to handle,” she groused before, in a slightly lighter tone, added, “i can certainly agree with you on that. though if the only people you can think need a little ‘character building’ in your squad are the rookies, you’ve got yours better behaved than mine.” not from a lack of trying on her part, of course. definitely not for a lack of trying.

“speakin’ of your squad; any of them happen to know their way around some power-tools?” she turned to look at the car again, something resembling a solid plan forming in her head. “my first instinct says we just tie a rope to it and another car and give ‘er. my second instinct says it might just decide to take a whole lot more of the hangar with it if we do that.” the thing had already managed to stay upright despite getting a vehicle rammed through it, after all. approaching the situation with a scrap of delicacy would hopefully let it stay that way. “chipping off the edges should let us wiggle it out without fucking anything up more.” theoretically, at least. she wasn’t exactly on the payroll for knowing the finer mechanics of ‘extraction of vehicle(s) from base infrastructure’.

ㅤThankfully, even deprived of his morning coffee, Captain could appreciate a no-nonsense personality like Calhoun's. It wasn't exactly the kindness of his heart that made him linger, however.

ㅤHe'd been told, in quite impatient terms, to go deal with the mess outside, get what remained of the stolen car and figure out who was responsible. He hadn't been told he would have a partner, but, he supposed, the grouchy woman currently staring at him probably wasn't told either. Odd, for them to assign two people who'd never worked together. Perhaps they just happened to be the two unlucky sergeants with the least busy schedules this morning.

ㅤWell, he knew the culprit wasn't any of his boys. Most of them knew such tomfoolery would end with them cleaning the bathrooms for a month, and Steve was very responsible on his illegal joyrides.

ㅤ“ Hell of a morning… I'm assuming your superior also didn't tell you how to prepare for this, ” Captain spoke conversationally, turning slightly to observe the clear trail of destruction. “ Feh. Least the shit work can be left to the rookies. Build a little character. ”

ㅤHe was not spending all day cleaning that up. Getting the car out of the wall would be agonizing enough, let alone figuring out who crashed it. He wasn't told it would be like… this. Ugh, he'd probably have to go get his pick-up, and a tow rope…

ㅤ( He hoped whichever dipshit did this was also drunk enough to leave their ID on the front seat. )

[sergeantcybug]

♔. I   know   how   it   can   feel   in   this   ‘   𝐂𝐈𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐒   ’   sometimes   it   all   just   feels   𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘   …   but   it's   not   .   Not   if   you   have   people   who   care   about   you   .   𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃   𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒   can   do   a   lot   .   Hold   onto   them   &&   𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖍   the   people   around   you   .   You   never   know   when   they'll   be   𝖌𝖔𝖓𝖊   .  ⊹₊ ■□■□■ 

A   writing   blog  for   𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑   of   𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋   𝐂𝐈𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐒    Headcanon-driven   ,   divergent   &&   mutually    exclusive    as    𝖊𝖓𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖉   __

by    Savbear  [  21+   she/they   ]   ! est.   December   4th   2024   .   𝐍𝐎    𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒    𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄    !   

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 :  ♔.  ᶜᵃʳʳᵈ . ♕. ᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉᵗⁱᶜ . ♗.ˢᵗᵘᵈʸ . ■□■□

[sergeantcybug]

....she's just standing there.... ...menacingly

[sergeantcybug]

she raised an eyebrow as he squirmed like an ant under a spyglass for merely being the subject of her attention—the darting eyes, the stuttering voice, what might’ve been the slightest tremor of his hands if she looked close enough. she wasn’t that intimidating, was she? it wasn’t like she went around punting random civilians randomly. for crying out loud, it wasn’t even something she did to the privates even when they really, really deserved it! it certainly didn’t seem register in her brain that scrutinizing his every movement and all but looming over him by the simple nature of being almost 2 feet taller than him was, to put it gently, not going to make his jittering any better.

the beast that was her own paranoia had already been roused to start gnawing at the bars of its cage from all the weird activity around her and she could feel its writhing fervor scratch at the back of mind. it was, of course, a beast that didn’t heel to reason; like the fact the man looked like he was actively fighting to keep himself from shriveling into a tiny ball where he stood. obviously, that might as well be the picture perfect image of a mastermind criminal coming to reign hell on them all with nothing but pastry boxes and a spiffy white apron. “if you're looking for the mess hall, i can take you right to it.” a compromise to herself, although one she wouldn’t admit. best case scenario; she was indeed being overly suspicious and would simply lead him to where he was meant to go with no issue. worst case scenario; he was actually hiding ill intentions under that patchwork chef hat of his and she could ram him into the floor before he got very far. she—still ironically clueless to the true nature of the situation surrounding everything—leaned down and plucked the top box off his stack. like a hostage. “hopefully you can actually see where you’re going now.”

" I-it's okay, it's okay... " Just a small bump on the road, indeed! Something that could easily be brushed off and moved on from. " It's okay. " Except that something was not right with that interaction: it wasn't ending. (Is- is she staring daggers at me?) Hard to tell when it came to military personnel (or eye contact in general) but, regardless, she had Pizzelle like a deer in headlights. For no apparent reason.

Really, if bumping into somebody was a crime punished by jail, then he was guilty as charged— but he hadn't done anything!! Just being at the wrong place, at the wrong time, while carrying a bunch of boxes. That was HIS JOB, by the way! Nothing suspicious about it! He was making himself look more and more suspicious by the minute, wasn't he?

...The boxes. Still mildly frazzled, he blinked slowly. " ...These? " Of course. That made way more sense than whatever doomsday scenario had already started to crawl its way into the front of his mind. (Okay, Pizzelle, it's just a question. Keep it civil.) " T-t-to the mess hall, ma'am! " His posture straightened as he said this. Call it instinct. Oh, he was overdoing it, okay. (That... that might not be enough.) Talking to people face-to-face never got easier. " Um, I-I'm supposed to help set these up! Some- some sort of special occasion, I... think? "

A guess on his part, but a very intuitive one. The average person doesn't order this many desserts for funsies. The average person, that is. Some people do. And if they needed extra hands, then it had to be something big, like a birthday or an anniversary.

Had he asked? (Oh, don't even THINK about it!!) Just because his business was involved it didn't mean it's HIS business to know such things; if that made sense.

(I... thought everyone knew, tho'.) That was strange. Even if he hadn't asked for any details, nobody had questioned his presence there until now. It seemed like everyone was in on it. (Why doesn't she know?) Silly Pizzelle! (This... this ain't for her, is it?) Always missing the forest for the trees. (Oh Gosh.) Of course it was. He was most likely there to help set up a surprise party and almost, ALMOST had given it away.

" Uhhh... " Overthinking himself into a corner aside (it will happen again), he still had work to do. " ...I-I'll be honest— " His eyes shifted towards the signs at the wall. Maybe that'll help ease up his nerves. " —I've been trying to find this hall for... a good ten minutes now. And I can't find it. " And it was no wonder: that place was HUGE! With way too many grey hallways. " I can't tell if this is a military facility or a— " A titter. " —a labyrinth. Beats me. "

If by the end of this... "adventure", they didn't have his head for this, he was going to tell Rosette to PLEASE inform him of any special circumstances for future deliveries.

[sergeantcybug]

ABC HEADCANON PROMPTS featuring a mix of silly and more serious character development questions. send HEADCANON + send letters or spell something in the poster's inbox.

[ A ] Does your muse give good advice ? On what subjects ? [ B ] What bores your muse ? What are they like when bored ? [ C ] What colors does your muse like to wear ? [ D ] Does your muse drive ? How are they behind the wheel ? [ E ] What is one of your muse's embarrassing memories ? [ F ] Does your muse get frightened easily ? Of what ? [ G ] What is the best gift your muse has ever received ? [ H ] What is your muse's home like ? Has it always been like that ? [ I ] What inspires your muse ? [ J ] Does your muse like to joke ? What is their sense of humor ? [ K ] What was your muse's first kiss like ? [ L ] What kind of music does your muse listen to ? [ M ] What motivates your muse ? [ N ] What does your muse take note of when meeting people ? [ O ] Is your muse afraid of getting old ? How do they view aging ? [ P ] Does your muse like poetry ? [ Q ] Does your muse like the quiet ? Why or why not ? [ R ] In what ways does your muse show restraint ? [ S ] How does your muse take surprises ? Do they like surprising others ? [ T ] Does you muse have any secret talents ? [ U ] Who in your muse's life understands them the most ? [ V ] What is your muse's dream vacation ? [ W ] Does your muse drink water regularly ? [ X ] Does your muse have an xbox ? Do they like to game ? [ Y ] What does your muse yearn for ? [ Z ] What would your muse be like in a zombie apocalypse ?

[sergeantcybug]

《» @z0mburger liked for a starter «》 ||‣ [ x ]

tamora had a relatively mundane schedule, all things considered. it varied from day to day, sure, but she could always roughly predict what it was going to be; it was just something that came with being in the military. if she was particularly bothered by it, she would’ve sought out different employment a long time ago. and when life decided to throw weird shit that disrupted those usual day-to-day activities at her, it seemed to really enjoy throwing ‘curveballs that nailed her square in the face’ kinds of weird shit. apparently, today was going to be one of those ‘weird shit curveball’ days. what sat in front of her was…something, that was for sure. a garish mix of green, black and red that looked like it’d be hot-glued together with supplies scavenged from the back of a rotting hot topic and a brief glance at the menu slapped onto the side of it made her severely doubt they had or would even know what a valid business license and/or food handling permit was if it socked them in the stomach. it took a considerable amount of willpower on her end to keep her next words from being hissed through gritted teeth—although her caustic glare was probably more than enough to convey her feelings on the situation.

“sir, i am not sure what part of ‘this is a military base, you can’t just come in and try and park your food truck here,’ you aren't understanding, but i am not asking, i am telling you to leave before we have to escalate. do i make myself clear?”

[sergeantcybug]

this is what goes through my head everytime someone replies to a thread we have btw /silly

[sergeantcybug]

《» plotted starter with @sgtcapn «》 ||‣

when tamora had been awoken by her commander informing her that there was a ‘situation that needed to be dealt with’ and that she was the one assigned to do so, she had expected a lot of things—a fire, some broken plumbing, hell, maybe even some private who’d accidentally shot themselves or someone else in the foot during a training exercise—but it certainly wasn’t this. someone had apparently, through some kind of likely drunken wisdom, decided late the night before that it was an excellent idea to take one of the armored cars for a joyride around the base. the trail of destruction that had ensued wasn’t hard to follow. chain link fences folded in half, other vehicles with smashed bumpers, deep gouges dug into the grass by the tires, smaller objects and fixtures completely decimated and even one of the floodlights that overlooked some of the runways toppled onto its side and shattered into a dozen pieces where it had hit the ground. the trail and its victims—thankfully all intimate objects and not actual people—zigzagged its way through about half the base before stopping when the perpetrators' vehicle had finally ended its reign of terror and came to a rest… …by smashing itself halfway through the wall of a hangar.

she took half a second to mourn the fact she hadn’t even been able to grab herself some breakfast before turning to look at the slowly growing crowd of onlookers. “alright, i don’t know why you all think this is some peanut gallery but anyone still gawking within the next 20 seconds is going to help me clean up this mess whether you like it or not. now move it or lose it.” the threat was sufficient enough to make everyone disperse, no doubt to either head to the mess hall or go attend to the duties they had gotten distracted from, and soon the area was clear of people once again. all except for one person, apparently.

[sergeantcybug]

she was being kept in the dark about something, she was sure of it. it had started off small; glances between people when they thought she wasn't looking, conversations that sputtered and rapidly changed topic when she walked in the room, people carrying boxes who seemed to get a sudden pep in their step when they saw her walk down the same hallway—odd, sure, but nothing that couldn’t be easily brushed off. what hadn’t been so easy to brush off was when she almost caught a glimpse inside one of said boxes only for a private to practically fling themselves in front of her and make a clumsy attempt to start a conversation while their comrades frantically stuffed it closed behind them. once again, she had tried to shrug it off—it bothered her but surely there was some understandable explanation for the weird behavior—but when she had caught a couple of her own superiors acting odd in the exact same way? it had started to fray her nerves. what the hell were they up to? had she done something wrong? no, it couldn’t have been that because if she had someone would’ve already pulled her aside and gave her an ass chewing for it. not to mention her own squad weren’t the kind of spineless boot-kissers who’d stand idly by while she fucked up. hundreds of different scenarios—both good and bad, possible and completely unfeasible—played out in her mind and yet none were congruent with the simple fact that somehow everyone knew when she didn’t. at this point, she was considering just going up and asking someone what—

her train of thought was interrupted as she turned a corner and very nearly tripped over someone. her hands shot out to grab the sides of the pastry boxes as they wobbled precariously, looking down at the man whose eyes just barely peeked above them. “sorry, didn’t mean to run into you there,” she said, pulling back once he looked like he had a better grasp on his cargo. he certainly didn’t look like any of the civilian contractors that she sometimes spotted roaming the base but the card he carried indicated that he at least wasn’t some very, very lost civilian. the fact he was even let onto the base was odd in of itself. if the logo printed on the top of the boxes was any indication, he worked for some kind of bakery—or ice cream parlor? she couldn't quite tell. usually when some soldier got a sweet tooth, they went into town and got it themselves or just picked it up at the gate if they did get it delivered, not let some delivery person bring it directly to them. “where are you headed with those?” needless to say, her interest was piqued.

@sergeantcybug • SC.

(These people are out of their minds!) For as little understanding as Pizzelle had of... particular branches of the law, he was sure no civilians were allowed to waltz into a military base with no opposition. Much less with authorization for something so trivial. (Why couldn't they do this themselves?!) As trivial as three boxes of doughnuts and cupcakes could be. (AND WHY DID I AGREE?!)

That should have been a normal delivery. He should have made it to the gates and let the guard handle the rest. But, oh boy, guess Rosette had forgotten to let him know that he was getting involving in something very, very important.

(The mess hall... The mess hall...) He was supposed to find the mess hall and help set up. Then, he could leave and pretend he had never been there.

Every hallway and crossroad was properly signed, so getting lost was not in his list of hypotheticals. Not yet, that is. Regardless, in spite of being in temporary possession of a card that allowed him to be there, he could not help but being on edge. All those people could easily snap him into two like a stick. His thoughts were eating him alive.

Suddenly, when turning a corner— " Oh boy- m-my apologies, ma'am! " —he bumped onto someone. It was hard to prevent such a thing when he couldn't see past what he was carrying. It was a good thing he didn't drop anything in the process.

[sergeantcybug]

it was tamora’s turn to look confused, face scrunching and arms folding together as she stared at pomni. how could she not know where the exit to her own website—game? software?—was? even if tamora was led into a game blindfolded, she could’ve easily found the way out on her own just by nature of the exits never being particularly subtle. the only way she couldn’t possibly know is if— understanding dawned on her face, like something had just slotted neatly into place and cracked the code. “this place hasn’t been online very long, has it? because if you think ‘there’s no way to leave’, then obviously you just haven’t had enough time to find it yet.” she pointed a finger at pomni. “after all, every website connects to the internet, every game connects to the device it’s hosted on, every arcade cabinet connects to the socket it’s plugged into. this stuff—”she pointed her hand upward, motioning in a vaguely circular motion to the technicolor tent around them”—doesn’t just exist in a vacuum, which means you’ve got to have something keeping this funhouse’s lights on.”  she turned her gaze overhead, studying the roof intently. “and i’ll hazard a guess and say that since i can't see a screen up there and i got here from the internet that this place isn’t an arcade game. which means the exit either leads you to whatever console is hosting this place or straight back to the internet itself.” what looked like a regular—if flat and oddly shaped—backpack suddenly snapped open as she tugged it off her back and threw it to the ground. plates unfolded and it jolted to life with the faint thrum of components onlining, the entire contraption floating off the ground by roughly a foot. it bobbed down with her weight as she stepped onto it before the thrusters adjusted to compensate a moment later. she inclined her head towards the empty spot beside her. “you wanna come or you wanna stay? i advise you pick quick; arcade opens tomorrow morning and i need to be there before we get our first quarter.”

Well, to be fair, she'd believe her if that was the case, to some extent. There's so many unknowns to this technicolored environment that she still had to learn about. So vast and wide, loaded with strings of code, and yet, so small, like a singular dot living on a white canvas. Some days, it was overwhelming but others, too much is going on to really get caught up in the actuality of things.

What really threw Pomni for a loop was the idea of hearing that this person... already had their own game to "get back to". How was that even possible? Another player whose code existed enough to coexist here but not be a part of this game at the same time? It .. was confusing. And internet? This place wasn't connected to the internet ⸺ ... could it? Wait, no, it couldn't be. It wouldn't make any sense.

The jester continued to look up at her, confused.

She weighed the options on how to deliver the harsh reality the blonde just walked herself into intentional or not. Her eyes veered multiple times, fingertips tapping in successions at each other before resulting in a self soothing rub afterwards. Oh boy, this .. wasn't going to be easy.

⸺ ❝ I... don't think you'll like this answer but uh, we⸺ ❞ just pull the bandaid, Pomni, it's better that way, ❝ there's no way to leave. ❞

[sergeantcybug]

*head in hands* guess which mun made a ton of really pretty graphics for her blog and then completely forgot to upload said graphics to a place that would allow her to access them from all her devices? to sum it up; i made all my graphics on my main computer and they are currently stored on there but for the span of this week i'm only going to have access to my phone and laptop. which essentially means my actual ability to write/reply is completely fine but if you see me reusing the same few icons a lot (since i can thankfully copy and paste icons from replies i've already made) or having any weird quality issues with my graphics (since i have to copy and paste them) or replies that are suspiciously iconless.....uhh no you don't you're imagining things i swear i am a very competent mun /silly

[sergeantcybug]

YOU don’t have to be perfect to be loved. but I do

[sergeantcybug]

at the sound of something impacting on the floor behind her, she whipped around. in one smooth motion she unholstered her pistol from her side, turned the safety off with a click, readied herself to fire on whatever had thought it could sneak up on her and— —what stared back up at her was a very dazed cartoon jester with big, pinwheel eyes.

she shoved the gun back in its holster quick enough to give someone whiplash and looked at the other character apologetically. “sorry about that, you snuck up on me there.” truly amazing first impressions from both of them… she looked down at herself—a character modelled with semi-realistic proportions, sporting a suit of fancy sci-fi armour textured with enough fidelity to show every little scuff, chip and pock mark in the metal—and then at the jester—noodle-limbed and bobble-headed with the bright, saturated colors and simple textures that matched the environment around her perfectly. “no, i’ve actually been here all along, i don’t know how you’d get that impression,” she replied dryly. “i don’t plan on staying long, though. i don’t know how i got here, but i’ve got my own game to get back to and if you could tell me where your exit back to the internet is i’ll be out of your hair as quick as i can.” a pretty blunt reply, yes, but she frankly didn’t want to stay there any longer then she was forced to. the confirmation that the place wasn’t completely abandoned did soothe her nerves ever so slightly, but something about everything still felt off.

at this point, she just wanted to go home and relax. she’d made up her mind about the internet; it was just like a bigger version of the arcade with a bunch of mediocre websites that didn’t seem worth all the excitement—especially considering the place could apparently wipe out a chunk of her memory and plunk her in god knows where whenever it wanted, it seemed. the others could explore it all they wanted, but she wasn’t going to feel left out if they didn’t invite her along, that was for sure.

Guns.

This past week has just been a shaken jar of whiplash; from one adventure to another, a guise of an award show shoved down her throat then told nothing more, the promise in-house venture surrounding guns that was bound to drop by tomorrow's notice.

Pomni wasn't entirely sure how to take it all in and doesn't understand why everyone else was .. so lackadaisical about it, but she couldn't stop thinking about every instance that played like a scratching record, the same notes over and over again on repeat until it began to sound like nails scratching down a chalkboard.

Caine's been more ever flippant; pushing them through a portal but instead of joining the others on yet another "fun" ride, she ended up face first in the middle of the tent's perimeter instead of where she thought she'd be going. Wherever that was. Huh. Guess their god just didn't need Pomni for this one; a heads up would've been a nice little note to leave instead of an imprint on her face from the ground.

She groaned, lifting up, suddenly realizing she wasn't alone from the armored looking boots that stood just a few inches from where she landed unceremoniously. If this was a new player, god, what a way to give a first lasting impression of coming off like a wet cat dragged through the mud.

⸺ ❝ Oh .. uhh, hello. ❞

Way to really sell it there, Pomni. She shifted from her hands into her knees, then finally adjusting up to her feet; a hand rubbed behind her head. ❝ I'm .. just going to take a wild guess and say you're new here, huh. ❞

[sergeantcybug]

as his eyes snapped onto her, gaze sharp and posture taut, she, for a split second, wondered if saving him from getting a bottle smashed on his head was going to get one smashed on hers instead. she wasn’t sure if he was either drunk enough to assume anyone who touched him was trying to start something and that pummelling them was obviously the only way to rectify the situation or was simply a coward looking to whet his appetite for a fight without being the one to throw the first punch. she tensed, hyper-aware of every movement he made, her eyes darting around in a quick, calculated way.

luckily, he proved himself to not be the same breed of knuckle dragger currently beating each other silly around them, and as his hackles lowered, hers did in turn; not fully putting her guard down considering the situation at hand—this was far from her first rodeo after all and she wanted to keep all her bones intact, thank you very much—but enough that she didn’t actively look like she was going to knock his lights out at the drop of a hat. she raised an eyebrow as he asked if she wanted to stay or let him ‘get her to the door.’ if anything, it should be her helping him get to the door safely. he didn’t exactly strike her as the type who could slug his way through a bar brawl; she could probably haul him over her shoulder without too much issue if she was so inclined. but, then again, she also wasn’t very burly looking herself and she could wallop people much bigger than herself, so who was she to judge? she understood what sentiment he was trying to get across and she wasn’t about to turn down a little help. “you can stay and watch if you want, but i’m getting the hell out of here. i think i could manage on my own, but having someone else to watch my back would be appreciated. you watch my six, i watch yours and we can hopefully slip out without having to hit anyone.” her eyes slowly scanned the room, mentally scouting the path of least resistance. she grimaced sympathetically as she watched someone get clubbed on the back with a broken chair leg—only for said sympathy to immediately contort to disgust when they quickly popped back onto their feet and spat their own blood into their opponents eyes with a punch-drunk smirk. no better than a bunch of animals…

“we should probably get moving sooner rather then later. i’d be willing to bet that someone’s already called the cops by now and—i don’t know about you—but i don’t fancy being here when they finally show up and everyone scatters like a pack of feral dogs.” which was to say quickly, viciously and with little regard for who they had to trample or bite to save their own sorry ass, leaving the stragglers to get hauled out either on a stretcher or in handcuffs. hell, maybe both, even.

Trouble seemed to reliably pursue Pico like a loyal dog wherever he roamed, those velcro-strapped sneakers and green cargo pants quite often stained a terribly familiar and human crimson. The crowded and music-drowned environment of a bar, quite unpredictably, was either Pico’s temporary sanctuary from that copper scent, or where it originated from. After all, brawls were common when a bunch of people with alcohol-lowered impulse control were packed into a cluttered room together, with only a handful of those people having the rare and precious ability of keeping their mouths shut. ( He himself was far from one of those few. )

It’d almost appeared to be one of those calmer days at first, with Pico holding a half-empty bottle in one hand, his phone in the other, sat at a table with only a couple of chairs still left in their intended place, the rest of the chairs dragged away to allow groups larger than a standard table could handle to crowd around and chat. That casual calm couldn’t last forever, though. It hardly ever lasted a day for Pico. Phone flipped shut with the click of metal hinges as the crowd began to erupt into chaos around him, the redhead was near-immediately on alert, rising from his chair while white eyes scanned the room of various drunken figures steadily descending into a brawl. Did he want to stick around for a thrill, or get out before he wound up bruised and pissed off?

“ Wh-! ”

Seems he’d missed his blind-spot in his scan of the room, however, with how swiftly he’d been pulled out of the trajectory of a bottle, coming to smash against the cold wall rather than against his skull. Insomnia-darkened eyes cast a look upwards to the owner of the arm latched onto his shirt, and though that look had been an instinctual glare akin to an alert guard-dog’s for a moment, it soon settled as the man realised he wasn’t about to be socked by a random lady looking to take out her anger on somebody amidst the chaos.

“ …Peachy. Not the first time some prick hurled somethin’ at me. ”

White eyes left the stranger before him, only to briefly glance the distance to the front door. Sure, the place was crowded and becoming more riled up by the minute, but he was no stranger to fighting through swarms, nor drunken brawls. Only half a beer deep, he was more than capable of getting through this crowd. The least he could do was offer to get her out of here without any fresh bruises, go the easy route in scaring drunken staggerers out of the way by flashing his trusty uzi. After all, the woman didn’t seem interested in hanging around for a brawl.

“ You gonna watch the show, or should I get you to the door? ”

[sergeantcybug]

《» @getblammed liked for a starter «》 ||‣ [ x ]

visiting philadelphia was never something tamora would describe as high on her bucket list, but it just so happened she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.  when what was meant to be a quick stop to get off one plane and onto another for a layover at the cities airport had turned into said flight getting cancelled instead, leaving her stuck there until the airline could get another one scheduled. after spending the entire day sitting around, aimlessly scrolling on her phone as she waited for a plane that never came, spending the rest of her evening doing much of the same but in her complimentary hotel room instead wasn’t all that appealing. after dumping her luggage off in said room, she decided to head out into the streets and simply see where her feet would take her. the bar she eventually ended up at wouldn't be her first choice if she had other options—the entire place and the patrons within had an energy that could best be described as ‘crass, loud and ever so slightly sticky’ if you were trying to phrase it politely and was a touch too crowded for her tastes—but she didn’t have the willpower or energy to try and find somewhere better. it would just have to do. and for the first while, it was fine. with a quick stop at the bar and a drink acquired, she had settled herself down in an unoccupied table off to the side, content to nurse her glass and people-watch. anyone who tried to bother her was thankfully spooked away by a well placed glare, allowing her to enjoy herself in peace.

everything, unfortunately, seemed to go to shit after she got up to grab a second drink. one moment, she was leaned against the bar-top, waiting for the bartender to come take her order, and the next she was darting backwards as someone was suddenly getting their teeth smashed in on the counter. she had no idea what had instigated a fight but whatever it was had snowballed into a full on bar brawl. out of the corner of her eye she saw the flash of something flying through the air. it was through sheer instinct alone that she grabbed the stranger next to her by the shirt and yanked him out of the way in time. the bottle—which had been careening towards the back of his skull a moment before—shattered in an explosion of glass and liquor against the wall.

“dumbass fucking—" she bit back the insult. as much as these idiots around her deserved it, now probably wasn't the time to give anyone encouragement to sock her in the jaw. she instead turned to look at him. "are you alright? nothing hit you?”