#but back to that cheating sausage fingered prick

[identittie-crisis]

btw king charles got cancer and my insta is making bets when he dies. it’s really funny.

[willow-salix]

Isolation update!

Day 74 of Isolation on Tracy Island

“What on earth are you two doing?” Gordon asked, popping up out of nowhere like a tropical jack-in-the-box, his shirt flapping in the breeze, making us both jump.

We were doing nothing more exciting than stretching out on the couch, where I had forced John to settle by laying on him and then demanded he read to me. And since that was actually a pretty normal occurrence, I was at a loss as to what he was referring to. Knowing him he'd just declared today to be "eat with your toes day" or something equally ridiculous and was annoyed we weren't playing along.

John stopped reading to glare at him. I lifted my head off his shoulder to join in with the glaring.

“We were trying to have a quiet moment without constant interruptions,” I told him. Why did he have to have so many brothers?

“I told you we should have gone up to Five for a few days,” John sighed, picking up the book again and continuing to read from where he had left off. I snuggled closer to listen.

“This supernatural soliciting

Cannot be ill, cannot be good. If ill,

Why hath it given me earnest of success,

Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor.

If good, why do I yield to that suggestion

Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair

And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,

Against the use of nature? Present fears

Are less than-”

“That! That’s what I meant. What are you doing?” Gordon interrupted again.

“Trying to read Macbeth, obviously,” I grumbled.

“Why? It’s rubbish. No one reads that sort of thing any more.”

“Sure they do. Did you not read Shakespear in highschool?” I asked.

“Only when I had to, not for fun," he sneered that last word in the same tone people use when they have just trodden in something disgusting or realised there is no milk left in the house.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” I told him.

“You two are so weird, there are billions of books out there and you are reading one so old that hardly anyone can even understand it any more.”

“We understand it, or we wouldn't be reading it,” John sighed. “It’s not our fault that it’s too intellectual for you.”

“I could understand it just fine if I wanted to!” Gordon protested. We snorted in disbelief. “Hey! I can be an intellectual too, I can be smart. Move over!”

He shoved our legs out of the way, forcing us to sit up and dropped down next to me on the couch.

“Do you have to be here?” John asked.

“Yes. I’m going to prove that I’m smart, keep reading.”

John sighed but continued where he had left off, obviously knowing that there is very little point arguing with him.

“Are less than horrible imaginings.

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical.

Shakes so my single state of man.

That function is smothered in-”

“Nope! I can’t do it! It’s just so boring!” Gordon wailed.

“Heathen!” I smacked him with a cushion.

“Out of my sight! Thou doth infect my eyes!” John flicked his forehead.

“What was that?” Gordon asked, beginning to laugh. “Did you just insult me in your weird Shakespear language?”

"Yes, because we invented old English," I sighed.

“Thou art a dull and muddy-mettled rascal.”

“Did you just call me stupid in old english?”

“Yep,” I grinned. “He did. It isn't boring, Shakespear is a total G.”

“Yeah, right, still sounds boring to me.”

“Macbeth is a masterpiece, it's about a Scottish dude and his mate who meet these three witches and they, out of the goodness of their hearts, give him a prophecy telling him that he’ll become king of Scotland but that his mate will father a whole line of Scottish kings but won't be king himself. Feeling like this is totally his destiny he isn’t prepared to wait it out and see what happens, he wants to be king now, so, with the urging of his wife, he kills the king and his mate. He is crowned but he becomes overwhelmed with guilt and paranoia. He goes back to the witches and they tell him that he must beware of some other dude named Macduff but that Macbeth is incapable of being harmed by any man born of a woman. So Maccy B, he gets a bit cocky and thinks it's all good for a while, even though Macbeth’s wife is going a little cray cray and taking the whole handwashing thing a wee bit too seriously. But then Macduff gets in on the action and brings an army with him, they storm the castle and Macduff tells old Bethy that he was born by cesarean-”

“Untimely ripped from his mother's womb,” John added.

“And Duffy beheads Macbeth and this other dude named Malcom that I forgot to mention, becomes king. See? It’s great!”

“Love, you just butchered Shakespear so badly that even I didn’t understand half of what you just said.”

“It’s my gift to the world,” I shrugged. “My ability to sum up a plot so badly that even I’m not sure if it makes sense. But I thought I did OK with that one.”

“Yeahhh, not so much,” Gordon teased. “I tuned you out three words in.”

“John, insult your brother for me, I am no longer talking to him.”

“Thou yeasty folly-fallen bladder.”

“How dare you, sir! I have no idea what that means but it sounds bad.”

“That’s kind of the point.”

“What’s the point?” Scott chose that moment to walk in, catching the tail end of the conversation.

“John is insulting me!”

“What did you do?”

“Insulted him.”

“I was asking Gordon.”

I cracked up laughing, Scott always has our backs.

“He said that Shakespeare was boring and then was mean to me after I took the time to explain the plot to him. Now I’m not talking to him.”

“Did you explain it the same way you explained The Witches of Eastwick to Virgil? Because I’d seen it and I didn’t understand that either.”

“My talents are wasted on you all,” I nudged John and quirked an eyebrow in Scott’s direction. He rolled his eyes but dutifully dragged out a premium insult.

“Sense sure you haven else could not have motion; but sure that sense is apoplex’d. ”

“Oh my god, you can still do that?” Scott laughed in amazement.

“Do what, insult people?” Gordon asked, clearly confused.

“John was in a Shakespearean insult team in highschool, they actually took part in competitions, he was obviously the champion, won them the league and a bust of Shakespeare’s head as a trophy.”

“Obviously,” I agreed, patting his hand proudly. “Dude got mad skills.”

Gordon's eyes flicked up to the bookshelf on the balcony above our heads where a small gold bust sat.

“You are so weird.”

“So you frequently tell me. Now, will you two kindly go away and leave us in peace?”

“Oh no, no way,” Scott laughed. “I want to hear more, in fact, I’m calling the others.”

And that’s the story of how John spent more than three hours blowing their minds and damaging their egos with a never ending volley of insults as they goaded him into more and more outlandish attacks. Here are some of the best.

Thou hath not so much brain as ear wax - to Gordon because he’s not intelligent enough to appreciate old english.

Thou qualling ill-nurtured lout - to Alan who kept chanting “me next, me next”.

Most shallow man! Thou worms-meat in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed- to Virgil because he was in the middle of trying to tame his hair when he was summoned.

Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-liver’d boy - to Scott because he was brave enough to attempt to insult him back.

Thou fawning spur-galled harpy!- at me when I stole his coffee

You should be women, and yet your beards forbid me to interpret that you are so- to all of them.

Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters- to me, because I’m a strange, strange lady and asked for another insult.

Thou fusty onion-eyed nut-hook! - at Virgil, no reason at all.

Draw thy tool. My naked weapon is out- after flipping a certain finger at Scott.

Thou wimpled bat-fowling puttock- at Gordon because it was his fault that John was stuck insulting people when he had just wanted a quiet afternoon.

Thou currish bade-court hedge-pig- at Alan while examining his chin growth.

What, you egg! Young fry of treachery! - at Alan when he sided with Gordon.

Assume a virtue if you have it not- at Gordon when he protested his innocence.

Thou artless tickle-brained haggard! - at Virgil when he compared John’s nose to Shakespeare’s massive hooter.

Thou villainous weather-brained barnacle!- at Gordon, just because, and now everyone is calling him a weather-brained barnacle.

Get thee to a nunnery- to me when I said his Shakespearean accent was strangely hot.

Thou puny rampallian baggage- at Gordon, for no reason other than he’s short.

Thou art some fool, I am loath to beat thee- at Scott when he attempted to start a Shakespearean rap battle (don’t ask, it didn’t last long)

Thine face is not worth sunburning- to Virgil who thinks he’s too cool for sunscreen and has a red nose because he fell asleep in the sun again.

You yourself, sir, shall grow old as I am if like a crab you could go backwards- at Jeff who wanted to know just what the heck was happening in his lounge and why we were all screaming with hysterical laughter.

I scorn you, scurvy companion. What, you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you moldy rogue away!- at Alan when he tried to steal one of John’s cookies while he was distracted.

Away, you bottle-ale rascal, you filthy bung, away!- At Gordon when he also attempted cookie theft.

The insult lashes came to a halt when Grandma called us for dinner.

“Hey, John?” Gordon whispered as we bundled down the stairs to the kitchen

“Yeah?”

“I dare you to insult Grandma’s cooking.”

“No, my love, it’s not worth it, think of the children!” I gasped.

“What children?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.

I shrugged. “Our non-existent children, I just thought I'd go full movie heroine for dramatic effect. You do what you want, you’re all crazy.”

He narrowed his eyes as he thought about it, then nodded. I should have known, no Tracy can resist a dare.

Grandma plonked down plates of something that might have been chicken, but also might have been sausages in a gravy for gruel straight out of a Dickensean nightmare.

I watched John out of the corner of my eye. Would he actually do it? He took a deep breath, as if psyching himself up for it. I couldn't blame him. He pushed the plate away and opened his mouth.

“Away, you starvelling, you elf-skin, you dried neat’s-tongue, bull’s-pizzle, you stock-fish! Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.”

I think John’s grounded now, but the boys still haven't stopped laughing...

[dontjudgemepeepswrites]

Windbreaker City - S2 ep15

y/n - your name

y/n/n - your nickname

--------------------------------

*y/n's pov*

Today's the day: Windbreaker city. Aka, the best day of the year.

"Hey, Homeland Security, gather around. I have bad news," Agent Kendrick sighs. We all turn to him to hear his news. "Unfortunately, our friends at the DOD have had to drop out, and have been replaced with the NYPD." He rolls his eyes. I don't like Kendrick; he's an ass. I like the NYPD! I mean, our jobs would be much harder if it weren't for them. And they're nice people and underrated. However, I can't voice my opinion. Not here anyway. A load of sighs and groans are projected. Snooty pricks. "I know, I know. But this should be the only time it happens. Now everyone in the bus." We all get in, me even more eager now that I know that the NYPD will be there. But I obviously don't show it.

*At the venue*

Ah, it's nice to be back. I love Windbreaker city. I love getting to meet new people through it and seeing my friends. I could become friends with someone on the NYPD! Today's gonna be a good day.

*10 minutes later*

I've changed my mind. It's going to be awful. I saw my ex. He must work in the NYPD. Crap.

"Stella, I'm gonna need your help today," I say to Stella, my closest friend at Homeland Security.

"Why? What happened? You never need help."

"My ex is here."

"Oh. You need help avoiding them?"

"Yes. He works for the NYPD and his name is Jake Peralta. He has brown hair and eyes. We dated in high school but had a few disagreements about somethings and broke up. It was very messy."

"I'll do the best I can."

"Alright, everyone take their seats. My name is Agent Kendrick, Homeland Security, and I am in charge here. This year's scenario: terrorists have stormed the Capital Trust's Bank building and have taken hostages."

"Noice," I hear, followed by a high five.

"Yup, definitely Jake Peralta," I whisper to Stella.

"Oh, cool trick. I don't have a ton of free time to practise high fiving," mocks Kendick (yes, that was intended), before doing exactly what I'm assuming Jake did. I roll my eyes, annoyed at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, y/n. Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Kendick asks. Well, that threw any chance of Jake not seeing me out the window.

"No, sir," I respond, despising that I have to call him sir.

"That's what I thought. Now, here are your assignments:" Kendick starts, but I feel a pair of eyes focused on me. I look up in Jake's direction, locking eyes with him. Yup, he's definitely seen me.

"Never mind," I whisper to Stella.

"ATF, you will be our terrorists. Homeland Security, you are command control. Marshals, strike team alpha. And NYPD..." he pauses to look at his clipboard, but I already know what he's going to say. "It says here that you will be our hostages."

"What? So you just want us to lay on the ground and nothing like a bunch of losers?" the familiar voice asks.

"Yes, precisely."

"No!"

"Jackpot!" a third voice yells.

*Later*

I see Jake come outside.

"What is he doing? He's supposed to be a hostage," Kendick says in rage and marches over to him.

"I knew this wouldn't go well," I mumble. They talk for a few minutes and Kendick makes his way back over to us. However, before he reaches us, Peralta does the thing I prayed that he wouldn't.

"Hey y/n! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"What do you want, Peralta?"

"To talk."

"We'll talk later, once the drill is finished."

"Fine." And with that, he walks back inside. All eyes are on me.

"You know him?" Kendick asks.

"High school."

"We'll try and use it to our advantage then. Lure him out and we'll get him. But first, you need to get a sausage pizza and some gasonex."

"Ok?" I leave after that and head to the nearest Papa John's.

"Hi, can I get a sausage pizza please," I ask the cashier.

"Of course. Is that all?"

"Yes."

"$15 please." I give them a twenty dollar bill.

"Keep the change."

"Thank you, your pizza should be ready in at most 10 minutes."

"Thank you." 10 minutes should be enough time to quickly grab some gasonex, especially since there's a CVS next door. I quickly grab and pay for it, heading back for the pizza. Luckily, it's ready so I pick it up and thank the cashier.

I arrive back at where we're based, I see that the NYPD are here, but they don't see me, so I put the pizza on a car and hide so they don't see me. I have a plan. I wait for everyone to take each other out, until there's supposedly only Jake and Kendick left. They seem to be having a conversation, when I get up secretly and aim. Then I notice that the NYPD are about to say something to Jake and I hold my finger up to my lip and motion that I'm gonna get Kendick. Just as I see Kendick start to pull his gun out, I shoot, killing him.

"What the heck? Who shot me? You're all out!"

"Correction. They're all out. I'm still in."

"y/n? Why are you on their team? You work for Homeland Security."

"Yeah, but you were prejudice and, frankly, a bit of a dick."

"Whatever, let's go. Everyone. I need to talk to the losers." I roll my eyes at his comment.

*Back in the hall where they had the briefing*

"Interesting tactic, detectives. Show up at your first inter-agency drill and mess the whole thing up," Kendick says, seeming quite pleased with himself.

"Less of a tactic and more a series of incredible events," Jake quips.

"And what was the most incredible event... was it screwing up the entire drill in it's many years of being run in front of all your friends?"

"Pfft, I have other friends."

"Who?" questions the man next to Jake.

"I knew it was a dumb idea to invite the NYPD to a federal drill."

"Shut up, Kendrick. People provoked them, and you under mimed them by giving them the role of hostages or, as Jake's vest now says, hos. Of course they weren't going to follow the rules. Everyone was a prick to them. Plus, they still took out pretty much everyone. Next time, if people aren't so prejudice, maybe they'll follow the rules," I point out.

"Oh, there won't be a next time. But maybe I'll see you at the Pentagon Christmas party. Oh right. You guys aren't invited to those. Kid Rock was there. Those were my last words, bro." He walks away, full of pride.

"I'm sorry about Kendick," I say to the NYPD squad after he's out of earshot.

"What did you just call him?" Jake asks.

"Kendick. He may be my superior, but if he fires me, his superiors will fire him. I can talk at him with whatever attitude I want. After all, I'm the top agent at Homeland Security. Look, Jake, I'm sorry you didn't get him yourself, but he was about to John McClane you."

"Don't worry. Today's been a total win. I haven't checked my phone in forever. Now that I've said that, I do kinda wanna check it though. I'm gonna just do it." Jake pulls out his phone. "No text. But, I'm probably 20% less devastated than I would've been this morning and that's thanks to you guys." Jake suddenly realises something and lets out a small gasp. "I catharted."

"You catharted hard," says the muscular guy next to me.

"Break up?" I whisper to the guy next to me.

"Yup."

"Ah. That's rough."

"Jake arrested her boss because he caught him doing cocaine. And she was a defence attorney."

"A cop dating a defence attorney?! That's brave."

"Yeah. They were quite cute together though."

"Hey, y/n. Let me introduce you to the squad."

"Wait. You're y/n? As in y/f/n that Jake went to high school with?" the guy next to me asked.

"Yes. Did you know he had a nose ring?"

"Oh my god, did he actually? I'm so holding that against you, Peralta," a woman with long, curly hair laughs.

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you two break up?" the other woman asks.

"We both got really stressed and took it out on each other with loads of petty fights. It was quite stupid. And these were very petty fights. Like, we took it to a whole new level," I explain.

"Yeah, I think they get it y/n/n. Anyway, this is Detective Rosa Diaz, Detective Amy Santiago, Detective Charles Boyle and Sergeant Terry Jeffords."

"Hey, what about us?"

"They're Hitchcock and Scully."

"Nice to meet you guys. You all seem close. I wish I had that with my co-workers. I've only got one actual friend here. Plus everyone is a snob who looks down on literally anyone who doesn't work for a federal agency."

"Sounds awful," Jake inputs.

"It is. But I like my job and they won't let me transfer anywhere else, so I'm stuck here. Fun. Anyway, I'm sure you have stuff to do, I won't stop you. Go when you want, but I'm gonna stick around a while." Everyone disperses, some going into small conversations, some going to a vending machine and others dong other stuff.

"Hey, y/n. Can we have that talk now?" Jake asks.

"Sure." I look at Charles and wait for him to leave.

"Charles, I meant in private. Could you maybe talk to Amy and Rosa for a bit?" Jake asks, realising that Boyle's still here.

"Oh, right. Sorry," he apologises, going to talk to the girls.

"So, what do ya want?" I ask.

"To start over."

"Pardon?"

"We ended our relationship in an awful way, but I think we could be good friends now."

"So do I."

"However, I just got out of a relationship so, no matter how hard it is, you can't fall in love with me. Yet." He sends me a playful wink.

"You've not changed, have you, Peralta?"

"Of course not! I'm still that awesome. Only, even more so now that I've gotten rid of that nose piercing and awful haircut."

"You looked like an emo, not gonna lie. What would happen if I hit the g-note on a piano?"

"What would happen if I hit the g-note, title of your sex tape." I roll my eyes.

"This is gonna be an amazing friendship, I can already tell."

"Yeah, friendship."

"Hey, y/n, is that you?!" a voice says from across the room. I look to see who it is. Ah crap.

"How many of my exes are cops, bloody hell," I mumble. "Hey Brian. What d'you need?" I ask, a fake smile plastered on my face.

"I was wondering if you wanted to catch up over a meal? As a date, maybe?"

"Why would I go on a date with you? Especially since you cheated on me. Besides, I have a boyfriend."

"Oh. Who?"

"Me. I'm their boyfriend," Jake announces, obviously sensing my desperate need for help.

"Oh, come on. You can do better, y/n. He's from the scum bucket."

"1. Don't ever say that about the NYPD and 2. I'm good thanks. He's better than you ever were."

"Doubt it. And if he truly is your boyfriend, prove it."

"I don't have to prove anything to you, you--" but I get cut off by a pair of lips on mine. I kiss back, after about a second of shock. I pull away shortly after and turn back to Brian. He's just stood there in shock. "Now get out of here before I kick you where the sun don't shine, Brian!" He scrambles out of the room, now shocked and scared.

"How did he become a federal agent?" Jake asks.

"His dad is head of the ATF. That's literally the only reason."

"Oh."

"And thanks for doing that, but you didn't have to, really."

"It was nothing. I was just trying to be a good friend. Yeah. A good friend."

"Ok, yeah. A really good friend." My comment is then followed by an awkward silence. "So. How's life?" I awkwardly laugh.

"Fine. You?"

"Strange." Another awkward silence. "I'm gonna go, I need to work," I awkwardly announce, trying to find a way out of the situation.

"Sure, yeah. We should get going too. Bye."

"Bye." That has to've been the most awkward conversation of my life. I have no idea what my new 'friendship' is gonna hold but I'm scared.