#codblrsona

[leathfaic]

I can take over the world because you're mine

"Dare." 

“Fuckin’ again?” 

Bear shrugged at Daithí's exasperated expression “No rules against picking the same answer a few times in a row.”, ignoring Vice’s “Oh you are an arsehole and should be glad I like you so much” noise. It was something between an annoyed huff and a snicker and she had it down perfectly, it did its job every time, making Bear incredibly glad to be loved by someone like Vice and feel a little called out. Leaning to the left they pressed a quick kiss to Daithí’s pouting face before snatching the bottle back and taking a hefty swig.

To be fair ‘a few times’ was relative, Bear was aware they hadn’t picked anything else all night. Had been subjected to a few of Vice’s creative ideas for it too. Taking a shot while standing on their hands. Guessing how many fags were left in Daithí’s pack (easy, none since Bear had stolen the last one hours ago.). Were pretty sure they also had to do Daithí’s laundry for a whole month. As if the sneaky fucker didn’t already put some of his into both their and Vice’s laundry basket. Acting all surprised when he was handed the clean clothes back. Not that Bear really minded, sighing and exchanging a knowing look with Vice whenever it happened. Now they just had an official excuse. But with all of them, Bear had successfully dodged having to reveal any embarrassing truths so far. 

“Fine, a dare then, pick something else.” he leaned in and pressed a kiss of his own to Bear's cheek. 

Proving that Bear's quick distraction hadn’t worked on him at all.  Instead, there was that flicker in his eyes that he always got when he challenged Bear. That warranted another big gulp and a contemplative stare at the label. The label stared back, Tullamore Dew Honey, a bottle that had ended up in Bear's hands not at all by accident. Same with the bottle of Jameson that was currently pointing accusingly at Bear had found its way into Daithí’s. 

The last deployment had been a crushing success, a mission of unusual size putting all able operators into the field and everyone else into a field base to ensure it would run as smoothly as possible.  

The entirety of the Apocrita in motion was a sight to behold and a terror to confront. Their enemies never had a chance, just the way Bear liked it. 

No casualties on their side either, something else Bear liked very much. The worst injuries were scratches, bruises, and minor cuts. Many had been limping but seemed fine already. 

So they did the only thing that was left to do after coming home, got out of gear that had been worn at least three days too long, showered and bitched about small things. And then without previous agreement assembled in the gym, the largest common room on the base, and celebrated what they’d done. 

It was an awkward affair at first, until someone, Aspen? Badger?, had the good sense to get everyone a bottle of one of their preferred poisons in hand. 

Suddenly shoulders sagged, and stress melted away. It wasn’t even everyone drinking, but the initial relaxation was enough to drag everyone along, even if it was just hot cocoa in their hands. Maybe not the healthiest way to deal with post-op tension, but if you had to get an entire base coming down with it at once, certainly an efficient one. If nothing else most of them would sleep soundly tonight.

By now most of the party had dissolved, and Daithí’s drink ended up mostly in him and Bear, Vice preferring whatever American thing she was drinking. Whatever it was it kept her a disgusting level of sober in Bear's eyes. And yet it had been Vice, all big puppy eyes dragging them to an empty room giddy with excitement when she proposed the game and Daithí had just wordlessly taken the last swig of Jameson putting the bottle down between them. Both looking at Bear who’d been about to explain that spin-the-bottle sounded so fucking childish. Who had sat down instead because fuck it, those were their lovers and they were nothing if not putty in their hands anyways. So maybe it was childish, or maybe that was the all-famed German seriousness sounding off and about to push a stick up Bear's arse, who fucking knew. 

A long look at Daithí, then at Vice. Both of them looked back expectantly. “Fine, fuck, Wahrheit.” they growled. It was ridiculous how the two of them made Bear crumble. How their heart did a little leap at the joined cheers. 

“So that one is easy honey,” Vice was way too quick on the draw with that, probably prepared it well ahead “Mommy or Daddy issues? Which one is it for you?”

Bear just stared. And then opted to drink again. Remembering that it had been Vice’s turn to dare them from the start. So much for Daithí and distractions. 

“Both actually.”

Dai inserted his hand between Bears and the bottle, stealing the drink away. Fair considering they were sharing this like they had the other whiskey before. Terribly rude considering Bear's dramatic need to drink between every spoken sentence.

“It’s stupid and dramatic and you definitely need to get me again with that bottle before I tell you that bullshit.” 

“Alright chief sounds like a lot to unpack, but I’ll make sure to remember that.” Vice gave them one of her winks that had Bear roll their eyes and grin before she added in a softer tone “But only if you do wanna talk about it.” leaned over for a quick reassuring kiss.

Bear just shrugged. "Dai's guaranteed to get a fucking kick out of it and you're going laugh your arse off. It's fine." 

They finally leaned forward to spin the bottle again. 

Don't you fucking dare stop right here again. 

The bottle, wiser than one would expect from an inanimate piece of glass skidded past bears position as it came to a stop, pointing slightly to the left of Daithí, but clearly still on him. 

"Wahrheit oder Pflicht?" 

Daithí smiled back wide, "Just to show you that it doesn't hurt mo chroi, I'll take Truth."

Bear wanted to groan. Wanted to hide their face in Vice's shoulder and tell her how unfair it was that Dai managed to make their stomach flip with his endearment. Only that would mean they'd be so close to Vice that that would get them too, her warmth, her smell, the persistent hint of engine oil that made Bear consider rolling around in a substance definitely not designed for it.

Fuck, the whiskey was definitely getting to them. Who the fuck thinks about rolling in fucking engine oil while having romantic thoughts. Fucking ridiculous.

"What's the story behind that one?" Bear leaned forward, pushing their own thoughts aside and pointing at the spot they knew to hold the tattoo on Dai's left bicep. 

It showed a bottle with a ship on rough waves in it and a person that had either fallen or crawled halfway through the bottle's neck with only their legs and arse sticking out.

Bear loved it. Loved the fucking whimsy of it, loved tracing the lines of the waves when Dai fell asleep between them and Vice. But they'd never asked about it. Might as well now, the mood was about to drop either way soon.

"Ah, always loved Alice in Wonderland." he smiled weakly and took a swig from the bottle. "Was a nice fantasy world to flee to when home was…wasn't fun. Thought I'd have my own little potion bottle to carry around with me." 

His words were full to the brim with unspoken, unhealed hurt and Bear felt the need to launch themself across the space between them. 

"Hey," Vice's voice interrupted Bears thoughts "You told me it was a bottle of Jack Daniels the first week here." 

Daithí’s sadness vanished, immediately replaced with a mischievous grin. 

"Why did Bear get the truth and I didn't you little fuck?" 

Bear leaned back, smiling and letting the gentle bickering commence.

"Because I have known them for more than three days now! And because it's funny when random people believe it and start interpreting that mo chuisle." 

Vice huffed, trying not to be immediately pacified by the pet name and obviously failing. 

"Used to tell civvies in Germany that the one on my thigh was a sex thing." Bear grins, granting Vice a few more seconds to seem unbothered. "Always worked, especially considering the fact I was usually gone in the morning.”

“Filthy-mouthed liars, the two of you.” Vice mumbles, still accusingly but also leaning over to kiss Dai on the arm, where the fabric hid the tattoo and then on the mouth, still trying for a pouty smile but quickly losing that battle.

And Bear is still too occupied with smiling warmly and widely, feeling the damn butterflies in their stomach do loops when looking at the two of them, to even consider threatening the bottle that Dai spins it again. 

That turns out to be a mistake. It’s like the damn thing can fucking smell their moment of distraction. 

“Oh darling,” Vice is definitely back to fully amused, “I don’t think you can scare it into moving more.” Well maybe not, but Bear can certainly try. Technically it would move if kicked, couldn’t point anywhere when shattered right?

Could see Dai open their mouth to assure them it was fine if they didn’t want to talk about it no doubt. Couldn’t have that though, Bear considered themself lots of things but certainly not a coward. 

“Truth it is.” 

They just held out their hand and Dai, bless his soul, handed the bottle back with no hesitation. Bear let the honey sweetness and the smoothness of the whiskey wash over their tongue, watching their lovers exchange a look, glancing back at them, then looking at each other again. 

Almost sweeter than the honey in their drink, their concern about hurting Bear. In the beginning, the care had been almost irritating, something they had decided they’d never feel again. Vice could never have known that though and even if Daithí knew parts of it. If. Even he wouldn’t have been able to understand. 

And so they smashed through all of Bear's walls like they were paper thin and Bear, who’d already been fighting a feeling of belonging with the whole new force they were assigned to had been overpowered and outmatched. Fucking flanked. Point blank shot by cupids arrow. The little bastard even double-tapped. Probably instinct since the last projectile stuck in Bear really hadn’t done a great job. 

Outgunned like that even Bear had to admit that fighting was for once, not the way to go. Love is the sweetest surrender and all that bullshit. 

Daithí sighed, somewhere between exasperation and fondness when Bear blinked back from their brief swooning session, sure that it had been painted all over their face, “What the fuck is up with all those parental issues love?” 

“Short version is I ruined my father's life and forced my mum to be a mother which was the last thing in all existence that she should have been, or wanted to be really.” 

Bear could feel the urge to keep drinking build up and instead passed the bottle to Vice, who took a small sip before she grimaced and handed it to Daithí immediately. 

“So the part that sounds like a bad sitcom is my father, yeah?” Unbidden their father's face came to mind all red tousled hair and blue eyes, always looking sad. Yeah, no wonder that. 

“He’s the Irish one,” they knew that already but it mattered so Bear just went on “grew up all proper catholic. Was really into it too. More than most people are. Always had one dream when growing up, wanted to become a priest, or bishop if he could. Hell, I don’t fucking know, might have been shooting for Pope in his little catholic daydreams.”

There was a look of confusion on Vice’s face now that was only matched by the one of foreboding on Daithís.

Without even thinking Bear took the bottle back and made the swig count before handing it to Vice.

“Had it all laid out too, proper catholic school, got into the Trinity College in Dublin, guaranteed a spot in seminary when his bachelor was done. Should have gone swimmingly.” 

Und das war des Pudels Kern, es hätte alles glattgehen sollen. Nicht das Konjuktive hilfreich waren wenn Bärs ganz eigene Magie im Spiel war. 

“They did some exchange programme, you know, get the weans out to see the world before they swear themselves off to their god. Freshly reunited Germany, deepest Rhineland-Palatine, all nice and conservative. Got some fine old churches to ogle too. Stayed in a lovely little town called Kusel. Not the biggest but it turns out there was a disco that the local youths frequented.” 

Somehow the bottle was offered from their left again, Bear didn’t even question it, drank and kept it. 

“Kinda easy to see where this is going, even theology students go for a dance sometimes. And sometimes they get drunk. And drunk people tend to forget how dedicated they are to god and might just hook up with an equally drunk girl. Not even 18 and equally as stupid as her male counterpart.”

At least Bear couldn’t fault their father, they knew the pictures her mother kept of her youth. She’d been stunning before constant anger painted permanent lines on her. Light blond hair to her thighs, bright blue eyes, her full lips always smiling back then.

“Da made it back none the wiser, went back to his studies until he suddenly gets called into the dean's office, gets asked all these very pointed questions. Turns out a very upset German woman had called and ripped him a new one. Something about one of their students impregnating her daughter.” 

Bear couldn’t help the disdainful noise that slipped from their lips. The issue could have ended there with a quick doctor's visit, but of course, it didn’t. 

“Both families are awfully traditional. Abortion was never an option. Instead, my father got the bollocking of the century at home, dean had informed his parenrs the second the story had been confirmed. Of course, he had to marry the girl too, she’d already brought enough shame to her family by getting pregnant by a stranger. They were both too scared and young to really say no, got married a month later, all proper catholic too.” 

The amused sound from Daithí’s side made them smile, and they handed the almost empty bottle back after sipping again.

“Can’t be a catholic priest if you’re married. Or divorced for that matter. Not that it mattered, the family would have torn him to pieces if he’d considered divorce. So my father got stuck with a lifetime of regrets and ‘what-ifs’ over a few too many. My mum got told she was the victim so often she just took to it, probably wasn’t that hard with all the trauma of the situation. Only she genuinely liked my father for what it's worth, so as soon as she had someone else to blame she did. ‘Biggest mistake of their lives’” Bear raised their hand mockingly like they were in school “That would be me. Made sure I knew it too. Father dearest buried himself in his work, trying not to be where he clearly didn’t want to be. Mum took matters more into her hands though, words didn’t quite do it for her I guess.” 

Silence hung in the room, heavy and consuming. They could see their lovers trying for words. Words Bear really didn’t want to hear. 

“It didn’t get better when I didn’t turn out like the little princess my mother had wanted as a consolation prize either. Was mostly shit honestly. At some point, my granddad spotted the bruises, probably at my gran's wake, got my father bollocking of the next century he had the unfortunate luck to be in. They got so loud I could hear them from my room on the 3rd floor even though they were in the kitchen. Undeserved too the poor man. But he must’ve relayed at least parts of it. They were constantly talking when we got back home. Never got another bruise from home again. Still wasn’t great, I mean fuck I thought I’d found heaven when I joined the army and felt they were fucking welcoming.” 

Sighing Bear continued, closing their eyes because it wasn’t getting better at this point, not at all. 

“Seems all the talking did something for them, ignited a spark that they’d ignored for 15 years or something. Got really really close again. And bam mums pregnant again. But this time they’d actually tried. That’s where the twins entered the picture. Love the shitheads but fuck, that stung more than any backhand ever could. Seeing them be a loving family all together, how they felt silent when I entered the room, disturbing the beautiful picture.”

There's a hand on their back and Bear knows it’s Vice because it’s coming from their right and because there is the faintest note of motor oil in the air.

“Watched them like a fucking hawk until I left, and every time I made it home after. But they were good with them. No hidden bruises. No nothing, just a happy little family and the weird mistake they’d made disturbing their peace. So I stopped going back and since then they’re just that. Saw them a few times for other family stuff. Grandad usually didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer or ‘I’m stationed in a fucking desert right now’ for that matter. Kept my distance though, better that way. Maybe the twins will reach out at some point, or not. Might be dead when they get to that point.”

Twin protesting noises tugging at Bears heart in perfect synchrony.

“I’m fucking kidding, you know they don’t make bullets that kill me yet.”

When they opened their eyes again Daithí sat next to them close as he could be without touching, just silently offering. There were no tears, no nothing really, the hurt was old, like a scar that caused weird phantom pains. It had long since been buried under more recent pains whose aches were much more prominent.

Bear was glad for the silence, didn’t know if they could take any soft words in that moment and keep their delicate equilibrium intact. It would shatter in a moment of seconds. People never just listened to something like this and sat tight.

Instead what they heard was the door being opened, and Bear found themself rising to their feet in a smooth motion that was fucking impressive for how drunk they knew they were. The instinct to confront whatever disturbed them momentarily overrode the intoxication. 

The reaction was barely warranted as Bear found themself confronted not with a thread but with a group of rather tipsy rookies. 

“Leffftenant!” the frontman of the group mumbled, rising panic clear in his voice even as the word came out slurred. And the fucking fact that despite all their training he missed the two other soldiers in the room. That would earn him a note in Bear's book of who needed to get whipped more into shape. Probably in the morning though, when writing was something they could do without thinking too hard. 

“Privates.” seniority in any army did wonders for the ability to not let your liquor show when addressing people by ranks, that and Bear's talent to roll r’s like they meant it.

“We’re so sorry, we’re just uhm…gonna be going?” he clearly wanted to run, but at least remembered himself well enough to wait for dismissal. 

One that Bear was about to gladly grant him when next to them Dai rose, equally steady. “Actually, Privates, we’re happy to leave the room to you, we were just about to head for a smoke anyways, weren’t we?” 

“Fuck yeah!” Vice opted for taking Dai's hand, all three of them filling the door frame now.

Bear watched in amusement how the man's eyes grew wider first at Daithí’s and then Vice’s appearance in his line of sight. Oh, he knew he’d fucked up. 

“Lieutenant, Sargeant,” he mumbled sounding downright defeated. 

“Oh don’t let us spoil your evening,” Vice laughed “I’m sure Lieutenant Quinn will remind you of this soon enough so you might as well enjoy yourself while you can.” 

She stepped forward and the rookies parted like the red sea. Small mumbled “Yes Ma’ams” and “Sorry Ma’ams” escaped from all sides. 

Tempted to chuckle, Bear schooled their expression before following. Knowing that Dai would be right behind them.

They made their way down the corridor, only falling into step with each other when they were out of sight, almost outside, and securely out of earshot before Daithí sighed “Smoke is actually a grand idea, I’ve been craving one.” 

 “You’re out, sorry.” Bear reminded him and he groaned. 

“That’s why you have me.” Vice smiled wide, “Tell me how much you love me again?” 

“Endlessly, more every time you smile at me.” 

“Aw darling, you know how to make a woman weep.” a pack appeared from somewhere, so quickly that Bear knew they wouldn’t make it out, not when sober but especially not drunk like this, and Daithí kissed Vice before ripping the pack open. 

“And you?” Bear raised an eyebrow at the sudden attention, Vice expectantly smiling and walking the last few steps to the outside backwards so she could keep looking at Bear.

“I was planning to steal from Dai again, to be honest, but if you have something for me Ophe I might go on my knees on the spot.” 

Daithí’s fake protest in the background had Bear smile despite themself, but when Vice produced a familiar yellow packaging from the-gods-know-where they are close to making good on their promise. Of all the things Vice could have on her, it was a pack of Cohiba Club.

“Fucking hell.” There isn’t much else that wants to get out in the moment so Bear makes sure to put all their adoration into it.

Waits until they stop walking before carefully slicing the pack open with a knife, a stupid habit, not needed and technically wasteful. Sentimental to the tenth degree.

Offers both Dai and Vice one of the tightly rolled cigarillos before pulling out two at once. Nods to the fence, just out of the floodlights, a hiding place that Vice had originally claimed. Still, a good bet when looking for her. 

Unlike usual, Bear doesn’t lean against the fence but instead asks Vice for light. There is comfort in the three lighter clicks and Bear takes a deep drag before putting the first cigarillo in the fence, it will burn off slowly, like incense. 

Not quite how Vice did it, but perfect for Bear's own purposes. Doesn’t miss the looks from the other two. This time they just shake their head, even if they wanted to, this one is not on the menu. 

Instead, they let Vice light the rest, lighter clicking three times each, before they puff out more of the same spicy-sweet smoke.

When they notice the other two attempting to position themselves to either side they just gently herd them to their front, bury their nose in Daithí's hair and hold Vice close to their chest. 

Lack of sleep from the mission and the alcohol of the last few hours slowly creep up Bear's spine, they feel heavy and done. Switch positions at some point, resting their head on Vice and holding Dai close. Smile at the way the two of them hold hands, complicated by the cigarillos demanding attention every now and then.

“You know mo chroi, I think there are people who’d love to study the stupidly complicated level of religious trauma you caught, might make some actual money out there.” 

Something warm filled Bear's chest and before they could help it they were actually, full-on laughing. This upset the delicate balance of the already complicated three-way hug. 

A few seconds later they just gave up, all three of them laughing, about the fucking comment, the general situation and just because. 

Bear felt light and slightly stupid. Something deep inside them gave way, the last of the tension they’d been holding on to melting away. They might have their regrets, but tonight wasn’t one, not with Vice and Daithí still so close they all kept touching constantly. Still here and knowing Bear a little better, whatever that might mean down the line. 

They finished their smokes and silently found themselves in agreement that it was really time to head to bed. Preferably the closest one.

Bear let the other one take off and turned back for a moment, saluting both the sunrise and the remains of the cigarillo in the fence.

“Still kicking, Sir.” a single tear finally found its way out of their eye with that and a wink they turned around before they could be tempted to monologue a fucking burned-down cigarillo. Wiped the tear away and fell into a light jog to catch up with their two lovers.

[toomanywordsnllines]

Many and their favourite way of tormenting loving people: Physical touch. Part 1/?

Sonas being tormented in order Myla/Orca ( @mylarena ); Badger ( @appleciderp ); Lykos ( @alexgalaxyboo ); and Tresher ( @empresscirque )

Lost some steam and wasn't able to do all of them :(

[mylarena]

hey gamers i made another pinterest board. this one is just Taskforce Vibes (mainly Silly Ones)

if anyone in the taskforce wants to be added to it as a collaborator just lmk,,,,

[alexgalaxyboo]

Hi!

I came with question. What would your codsona (i totally did not forgot their name and don't want to make a mistake) wear as civilian?

AMAZING QUESTION,

So I'm basically just slapping on Lykos (Alex) clothes that I like and want to wear and. I understand that these may to a certain degree even seem contrasting to one another. But bare with me.

I turned to my bestie pinterest for inspo (can provide links to these if you want me to).

Basically it's kind of baggy clothes, (usually layered) collared shirts, sweaters, t-shirts etc, mainly jeans or quote unquote cargo pants and like 90% of the time, combat boots.

For more summery weather he's a big shorts (bermudas?) kinda guy. Probably also reckon he has like. One bag (probably a belt bag) that's like The Bag™ he carries everywhere anywhere all the time and has. God knows what inside.

(this probably also happens whilst on duty but it's less likely a bag and more likely just. His pockets are always full. Mans jingles if you shake him :'D)

[anothercrisis]

Lieutenant Ann “Fallout” Crisis (full body, colorized)

I’m going to put my notes on her beneath the cut so you can ignore them if you’d like.

Lt. Ann “Fallout” Crisis

is usually wearing a face covering of some kind, but isn’t against teammates seeing her face occasionally. the masks are mostly for the comfort of being hidden.

has plenty of scars like everyone else, but most are hidden beneath her clothes. there are two on her forehead, one at her temple and one across the middle, stretching from her hairline to the space between her brows, and one on her neck, starting near her ear and ending near the hollow of her throat.

her hair is shoulder length and brown and is never down around others. it’s usually pulled or braided back, or beneath a hood when on mission. green eyes, but sometimes they look more brown in the shadow of her hood, and a permanent exhaustion to them.

is never caught wearing a bright color. her wardrobe consists solely of shades of black, blue, and green. once gave the team a heart attack when she borrowed and wore a red shirt post-mission when all her own clothes were dirty/ruined.

baggier clothes, never form-fitting unless mission requires it, and usually layers. likes to have sleeves and higher necks on her shirts.

average height and build, which allows misinterpretations and oversights. silent intense kind of aura, a dead look in her eyes. but, she lightens up around her team, might even smile or laugh.

isn’t a fan of close combat, prefers to maintain distance with her guns, but when pressed into close quarters (out of her comfort zone), will become mildly unhinged and fight dirty.

isn’t a fan of medical, both receiving the care and giving it; the vulnerability makes her anxious. has and will rig bandages over her minor wounds instead of getting stitches like she should. hypocrite, because she frequently orders her soldiers to medical even for minor wounds.

is good at helping plan and execute ops, at gathering intel, noticing little things. probably should prefer overwatch, but doesn’t like to be bodily far from her teammates.

can, has, and will take hits so her soldiers don’t. would give her life for her team no hesitation. gets very upset when they reciprocate, putting themselves between danger and her.

[appleciderp]

I wanted to solidify Coyote's Design and doodle some of the other lore I dropped yesterday.

[toomanywordsnllines]

Enough for the week

[mylarena]

"DO YOU BLAME YOURSELF?"

-

orca feels guilty for being unable to fix aspens injury.

[alexgalaxyboo]

Since Horangi is Horangi and König is König. Logically, my sona's callsign should be like. Lycos... (or however you'd spell it), no?

[anothercrisis]

“Sir? Why do they call her Fallout?”

“Because, when she leads a mission, there’s usually very little fallout.”

[tamorisana]

Harpia post before i go to sleep

Pretty proud of myself for this one

goodnight now

[tamorisana]

oh god, this voice is very nice and fitting, i can picture Aspen talking in such tones, but now I remembered that there are actual videos, covers and etc. from voice actors and I don't need to relay on just music.

Thank you for answering!

Bones, do you have a voice for Captain?

I am genuinely curious since i was asked this question and it seems like it won't leave me alone.

(this goes to everyone in force but its tedious to ask everyone single one of you)

I've actually been trying to find some voiceclaims for Aspen! The one I'm most heavily considering is Kevin synthv, which in short seems to be a vocaloid kinda thing. Here are some examples!

(fair warning, this one has flashing lights and is very loud! Please pause and read the content warning in the beginning too)

and here's a talkloid too so you can get a feel for how Kevin sounds when he's not singing :))

I'm still very unsure, but I feel like Kevins voice fits the androgyny Aspen is supposed to convey. Also I'm very biased because GHOST, the fella who made reckless battery burns is one of my favorite artists rn and their kevin tuning is godly. They use him in "uncanny"(absolute fucking banger) and as backing vocals in

Also I found a video of Kevin singing Caramelldansen in Swedish and he sounds dumb as fuck lmao(affectionate)

I'm heavily considering making a little animation of Aspen to this it's so funny. He sounds like a Danish person trying to speak Swedish help

[toomanywordsnllines]

Finally got a decent enough drawing to talk a little more about Many!

First I would like to introduce Many's world. Their jewel and their reason to live.

Their little potato - Mimi! (One day I'll make a comic with how the task came to know Mimi but all you have to know is that: The task did not know of her existence, only the captain) she's technically a little older then just a baby but I wanted to show... This side of Many.

So let's talk about Many!

As you can see, they're a parent of a very entusiastic 4 year old (Mimi is hard of hearing and has terrible eye sight since very young (Many calls her, their 'little bat'). Besides other health problems. Many goes far and beyond to make sure she has everything she needs and desires.)

Many had her before joining the task force and that period of time is erased from their file... for privacy reasons.

Child things aside-

There are four (more or less set to stone) rules about Many

1. Don't ask about what's under the mask (unless you want to get on their bad side, then congratulations, you already made half your way there, if not try to redeem your error (good luck)) and per consequence. Don't touch the mask;

2. Don't ask them to emote more (You think they should laugh more? Keep that to yourself unless you want a very hurtful/snappy/rude response);

3. Don't talk about their appearance or what you think they might look like (same thing as point 1, but this one is just Speedrun for them to hate you/avoid you like the plague (if it was a mistake… good luck trying to remedy it));

4. Never make a big deal about them forgetting something (unless it's very urgent or life threatening) (this is the hardest rule to come around and understand because instead of lashing out they just… stop and turn off. Shut down.)

This may make them sound a little like an asshole. But they live by the rule of "I wouldn't ask anyone something like that because it's weird and uncomfortable, so why would anyone ask me that??" (Don't do to others what you wouldn't like to be done to you)

As, I think I said in some other post, Many doesn't have a very tragic backstory.

They grew up with their mother and two siblings (one older, another younger) in a modest appartment. Their father was out working but was always extremly suportive and caring. Loving parents loving family.

Some problems making friends but... pretty alright-

Teenagehood was rough, complicated and ugly and that's where most of their problems started. Because of an incident that happen when they were small (which resulted in 'brain damage' but not like 'worrying' (that's what the doctors said- they were... so wrong)) Their control of their emotions was... almost non existent. Very emotional and empathetic. Very explosive and angry. Messy.

Teenage years didn't make that better... only worse.

Developed severe Athazagoraphobia (fear of forgetting someone or something, as well as a fear of being forgotten) which got worse after they got a concussion and got mild amnesia of the event.

They almost tore and entire room apart, from their panic.

And that's where the panic attacks and anxiety also started full swing.

The fear was born because of their Prosopagnosia (also known as face blindness, in which he is unable to recognize faces) caused by the incident and that... only got worse with age.

Their Prosopagnosia is so... bad to the point where they cannot remember their own face at all (only eye color and hair color) and the Athazagoraphobia was so severe that the two mixed and they developed a form of face dysmorphia (which as you can imagine... only made everything worse)

That's... almost all the story behind the mask

They could not control what other people say and do so... they took the control out of people for there to be any stray comments.

Also It makes it easier for them to describe their face (just a blank white mask) that's why you can only see their eyes and that's why they leave their hair mostly uncovered (things they can remember).

Now if you read the four rules... you can understand why they exist. It's self persevation mixed with self sabotage.

And it's because of that emotional sensitivity that they joined the military (no one wanted them to do it. Their mother begged them not to. But the feeling of being constatly lost and at the brink of exploding all at the same time? was too much and they just felt they needed to be put in line... By people who didn't care about their feelings).

As you can imagine- and seeing how I've drawn them so far- you can see that it suceded somehow. Though is a very negative side. Bottling everything up to the point of apathy and desinterest.

Thankfully it didn't kill them completly... And you can see that.

One mission was enough to make them see that... they didn't need to hide everything and so they didn't. They observe and they look out for others. They care so so much. It's painful. It's so painful but it's the last thing that makes them feel human so they lean into it.

Even though they don't share their name, it's not an actual secret. It's written on their dog tags- First and Last- people just take Many's, quite honestly, scary exterior and don't really get close. Many isn't really a secret, they just live by the rule of, ask if you want information, and if they trust you, they'll share.

They keep it a 'secret' mostly because they cherish the name imensly. It's really important for them.

Also they like the whole being a little anonymus (relief when no one knows who you are, also it helps them train their memory).

They keep a journal to note down things (a human mind can remember so much) and keep a photo of everyone they know there so they can also remember their faces.And although they have... everything more under control then they ever had since young

(And you could feel their relief when they meet the team and see a lot of them use things like masks or glasses or have painted hair or have prominent scars. Things easy to remember.)

And although they have... everything more under control then they ever had since young. There's still moments:

They still have nasty panic attacks. But especially when they forget things (small or big). Or when someone asks them to describe someone they saw/know, and don't take a 'I don't remember as an answer'. (Because it's out of their control-)

They do not look at mirrors or whatever. Avoid them like the plague.

And they still have... self destructive tendencies... (I'll talk more about it on another post but- yeah) BOY THAT GOT LONG MY BAD-

[mylarena]

orca lore drop!!!

she is an only child to absent wealthy parents.

growing up she was left alone most of the time, meaning she had to rely on herself and only herself.

as a kid, orca played and excelled at the piano.

the silence of the house was oppressive, so she would often play the piano to cover it.

no one ever showed up to her piano recitals.

when she first joined the taskforce, she struggled to adjust to the sheer amount of noise in the base. going from a entire childhood of silence, to a period of mild noise in medical training, to an entire base full of rowdy soldiers? seems pretty overwhelming tbh.

she had to adjust to the constant presence of people too. again, an overwhelming drop into pretty much chaos.

INCREDIBLY touch starved. very little physical contact with anyone even during training, and it was always practical, never just because.

she stayed cold and distant when she arrived, hiding her emotions and seeming apathetic to most things in an attempt to protect herself. she still maintains this mask, but more out of habit than out of feeling its necessary.

she only started to really talk and leaver her shell after someone asked her to, specifically asking about one of her interests and letting her ramble about it without interrupting or complaining and staying engaged the whole time. she still struggles to start talking about things she likes by herself, but shes gotten better with starting conversations and speaking to people.

when the base is quiet, orca starts to slip back into her apathetic lone-wolf type mindset. it reminds her of an empty house.

she'll start going through her day without acknowledging anyone fully, not bothering to speak to them and letting her eyes slide right past everyone.

the best way to get her to come out of this state is gentle redirection and gradual warmth.

lead her to a couch, drape a warm blanket over her, and sit on the couch a bit away from her. give her the time to come back to herself enough that she leans into whoever is on the couch with her when shes ready.

aspen has a couch and blankets in their office, and orcas favorite blanket is soft and baby blue, patterned with cartoon seals, orcas, and little icebergs. if she ends up in aspens office, thats always the blanket they give her.

someone in the taskforce ends up getting her a music player to help combat the quiet days. she carries it on her nearly all the time.

during holidays and birthdays she had only ever been sent generic, impersonal gifts such as expensive jewelry, perfumes, etc.

whenever someone from the taskforce gives her a personalized gift she gets emotional. no matter how cheap it is, someone had seen it and thought of her, and bought it for her because they thought about her. they knew it was something she would like.

after getting attached to her teammates, she decided that she would do anything to keep them, that she would try her best to never lose them.

[alexgalaxyboo]

This is rlly old and someone needs to hold me accountable when I say I will make a better one but!!

Wake up babe, Alex codsona dropped. Sergeant Alex "Wolf" [Redacted? I haven't figured out a last name, Galaxy sounds too goofy lol] reporting for duty at the Codblr Taskforce o7

[anothercrisis]

ok hi im sending this to everyone in the taskforce and im too lazy to write up somethimg unique for everyone but. if u have the information, can u provide me with ur codsona's age range, height, birthday, and nationality? plus any additional info that you want to share.

Sir yes sir

Name: Lt. Ann “Fallout” Crisis (she/her)

Age: late 20s

Height: 5’8

Birthday: Jan. 10th

Nationality: American

Primary Skills: Intel/Planning/Recon

Primary Traits: Reserved and Protective, but also Sensitive and Avoidant.