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talesfrommedinastation · 10 months

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My Neighbor Doug on different locations in 'The Bad Batch'

So I did as was requested by my poll, and asked Doug what he called (and thought of) the various different places in which 'The Bad Batch' took place.

Need refreshers? Doug's interpretations of The Bad Batch: Main Characters

Doug's interpretations of The Bad Batch: Side Characters

Here we go:

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Tipoca City: The Mall on the Ocean. You know it either smells really nice, clean and like fresh perfume, or it smells like ass and balls. It’s duty free, of course. Daddy Warcrimes totally plows the liquor section when Ryan-from-Accounting won’t stop annoying him and Daddy Rambo sprays on the sample Sauvage cologne to get the ladies.

("I thought he was married?"

"He need the reassurance. Y'all know guys like him.")

Onderon: Damn-It-Jared’s Trailer Park. It’s where he and his goofy-assed hippie friends fire weapons and drop acid and scare the wildlife. It’s like Oregon, but stupid. Just like Damn-It-Jared. And Daddy Warcrimes comes down and murders civilians, because the man craves police brutality the way I crave a drink after watching the Saints lose.

Saleucami: Tremor-Land. Look at this place and tell me you ain’t expecting giant worms and Kevin Bacon to pop out of nowhere. Also, Not-Wolverine’s wife gives me Reba McEntire vibes, trust me. They seem like a fun couple, I’d love to drink beer and shoot guns with them on a Sunday.

(Cut and Suu = Not Wolverine and Not Wolverine's wife)

Pantora: Not-Quite-Austin. Its where young hot people go to get drunk, get into street fights and then leave. You know, where That Chick That’s in Everything gets into a motorcycle race with Daddy Rambo and then they look for the Gun Safety Muppet and Little Orphan Blondie is lost and I guess they sell Toaster Strudel at one point to the three eyed goat for cash?*

Meat Muffin, what in the hell did I just write?

Corellia: Where-Anakin-Lost-His-Legs and Jorge’s Unemployed Sisters are collecting scrap metal for cash.

(“This is not where Anakin lost his legs!”

“How do you know?”

“ I watched Episode III?! Did you?”

“Eh, they’ll update it, just watch.”)

(FYI, I wish Trace Martez and Tech had more scenes together. They would have been a cute nerdy couple)

Bracca: Planet Dump. Seriously, there’s a planet devoted to garbage. Is it New Jersey? It’s just creepy people floating around trash? Man, it’s like Thor Ragnorok, but sad. Think Valkyrie would show up at some point? Julio had a headache here and strangled someone, I get it, migraines ain’t fun.

Ord Mantell: Great Value Cyberpunk. Do humans even live here? Well, Houma BBQ bitch and her ugly clutch of mutant boyfriends do. Her bar totally looks like someone practices eye surgery in the back like in Minority Report.

Raxus: Space Country Club. Oh, this place nice and clean. I mean, dang, it looks like a gated community where everyone plays golf and is mean to their neighbors. I bet they have an amazing Christmas lights display but don’t allow ‘riff-raff’ to come in and bully anyone who doesn’t join their HOA. My sister’s in one outside of Miami, and it turned her into a bitch, trust me.

Daro: Not-Quite-Fort-Bliss. I don’t get this place. It’s where Manny’s hanging out with other army guys but they don’t like him, even though he’s a good soldier? What the hell, the Empire is run by mid-level corporate dumbasses who think their online MBA makes them a god.

::proceeds to go on a rant about MBA Rob, his nephew, and the clowns like them::

Safa Toma: Tank Girl’s Home. It’s like Tatooine but fun and crazy. It’s where the Rhino that Sells Used Buicks and his pet iguana live and force people to race in used car parts.**.

Pabu: Space Daytona. It’s nice, it’s pretty, but I kept thinking the Empire was going to nuke it at some point. Hey, Church Lady says it’s her home away from home…where’s her other home? New Orleans? Shit, that’s a thought.

Eriadu: Space New Hampshire. It’s foggy, got mountains, and filled with angry old white people who can’t seem to retire. You know Tarkin totally screams at waiters and lives to make the poor check out girls at Publix cry. Just like his bitchy daughter, Stepsister Beth.

(Doug now headcanons that Tarkin is Emerie’s dad…which makes zero sense, but whatever.)

Ryloth: Space Arizona. Everything seems rich and nice and the women are vaguely hot, cool canyons and mountains and whatnot. But then dig a little bit and everyone’s rat-in-a-shithouse insane and there’s guns everywhere. I like Hera and her daddy, he’s cool. Like him riding his space motorcycle and flinging that spear at folks, more of him please.

Weyland: Spooky Lab Land. It’s where Stepsister Beth and Ryan-from-Accounting have family reunions with her asshole dad, his bitch wife Laura, and the gang. They’re into science and not making eye contact with anyone because there’s shit in the lava lamps that might be humans.

Serrano: Space Coeur d’Alene. It’s got pine trees and mountains, real pretty, but it’s easy to fling trash and bodies everywhere and every other person is Doomsday prepping. You ever been to Idaho? Real pretty, but real off, ya know?

*= I was struggling to breath after this. What in 'The Witch' was he thinking?!

**= Millegi and his racer. I had to stop texting Doug for a bit at this point, I was cry-laughing so hard I couldn’t see.

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littleaxebad · 3 years

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The Ghost of Christmas Dar

The first of my Jalim drabbles is an accidentally holiday themed fic you can blame @the-girl-who-flies for.

Prompt: Dar’s ghost haunting Salim, in his cosy London digs, as he’s about to take a bath, being angry at him for sharing his bed with a dirty American...

I got a bit carried away with this one.

I hope it makes you smile <3

Salim was fairly certain the apparition hiding behind the bathroom door was under the impression he couldn’t see it. That it didn’t stand out awkwardly, green and luminescent, against clean white tiles. Seeing Dar bought back painful memories of guilt - that he hadn’t been able to save his captain, that Dar had a family - but it also reminded him of the life he’d left behind, of Zain’s unhappiness and the hole in his heart that Jason had filled.

Salim had felt a presence ever since they had arrived in London, something he hadn’t noticed back home in Iraq, as though the abandonment of his country was the final nail being taken out of Dar’s proverbial coffin - Salim knew he had to help the other man move on, that he couldn’t linger here, watching over Salim. But did he have to do it when he was in the bath! He felt embarrassed and exposed, sitting in the tub, but fortunately it was filled with bubbles that obscured most of his body - and it wasn’t like he could just stand up and talk to him either, as much as a shock might be exactly what Dar needed to nudge him on.

“I can see you,” he tried, gently. Salim had no experience with ghosts, wasn’t sure he even believed in them until right now. Dar stepped out from his hiding place and walked straight over to where Salim was sitting, without a hint of the awkwardness Salim was feeling, almost as if he had been waiting for an invitation.

“You must leave this place,” he spoke in clipped Arabic, almost like he was in a hurry, “you should kill that noisy American, and go home, where you belong.” He nodded as if to punctuate his point.

Salim could only stare, open mouthed. Dar was leaning over him, imposing even in his ghostly state, advising Salim to do the two things he wanted to do the least.

“Dar,” he started, still trying to be gentle, “I do not want to do that…”

“Then the American has brainwashed you! They are the enemy, they cannot be trusted.” And then he added, mostly to himself, “and it is difficult for me to be here, this was so much easier in Iraq.” The gears in Salim’s brain struggled to process that - “what are you talking about?” Dar stared off into the middle distance for some moments, as if he could see worlds Salim could not. Salim could feel his skin starting to prune. He really wanted to get out of this bath and put some clothes on, but as immaterial as Dar was, he was still in the way.

“It will take some careful planning,” Salim zoned back in to a conversation Dar apparently thought he had been a part of, “another strike for the Republican—!”

Jason chose that moment to enter the bathroom.

“Who you talkin’ to in here? Should I be jealous?”

Salim’s eyebrows shot up - Could Jason not see Dar? The answer was, apparently, no, as he crouched down in the same space Dar’s legs were occupying to look Salim in the eyes.

“Whatsamatter, babe? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Jason chucked, but he couldn’t have been more correct. “You been having nightmares again? Need me to take care of you?” Jason let his fingertips casually brush against Salim’s damp forearm, which he hastily retracted. He wasn’t in the mood to be in the mood, especially with Dar trying to strangle Jason with his ghost-hands.

“Babe?"

“You really can’t see him?” Salim indicated with his head.

“See who?”

“Dar.”

Jason sighed, a sound that signalled he was about to say something deep that applied to the both of them.

“I know we left a lot of people behind, good and bad, but you can’t keep carryin’ that around.”

Salim looked into Jason’s eyes for a moment; they were full of sincerity, and love, and ghost-hands.

“Could you get me a towel?”

“Sure.” Jason smiled reassuringly and gave Salim’s shoulder a squeeze. Dar watched him retreat to the towel rack, dark fury on his pale face. Salim tried very hard to ignore him.

Jason held the towel out in front of the bath, humouring Salim’s paranoia. Which would have been sweet had Dar not shoved his entire head through Jason’s. Salim signed, stepped out of the bath and let Jason wrap him up tightly.

“Let’s get some breakfast in you, then we’ll get outta the house. Do somethin’ fun.”

“That sounds nice, but first I desperately need to put some clothes on.”

~~~

Salim was in the bedroom folding laundry when Dar suddenly appeared. He quickly dropped his underpants back into the basket and pulled out a shirt instead.

“How can you let him touch you - how can you stand to be in his presence?”

“The only reason I can stand in his presence is because he saved me - I wouldn’t be standing anywhere, otherwise.” Although he was beginning to have doubts about the nature of death, and what was supposed to be beyond the veil. He quickly looked down to see whether or not Dar was actually standing, or if he was floating. It was impossible to tell - Dar’s feet were buried in the carpet.

“You’re tethered here because you think you still have a purpose. You soul would be happier with Allah.”

“I am here to save you from that American, and from yourself.”

“I do not need, nor do I want saving. What I want is for you to stop putting your hands through Jason’s head and pass on.”

Dar did not pass on. In fact, he hung around - persistently. So persistently that Salim had to keep burning Sandalwood incense in the bedroom to stop Dar from standing over them whenever he and Jason made love. The first time he’d noticed Dar intruding on their private time he’d dropped Jason and fell off the bed. It had killed the mood but Jason had been laughing too hard to notice Salim staring challengingly at an apparently empty corner of the room. And it wasn’t just Dar’s invasive presence in the bedroom; his incessant badmouthing of Jason and his aversion to giving Salim any privacy were daily headaches he had no painkillers for - he was afraid to broach the subject with Jason again less the younger man think he needed therapy, and even more afraid to ask Zain for help because he knew Zain would want to get involved. A real life ghost! Haunting his dad! No, he just had to talk to Dar, encourage his captain to accept that he was dead, and it was no longer his responsibility to be a soldier.

~~~

This turned out to be harder than Salim anticipated. To him, Dar had always been an arm of the Republican Guard. He had wanted to be a soldier, and was patriotic to his core - so getting someone so single-minded to stop trying to cure his ex-subordinate of “American hypnotism” was like trying to push a boulder up a hill. In the snow. It didn’t help that Dar chose the worst moments to appear: when Salim was bathing, changing or generally experiencing what he would consider a one-man activity; when he was cooking or eating dinner with Jason; or when they were enjoying each others company on the couch. Dar would lean in and whisper things like “this American is not a real man” and “look at the way his clumsy hands fumble” and “punch him, you know you want to.”

~~~

One morning Salim woke up and decided he’d had enough. It was Christmas Eve; Jason had been humming with positive energy all week; excited to share his old family traditions with his new family, and Dar was sitting on him. Or in him, to be more specific, and the site of the dead soldier using his boyfriend as a canoe was the last straw.

“Dar,” he whispered threateningly, “I will not let you ruin Jason’s Christmas. I want you gone by tonight.”

Dar’s response was to laugh like a cartoon villain and slam his ghost-fist through Jason’s crotch. The younger man woke with a start and looked at Salim suspiciously.

“Did you just hit me?”

“Why would I hit you?”

Jason squinted, mumbled “mmmkay” unconvincingly, rolled over and went back to sleep.

“Get out of him.” Salim hissed.

“Make me.”

~~~

While Jason was shopping for Christmas decorations, Salim was sitting in an internet cafe, looking up how to help spirits move on. He was the oldest person in the cafe, and the only one not wearing Christmas themed attire - Jason had bought him a garish Christmas sweater, and Salim had promised to wear it in public… when Hell froze over. The best - or least embarrassing - method Salim could find was affirmation. To convince Dar he was happy where he was, connected and contented with his life; then to convince Dar he deserved to move on, that he had done much good in his life and that it was his time; and lastly to praise Allah and the glories of the afterlife - it was all about convincing his captain in the most gentle and caring way possible. Surely then he would accept his death? And if not - Salim would call an exorcist.

“I am happy where I am Dar,” Salim spoke softly. Jason was having an argument with the oven in the kitchen and Salim decided the safest place to have this conversation was in the bathroom pretending to take a bath. He’d even run enough water to fill the tub, just in case. He regretted only running the cold though.

“I love Jason, and he loves me. And I am close to Zain here, I am so proud of him and I want to be able to see him succeed. This is my life, that I made for myself with the people I love most. We may not have a lot of money or grand jobs or many friends - but we survived Hell and created a family together. I deserve this, and I want nothing else.”

Salim could tell Dar was listening by the way his head was cocked. But his gaze when straight through Salim and into the kitchen where Jason was making an obscene amount of noise.

“And you,” undeterred Salim powered on, “you had a good life. A family, an honourable position, and you were strong. You did right by your people and your country, and you do not need to hold on here, trying to save me. You have earned paradise. And lastly-“

“I love you.”

“What…?”

“You should be mine - you should leave this puny, dirty American and be with me. We were always meant to be together - together we were strong!”

Salim tried to remember if he’d hit his head recently. Jason entered the bathroom at that moment to save him from having to respond.

“I, uh… need to go to the store. Forgot somethin’. I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Uh, no babe, you don’t need to.” But Salim was already in the hall putting his shoes on. He pulled Jason into the cold street with vicious intent.

“Hey, are you OK? I just need to get another pie crust… I thr- dropped the other one on the floor…” When Salim didn’t answer, Jason pushed on casually, “is it ghost-Dar again?”

“He said he loved me.”

Jason stopped short and Salim walked past him.

“Run that by me again…”

“Must I?”

“… can you fist fight a ghost?” Jason had already turned around and was stomping back to the apartment.

“I didn’t think you believed in ghost-Dar.”

“I didn’t - I heard you talkin’ to him all the time and I figured you were just processin’ your guilt. But even drunk out of your mind you couldn’t come up with this alone. I’m gunna kick his spooky ass all the way back to the Stone Age.”

“Hey, prick.” Jason marched into the house leaving his jacket and shoes in the doorway for Salim to organise. He stood in the middle of the living room and spoke loudly.

“Listen up, fucker, Salim is mine. I saved him an’ he saved me - in more ways than one. I love him, more that I thought I was capable of lovin’ another person. He means the fuckin’ world to me - Hell, he is my fuckin’ world. Now, your ass is dead and it’s time to move the fuck on. Get outta our house.”

Salim watched Dar stare at Jason, unimpressed and unmoved. Jason looked over his shoulder at Salim and Salim shook his head. Jason nodded knowingly and went over to their cheap stereo.

“You have chosen this failure of a man, over me.” Dar accused, sneering.

Salim didn’t get a chance to answer as Don’t Stop Believing filled the apartment at an appalling volume.

“Get the fuck out, or I will play this song every second, of every day, for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

Dar lasted one iteration of the song before vanishing in a cloud of green sand.

Salim nodded, impervious to Jason’s terrible taste in music.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Bitch.”

~~~

BONUS Mini Piece “Jason’s Dadstache”

“What… on earth… is that?”

“It’s a moustache.” “What happened to your beard?” “I shaved it off - it’ll grow back.” “But you kept that.”

“I think it looks cool. I feel like Burt Reynolds,” Jason grinned.

Salim reached up to cradle Jason’s face in his hands. Jason, who he loved more than life itself. “Get rid of it.”

#jalim #salim x jason #Jason x salim #salim othman #Jason kolchek #house of ashes #the dark pictures #the dark pictures anthology #the dark pictures house of ashes #HoA #captain dar #I do not remember what his last name is oops #fanfiction #fanfiction prompts #supermassive games #imagine dar as the ghost of xmas past from the muppets

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