greasemonkeyiggy

[greasemonkeyiggy]

online and going to try and write!!

[greasemonkeyiggy]

"what'd you do - eat a horse?"

"i told you, i haven't been trainin'!"

[greasemonkeyiggy]

[greasemonkeyiggy]

A grin splits his face, and he puts the gun down on the side for a moment, wiping his hands on the front of his trousers. "I ain't too lucky myself, so I ain't ever taken the time to learn caravan proper." He explains, as he rummages for bits and pieces that he might need to rig the gun right. "My big sister and my ma' loved it though. The pair of them would play for hours when I was younger."

There's a flicker of emotion in his eyes, but the grin doesn't drop, not does he comment any further on it. Instead, placing down everything he'll need to finish the job. "I never say no to some good company, and way I see it you're the nicest fella I've had to deal with in a lon' ol' while." Iggy seems to genuinely mean it too, the way he looks Roy right in the eye as he says it before letting himself get wrapped up in his work again. "Right then, less see what I can do with this."

Fingers move quickly as he deftly picks up tools and begins tweaking and attaching metal to different areas of the weapon. Just like that, the man is gone again, fixated on sorting out the gun for his new-found friend. While he's mostly silent, he does hum a soft song every now and again, stopping briefly to tap his feet.

In the midst of a break, he reaches up to rub his forehead with the back of his hand, rubbing a dark smear of grease over his skin. "Just gotta give it a sec before I keep going. Make sure it attaches right." He huffs. "So, if ya' don't mind me askin'. Where are ya' heading?"

The man sure had a lot of little tools, Roy had a far less extensive kit of his own but nothing like that— probably what made the difference between a hobbyist and a professional. Iggy was clearly a professional. Roy quietly watches, it’s probably the most quiet he’s been in awhile, when it’s not forced onto him he likes to lean though, they say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks but he’s learned several just by shutting up on occasion.

 ❝Why, do you wanna play me?❞ Roy lets his words poke back, a playful tone as he continues. “I mean I don’t like to let folks in on my world class secrets but it looks like ya’ found me out. If ya’ don’t tell nobody maybe I’ll go easy on ya’.” Roy is of course joking because he genuinely was just average at best at the game, but that didn't stop him from playing it though. Roy offers a faint smile back, it’s more wolf than dog.

It wasn’t often he was told he was a pleasure to meet, but he’d take it, the notion makes the faint smile grow. The Courier tries to swallow it back down feeling somewhat diffident. 

He continues to watch the other man, his own habit of giving a sideways glance to check his peripherals getting the better of him now and again. He noticed a lack of it from Iggy as he worked. That was fine by Roy though, at least while he was here he wouldn’t let anything get to the man helping him he thinks. 

 ❝Well I’d hoped ya’ were Iggy otherwise that’d make things reallll confusin'.❞ It would also make things more complicated because that would mean the real Iggy was dead, buried somewhere out in the desert out back or locked in a boom closet or something. 

Brown eyes flicker back to reality, back to Iggy as he mutters to himself, Roy looks amused, quirking a brow up.  ❝Guy wasn’t clever, that much I can tell ya’, so m’ gussin’ he didn’t pull off shit.❞ Roy liked to talk to himself a lot (or stick his tongue just barely out and biting on it) when he was really involved or invested in what he was doing— which was usually nothing good. It was just funny to see that on the other side of things.

 ❝Oh I want that voom, gotta make almost blowing m’fingers off worth it.❞ He laughs, shaking his head.  ❝No place to be, s’long as you don’t mind my ugly mug hangin’ round.❞ No places to be, he thinks, except on his way to New Vegas, to the The Strip, to his revenge. So this pit stop was at least the nicest he’d had so far, minus the Mole Rats of course, besides they say revenge was a dish best served cold, so he could have it wait just a bit longer.

[greasemonkeyiggy]

"Right... Well, I certainly see that." He replies as he watches her sink to the ground. Following her lead, he too finds his pistol and checking the clip. Iggy does notice the redness and for a moment his lips part as if to question it but stops himself. He'll ask later. Now is not the time.

"While I'm sure they deserved it, dontcha think you bit off a lil' more than you can chew? Especially this far out. Do I even want to know why you're this far out?" The tinkerer questions, finally letting her out of his sight to peek out of the gap in the curtains.

There was horrendously loud yelling but no signs of raiders, yet. "I mean, you must be real lucky, to 'ave found me... I coulda been anyone! And not to mention that while I ain't the best fighter, I can sure as shit handle myself in a pinch." The nerves are creeping in now, and he's beginning to ramble. The wait before the fight always did this to him.

A dry laugh escaped Six as she sank down to the ground and began loading her piece, "I've got that effect on people."

Looking up at him, she gave him the slightest bit of a smirk. The eye contact is maintained long enough for the vibrant red of her left eye to be painfully obvious, there's something not quite right about her. Damage inflicted in another life that was never mended, "lets just say one of their leaders had a helpin' of lead for dinner last night."

[greasemonkeyiggy]

His attention shifts from the fight up ahead to the woman who had called for him. His posture growing tight and anxious when he sees the gun against her chest. Though it eases ever so slightly when he realizes that she is, in fact, trying to help him. "Thank ya kindly!" Iggy calls back, shuffling from his hidey hole.

Peering between her, the raiders and the town, the man is looking for the safest opportunity to make it over to her cover. "But what about you? Ya' ain't goin' to try take 'em on by yourself are ya'?" He questions, and there's a lull in the gun fire, replaced with the unmistakable sound of reloading ammo. And just like that, he's bolting her way.

well   she   was   there   to   talk   business   with   one   of   the   raider   leaders   —   clearly   now   was   not   the   best   time   and   she   caught   herself   tucked   behind   an   old   truck   as   shots   went   off   near   the   stranger   hiding   behind   a   broken   bit   of   structure.            ‘   hey   —   ’         she   hollers   over   to   him   with   a   wave,   holding   her   own   pistol   close   to   her   chest   with   no   intention   of   firing   off   any   rounds   —   hey,   ammo   was   hard   to   come   by.            ‘   these   assholes   are   gonna   have   you   outnumbered.   there’s   a   canal   just   past   me   that   heads   down   hill   if   you   wanna   make   a   break   for   it.   ’

[greasemonkeyiggy]

ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʀᴀɢᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ?

men, raise the drawbridge

when you're angry, all your defenses go up. the unfortunate person or thing that managed to piss you off is suddenly talking to a wall. On the inside, you're screaming and crying and cussing them out, but somehow you can't express it. you're blank. emotionless. to anyone's knowledge, you could be zoning out of a lecture. because of this, it's hard to express how you're feeling when the person asks for your thoughts. you've choked your feelings down, and they won't come back up.

[greasemonkeyiggy]

Fallout RP Masterlist!

Reblog this post and add in the tags

your URL

if you’re a single muse or a multimuse

if they’re canon or an OC

your muse’s name, and from where they come from

EXAMPLE: scrunklyrpblog, single muse, canon, Scrunkly the Mighty ( pokemon mystery dungeon )

to be added in the list!

NOTE: if you have a multimuse blog, feel free to write as many muses as you have; if you have a fandomless OC, specificy that you just have a specific verse or their “title” – and remember to reblog the fandomless masterlist too!

feel free to specify if your muse is canon divergent too!

Character list in alphabetical order can be found HERE!

[greasemonkeyiggy]

#001

The nickname Nat was actually given to him by his older sister. When they were being taught how to write by their parents, she saw the 'nat' part in his name and thought it was cute. It resulted in the whole family calling him Nat, but in a sort of teasing I love you way.

When they died, he took to just using Iggy. Though the odd trader that knew him from way back might call him Nat by mistake.

[greasemonkeyiggy]

name: ignatius cohen

nickname: iggy, nat, grease monkey

relationship status: single (and lonely)

gender: cisgender male

romantic orientation: pansexual

preferred pet names: to use for others: darlin', beautiful, handsome, beloved, lovebug. to be called: handsome, honey, sweetheart

opinion on true love: he likes to believe it exists. In fact, I think he very desperately hopes it does. the idea of being loved fully and wanting to grow with your partner just seems to be too good to be true. Especially when folks are trying to kill or get something from each other all the time.

opinion on love at first sight: doesn't think that's how it works for him personally. though doesn't knock it if others feel that way! he definitely believes in attraction at first sight though.

how ‘romantic’ are they?: i would say fairly romantic, iggy is all about kind gestures and words of affection, so will be trying to scrounge up some nice food for their loved one while telling them how grateful he is that they are in his life.

ideal physical traits: all their fingers and toes. no extra limbs if they can help it. he's also partial to nice hands and dark eyes.

ideal personality traits: loyal, understanding, someone who isnt secretly plotting to kill him

unattractive physical traits: none really, iggy doesn't really go about defining people as unattractive. the waste isnt kind to anyone.

unattractive personality traits: hes not keen on super manipulative people or anyone who's unnecessarily cruel.

ideal date: star gazing with some booze

do they have a type?: not really, he's slept with various types of people.

average relationship length: -

preferred non-sexual intimacy: cuddling, hand holding, generally being close to his partner

commitment level: he'd like a long term monogamous relationship and i truly think he would give the relationship like 110%

opinion of public affection: he likes it, and would love to show his partner off and his love for them but will likely default to his partners' preference as he cares for them first and foremost. fine seeing other people do it to. its just nice to see people find something.

past relationships?: nothing long term, has had some one-night stands and some flings here and there but has never had a proper relationship really.

stolen from: @renoxvated

[greasemonkeyiggy]

@hcartsleeved

It was meant to be a simple supply run. Iggy had left the scrapyard with the intention to visit the nearest town to trade for some food and water and then start the trek back home. Yet things never went to plan round these parts. Standing between him and the entrance to the town are raiders, yelling and firing off pot-shots at the guards.

"You have got to be shittin' me." He mutters to himself as he ducks behind a broke piece of wall.

[greasemonkeyiggy]

Setting the tool kit down next to the pistol, he begins unpacking little brushes, funny ended screwdrivers and whatever else he might need for the job. "Alrigh' then. Now, let's have a look at it" He murmurs, picking the weapon up and deftly emptying it so he can work on it safely.

When he speaks again, the words are light-hearted, a gentle jest towards the other. "Don't know if youse should be tellin' folk that you're bad at caravan, though. Betcha' people will try takin' advantage of that. Unless that's part of ya' masterful ruse? Gettin' them to let their guard down?" He raises a brow and his lip twitches, that faint smile threatening to appear again.

"Pleasure to meetcha' Roy." He replies without even looking up. It's like a switch has been flicked in the man, and he's in work mode, too busy for eye the pleasantries of eye contact, instead focused on fiddling with gun parts. Not thinking to spare even a glance. It's a wonder he had lasted this long, an ambush while he was working would easily catch him off guard. "Iggy. Though I guess if ya' were lookin' for me, ya probably already know that."

"Oh, I betcha thought you were real clever when you did this, eh?" Iggy seems to mutter himself, his inside thoughts overflowing to the outside world. "But, you'd have to be daft as a post to think you could pull it off with this kinda material. I mean, I have to give 'em credit. The idea ain't bad...the application, on the other hand?..." The words fade away, and he begins scraping at parts of the weapon, ad-hoc parts being removed with care.

All of a sudden, his head snaps up, and he's looking at Roy again, as if remembering he's still here. Clearing his throat and furrowing his brows, he explains. "Gettin' it back to a normal pistol won't take lon' at all. Ten, twenty minutes tops.... But if ya' wanna get that va va voom they were goin' for... That's what was tryin' to take ya' fingers off. Well, makin' it work safely, is goin' to take a lil longer. Don't suppose you've got places to be?"

“Hope they don’t bother ya’ too much out this way–” It’s sort of an open ended question, one he genuinely hoped there was a happier answer for. He didn’t like people being hassled by raiders, grifters, any sort of ill-mannered folks. Granted he was usually pretty ill-mannered but not like the way those types were, you know?

Roy was ill-mannered in the way that a dog at a dinner table was, first of all why is the dog at the table, and if the answer is because he likes to feel tall, well maybe someone else should make decisions.

Secondly and truthfully, it’s in the dogs nature to not be polite at the table, it’s ridiculous to think otherwise, doesn’t make it a bad dog, just a bad situation. Raiders and their kin alike however? That was like inviting wolves into the hen house. Sure it’s just instinct and survival what they do, but they also didn’t know when to not bite, when to lay down and appreciate the company of man, instead of mauling them. 

“I’d appreciate it. Both the fixin’ and the making sure my fingers stay intact. Got all ten of em’ it’s a rarity.” Roy watches the way the man looks for a split second, before he leaves him alone again, watches him come back even quicker it seems. “I can do that.” Roy replies back coolly, pulling his backpack off his back and slinging it in front of him, digging around for a brief moment before pulling out the gun in question. It’s some strange jury rigged pipe-pistol. Roy places it where the other man had asked him to. 

“I’d insist on paying anyway, so that suits me just fine. Made some extra caps playin’ Caravan before I headed this way, ain’t all that great at it, but was better than that guy, or maybe my luck was, who knows.” The Courier shakes his head, luck was sort of bullshit if you asked him. Messy brown locks fall into his face, he pushes them back aside. “M’ Roy by the way, figured I should mind what manners I got and introduce myself better than uh– killin’ those rats.” A laugh escapes his lips, a toothy little grin along with it.

[greasemonkeyiggy]

fun fact, when I originally wrote iggy on here I still used Mil.es te.ller as his fc but a younger and moustache-less. On my return I was going to stick with that but joked about the moustache until it was no longer a joke : ^{ )

[greasemonkeyiggy]

Miles Teller as Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Top Gun: Maverick (2022) dir. Joseph Kosinski

[greasemonkeyiggy]

@thechipsaredown

There's a deep inhale from the man as he ushers them inside the scrapyard office, away from the gunshots outside. Once the door is shut and the yelling is muffled, he turns to them, hands on hips and a frown that reads confused and disappointed.

"Now, ima need you to explain to me real quick why there are a shit-ton of raiders on your tail." He begins, surprisingly calmly. "Because if they saw me sneakin' you in here we're both dead meat, and ima be real honest with ya'; I'd rather go out shootin'."

[greasemonkeyiggy]

"Clean up?" The scrapyard owner calls back, still refusing to leave the faux safety of his home. He could have sworn he saw something glowing out there. Folks didn't usually glow around these parts.

"I mean, you can help yourself to anythin' 'round the yard, but I ain't fancy enough to be owning a bath or nothin'." There's a brief pause, and he opens the curtains a little more revealing his face to the other. "Ya sure you're doin' okay?"

Simon couldn't answer the first time he spoke as he was mid shift back to regular form but the second time around he spoke he quickly replied " Yeah I'm ok do you have some where I can clean up and then I'll be out of your hair " he said looking in the direction of the man's voice yellow eyes glowing in the night's light

[greasemonkeyiggy]

"Sad to say I know the sort of folk you've been comin' across." He dips his head once the water has been taken and leans back on the counter behind him. Resting his weight on his hands, he watches the greedy consumption of liquid. He doesn't bother speaking, instead letting have the other have their moment of peace. After all, there's no judgement from Iggy, he knows what it's like to have been without water.

His features remain soft as the stranger explains why they have travelled so far out to find, little old him. "Colour me flattered." The man replies with a slight chuckle, reaching a hand up to ruffle the hair on the nape of his neck. "I mean, I can certainly take a look at it."

There's a pause. A fleeting second where you can almost see the calculations going on behind the tinker's eyes, as if trying to work out what the issue is, before even seeing the weapon in question. Blink. He's back in the room. "After all, we can't have ya' runnin' around losin' fingers all over the place, can we?"

Pitching forward, the man is on the move. "Lemme grab my tools. If you wanna, just pop it on the side here." Again the stranger is left alone in the main room as he disappears through a doorless door frame only to return once more with a small tool box in hand. "I might have to charge ya' a lil bit, but it'll depend on how tricky it is. If moneys tight, I'll accept pretty much anythin' that I might be able to trade on. Does that suit ya'?"

Roy appreciates the trust, it's not something that folks out in the wasteland usually had. He understood why of course, because he had very little of it himself. Which is why for the briefest of moments, he thinks this could be an ambush. That thought is, however, very fleeting considering the reason he came out this way. Old habits die hard though, and so did thoughts of mistrust sometimes.

Wasn't like he had much to take anyway, yeah he was a courier but he couldn't even keep his own packages on him. Which is why he's honestly arguably the worst courier ever he thinks, cause bozo's keep hiring him. Maybe he was the bozo though considering he kept taking the jobs, things always managed to work out in the end though, all's well that ends well--or whatever. ❝Hell yeah, thanks man,❞ Roy nods, following after the other, eyes darting a bit to his surroundings once he enters the building.

Roy snorts, ❝Naw, I've got a lead belly, some of the water I've had to drink just this week was probably more questionable.❞ He lets out a small laugh, although it was the truth, Roy ate and drank things worse than a street dog sometimes, it suited him just fine. The Courier was just grateful the man didn't come back with a gun to his head, if he was being honest, didn't feel like getting shot twice there and all. ❝Thanks again, know you got a proper business and all here but I can't tell ya' how many times I've had to get outta trouble from people posein' as somethin' they ain't. Proper businesses and all--❞ He takes the offered water, just the one was enough, crumpled or not it he wasn't going to take it for granted. Once the liquid gold is opened, he licks his lips before he lets himself start to chug it, if there was a graceful way to drink water this wasn't it, not that Roy had ever been graceful. His body was made for the art of the battlefield and the wild unknown out in the Mojave, not grace.

He licks his lips once more, some of the water escaping the corner of his mouth, he paws at it with the back of his hand. ❝Oh shit, that reminds me why I came out this way. Had a gun break, usually I'm kinda handy myself but the shit is rigged kinda weird and I can't get it to work right, nearly shot my fingers off.❞ Roy looks a tad sheepish briefly before going back to his normal bravado. To be fair it wasn't originally his gun, but considering it's previous owner shot first and tried to kill him, he figured he'd get used to it, if it was even fixable.❝Heard you we're the guy to see, bout fixin' things, not water...though apparently water too.❞ Roy gives a toothy wolfish grin.