#c: Rodney Tumblr posts

[void-botanist]

Your writeblr coffee shop order is ready!

Coffee: Does your character hold a lot of grudges? What is something they are bitter about?

I know I asked for it, but thank you for sending this ask!

This got me thinking about Isabel, because she seems like the kind of person who would hold grudges. And she does in fact have grudges against both her parents, the two people who have wronged her the most. But she doesn't really hold them otherwise? She could make you a list of other people she has reasons to hold grudges against, but she doesn't have time to care about all that. Her brother, however, who seems like the nicest most put together guy, can hold a grudge to the very depths of his soul.

Re: her parents, she is extremely bitter about how her dad treated her years ago when her parents were getting divorced, and later how he treated her brother. On the whole, she's more likely to be bitter about something than to hold a grudge over it, and she has a lot of little bitternesses.

Nicea taglist: @kahvilahuhut @kk7-rbs @outpost51 @writernopal @athenswrites

[motorhearted]

CHAPTER TWO.

CW: descriptions of object destruction.

{ LAST. — NEXT. }

Every night following a derby, once the people left and the track was cast in darkness, the surviving cars gathered underneath the grandstands. The rows of seats facing the track reached a decent height, and the back half had plenty of vacant space with ceilings that touched the very top. The area functioned like a makeshift barn that happened to have missing walls on each shortest side; wide enough, long enough, and tall enough for the tired vehicles to fit into.

These gatherings could be viewed through a few different lenses. Some could describe it as a winning team heading to the bar after a game; others could describe it as a celebration of life and death. A giving of thanks to whatever gods were listening. The cars refused to miss them for anything; even those with missing wheels and little consciousness were carefully pushed behind the stands.

And that’s why Number 20 had to go.

He had been parked on the track, staring into the dark for what seemed to be hours before he heard the shouts and laughter coming from elsewhere. Every car was expected to be there. Especially him. Especially the coupe.

It would be awkward for all of them tonight. But that would imply there were other nights when it wasn’t. There was no appropriate way for the cars to congratulate the winner while sharing their condolences; it never seemed sincere nor fair for either side. Most attempted to solve this problem by picking one to focus on and completely shutting out the other. The grief was often pushed down in the end, in favor of the more lighthearted, “At least I’m still alive, right?” approach.

At the very least.

Number 20 hated it. He hated it all. He hated that he couldn’t just go to sleep. He hated knowing as soon as he stuck his grille into the party, he would be hounded with praise. He hated that the coupe would have to be there to watch. He hated that he would never be able to apologize in a way that mattered.

As Number 20 spun himself around to face the grandstands, he watched in grim silence as his headlights shone over the charred remains of Number 13 in the distance.

Mud splattered his body as he desperately drove away.

“Well! Lookit who the tow cable dragged in.”

“What were you doing out there Number 20, admiring your work?”

“S’not often y’get t’ see a competitor get barbequed.”

Immediately, the voices and the metal bodies attached to them swarmed like flies. Number 20 tried to nod along and give his fans a daring smile, but he felt the covers to his headlights wince together as he did. He pushed through their jeers about Number 13 and carefully rolled his way through the crowd.

Despite all the noise, Number 20 could still hear the clack of the caps on his exhaust headers every time he hit his brakes. His mighty engine rumbled and turned tires his way. The further he drove under the grandstands, illuminated in the dark by dozens of headlights, the larger his crowd grew.

In his fruitless attempts to avoid, his own headlights landed on a particular someone. This particular someone stood out in the sea the same way Number 20 did; boxy, large, and long. And loud, undeniably so. He was painted a dark purple with two black stripes that went from one end to the other, bumper to bumper. Three short pipes, displayed shortest to tallest like a pan flute, stuck out of his engine. The number 58 was branded on his doors by a skilled hand, slanted forward and exaggerated in a way where the digits themselves seemed to be racing.

“Hey! Hey, Brad! Over here!” he called, as if difficult to spot.

Number 20 flinched at the sound of his own name. Anxiety clawed deep into his machinery. As they cowered at the new voice in their own way, he gave his current crowd an abrupt farewell and drove towards him.

Number 58– Rodney, if Brad recalled correctly— had been stuck with the derby cars years prior to his own entrance. A predecessor in a way, winning almost every match before he too had been forced to fight for his life.

There were many spats to speak of because of this. There was even a time where Brad almost killed him. Thankfully, the incident got Rodney to swallow his pride and pass the crown along.

Champion of the derbies. How awful, he thought.

“Number 20! Look at you, better than ever!”

“Oh come on, man, don’t flatter me,” he tried to joke.

A few smaller vehicles saw him coming and obediently gave him a space to park without a word. Brad settled in with silent thanks. Rodney beamed at him.

“You put on one hell of a show out there tonight. You’re crazy, man! You’ve started to fight like you’re invincible!”

Brad laughed. “What can I say? It’s easy to lose yourself out there.”

“Totally, totally,” Rodney agreed. He leaned closer to Brad, headlights darting around to scan his body in the shadows. “Didn’t even dent yourself too much! You feel okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I feel fine. Did they let you out in all the action?”

“Nah,” Rodney said with a frown. “Not tonight. I guess they had their dibs on you. I got a damn good spot to watch it all go down, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“The little hill near the back, yeah. Hell, it was like you were puttin’ on a show just for me in that corner!”

Brad laughed again. “I don’t think that was on purpose.”

“Sure, but it still felt like it. Man, it was brutal, man. You’ve got some good stuff.”

He looked off into the crowd, as if he were guarding them. Brad followed his gaze as it swept over all the vehicles, stopping every now and then to check their dents and scratches. No matter how hard he focused on the chipped paint of a sedan or the twisted bed of a truck, he couldn’t pull himself away from the memories of that night. His companion’s comments certainly hadn’t helped his case.

“Definitely some missing faces here,” Rodney spoke eventually. “Gone, just like that. It’s so crazy, man. I don’t think there’s been a single derby this season that hasn’t killed a car or two.

…Thanks to you, anyway.”

The words made Brad want to drive into a tree. Rodney was quite good at rubbing Brad’s so-called victories in, and no opportunity ever seemed to be a good one. Especially not tonight. It wouldn’t be long before—

“Number 62 didn’t even show up. She seemed so pissed at you.”

“…I thought she was gonna tear me to shreds out there.”

“What, that little thing? You crushed her like a soda can, man! Ripped that headlight right out! Bam, bam! I’m honestly surprised she isn’t toast either.”

“Just resilient, I guess.”

“Not as much as she thinks, apparently. How long till she snaps, you think?”

“…What?”

“I mean, she just lost her girlfriend. You saw her, she was practically glued to that bitch. She must feel lost as hell.”

“Oh. Yeah, I dunno,” Brad replied. “We’ll all lose our minds here eventually. Either that or crushed to bits.”

“Well I don’t think you’ve lost your mind, and neither have I.”

Rodney paused to see Brad’s reaction. He stared back in silence.

“Fine, maybe a little.”

“I just don’t think crashing into each other is something stable cars like to do.”

“Then so be it, man. So be it.”

The nonchalance of it all was unbearable. Brad opened his mouth to change subjects, but Rodney continued.

“See, Number 62 could use that. She really could. Not a lotta cars around here have a reason to fight.”

Brad blinked, giving his companion a curious look. “Use what?”

“A little bit of losing her mind, man! Don’t act like you don’t know. You set her up for a revenge streak.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, man! She doesn’t have anyone anymore. If she’s gonna do anything, it’s gonna be kicking your ass. And considering the damage you did with a mercy hit…”

Brad’s engine was buzzing again. Rodney’s words were slurring together as he processed them. Brad’s headlights darted around, begging for an exit.

The sea of cars was never ending.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Thinking about how I've made almost all of my Then He Got Rough characters greyromantic!! Yay.

[cleverestofclevermen]

soulmate au starter for @spideystark continued from [ x ]

Rodney had been trying not to fret about that timer for his entire life, and through college and his first early jobs, he'd mostly managed that, given the incredible long time left on it. But when those numbers started to fluctuate, getting down into a matter of months, weeks, even days... He had a more difficult time keeping his nerves in check.

Obviously, he wanted to meet his soulmate, because who wouldn't? But after the first time it dipped down into hours and then soared back up, he couldn't help but wonder. After the fourth time, he started to take it personally. In Antarctica, with it approaching dangerously low numbers under his many layers of clothing, he considered finding a place to hide, just to give this person what they apparently wanted, which was a lifetime free of him, but there was work to do, and plenty of it, and he couldn't restrain his curiosity quite enough.

When that ridiculously beautiful man sat in the control chair, he would've been staring at him regardless, but the way he touched his wrist, just as his own twinged... Rodney hardly dared to blink. "I get the strangest feeling you've been avoiding me," he finally said. Then, "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

[immortalmuses]

Rodney A. Grant (Omaha Nation of Nebraska)

[roughridingrednecks]

Rodney

[massharp1971]

I'm watching A New Hope and maybe my autistic special interest/obsession is totally out of hand but the dynamic between C-3PO and R2-D2 is totally old married McShep

[valiisthea]

Rodney is placing a hand upon Tyler's shoulder. "I owe you and Sir Wade my gratitude for watching over Clive in Stillwind, you know I would do the same for any of you but I could not forgive myself if harm came to him. Drinks on me when we return to Rosaria for you both, worry not about the cost."

Random Asks || Always Accepting

@cagedfirebird || Tyler

"It was an honor to be trusted with such an important mission. You owe us not, as we were more than happy to fulfil our duties." Tyler cannot help but smile at Rodney, something so raw and so genuine - a burst of warm affection blooming for the man he has looked up to since he was but a child in training. To be praised so by the Lord Commander himself, by his friend, is all the thanks Tyler could ever need.

"However - if it is drinks you offer, we would be fools to decline. You have my thanks - as well as Sir Wade's."

[jollyhaunt]

i know what i said about ewan not being typecasted but i was wrong.

he always plays the disastrous-queer who always ends up as the malewife in every relationship he gets in

[danceofsteel]

Port Isolde. Of course, Elwin was well aware that their visit alongside his father was not for leisure. It was a business trip to check in with Elwin's older cousin, who had been placed in charge of overseeing the largest commerce hub of Rosaria.

But as always, that wouldn't stop the heir to the ducal throne from getting up to what could, for all intents and purposes, be called "mischief".

Clad in his traveling outfit -- which was considerably more tight and revealing than it should have been, much to the scrutiny of the nobles yet delight to young common ladies(and some lads) around the various settlements -- and with his sword upon his hip, Elwin Rosfield was more than ready to take on the world. Or in this case, to drag his friend and fellow soldier, poor Rodney Murdoch, away from the hustle and bustle and off to the city's outskirts.

While the Archduke attended to the important political matters, his older son was, like always, taking it upon himself to patrol the roads leading to and from Port Isolde. Bright and early, Rodney would be greeted with a knock to his door in the manor's guest wing. And before awaiting a response, an all-too familiar, teasing voice could be heard -- albeit muffled by the wood barrier -- from outside: "Rise and shine, Lord Murdoch! The sun says hello, and we would be remiss not to greet it in kind!"

Never was it possible for there to be a dull trip or moment when it came to his excursions that happened to involve the eldest Rosfield child. Rodney had learned that fact from the moment that the older boy had taken a curious interest in him despite Rodney being quite far from nobility himself. It was a shift from the expected paradigms, but one he embraced with glee.

Unfortunate however was the nature of the young man to not shy away from burning the midnight oil. His evenings were consumed to papers and books, knowing the amount of side glances he recieved for having attained the status of Lord through what some considered suspicious means. So it was that he strove to prove them incorrect at each plausible turn. So much so that he hardly felt rested from that knock and all too familiar tease that pulled him free from the depths of his slumber.

"Surely it can not be that late.." He murmured, stirring and rubbing at his eyes. His freckled face looked as if he could easily use another fortnight of rest as he stood from the bed and shuffled wearily to the door to great the somehow still loud, despite the muffling of the wood, man.

"I belive your volume could stir a Waloeder from his sleep without you needing take another step towards him." Rodney teased in turn as the door swung open.

@fire-branded

[void-botanist]

everyone on the Nicea is a bit fucked up but I think nobody can reach the level that Rodney is on

[txttletale]

it is very silly when people say the stock 'dead white guys' line about marxist theory. just betrays a really stunning ignorance of the history of, like, the entire 20th century innit. all my favourite white guys mao zedong and zhou enlai and ho chi minh and frantz fanon and walter rodney and kwame nkrumah &c. &c. &c. &c...

[fixitwithwhat]

Credit to sga-mcshep-4ever's beautiful gifset I love all you gif creators so much thank you for providing <3

I think about this scene a lot.

Like, a LOT.

It's the first episode after the pilot, they're not even a team yet and we get this. We get John and Rodney being like this. They had almost no interactions up to this point and then suddenly we get this scene and everytime on rewatch it hits me like a truck.

Up to this point, we have never seen Rodney like this. We have SG-1 McKay in 48 hours being unable to have even one decent conversation with a human being. We have a slightly less terrible Rodney in the recurring instances after.

Even Rodney's opening interaction with Carson in this very episode doesn't go without him insulting his medical degree and then, out of the blue, we get this.

And I always have to think about how did it come to this? How did it pan out? Why did he go to John of all people instead of heading back to Carson going "hey, btw, your gene therapy worked, check this out!" What did it look like? Did he just run up to this flyboy like kids do on the playground when they show off their toy and randomly decide to be friends? Just "MajOR, look what I fOunD" and John going "omg that's so C O oL"? And then they pause and John just goes "hey do you think it can handle it if I swung this metal rod at your face real hard", like. I THINK ABOUT THIS SCENE A LOT.

What prompts Rodney to have an instant connection with this man and trust him to shoot at him? "Oh, believe me, that's not the first thing we've tried." What else have you tried before John shot at you? How long have you two been at this?

It's messing me up how they're instantly on the same wavelength. It's messing me up how happy they both look. How we've NEVER seen Rodney so genuinely, boyishly excited before. How we've never seen him interacting with a person in such a genuine, positive way. How this is the first time we see him having fun with anyone.

Same for John, there's nothing of that sardonic attitude from the pilot, he just looks like a kid and his "Did you SEE that?"-voice when he storms down the stairs is just so heartfelt and giddy. Both of them look like they're having fun with a good friend and it's messing me up.

I think about this scene a lot.

[fuck-customers]

I am fortunate enough that both the bathrooms at work are very nice, the worst problem we've had was someone overusing air freshener in there, but the toilet paper holders in the women's room are so rusty and stiff we generally just stack rolls on the back of the toilet instead of trying to pry them open without breaking the arms off.

The boss for whatever reason today went to every department individually (it's an open plan building, we all can hear what's going on in other departments) to rant that the toilet paper roll on the holder hadn't been replaced, the HORROR, and it was like all her employees are STUPID TODDLERS or something, what ADULT WOMAN doesn't know how to replace a toilet paper roll, if it was the MEN'S room she'd understand, but the WOMEN'S bathroom there's NO excuse, blah blah blah on and on rinse and repeat.

A) It's not that we don't know how, it's that it's almost impossible to physically do without breaking something. The stalls are always stocked, it's just on the back of the toilet.

B) I don't think going around calling your employees stupid toddlers is very appropriate, and I wish that was not your default response to every minor annoyance.

C) congratulations on managing to discriminate against both men and women at the same time. As a genderfluid person i feel offended on multiple levels, and i deeply want to ask where you class non binary folks on your spectrum of expected bathroom competency.

D) it's an open plan building, we all heard you the first time, you don't need to repeat the angry rant word for word with undiminished vigor in every single department.

E) did you honestly think it was a good idea to come barging into customer service already ranting about toilet paper without at least checking if anyone was on the phone? Cause I don't think anyone calling customer service wanted to hear a loud angry toilet paper rant going on in the background.

Posted by admin Rodney

[cleverestofclevermen]

[[ @theresastargirl hit the <3 for a starter from Rodney

"Alright then!" he began, clapping his hands together as he looked around at the raised heads of his team. "It's been suggested that we try out a volunteer-based duty assignment system. So, as idiotic as that is, here it is: I need an extra pair of hands to go down to the water processing center and assess the damage. Who's it going to be?"

[metalheadsforblacklivesmatter]

Body cam footage of Tyre Nichols lynching has not been released as of my writing this. But I do have more information.

5 police officers were fired and charged with 2nd degree murder, kidnapping, and excessive use of force. (I just typed "officers charged with murder" in the news search and all of the results were this. I didn't even have to specify Memphis.)

2 firefighters were also fired due to the role they played in his death.

They're calling in the national guard in preparations for the protest.

EVEN THE POLICE CHIEF CALLS IT HEINOUS AND INHUMANE.

Reports from Twitter say they're closing businesses early and boarding up.

They're calling this worse than the Rodney King footage which happened 30 years ago. (I just read what happened and what the actual fuck.)

Yeah. I'm changing my terminology here. This is nothing short of a lynching of Tyre Nichols. And again the footage hasn't even been released yet.

-fae