#cod oc fun facts

[the-whispers-of-death]

10 Fun Facts About Stone

I wanted to talk about Stone and give a little more insight into his character, so ten fun facts about Stone. Ten facts about Kali will be in another post! Btw, while this is numbered, the order is by no means a measure of importance.

Stone gets henna done on his hands whenever he's home from deployments. Depending on when his plane lands, he either goes straight to his trusted henna artist or if there's no time, then he has her come over to his house to do it (because he rarely leaves the house when he's home, ofc the artist gets a hefty tip when she goes over to his house).

He doesn't read fiction, he solely reads non-fiction books. His house is full of either books on warfare or medical books. There are some books on astrology because he loves stars.

Not only would he be a cat dad if he was home more often, he'd also be a plant dad. He loves both cats and plants and if he ever retires, he's 100% getting cats and plants.

This me inserting myself into his character (but I mean, isn't that part of the point of OCs?), but he does not like ketchup. Hates it, in fact.

To elaborate on the hating the ketchup fact, Stone is autistic. He was undiagnosed for years until he was in his late twenties. The elaborating on the hating ketchup thing is that he hates ketchup because the smell of it makes him gag.

Stone hates horror movies. He doesn't watch much TV, this is a known fact about him, but he will watch something during recreational time on deployments if someone on his squad pesters him enough to watch a show or movie with them. Except horror/ thriller movies, he will not watch those.

As for what he would watch, he'd unironically get interested in a romcom movie. Someone puts on a romcom movie for shits and giggles and pulls him down onto the couch to watch it with them. While everyone's making fun of the movie, Stone shushes them because he's now invested in the plot.

Stone tries and fails to communicate via stares. He swears up and down that his eyes do the speaking for him, but no one can tell the difference. His eyes always look the same and then they just think he's mad at them because he's just full-on staring, practically glowering at them.

He once unintentionally walked into his neighbor's house when coming home from deployment one year. It had been three in the morning and he lives in a very safe/secluded neighborhood so everyone more or less leaves their front doors unlocked. Despite the fact that he himself locks his front door, he didn't think anything was wrong when he stumbled onto his neighbor's front porch and opened the unlocked door and went inside. He got all the way to the bedroom before realizing he was in the wrong house and thankfully it was the same neighbor who gets his groceries so he was used to Stone's antics.

While Stone is tech-averse, he does listen to music. How does he do that? With the help of his neighbor and Kali, he buys vinyl records. And his favorite music genre is Bollywood music.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

[demonlattee]

Fun fact; Krueger's Latin Spanish VA is the same as Panda in We bare bears (Escandalosos)

[sentientcave]

Let's Riot!

When the Reader St arena gets bought out from under them by Morgan’s vengeful ex, Pippa Graves, The Reader St Riots suddenly find themselves without a practice space. Pippa may say she’ll play nice, but Morgan knows that she’ll either have to get back under Pippa’s manicured thumb or the whole team will be out on their ass in no time. Problem is, the only other practice space around that’s not booked up to the tits belongs to Jo Price, captain of the Femme41, and well… Morgan has a bit of ugly history with her too.

Still, Jo’s at least a little more reasonable than Pippa, and Morgan may hate to beg, but she’d hate to see the Riots disbanded more. And well, maybe there’s room for a little cooperation, especially when their teams get along so well.

Contains: Lesbians! Almost everyone is a woman (Alex is NB and there are like. A few men mentioned.) and most of them are gay, OCs: Readers and OCs from a bunch of my projects and also Bambi and Bricks who belong to the esteemed @dragonnarrative-writes , Roller Derby!, complicated dating histories, this is just a fun little palette cleanser because I got sad working on one of my other projects lmao, alcohol consumption, cannabis consumption

~3k - 18+ MDNI

“Frank, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

“Come on, sweetheart, calm down—”

“I am calm!” Morgan snapped.

Chelsea quickly put an arm in front of Morgan and dragged her back a step. Calling Morgan sweetheart was a great shortcut to her blowing her top. “You are definitely not calm.” She looked back at Frank. He stood between them and the doors to the arena, a short, balding man that looked a bit sweaty and nervous in the low light. “You couldn’t give us any notice?”

“Look, I’ll return your deposits for the month—”

“That’s not the issue!” Morgan's brown eyes flashed with fury, her jaw tight, like she wanted to bite the man, which would be distinctly unhelpful.

Chelsea dragged her back another step. “It is a little the issue. What happened? We’ve never had any trouble, we’ve always paid on time, there’s no reason why you’d drop us like this.”

“New owners,” he said weakly. “I’m sorry, they cancelled everyone. You were just at the bottom of the call list, and you got here before I could.”

“New owners! Since when was it for sale?”

“Hell if I know. They don’t tell me shit either. All I know is that Gerry came in here with some blond bi—" He thought twice about his wording, giving Morgan another nervous glance. "--Woman and she’s the boss now.”

Morgan walked in a tight circle, looking up at the sky, hands on her hips. This wasn’t happening. It didn’t have to be her. Maybe it was some other blond woman with money to burn. “Fuck.”

The doors behind Frank opened. “Oh, hey sugar,” a too-familiar voice rang out, southern accent distinctive. “Fancy meetin' you here.”

Morgan turned around sharply. “Pippa.”

Chelsea groaned. “Oh here we go.”

“Go back to your office, Frank. I think I’ve got this from here.” Phillipa Graves patted Frank on the shoulder and walked past him. “Morgan, I’ve missed you. You never return my calls anymore.”

“Is that what this is about?” Morgan shifted her grip on her bag, glancing toward the parking lot. Bricks and Doll were lingering at the edge, talking to each other and looking back with worried expressions. They knew the history between Morgan and Pippa well enough to be wary of what might happen next. “You’re gonna steal our practice space because I won’t call you back?”

“Aw, honey, don’t be like that. We’re all big girls. I figure we can learn to share. Why don’t you join us tonight? And early next week we can grab dinner and make a new schedule. I’m sure there’s a way to make sure we’re all… satisfied.” Pippa twisted one of Morgan’s curls around her finger, leaning in close. Even ready for practice, she looked perfect as always, more like she was about to model for a roller skate advertisement than actually practice. Sleek blonde hair swept back in a low braid, a tight pink tank top, leggings that clung to her thighs, pads on, skates off, preparation interrupted by all the fuss she was certainly expecting.

“I’m the one that does the scheduling, usually,” Chelsea interjected. “Maybe it’s us that should get dinner.”

“If you like,” Pippa said smoothly, barely sparing Chelsea a glance. “The more the merrier, of course. Though I do have some personal business to talk over with Morgan too. Suppose it can wait.” She tapped Morgan under the chin with her first knuckle. “Come on, sugar, practice with us. We’re not so bad. And you’re all already here, ain’t you?”

“We’ll have to talk it over.”

“Course. Y’all come on in when you’re done talkin’.” Pippa winked at Morgan and sauntered back inside.

Chelsea sighed, elbowing Morgan as they walked over to the others. The rest of the team had gathered around Bricks, her height marked among the group of shorter women. “You’re gonna have to sleep with her.”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “I’d really rather not.”

“She’s not going to be reasonable,” Billie pointed out. “She’s pure evil. She’s the head of the PTA at Ellie’s school, and she runs that shit like the navy. She’s gonna bend us over a barrel to get what she wants.”

“Have you ever tried not having antagonistic relationships with your exes?” Bricks asked. “Because that’s what I do, and no one has bought a whole arena just to fuck with me.”

“Yet,” Doll said reassuringly. “It could still happen.”

“The whole team is awful,” Bambi said. “One of them works in my office, and she’s a real— Well, I don’t like her.”

“Harsh words, DB.” Bricks propped her hands on her hips. “We can suck it up for one night, a free practice is a free practice. And if you have to flutter your eyelashes at her the whole time, you’re gonna do it.” She pointed at Morgan accusingly. “This is your fault.”

“It is not!”

“It is,” Chelsea said solemnly, fixing her pink bun from on top of her head to low on the nape of her neck to fit under her helmet. “Pussy game is clearly too strong. Maybe try being a worse fuck.”

“She can’t.” Bricks gently turned Morgan around so that she was facing the doors, and nudged her forward a step. “She doesn’t know how.”

Chelsea turned fully toward the others, walking backward. “Alright, drills only, we’re not going to let them goad us into a scrimmage, they’re gonna play dirty as hell with no refs, and we can’t afford an injury this close to a game. Keep it loose, and if anyone hassles you, come to me, or come to Bricks. Do not tell Morgan or she’s gonna punch someone and we’re gonna lose our space for good.”

“I’m not!”

Bricks laughed and caught Chelsea’s arm, spinning her before she hit the edge of the door. “Yes you are, Morgan. Stay on your best behaviour. Maybe even try being charming.”

Bunny nudged Dancer, grinning. “If you’d joined up last year, like I told you to, you could have been here for the whole explosion. It was great.”

“Great?” Billie asked, raising her eyebrows. “Were we watching the same breakup?”

Bricks glanced over her shoulder warningly. “Save it for drinks, ladies, or Morgan’s gonna make us skate line drills till we drop.”

They dropped their bags along the benches and geared up, watching the Shadows zip around the track. The Shadows were mean, not just on the track, but off too, in that sugar sweet way that left you wondering if you were just reading into it. They were a pretty well-rounded team, and coordinated, thanks to Pippa. She did nothing in half-measures. It seemed impossible that she’d be able to raise children, run school events, coach a junior team as well as an adult one, somehow have a job on top, and still have time to run around keeping two relationships secret from each other for nearly eight months, but Pippa was the kind of woman who really could have it all.

The Riots were… A good team. Pippa had poached two of their players during the breakup drama, and Pepper had moved back home to take care of her grandmother, and they were still trying to get back to where they had been a year ago. Kitten Caboodle and Break Dancer were pretty solid for fresh meat, but with a small team and only four of them with more than a few years experience, it was rough going out there. Hard not to get demoralized when Kortac had beaten them 240 to 60 during their last game. No one’s fault really— Bunny and Sweetpea had been out sick and neither Kitty or Dancer were prepared to jam more than a few rounds with players that rough. They’d gotten shaken, so Morgan and Billie had done most of the jams. Nobody and Freddie Kruger had just torn right through their weakened pack while Morgan and Bill tried to wrestle their way past Queenie.

Once Dancer and Kitty got more confident, they’d be hard to catch. Kitty was tiny, and Dancer was agile, but they both needed more time. Doll and Bambi, who had joined a little over a year ago had turned out to be a highly effective set of blockers— Small, but sturdy and hard to knock down. When they were out on the track with Bricks or Chelsea, they were nigh impossible to get past, which would leave their fourth blocker free to assist the jammer, in an ideal world.

The ideal world simply had five more players in it. Maybe more, since no one but Morgan and Bricks made it to every game.

Later on, worn out and sweaty from practice, crammed into the biggest booth at a diner that was roughly equidistant between everyone’s homes and the arena (and the young man that worked the fryers had a massive crush on Sweetpea, which meant everyone got more fries), they debriefed.

“That’s gonna be tricky for me to stomach long term,” Morgan admitted. “I’m gonna sleep with Pip if I have to be too nice.”

“You don’t actually have to sleep with her, you know,” Bricks said.

“No… I’m gonna.”

“We can find somewhere else,” Billie suggested. “I don’t want Morgan and Pip to get back together, it was so annoying when they were. All in favour of Morgan not fucking Pippa, say aye.” She raised her hand to note the measure.

“Aye,” they intoned together, all raising their hands as well.

“Simone says the Femme41 practice out of Jo’s warehouse now. Pippa did the same thing to them eight months ago. I bet they’d let us skate there.” Bricks tossed another fry into her mouth. “If someone behaves herself.”

Morgan scoffed. “It’s impossible for me to date another one of her girlfriends, her relationships hardly last the weekends now.”

Bunny mouthed the word Pippa at Kitty and Dancer.

“Then you won’t have a problem asking her,” Chelsea said. “Maybe bake her something nice as an overture. A pie or something. You make good pies.”

Morgan winced. “We have a game against them this weekend. We could ask her all together.”

Billie shook her head. “No, this one’s on you. Captain to captain conversation. You have Chelsea’s schedule key, you can negotiate for a time that works.”

“And if she says no? She hates my guts.”

“Wear something low cut and bake her a pie,” Bricks suggested. “Maybe just go wearing nothing but an apron.”

“I’ve got one that says Born To Be A Lesbian Housewife,” Doll said. “You can borrow it. It’s very frilly.”

Bambi giggled. “I’ve got one that says Vagitarian.”

Doll laughed too, knocking her head against Bambi’s shoulder. “That’s way better, Morgan, borrow that one.”

"I'm not going to-- Did you people hear me when I said she hates my guts?"

"She still has eyes, Morgan," Bricks said. "And you have nice tits."

"If you don't sort this out, we might have to disband to other teams. And I don't want to. I like you guys." Chelsea looped an arm around Kitty. "We started this team because we wanted to get together and have fun and challenge ourselves without it getting so damn competitive or mean. Bill and I are not going back to the Shadows, and there's no way Bricks wants to go back to Kortac. So put on your big girl panties and a cute dress, and charm Jo into sharing the warehouse with us. Got it?"

"Got it." Morgan sank back into her seat with a groan. I'll talk to her after work tomorrow."

"Good," Billie said, a note of finality in her voice. "Now, did anyone else watch Game of Dragons last night? I have opinions."

By the time Morgan got home, walked Laika, showered, ate cold leftovers out of the fridge and stepped out on her balcony with a joint, it was well past dark, and she was bone tired. Jo was out on her own balcony, feet up, smoking a cigar. She was a thick, barrel chested woman, wearing a tank top and jeans, cigar in one hand, glass of whiskey in the other. Her hair was longer than usual, tucked behind her ears, like she'd been growing it out. It had been a while since Morgan saw her without a hat on.

They acknowledged each other with a curt nod, and Morgan settled into her swing chair, tucking her feet up underneath her. Laika went to the railing to give Jo the biggest, saddest eyes she could.

Jo maybe didn't like Morgan much, but it was hard not to like Laika. The big goofy rottweiler loved almost everyone, and knew exactly how to get what she wanted (big sad eyes, a few pathetic whines, a raised paw, if need be). It was only a minute before Jo was up and leaning over the railing to give Laika a pet.

Usually they didn't speak. The smallest things seemed to spark up into fights between them, and Morgan found it was easier just to keep their interactions to a minimum.

So it was a surprise when Jo spoke first. "Rough night?"

"Yeah. You could say that."

"Want to talk about it?"

“Thank you for pretending to care, but not really.” She grimaced. It really was the perfect opportunity to ask, but it was hard to shake the habit of brushing Jo off.

Jo snorted. “You know, I really preferred fightin’ to this cold shoulder treatment.”

“That’s because you’re a disagreeable sort of woman.”

“That’s the spirit, pet. But you can do better than that. C’mere.”

Morgan glared at her. “No. I’m good where I am actually.” She looked the other way, puffing on the joint. She could ask tomorrow. She wasn’t in a mood to deal with anyone else tonight. Having to smile and play nice with Pippa had been bad enough. She needed a good sleep before she could even pretend to be friendly to anyone else.

She startled when Jo’s thick fingers plucked the joint out of her hand. “Hey! I didn’t invite you over here.”

“Your weed’s better than mine.”

“Probably because I grow it myself. What do you want?”

Jo sat down on the solid little coffee table in front of Morgan, holding her cigar and whiskey glass in one hand. She leaned forward, glass resting lightly on her knee, bleeding condensation into the denim. Mixed drink, then, not straight whiskey. Jo drank the better stuff neat. “Pip called me today.”

“Oh yeah?”

Jo hummed, offering the joint back, blue eyes stern. “Don’t be coy, if you’re fuckin’ her again I’d rather know than get blindsided bumpin’ into her in the hallway.”

“Did she tell you we were?”

Jo’s jaw clenched tight. “She said she was lookin’ forward to seein’ you tonight.”

“Well I’m sure it was super nice for her. She bought my team’s arena. I am gonna have to start fucking her if I want to keep our usual practice slots. She made that… Well about as clear as she ever makes anything.” Morgan handed the joint over again. “So not very, but I still got the gist of it.” She scrunched up Laika’s ears, humming. Laika’s tail solidly thumped against Jo’s shin, bridging the space between them.

“Extortionist,” Jo scoffed.

“Yeah. Pretty much. Bricks said you might take pity on us if I asked nicely. I know you practice out of your warehouse.” Morgan lifted her eyes back up to Jo’s face.

“Is this you askin’ nicely?” Jo leaned forward slightly, her soft stomach spilling over her belt a bit, biceps flexing as she leaned more weight on her arms. “You can do better than that. Not so much as a please.”

“It was not me asking nicely. I had no intention of talking to you until tomorrow, and I’m still not asking until I’ve had at least four hours of uninterrupted sleep.”

“Surprised you’d come to me.”

Morgan looked away first, just like she always did. Jo had an intensity to her that was hard to match, blue eyes drilling into her own like she was looking for faults she could use to crack her open entirely. It was much easier to study the freckles on the top of her shoulder, just above the pinup girl sitting on the curve of a crescent moon that looked rather a lot like her ex wife, Sadie. “I wouldn’t if I had literally any other option. But I have to admit that you are slightly more tolerable than Pippa. Even if you do park half in my spot and fuck squealing college girls at all hours of the night.”

“You don’t need the space. You have a bike.”

“So that gives you the right to park your big-dick pickup truck wherever you please?”

“Sure does, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart! We have one conversation that doesn’t make me want to punch you, and you have to ruin it.”

She grinned, shifting back again. “Not being very nice to someone you want to ask a favour from.”

“I’m not asking the favour until tomorrow. I’m too grumpy to be nice tonight. You invited yourself over and plopped yourself down in front of me and started smoking my weed.” This was not helpful. Why did Jo always manage to get her this worked up? She drew in a centring breath. “No, you’re right, I should be nicer.”

"I did bogart your joint," Jo conceded. "That's on me." Rather than hand it back, she took a long drag, the cherry burning bright all the way down to the folded cardboard filter, and dropped the remains in the ashtray. She leaned forward again, cupping the back of Morgan's neck with a strong hand, and blew smoke directly into Morgan's face. She grinned wickedly when Morgan spluttered a bit. "What's wrong, pet? Thought you wanted me to share better."

"Maybe I am better off negotiating with Pippa," Morgan grumbled, swatting Jo's hand away.

"Hm. Maybe. Why don't you think about how you'll ask me about practice space tomorrow, and I'll get out of your hair." Jo stood up, gave Laika another pat, and climbed back over to her side of the balcony without another word.

Morgan ushered Laika inside, fuming again, and furiously got ready for bed.

She was sure of one thing; Jo Price was going to make a truce between them nigh impossible.

Title card made on Canva - Image Credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 (Stickers are Canva assets) Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[mango-parfait]

The quiet sergeant and the woman who thought he was Federation and tried to knife him :)

I'll never get over them but I'm taking a break from drawing

[yupstep]

*offers a small, shiny coin*

May I have 5 Zona fun facts if you have time?

*takes the coin like a crow and offers silly doodles in return*

[mymelodyisme]

It’s Critter- bitch.

[liamthemailman]

CW : Gore, MCD, artistic nudity

My dear Johnny... at least return my heart before you go for good.

It's not fair that I wasn't there to witness your last breath.

What was in your mind as you closed your eyes for the last time?

Because I know you'll be mine before I laid to rest.

I'll see you soon.

Love, Ace

[toastthewolfie]

more fun facts about Selena i supoose

She can blow smoke rings. She doesn’t smoke anymore, sure, but on the off chance where she IS smoking (which usually means something is very, VERY wrong), she can blow smoke rings if she so desires.

Despite how quiet she is, her voice is always incredibly even (unless she’s injured and struggling to talk (Like that one time she got choked out and took extremely long to recover from it due to the duration or if she was bleeding out for example), then her voice is more wobbly), even if she’s extremely distressed.

could NOT teach a person how to be a sniper. She can teach small things (such as her teaching kitkat how to explosive wire, thats small enough and easy to explain) just fine, but sniping? She’s an okay-ish mentor to someone who at least kind of gets what sniping is about but teaching someone from base line is NOT something she could do.

She’s actually really bad at reading people, especially on first meetings. If she’s saying someone is bad news after the first meeting (shepherd), 80% chance that they are, but she’s overall just abhorrent at determining motives, hence one of the minor reasons she’s so touch aversive (she doesnt want to get hurt, and touch is just a little… eh).

didn’t know jackshit about sports until she joined shadow co and wanted to connect a bit with a few of the others and since sports are a very common denominator (after all, who WANTS to discuss work outside of it, especially when you kill people for a living), she ended up picking up the basics on a few of em.

Doesn’t really have an accent but sometimes it comes out when she says certain words.

Has a great immune system and high-ish pain tolerance, but fairly prone to passing out (mostly from exhaustion and overheating but it isnt helped by the mostly black uniforms of s.c.). After long operations and even longer debriefs, can often be seen passed out at the bottom of the stairs. Has also just spontaneously collapsed before (though it was in the army and mostly from stress. She hasnt done that since her army days (and VERY earlier s.c. Days)) and scared the shit out of her commanding officers.

Fucking loves Chappell Roan. Can often be hears singing her songs while baking (most notably Pink Pony Club) with decent enough accuracy for someone who isn’t trained to sing at all.

lowkey terrified of her commanding officers like 90% of the time. (There are a few exceptions, of course, and all of them are from Shadow Company)

cannot keep plants alive for shit except for her pothos plant named Martha (real life reference, i have a pothos named martha, shes one of the few plants ive been able to keep alive, and i love her dearly) and will fight anyone who doesn’t approve of martha.

thats all for now :) thanks for reading :3

Notes pt. 3 (the rest are linked on that so :3)

[sillystanleystuff]

I'm posting shit on TikTok now 😔

(I just realized I didn't censor the word "gun". Hopefully my video won't be taken down 💀)

[pagib1g]

ok. i GUESS this is happening now. ok.

[mayhem-is-aether]

Pat again! I doodled her and then it just sort of evolved into like a fake ID info card lol

Below the doodle with be a yap session about her story just like last time I posted her lol

We've already gone over how Pat values control, and how that conflicts with her desire to be part of something bigger than herself. So this time I wanted to talk more about her mannerisms and how it feeds into that idea of control.

Pat is always watching people, never letting her eyes leave the person she's talking to. This isn't because she actually cares about what they have to say, she's watching their hands, tracking their motions, trying to predict what they do.

When she finally trusts someone, she stops looking at them, she'll look everywhere except them. She doesn't remember her dad's face, but she can remember the faces of her biological parents, she can't remember the faces of the people closest to her because there comes a point when she stops looking at them.

She considers herself very observant, put she's really more paranoid than anything. Paranoid that people are out to get her, that they want to hurt her.

I try to capture her with this neutral curiosity or a flaming anger inside because that is all she outwardly expresses. She hates being read easily, her facial expression never changes drastically, but her body language often does.

She stands very still, and unfortunately that makes the slightest changes to her stance or her hands very noticeable. To combat this, she keeps her hands behind her back.

This isn't my best doodle of Pat by any means, but I had fun doing it. I think that no matter what, she will always be 16 in my head, I struggle to imagine her future when her past and present are so clearly defined.

[the-whispers-of-death]

So I thought I'd make a fun little post about all of the original thoughts about my OCs when I created them that aren't part of their character/background now.

Y'all already know I contemplated having Stone being 6'8" & Kali at 6'6". (Someone tell me not to change their heights around, because I'm really seriously contemplating it and you know I don't have much restraint.)

Sarabi was originally single when he first appeared in my mind, but I just had him married to Kevin when writing "Survivor's Guilt/Blood-stained Hands" because I had originally thought I wasn't going to make the rest of The Lions actual OCs.

Simba was originally going to be younger than Nala, hence why I sometimes write him as a little more childish (I guess is the right term) than how Nala acts.

Ladder came to creation when I was daydreaming about 6'8" Stone and so she was originally going to be 4'8", which is the minimum height for women in the Navy. It was supposed to her and Stone being the on opposite sides of the height range for soldiers in the Navy and I probably would've kept her at 4'8" if Stone had been 6'8" at the time.

Heartthrob was actually originally a Sergeant (don't know if anyone remembers me talking about The Tigers originally) and he was originally two years younger than Sarabi, Kali, & Stone. I changed it because I really do see Stone as someone for goes for his age or older and not anyone younger (even if there's only a two-year difference).

I contemplated making Hellstorm a base librarian. I had no idea what the hell his job in the military was going to be until I made the character introduction post for the High School Teacher AU (I still haven't finished the first part of that AU, RIP) and wrote him being a retired naval aviator (they're all retired soldiers in that AU).

Cerberus was originally going to Manish Joshi-Kaur (Stone's half-brother) and it was going to be like "Oh everyone thought he was deceased, but he was actually held in captivity and just presumed to be dead." But I changed it because with the way the timeline matched up with when all of Stone's half-siblings were born, Manish would've been the same age as Ladder & Cerberus was originally used to be eventually romantically with Simba.

This made me realize that I still have yet to post Cerberus' basic info post and so y'all don't even know he's the same age as Simba or that Cerberus isn't Manish Joshi-Kaur, but whatever. I'm holding onto that post until Sarabi's birthday post that's coming in two days.

[nik-barinova]

Since I’m not giving this person the clout they deserve, I thought I drop some lore tidbits on Doe and how she ended up not letting her physical disability get the better of her mentally in Call of Duty

When I made Doe back in like 2013-2014 as a League of Legends OC (if you wanna know how old I am, there ya go 💀), I didn’t think much about it, I just thought she would look cool with a prosthetic arm

Now that I put her in Call of Duty as an adult, I ended up researching more on how she can be disabled with one arm amputated and still be in service without it being a burden on her and everyone around her. Turns, you can! Here’s just one example video of a woman with one arm being able to do jujitsu [x]

Doe had her arm amputated at a young age, roughly 14-15, and was able to get a prosthetic to accommodate her daily needs despite saying she doesn’t need to or want to. Joining the military to give herself a purpose in life was already a task in of itself, begging and pleading she can still do the things able bodied people can do, and yet she was turned down a lot of times without being given a chance

You can imagine the amount of relief and joy she felt when she was noticed by an off duty SAS member and given her chance to prove she can still do everything any other able bodied person can. Ofc she might not get the disability benefits iirc, but this is fiction here, I’m working with what I got lol

Yes, Doe has been picked on by fellow SAS members for having one arm (even the Task Force 141 were guilty, but their’s was more out of good fun), but she was still able to prove to them she can still beat their ass with just her left arm

Doe had to deal with a lot of trauma and anger surrounding the loss of her arm throughout the rest of her teenage years, but maturing and getting older, she didn’t allow it to stop her from being equals with her fellow abled SAS members.

On top of that, she utilizes dance to maneuver around for fights as well as being flexible to take advantage of her opponents.

[cosmictap]

To be loved is to be changed:

A Logan Walker x trans masc! OC fic

CWs: Disassociation (entirely based off my experiences), the vague implication that a character thinks the other may be transphobic (barely there), hints of self hatred.

I’m not to sure how well i wrote any of it but! enjoy nonetheless

There was always something about Logan that he hated about himself, he was shorter than average, could hardly hold a conversation with anyone who wasn’t his brother, couldn’t stand strangers, easily irritable, the list went on and on. He got by each day by sticking to himself, putting up a wall between him and everyone - to protect himself, he reasoned; but he knew. He knew each time he found himself stuck in his own head, somewhere he could remove himself from reality for a while, blocking everything out because it hurt less. The truth was, he needed someone to help him get out, but god knows he was far to gone for retrieval.

That was, until a certain blond wanker boy turned up. He was strange. Introduced himself with his last name, point blank refused to give his first name at first. Rorke. The name sounded familiar, in a very distant part of his brain he couldn’t find the energy to explore, regardless, ‘Rorke’ was frankly, the most irritating person he’d ever met (excluding his brother). It took a week. A single week, and Logan was already unbearably fond of him. Rorke was his best friend soon enough, and god if that didn’t scare him; how had he broken through his defences that quickly? Why was this loud, opinionated kid choosing him?

Within a month he was starting to feel real again in a way he had almost forgotten, the small details of his days stuck out, the way the leaves fell near tenderly onto the ground, the calming sound of those very same leaves, crushed under boots. He loathed to say it, yet, it was plain to see. Rorke found a way to get through everything. He was finally learning how to live as opposed to simple survival.

-~~-

They got out of class that day, immediately finding each other so they could make the walk back home together, something he’d grown very pleased with over the weeks. They were chatting about their days, what kids in their lessons got in trouble, the usual, but Logan could tell something was off with Rorke; he was fidgety, quieter than usual.

He soon found out why. Rorke’s name was Cameron. Although, he said it almost uncertainly, like he was waiting for some kind of rejection. It never came.

-~~-

He’d never admit it to anyone, but Logan was in love with his best friend, perfectly content to admire from afar. Feeling his heart break with every relationship Cam got into, and inevitably end up broken up with.

He wished he could save him, just like he was saved. The risk was high but.. He’s willing to try. For the sake of his partner best friend.

WOOOO this was a bit of a mess coming up the end i won’t lie!!! but i’m done with it!

[lemons-pears]

It's Funny, Really

You expect a man to empty his wallet. Safety purposes, you say. Let him lay everything out on the table before he's approved. The usual: couple dollars, driver's license, his card, a handful of coins. Some currency from different places: either he's well travelled or one for trinkets.

Then you reach the photographs. Distinct. Two clearly tucked behind the one in the clear sleeve. Two you decide would be best to ask about at another time. Personal. Some stickers covering the corners of the clear plastic sleeve.

Two photographs guarded behind the one kept on show, stuffed somewhat haphazardly inside. "Oh, let me get that out for you," The man says, and with steady hands he slips it out. An old picture, preserved in his leather wallet, protecting the memories behind it.

You don't get a look at the two concealed images - perhaps it's best to keep them private. But the one laid out on the desk, lined up with his card, cash, license and trinkets, is a curiosity in itself.

"I..." Between a gentle laugh, more content with sharing than simply changing subjects, he taps on it, holding it down for inspection, "It's a copy. Real thing's back at home. Try not to crease this one 'cause I intend to photocopy it for my folks."

You don't dare to touch it after that statement, happy to stand and stare. He just laughs at your stance.

"Old thing, I ain't embarrassed. Keeps me remembering I'm human."

You don't need to guess who it is. It's written on the bottom.

"'-Santiago'," You tune your ears back to his name-based rambling - not having heard him clearly, "Now, don't go telling the others about my full name, alright? It's rank, callsign or ID from you."

Speaks too casually to his superiors.

Noted.

[gipsyavnger]

Isobel "Medusa" Williams of Task Force 141 enjoying her day off.