#mac and chester

[dontwaitforupdates]

Did this basically a year ago when they were only a silly duo based on mac and cheese

[mrtequilasunset]

Got asked for more piss and fuck so here's some sillies

[3vo1]

I think the angels are speaking through the music they send to me

[curiositykilledtheradiostar]

everyone behold the highest effort tmagp joke I could possibly make: I put Jon in my ‘puter

[made using shimeji-ee]

[bloomingcarnival]

Make a Wish!! Speedpaint!!

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Like You Mean It: A Nikprice Mafia AU

John is invalided out of the military and is struggling to adjust to civilian life, stuck in a cycle of poor coping mechanisms and denial. He gets sent to Chester by his younger sister to service a client that has scared all her other employees. Little does he know that the appointment will change the trajectory of his life forever.

cw: post-traumatic stress disorder, extremely poor attitude to his own disability, toxic coping mechanisms.

“How is the new hobby going? Painting, isn't it?”

Price frowned at the table in front of him, counting the rings of coffee stains. Four. “It didn't work out.”

“Oh, that's a shame. What happened?”

Price swallowed, his fingers twitching on his knees. He could tell the truth: that the inane, witless conversations had bored him to death, or that one of the women had started flirting with him and it had made him uncomfortable, or that the paintbrush had felt unwieldy and small in his hands, that it looked wrong there, or that he had lost his temper, overwhelmed by something he couldn't put his finger on, and thrown the canvas to the floor before limping out, or…

“It jus’ didn't hold my interest. ‘M sure I'll find somethin’.”

The therapist tapped her notepad with the end of the biro and studied him closely. She was one of the best, Mac had said. Worked with all the old boys that invalided out after a lifetime in the service. She helped them get back on their feet, navigate civilian life, and finally put to bed some of the ghosts they dragged behind them. Price had to give her a chance to help, which meant opening up some of those wounds he’d let heal badly over the years. Sally was nice enough, and he was trying not to let his own internal battles influence how he regarded her. Sometimes, she made that hard.

“How are the nightmares? Any better?”

“Yeah, they… uh, they don' happen as regularly.”

“When was the last one?”

Last night. “Coupla weeks ago, I reckon.”

She wrote that down. Price tapped his knees again and glanced at the watch on the table. She made him take his off because he had spent the first two sessions glancing at it. The compromise had been that she would set an alarm on hers. It was a brand new smartwatch, she said, it tracked her calories, her heart rate, had GPS. The kind of thing his watches had been doing for years, except his watches could call in an air strike and track enemy combatants across the field of battle.

The old one, that is. His new one just told the time.

Her husband had bought it for her, so Price had said it looked very posh.

“Have you given any more thought to the dating app we talked about?”

The watch beeped. Thank fuck.

“Whelp.” He clapped his hands together before rolling to his feet with a quiet groan, a combination of actions that he knew made him appear ten years older than he actually was. “I'll see ya next week then, Sally.”

She handed him back his watch and he slipped it over his wrist, before she placed the notes down on the table. Given that his eyesight was still sharp, he caught the words, ‘denial’, ‘withdrawn’ and ‘isolated’ amongst the scrawl. His jaw twitched and he averted his gaze. This was one assessment he didn't seem to be passing in flying colours. She gave no indication she had realised he'd seen. “Companionship, John. Even a friend that has nothing to do with the service. It will do wonders.”

“Right. I’ll… work on that.”

It was raining when he stepped outside, grey clouds stretching across the skyline in a dark, homogenous blanket. He almost skidded on a drain, his uneven gait prone proving more of a liability in the wet, as he walked across the car park, and he swallowed the resulting grimace even though there was no one around to see. He did it more out of habit than anything else; show no weakness.

When he slumped into the seat of his old Honda Civic, he sat in the mute silence for a moment, watching the raindrops tumble down the windscreen. His leg throbbed, the tight scar tissue pulling, tendons creaking under tension, and he looked down at his knee with a scowl.

It had been a building falling on him that had done him in the end, trapping his leg for seven hours while his task force dug him out. Ghost had dragged him out by his bitch strap, and then carried him to casevac, with Soap doing his best not to look at the mangled state of his captain's leg as he covered the rear. A miracle that he hadn't lost it, they said. That he hadn't been crushed completely.

A miracle.

So, now, he got to rot away slowly in a small, one-bedroom flat in Liverpool, with TV dinners and Coronation Street. He walked through the world numbly, like he was observing it from afar, through frosted glass. The only brief glimpses of feeling he got was when one of the 141 messaged him. Sometimes a picture, other times a text. They were few and far between. It wasn't that they didn't care. They were busy. He knew the demands more than anyone. The world didn't stop turning because Bravo Six had left the game.

That didn't stop him checking his phone every few hours, just in case he had missed a notification. Checking his watch so he could tell himself where in their routine they would be.

He did it now.

1400, Tuesday.

If they weren’t on mission, Simon would have the experienced operators running drills with the trainees. It was autumn, which meant the start of bad weather and low visibility environs. It was likely he would do a jump in a few weeks with full kit to test the development of their survival skills.

He glanced at his phone. Nothing.

With a deep sigh through his nose, Price jammed his keys into the ignition and turned. The old car choked into life, the engine ragged in the cold, and he clicked it into ‘Drive’. He was grateful for the bloody thing, really. Those first few months of riding around on the bus had nearly been enough to send him to an asylum, with screaming kids and the constant smell of piss from seemingly every person that sat down. When his GP had approved him to drive an automatic, he'd almost dropped to his knees to fellate the bastard in gratitude.

He didn't really track his drive home. Stopping at reds, giving way, flicking down the indicator as he turned corners. The streets, houses and people of Liverpool passed by in a colourless smudge until he was pulling into his car parking space and staggering out in the rain. It happened a lot; the disappearing into his own head. Like his brain was giving up without stimulus and switching into standby mode.

The lift was still out of order despite his numerous phone calls on behalf of the residents, so he turned into the stairwell and began the arduous climb to the third floor. Gone were the days when a phone call from John Price moved literal armies. Now he couldn't even get fuckin’ Bill from maintenance out with a screwdriver to fix the fuckin’ lift so Jenny, eighty years old and wheelchair bound, could leave to do her groceries.

By the time Price reached the top of the first flight, his leg was burning; by the second, he was breathless from pain, and by the third, his eyes were welling with tears. The pain from his leg seemed to burn through his entire body, clutching his chest in a vice, bile and nausea building in the back of his throat, and he was having to stifle the sounds punching from his chest by biting on his knuckles.

His hands shook as he extracted his front door key, and continued to do so as he tipped more than a single dose of his strongest painkillers into his palm, the kettle hissing behind him on the countertop as he slid to the floor. He didn't wait for the tea to brew, but necked the pills dry, crunching them down in between huffing deep breaths through his nose.

There had been a time after his injury that he had believed he would recover and return to the field. A small part of him still did sometimes, but all it took was a set of stairs to truly humble him, leaving him whimpering and shaking on his kitchen floor. Pathetic, weak. How far he had fallen. He turned his face into his palms and pressed the heels hard into his eyes.

When he looked up again, the room was dark.

Price latched a hand on the edge of the countertop and pulled. His bad leg was stiff, seized with cold and aching, and his right one was numb from where he'd been sitting on it. His stumbling efforts would have made for a great Benny Hill sketch, he thought bitterly.

Once he had set the kettle reboiling and a frozen TV dinner in the microwave, Price checked his phone. One message. From his sister.

Carol (16:00): How did the appointment go?

Price glanced at the clock. 1900. Bollocks.

Price (19:00): Good.

Carol (19:01): Three hours to write that. Nice one, John.

He sighed, smacking the top of the phone into his forehead in frustration, before typing out a response.

Price (19:04): We talked about the painting thing, some old missions, and she asked me about the dating app.

Carol (19:05): did you make the profile yet?

Price (19:06): what the fuck do you think?

Carol (19:07): stop being a miserable cunt and do it

Price (19:07): No one wants to date a cripple.

He didn't send that one. It read far too much like self pity and that just turned his fucking stomach.

Price (19:07): If I wanted someone nagging me 24-7 I'd move in with you.

Carol (19:08): Prick.

Price (19:08): Yeah, tthat'd be a fine thing.

Carol (19:09): omg 😭

Carol (19:11): Gary says you never text back about games night. Kimmy wants to see you.

Gary was Carol’s “gay bff”—her words. He’d been a godsend when her bottom feeder of a husband had finally pushed the old bill too far and got himself nicked for possession with intent to sell and GBH. Price owed the bloke a lot, because he’d picked up the slack where a big brother should have been. He was pretty sure Carol had tried to set them up once, which would have gone about as well as trying to get a Labrador to date a Persian cat. Gary would have shredded Price with his kitten claws in minutes.

Price (19:12): Depends on my shifts, boss.

Carol (19:13): Ok.

Carol (19:13): Don't give up on us.

Carol had saved him enough already. She had been the one to force him to retrain at college so he could work at her salon. Physical therapy and massage. Something to do with his hands that wasn’t killing people, she’d said. Besides, she wanted to attract more male clientele and his machismo would make them feel less emasculated about seeking support. He felt like there had been a hidden barb there, but hadn’t pressed. Price swallowed the lump in his throat and stared into his dark kitchen for a moment before he replied.

Price (19:14): trying

Carol (19:15): I know

Carol (19:15): love you big bro

Price (19:16): love you too, love to Kimmy.

He shoved his phone into his pocket as he poured his tea, taking it black despite the presence of milk in the fridge. That was at the other end of the kitchen and the pain killers hadn’t yet kicked in properly. His microwave meal seemed more or less cooked through, the steam searing his fingertips as he tugged off the plastic lid, so grabbed a fork and headed into the dark sanctity of his living room.

His flat had always been sparse, with basic furniture, a handful of books and family photographs. None of the ‘homely’ touches you’d expect of a home. In all fairness, he had never spent a lot of time here—only a few days leave if he’d been at a loose end. But even then he had preferred sleeping in Carol’s spare room, doing the school run in the mornings so she could have a less hectic start to the day, and making sure the house was clean, that there was something edible on the table in the evenings. Fat chance of that now. She didn’t need another deadbeat arsehole on her couch twenty-four hours a day. She’d done her time with that bullshit. So Price had only visited a handful of times since being discharged; once to take a look at a leak under the kitchen sink, and then to check the weird noise her car had been making when the temperature dropped.

Price slumped into the permanent dip of the right hand sofa cushion and took a moment to bask in the relief, tea and dinner hovering over his lap. Some days, he wanted to stay on the damn sofa and rot into it, but the stubborn streak that had managed to survive the last few months wouldn’t let him. He had to be doing something—anything—even if that was hobbling about the supermarket for Jenny while the lift was out of action. A last, defiant stand against the listless void left behind when they had taken the service from him.

He dug the clicker from where it had fallen down the side of the cushion and turned over just in time for the opening credits of Coronation Street, blowing over the heap of white rice and tasteless curry in front of his mouth. His mind faded out into white noise as he ate mechanically and knocked back his tea to wash the taste away. The episode hadn’t even finished before he was pulling the fleece blanket from the other cushion over his lap, eyes drooping closed. He checked his phone once more before he placed it on the lamp table for the final time.

The storm outside picked up a notch and Price felt it tremour through the old building, and he watched the rain lash against the balcony windows as fitful sleep dragged him under.

—

“This is Bravo Six in the blind; Watcher—ahh, Watcher, do you c-copy?”

Static.

”Kate… Kate, please… fuh-ck, Watcher, this S-six in—“

The rubble above his head moved. He held his breath. There was nowhere for him to move. Nowhere for him to run. It had taken an eternity to wrestle his arm free enough to get to his radio. If the rubble shifted now, it would crush him.

The pain was blinding. Like white hot pokers stabbing through every muscle. If he hadn’t been able to move his arm, he would have assumed his spine or neck were broken. Maybe both. He could feel his right leg, but not his left. Couldn’t even see it.

”Watcher, do you copy?”

Static.

”Kate, please… don’t let me die down here, don’t… please…”

His pleas were soaked up by the oppressive silence. The muffled, muted space that seemed to swallow his voice.

Suffocating nothingness.

Static.

He couldn’t move. Not an inch. His trap was closing in. Crushing him. Several tons of concrete and steel pressing down on his ribs, his legs. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t breathe.

—

Waking up felt like he was having to claw himself out from beneath that rubble himself, chest heaving, the neck of his t-shirt stained dark as he fought his way back to the surface. Early morning light was leaking through the balcony door, the spots of rain still clinging to the glass making the living room glitter like a disco ball hung from the ceiling. He lifted a shaking hand from beneath the fleece and smoothed his damp hair back over his head, mentally counting through the grounding exercises Sally had taught him.

Feel, see, hear, touch.

Like he’d been run over by a Challenger—his ceiling—phone alarm—blanket.

Price threw out a hand and managed to swipe his damn phone off the table. Cussing and snarling, he slumped onto the floor, fishing it out from beneath the lamp stand. He didn’t have enough energy to climb his way back onto the sofa, so he sat there once he’d switched the alarm off, staring into space. The world slowly filtered back in, his senses spreading out through the room, latching onto anything that connected him to the reality outside his head. Unfortunately, that also brought with it the constant dull throb of pain in his left side.

That last mission had been the final crack in a dam he hadn’t even been aware of. Over twenty years of difficult operations in the most inhospitable environs and his mind had soldiered through, unbroken, robust. Colleagues and friends had fallen before him, so he knew what post-traumatic stress disorder looked like, but it was something that happened to other people. Not him. Not in a million fuckin’ years.

But leave him trapped under some rubble for a few hours and suddenly every difficult experience, every interrogation, every period spent trapped behind enemy lines at their mercy, every close call, every fallen soldier, they all came flooding back like vengeful demons that had been caged in the pits of hell to tear off their pound of flesh.

The nightmares weren’t always the same. Sometimes, his subconscious decided to dredge up an experience from over a decade ago to torture him with. A few nights ago, it had been the interrogation that had left him with burn scars over his lower back. A month spent in an Al Qatala detention facility before Mac had extracted him. He hadn’t broken—had given them bloody nothing—and had passed the psych eval after that one with flying colours. Even the psychologist had been a little suspicious—impressed, but suspicious. Turned out all he’d done was squash it all so far down that it was invisible to a prying eye, and then managed to trick himself that he was just made of stronger stuff than average.

He was good at that though: keeping secrets. Pretending, manipulation, getting what he wanted out of people. Out of himself. It was no surprise that he’d got so good at it over the years that he had managed to dupe even himself into believing what he needed to get the job done. Stupid wanker.

Price scowled as he rolled to his feet, wobbling unsteadily at first as he regained his balance, before limping into his bedroom. He had a quick shower to wash the sweat off and threw on his gym kit. Just because his lower half was useless, that didn’t mean he couldn’t keep the rest of him in shape. The physio had told him to keep it light, that everything in his body was connected and his nervous system needed time to adjust, and he had nodded along.

Truth was, he liked the burn of it. It felt like punishment. A punishment that he could control. It was both proof that he was still, physically, worth something and a way to chastise the parts of himself that weren’t as strong as they used to be. John left the house just as his morning alarm went off.

He ignored the sideways glances from the reception staff as he limped through the automatic barriers, his car parked in the second row back because he couldn’t quite bring himself to use the damn blue badge the council had given him when Carol had completed the forms on his behalf.

This early in the morning, the gym was more or less empty. There were a few night shifters getting their end of day workout in at the squat racks, so Price dumped his gym bag by a bench in front of the dumbbells. The powerlifter to the right glanced at him as he grabbed 26kg for a warm up set, and from that point on he let his mind go blank. All that existed as he worked his way through his ‘push day’ was the burn in his shoulders, his chest, down his spine. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was in the gym in Credenhill, with Ghost grunting on his right and Soap pausing to take yet another selfie on his left…

His phone trilled.

He dropped the dumbbells to the floor at his feet and snatched it from his bag. He hated himself for feeling disappointment when he saw his sister’s name.

“Wotcha, love, everyfin’ ok?” He slumped back on the bench, spare arm dangling between his legs as the burn of the lift faded.

I know it’s ya day off, but I need a favour…

”Right…”

We’ve got a regular in Chester who needs a home visit.

”Oh yeah, cheshire set, is he?”

Nah, he’s… a foreign national. Scary bloke, actually. And that’s the problem, all the girls are refusin’ t’ go.

”Did he touch one’uv‘em?”

No, no. Nothin’ like that. He’s just… scary. Lives in one of those big detached houses, and he has loads of… well, they called ‘em henchmen. Said it’s like walkin’ int’ mafia film, John.

”If he’s so bloody terrifyin’, why not jog ‘im on?”

It’s… not tha’ simple, la.

Price’s hackles went up instantly. Not that simple could mean a hundred different things, but all the dots were joining up in a way that made Price want to load his M1911 before he drove over. “Why?”

Look, I… if ya can’t do, ‘ll go meself, but…

”Don’t you bloody dare,” Price growled. “I’ll go. Send me the time, the address, what his usual is.”

He heard her breathe a sigh of relief down the phone.

Cheers, John. I… I owe y’bevvy, yeah?

“Stop tryin’ to set me up with Gary, and we’ll call it even.”

Oi, I was jus’—okay, fine. Gary is off the Price menu.

”Carol, I swear t’…” He glanced over his shoulder as the grunting behind him had gone conspicuously silent and the brief moment of eye contact was enough to make him drop his voice. “Right. Forward me the intel, and—“

She chuckled.

”Wot?”

I will forward ya the intel, big brother. Love ya, see ya later.

Price stared at the phone in his hand long after it had gone black. The heat under his skin was adrenalin. He’d recognise the bubbling rush of it anywhere; the heavy drum of his heart, the tightness in his chest. Excitement.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, get a grip,” Price mumbled as he chucked his phone into his bag and returned the weights. It was probably some sweaty billionaire who fancied himself the bloody Godfather. Normal people—people who hadn’t spent their entire adult lives fighting real mobsters, crooks and war criminals—saw a grim face and a sharp suit and were easily intimidated. Price would scope the place out and gather some more information on whatever the fuck this arsehole had on Carol, and then he would fix the problem. He was good at that. Fixing other people’s problems. It let him ignore his own for a bit longer.

[hungwy]

Some facts about my birthday (October 29):

1390: First trials of witchcraft in Paris

1618: Walter Raleigh, colonialist statesman, soldier, and explorer, is tried for treason and executed

1682: The founder of Pennsylvania, William Penn, lands at what is now Chester, PA

1740: James Boswell, diarist and biographer, is born

1863: The International Red Cross is formed in Geneva

1882: Jean Giradoux, playwright and novelist, is born

1888: The Convention of Constantinople allows for free maritime passage through the Suez Canal; Li Dazhao, co-founder of the CCP and mentor of Mao, is born

1889: N.G. Chernyshevksy, author of "What is to be done?", dies

1897: Joseph Goebbels, the nazi, is born

1901: Leon Czogolsz, anarchist, is executed for the assassination of William McKinley

1910: A.J. Ayer, logical positivist, is born

1914: The Ottomans enter WWI

1923: The Ottoman Empire dissolves; Turkey becomes a republic through the efforts of Atatürk

1924: Zbigniew Herbert, poet, is born

1929: Black Tuesday, the crash of the New York Stock Exchange and the beginning of the Great Depression

1938: Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, president of Rhodesia, is born; Ralph Bakshi, animator, is born

1940: The US begins its first peacetime military draft

1948: Franz de Waal, ethologist, is born

1949: George Gurdjieff, philosopher and mystic, dies

1956: The Suez Crisis begins

1962: The Beach Boys release "Surfin' Safari"

1967: Musical "Hair" opens off Broadway

1969: The first computer-computer link established on ARPANET

1971: Ma Huateng, co-founder of Tencent, is born; Winona Ryder, actor, is born

1975: Franco's 36-year long leadership of Spain ends

1985: Evgeny Lifshitz, physicist, dies

1991: The spacecraft Galileo makes the first ever visit to an asteroid

1995: Terry Southern, screenwriter of Dr. Strangelove, dies

2004: Al-Jazeera broadcasts Osama Bin Laden taking responsibility for 9/11; European Union leaders sign the first EU constitution

It is the Christian feast day of:

Abraham of Rostov

Blessed Chiara Badano

Colman mac Duagh

The Duai Martyrs

Gaetano Erico

Michele Rua

Narcissus of Jerusalem

Theuderius

It is a public holiday in:

Cambodia (Coronation Day)

Turkey (Republic Day)

It is a private holiday in:

USA (National Cat Day)

Everywhere (my birthday)

[reality-detective]

This is the list that was compiled from Pastor Bob Joyce (Elvis.) He has said; quite a few who are alive. There are supposed to be over 900 so this 👇 list is still short.

Alive & Faked Death

Elvis (Pastor Bob Joyce)

Bruce & Brandon Lee

MichaelJackson

Princess Diana

JFKennedy Jr

his wife Caroline

her sister Lauren

Nicole Brown Simpson is Megan Kelly

Tupac

Prince

Glen Campbell

John Denver

Carpenters

Bee Gees

Selena

Freddie Mercury

Marilyn Monroe

Isaac Kappy

Patrick Kennedy

Arabella Kennedy

Robin Williams

John Lennon

Yoko Ono

Joan Rivers

Kurt Cobain

Pres. J.F.Kennedy Sr

Kobe Bryant & daughter

Corey Haim

Jimmy Hendrix

Paul Walker

Bob Marley

Biggey

Chris Farley

Whitney Houston & daughter

Roddy Pipers

Dick Clark

Peter Jennings

Rush Limbaugh -Jim Morrison

Richard Beland

Luther Vandross

Dale Earnhardt

Johnny Cash

Shirley Temple

Janis Joplin

Big Bopper

Buddy Holly

Hank Williams

James Dean

Dennis Wilson

Natalie Wood

Ron McKerman

John Bonham

Heath Ledger

Brittany Murphy

Patrick Swayze

Debbie Reynolds

Annette Funicello

Joe Cocker

Lynn Anderson

Dudley Moore

Ashley Babbitt

Anna Nicole Smith

Elvis brother Jesse

Amy Weinhouse

Jon Benet Ramsey

Heather Rourke

George Michael

Elizabeth Montgomery

7 NASA astronauts

Seth Rich

Marty Fieldman

John Ritter

Sonny Bono

Jeffery Epstein

Mindy McCready

Erin Moran

River Phoenix

Penny Marshall

Donna Summers

Dana Pluto

Andre the Giant

Kenny Rogers

Michael Landon

Theresa Saldana

Bill Paxton

David Canary

Mary Tyler Moore,

Dudley Moore,

Princess Grace Kelly,

Steve McQueen,

John Candy,

Kate Spade,

Mama Cass Elliot,

Michael hutchence,

paula Yates,

Jackie O

George Carlin

Anthony Bourdain

Phillip Seymour Hoffman

Andrew Breitbart

Chris Liddell

Stevie Ray Vaughn

Tom Petty

Lucille Ball

Martin Luther King Jr

Brian Wilson

Chef Anthony B

Davey Jones

Chester Bennington

Chris Cornell

Erin Moran

Florence Henderson

Layne Stanley

Ricky Hendrix

Robert Trump (DJT) brother Patty Duke

Judge Scalia

Paul Newman

Donna Summer

Keith Moon

Mac Miller

Edyie Gorme

Tony Snow-GWBush press sec Brad Nowell

Caleb Logan

Conway Twitty

Keith Wheatley

Teena Marie

Rick James

Frank Zappa

Mickey Mantle

June Cash

Seal Team 6

THE BEST IS YET TO COME! 🍿

You Decide 🤔

[pupsmailbox]

MUSIC ID PACK

NAMES︰ abby. ace. adagio. adam. adria. adrian. adriane. aero. alex. alice. angus. ann. anthony. apollo. ari. aria. ariane. ariette. avril. axl. axton. bill. billie. billy. blaze. bohemia. bon. brad. brian. bruce. cade. cadence. cadentia. cantrelle. charlie. cher. chester. chordelle. chordette. chordiene. chrissie. christine. cleo. cliff. coda. cosmo. crescenette. crescenne. cresciene. cruz. dahlia. danny. dave. david. dax. daze. dolce. dolcette. dolciene. dolciette. don. doremi. duff. dusty. echo. eddie. electra. ember. ensemblette. enslette. enzo. eric. estelle. faye. flash. fleetwood. florance. floyd. flux. forte. frank. freddie. geddy. geezer. gene. george. ginger. glenn. glimmer. grace. gregg. halen. halo. harmonette. harmonie. harmony. harp. hayley. helena. iggy. isis. izzy. jack. jasper. jett. jimi. jimmy. joe. john. juno. kade. kai. kairo. keira. keith. kian. knox. krist. kurt. larkin. larry. layla. liam. lindsey. lio. luna. lux. lyric. lyrical. mac. malcolm. maynard. medley. meliene. melodie. melodiette. melody. micheal. mick. mitch. moxie. muse. musette. musine. nancy. neal. neil. neon. nick. nicko. nicky. noel. note. notesie. notesy. nova. octavia. onyx. orchestrae. orchestraette. orchestraine. ozzy. paul. pax. pear. pete. peter. phil. piper. pulse. quest. randy. rave. rhea. rhythm. rick. ringo. riven. robert. roger. ronnie. rosa. rose. sabbath. sable. serj. sierra. sky. skye. sona. sonata. sonette. songbird. songesse. songette. songstress. sonia. sonic. sonnet. spark. steve. steven. stevie. strobe. symphonia. symponiette. talia. taryn. tempo. thom. tim. tom. tony. treble. trix. vibe. viola. violette. violiene. vyn. xara. zack. zeppelin.

PRONOUNS︰ aero/aero. ba/bass. band/band. base/base. beat/beat. black/black. blink/blink. bpm/bpm. chili/chili. crash/crash. cream/cream. cue/cue. cure/cure. door/door. dor/doremi. drop/drop. dru/drum. drum/drum. eagle/eagle. echo/echo. electric/electric. electro/electronic. fla/flash. flu/flute. flute/flute. for/forte. forte/forte. glo/glow. guitar/guitar. gun/gun. har/harp. heart/heart. hot/hot. hx/hxm. hy/hym. iron/iron. jam/jam. journey/journey. jump/jump. ke/key. kiss/kiss. la/lala. las/laser. loud/loud. ly/lyric. machine/machine. maiden/maiden. mel/melody. metal/metal. mix/mixed. mu/muse. mu/music. muse/muse. music/music. ne/neon. nirvana/nirvana. no/note. noe/note. note/note. oasis/oasis. oct/octave. pearl/pearl. pepper/pepper. perform/perform. pi/piano. pia/piano. piano/piano. pink/pink. queen/queen. ra/rave. radio/radio. rage/rage. re/reverb. red/red. reverb/reverb. rhy/rhythm. riff/riff. rock/rock. rose/rose. rush/rush. scorpion/scorpion. scream/scream. shred/shred. shx/hxr. shy/hyr. sing/sing. soe/song. soe/sonnet. sol/sola. song/song. spike/spike. stone/stone. string/string. stud/stud. sync/sync. tem/tempo. tempo/tempo. thxy/thxm. thy/thym. tra/track. tre/treble. treble/treble. trumpet/trumpet. tu/tune. tuba/tuba. tune/tune. vi/vibe. vio/violin. vocal/vocal. wa/wave. yell/yell. 🎤. 🎧. 🎵. 🎶. 🎷. 🎸. 🎹. 🎻. 🎼. 💥. 📹. 🔊. 🔋. 🔌. 🗯️. 🤘. 🥁. 🧑🏻‍🎤.

[thatliminal-wanderer]

Rock Music ID Pack

Requested by Anonymous

Names

Abby, Ace, Adam, Adrian, Aero, Alex, Alice, Angus, Ann, Anthony, Avril, Axl, Bill, Billie, Billy, Bohemia, Bon, Brad, Brian, Bruce, Charlie, Cher, Chester, Chrissie, Christine, Cliff, Danny, Dave, David, Don, Duff, Dusty, Eddie, Eric, Fleetwood, Florance, Floyd, Frank, Freddie, Geddy, Geezer, Gene, George, Ginger, Glenn, Gregg, Halen, Hayley, Helena, Iggy, Izzy, Jack, Jimi, Jimmy, Joe, John, Keith, Krist, Kurt, Larry, Liam, Lindsey, Mac, Malcolm, Maynard, Micheal, Mick, Mitch, Nancy, Neal, Neil, Nick, Nicko, Nicky, Noel, Ozzy, Paul, Pear, Pete, Peter, Phil, Randy, Rick, Ringo, Robert, Roger, Ronnie, Rosa, Rose, Sabbath, Serj, Steve, Steven, Stevie, Thom, Tim, Tom, Tony, Zack, Zeppelin

Pronouns

aero/aeros, beat/beats, black/blacks, blink/blinks, chili/chilis, crash/crashes, cream/creams, cure/cures, door/doors, dru/drum/drums, eagle/eagles, electric/electrics, guitar/guitars, gun/guns, heart/hearts, hot/hots, iron/irons, jam/jams, journey/journeys, kiss/kisses, loud/louds, machine/machines, maiden/maidens, metal/metals, music/musics, nirvana/nirvanas, oasis/oasis’, pearl/pearls, pepper/peppers, pink/pinks, queen/queens, radio/radios, rage/rages, red/reds, reverb/reverbs, rhy/rhythm/rhythms, riff/riffs, rock/rocks, rose/roses, rush/rushes, scorpion/scorpions, scream/screams, shred/shreds, stone/stones, vocal/vocals, yell/yells, 🎵/🎵s, 🎶/🎶s, 🎸/🎸s, 💥/💥s, 📹/📹s, 🔊/🔊s, 🔋/🔋s, 🔌/🔌s, 🗯️/🗯️s, 🤘/🤘s, 🧑🏻‍🎤/🧑🏻‍🎤s

Titles

A Rock Fan, A Rock Lover, A Rock Producer, A Rock Song, A Song With Loud Noises, Lover of Rock and Roll, The Drummer, The Guitarist, The Hard Rocker, The Headbanger, The Rock Fan, The Rock Musician, [prn] Inviting You to a Concert, [prn] Who Listens to Rock

Genders

Aggrorockvolic, Bassgender, Bassguitagender, Delinqxenifemasc, Drumgender, Guitargender, Guitarweaponic, Rockcothrillic, Rockfem, Rockgender, Sleepyguitaric

Other mogai

Aldembodirock, Alderguitar, Aldermusicae, Musicperspesque, Musictasteperspesque, Musicvior, Musivesil

[dontwaitforupdates]

Mac and Chester in Art Fight? More likely than you think

If you follow me on Art Fight I will follow you back and attack you Here are Mac and Chester's pages

[ultraericthered]

Nostalgic Lookback: Camel VS Cheetah

Back in the late 80s and early 90s, there were two "hip and cool" cartoon animal mascots who wore shades often appearing in places to sell their respective products - Joe Camel for Camel cigarretes, and Chester Cheetah for Cheetos. Very similar yet oh so different.

See, Joe was a fairly obscure camel drawing for a French advertising campaign of the cigarette brand back in 1974. In 1988, he was suddenly brought back for overseas markets and redesigned to be this stylish, alpha male gangster character who glamourized smoking Camel cigarettes while doing cool shit. While Chester was created two years prior in 1986 as a mascot to finally take over from the Cheetos Mouse who was last seen at the end of the 70s. The sly, smooth voiced, self-described "hip kittie" began starring in more cartoony Cheetos commercials as he became the official mascot for the snack food, using slogans like "It's not easy being cheesy" and "the cheese that goes crunch!" until his signature tagline / catchphrase became "Dangerously cheesy!" from 1997 onward.

Obviously, one of these mascots outlived the other, and it's the way I'd wanted and expected it to be. Whereas I was quickly endeared to Chester Cheetah and Cheetos, I was always repelled by Joe Camel and the cigarettes he advertised. I don't know how many more kids felt that way, but certainly many adults did, as they soon realized that the Joe Camel ad campaign was appealing to children just as much as to adults, leading to fears of children actually buying what Joe was selling them. Because of this, Joe Camel was suspended and retired in 1997. The poor bastard couldn't even make it a full 10 years.

Well, at least they both have more legacy than the even shorter lived Mac Tonight of McDonalds and Boomer the Goldfish of Goldfish!

(What WAS it with cartoony mascots wearing shades back then?)

[numbuh900]

Codename kids next door headcannons

Numbuh 19th Century's real name is "Albert Lewis"

The Galactic Kids Next Door have tried making a bootleg omnitrix watch.

The boyfriend helmet technology was made by the GKND, and the Galactic Kids Next Door supreme leader uses it's tech to mind control their operatives.

Father and Grandfather's powers stem from their emotions via their hatred of kids, and going with my "The GKND are mind controlled by its supreme leader headcannon" the brainwashing amplified Nigel's dislike for adults all the way up to 11 which activated his powers.

The previous leader of the GKND was actually a fair and kind and powerful alien that's the pure reason the KND exists at all, they gave kids the knowledge and skills to defend themselves so that the universe can be safe for kids.

If they were to learn about what the current leader has done to the organization, they'd be heartbroken.

In the middle ages, the KND treehouses looked more fantasy based and whimsical, like something you'd see in a fairy tale.

When the KND travel through space, they meet a pair of alien adult hero's that are a parody of Wander and Sylvia, the galactic kids next door can't stand them due to them annoying the crap out of their operatives and evacuating planets scheduled for decommissioning.

Numbuh Three has alot of knowledge about yokai (Japanese supernatural creatures)

Numbuh Five and Cree's older brother lives in France, and they mail letters to each other all the time.

Numbuh Two's Dad is a fighter pilot in the military

Numbuh One's Mother's name is "Olivia"

Numbuh Ten's real name is "Ashley"

Bonus round: KND Multiverse headcannons

Theres a knd sector in the TROLLS universe, and they battle villains in music battles

Kid Cosmic is an honorary operative after his encounter with Numbuh 362. They get along well like siblings. Numbuh 363 doesn't like The Kid a lot, but Kid tries to be really friendly with him and even gets him to calm down whenever he gets mad.

Numbuh Five is a powerpuff girls fan, she's even a honorary powerpuff girl and in return she made Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup honorary operatives.

The Gravity Falls Kids Next Door aren't as hostile towards teenagers like most operatives, In fact, they get along with Wendy and her freinds greatly.

The Bikini Bottom KND don't have much of a problem with SpongeBob and Patrick since they don't view them as typical adults. They also really like Sandy Cheeks as she supplies them with her technology. They're neutral with Squidward. They don't have a high opinion on Mr.Krabs after hearing about that "Krabby Land" scam he pulled.

When Mac and Bloo joined the Kids Next Door, they've been rescuing abandoned imaginary friends or freinds that are being mistreated by adults. Lots of KND operatives have even been going to Foster's to adopt their own imaginary friends, and they've been happy with them ever since.

Timmy Turner, Chester, and AJ joined the KND, Timmy supplies his sector and other sectors with magical 2x4 technology. Everyone is baffled on how he managed to get the mysterious energy source for them.

[just-some-guy-joust]

Full list of Side B OCs under the cut!

Bracket post

Side A list

Professor Morelle Da Capo | She/her | @kira-moonrabbit

Robotwoman who is famous for being dedicated. She works 24/7. Her hobbies include "logging everyone's opinions about her" and "standing still thinking about bicycles"

Chester Mallory | He/Him | @liliflower137

Chester is a twitch streamer and freelance programmer. The multiverse keeps dropping wild adventures on his lap but man he just wants to kiss his husband, cook some food for his friends, and take a damn nap.

Lilly | She/her | @pocket-ghostie

CW: Child death

Lilly is a ghost who has found other ghosts and is hanging out <3 Almost all of the plot is happening around her. Thats actually a major plot point in the story, things are happening to the people she cares about... but nothing is really happening to her. She is simply hanging out and doesn't know what to do about the plot, but it keeps going without her doing anything. I don't have much to say about her, I only have things to say about the people around her.

[No image submitted]

Cobblestone Mason | He/him | @splatoonmaster69

A regular human fighter youve seen a thousand times. I promise. NEURODIVERGENCY JUMPSCARE.

(Mod note: I promise there's gonna be more context for this guy in the actual polls when I put the longer description there lmao)

CW: Transformation horror, isekai, lightning strikes

Mendel Warrenpeace | He/him | @bittersweetbonbon

Mendel was just a normal guy, who happened to love Toontown: Corporate Clash *so* much that he played it nearly 24/7, maxing out all of his gags and disguises, even going so far as to become a beta tester for experimental VR haptic suits, just so he could be more immersed in the game. However, he was foolish enough to play the game in VR during the most intense lightning storm seen in his area, got struck by said lightning, and was isekaed into the game itself. Now trapped in the world he used to adore, at level one no less, he would do anything to get back home, up to and including re-beating the game, no matter how strenuous running around and throwing pies at robots is in "real life". Of course, beating the game isn't going to free him from Toontown's inky clutches, but we don't have to tell him that, right? Of course not.

Darien | He/him | @bittersweetbonbon

Darien is a normal guy in every way possible, except for the fact that his boss, Anthony, has been steadily replacing all of his coworkers with robots. So, in response, Darien started bonding aggressively with the robots, bringing them home-baked goods and motor oil and listening to their problems, until said robots unanimously decided "Yeah, we like this guy, we're keeping him.". When his boss got word of the robots liking Darien more than him, he conspired to turn Darien into a robot, too, and would have succeeded if said robots didn't revolt against Anthony, turning *him* into the robot instead. Now with a legion of incredibly loyal automatons behind him, Darien has become the de-facto owner of the company, a fact that stresses him out to no end, and drives Anthony to the end of his wit with jealousy.

#cyclops# | It/they | @splatoonmaster69

Cycnical highschool nurse with a haircut that gets them mocked by the teenage mages they are the unwilling gaurdian of.

Volshebney Rebenok Asteroff | He/him | @splatoonmaster69

The worlds most 14 year old ever. Eats a diet of only mac and cheese. Sneaks onto a boat by stabbing it and passing out. Just. So Incredibly 14 years old

Gloria | She/her | @mysterystar2

Just a gal! She's got a normal family and (up until recently) a normal life too. She's got a special interest in photography and is also generally a very anxious gal, and a lot of us can probably relate <3. She's super considerate and is super close with her friends and family, and would probably be your buddy too even if you only tell her hi.

Levi Dienhart | He/him | @imfirequeen

Levi lost his memories and is now kinda just a wet pathetic cat of a man. He works in a craft shop all day and has a sweet girlfriend and a daughter they adopted. He's in a constant state of being unfazed and just confused, but he does like purple. He's the embodiment of the autism creature.

Chel | She/her | @toonfanstars

She was just an average guy. She would wake up, eat breakfast, and get ready for work. She didn't particularly like her job, but her coworker was friendly enough, even if a little too ambitious. She likes to keep her routine as normal as possible, and any little deviation usually bugs her but she tries to deal with it. Whether it be that she can't find a matching pair of socks or suddenly getting possessed by a demon, nothing is stopping her from getting her morning coffee & bagel from her favourite bakery.

Rishi | He/Him | @littlemsterious

he’s cursed, has seen the horrors. is pretty laid back about it. he didnt do it, it just happened to him.

Freddy V. | He/him | @g0thiclem0nade

Freddy is just some greasy southern accented vampire that is definitely older than the US of A. He likes to play his guitar and rock out with his friends. From helping people save their sisters to running around a post thermonuclear wasteland America he’s very often sidelined by some other cooler person. It should also be noted this guy has been a character occurrence in several of my video game play throughs because he’s just that versatile.

Zena | She/her/hers, it/its/its, and ze/zir/zirs, but all pronouns are acceptable | @spark-ocblog (CW: mentions of blood and murder on this blog)

Zena works a variety of retail jobs and lives in a boring, cheap, low-quality apartment. She is entirely oblivious to the various supernatural happenings in the town she's in, despite being one of the oldest supernatural creatures in the area. It likes to participate in mundane human activities for fun, such as "Lie Down On A Cushion For Eight Hours With Your Eyes Closed," and "Pet Animal." Zir biggest worries are busy shifts and managing human finances.

Bea Hart | He/Him | @lowpolyskeletonz

Bea Hart may be half God, but you know what he also is? Just a guy. He's a husband and father, an absolute sweetheart and probably the only person in his friend group who's still atleast half human.

Levi | He/him | @cyikess

An unwilling chronic isekai protagonist. He can't catch a break! He keeps getting thrown to new and different fantasy/sci-fi/whatever worlds when all he wants is his normal life back. He's just a guy!

[catinthewallalright]

hey fags. anyone know if there has ever been said which specific town the house mac and dennis move into? like which philly suburb is it? based on how nice the house is, and the fact they come down I-76, maybe it could be Bucks County, but that doesn’t feel right—a bit to East for them to go down I-76. also, them being an hour out, maybe they’re even over in Chester County, which is the wealthiest county in PA. it’s hard since the house and neighborhood is clearly californian and not at all like anything in PA. anyways. thanks for the help.