#theyre my little blorbos

[r0ttenb0gb0dy]

10/10 Coda "Rex" Morelli

It didn't take long at that rate, hurtling towards something dangerously close to love at a speed that would make a Blue Angel blush.

They sort of, kind of, not really hated each other. It was a delicate dance of pointed words, followed up by all-too-soft touches in passing. A pat on the shoulder, a hand grasping at another, Rex’s boot nudging him under the table during meetings. It was almost annoying, actually, how quickly Rex warmed up to him completely and entirely.

Graves cared about Rex and after a long, long while of acting like he didn't see the potential, he gave Rex that promotion. Lieutenant. It felt almost wrong to give it to him over some other Shadows that had been there longer, but something deep within his chest told him that the loyalty Rex offered was to the bone. It wouldn't waver at the slightest hint of anger, come and go like the tide — it was ingrained in Rex’s very being to do what was best for Shadow Company.

The years seemed to move by in slow motion and fast forward all at once, watching Rex go from some skinny, sharp-toothed, afraid little thing with an attitude to a bulky, even shorter-fused firecracker of a Lieutenant. A pack of black cats in a red paper wrapper. He came running whenever Graves called, he went wherever he was told, did whatever he had to. The job got done, regardless of personal feeling or strife.

Rex was a force to be reckoned with.

He would kill for Graves with his bare hands. Rip and tear into flesh like it were paper if it meant that he could satisfy his Commander. The day that he obtained his, supposed to be, final promotion at Shadow Company was a horrific one. Coated in a thin layer of sweat and a thick layer of blood as he dug his knife out of the chest of the enemy in front of him, another thick splatter coating his face.

Graves decided right then and there, in the middle of a bombing run over their precise location, that if anyone was going to carry on the legacy of the company, God forbid anything happened to him, it would be Rex. The way he flickered his green eyes up to meet Graves’, his mask coated in blood, a wicked smile that showed from just the creases around his eyes.

Messy and raw, the way a leader should be.

Only a few moments were wasted being back at base when Graves said something, unable to bite his tongue as he watched Rex light a cigarette and take a long drag. He was still dressed in his full tactical gear, still covered in the red liquid that made his eyes that much more vibrant, black painted fingernails chipped as they idly picked at the dried blood.

“You know, I never would've thought I’d see you gut a man with a knife with the way you used to fight with one.��� He starts, looking Rex up and down. Inspecting him, dissecting his features. “Used to be so scared of them things.”

“Yeah, well, things change. I got thicker skin.” Rex sort of shrugs, reaching up to yank his helmet off unceremoniously. Dark hair spilling out, streaks of grey more pertinent than they had been years prior. Roots all grown in a similar shade of grey, making the dark ends look that much darker. “I’m just doin’ my job.”

“You do more than that, though, and you know it. You always push that extra mile.” Graves replies, taking a seat next to Rex. He nabs the cigarette from his Lieutenant’s hand and takes a drag for himself before returning it. “Always have a goddamn smile on your face while you do it, too.”

“Always have, haven't I?” Rex chuckles.

“You hated me for a long time, don't act like you didn't.”

“Hmm? Who's to say I still don't?” They say in jest, shouldering Graves gently. The Commander almost laughs, shaking his head instead as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He has always despised the way that Rex can make his brain get all cross wired with just a few words, making any sense of control disappear in the instant it takes to make a witty remark. “I’m kidding, I…I don't think I could ever hate you. You’re my person, y’know?”

“Should start rethinkin’ your choices if I'm the person you choose to rely on.”

“Why’s that, huh?”

“You can rely on yourself in this world, that's about it.” Graves replies, his hands behind his head now, fingers interlocked. He’s deep in his thoughts when Rex places a hand on the broad surface of his back, gently rubbing circles in some form of comfort. Graves couldn't quite place why he needed that little comfort, but it was welcome all the same. “Really wormed yourself into my head, y’know that?”

“So that means I’m your person, too, right?”

“My Achilles heel.” Graves mumbles under his breath with a combination of disdain and admiration.

“Romantic.” Rex replies with a little smirk crossing their expression. “It always comes back to a tragedy with us, doesn't it?”

“Does it?” Graves looks up to meet Rex’s eyes, finding that charming little smile. Warm, cozy like a cup of tea on a particularly cold morning. He chooses to ignore the usage of ‘us’ in order to hear Rex’s explanation.

“I mean, Achilles was arrogant towards anyone else that looked his way, anyone except Patroclus. He mourned nothing more in life than the death of Patroclus, you know that? They were cremated and placed in the same urn.” Rex states in a matter of fact tone, though Graves’ mind is elsewhere from his deadpan delivery. It’s on the fact that he, too, would mourn nothing more than losing Rex. The Company could burn, the country could burn, he just needed Rex to be alive. He hadn't realized it outright until then that he relied on Rex so heavily, but years of close knit attachment will do that. He couldn't imagine the Company without him. “History books call them best friends. A general and his soldier.”

“What do you call them?”

“Lovers.” Rex hums softly, flicking the ash off of their cigarette. “But I mean, Roman soldiers had a very strange relationship with each other, so…maybe I’m just reading too far into it.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Graves murmurs, thinking for all of two seconds before he puts an arm around Rex. “How about us? Commander and Lieutenant Commander?”

“Hah — you're somethin’ else, y’know? I’m trying to be nice to you and it comes back to some power dynamic.” Rex laughs. Graves is entirely serious.

“You’d inherit the Company, should anything ever happen to me. I don't think that's something ‘best friends’ do, though.” Graves shrugs, all too playful in his wording, the same way Rex is. They rubbed off on each other a miserable amount. Briefings have become interesting, that's for sure, with two equally witty men at the head of the table.

Both too confident to admit what they're both trying to.

“Are you trying to tell me you love me, Philip Graves?” Rex says with a teasing tone, dragging their hand up Graves' arm. Tracing over the Shadow Company insignia embroidered on the sleeve, Shadow 0-1 right below it. His matches, 0-2.

“Maybe. Is that a bad thing?”

“Oh, terrible.” Rex replies, nestling themselves up against Graves as they finish the smoldering cigarette between their middle and ring fingers. “I thought we're only supposed to rely on ourselves, lest we succumb to the tragedy of needing another person?”

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

“Hypocrite.” Rex mumbles, whilst Graves gently rests his head against theirs, hesitating to let himself get close.

“I know, darlin’. Can you love me anyways?”

“Depends, will you leave me to run this place by myself?”

“Not if I can help it. As long as I’m breathing you won't ever have to be alone again.”

Bold words. A tall order. Both are firm believers that nothing could ever come to pass to separate them, not permanently.

“Promise?” Rex asks, holding out their pinky finger. Graves’ locks with it, as childish as it feels.

“Promise.”

—

epic conclusion . this is like... 3-4 years before MWII takes place bt dubs ! ill eventually try my hand at writing some rexxy insert fics for the campaign but im also incredibly lazy 💔😔

taggies @simonrriley the realest

[onejellyfishplease]

When you have the time can we see more of your turtles? (TMNST)

Also Happy Tuesday you glorious jellyfish!!

hmmmm idk!

whenever i feel like drawing them i guess (shrugs)

and a happy tuesday right back at you!

[scyllamoonlight]

Word Vomiting about my Warden OC’s Selene Amell and Eos Surana how they met.

Amell was brought to the circle at the age of 4, exceptionally young. Due to this she was able to be heavily indoctrinated into the circle and hardly thought about the darker side of being a mage, in fact, she was incredibly dissmissive to it. She hardly experienced anything overly negative in her time within the circle, partly due to Irving being her mentor and partly due to her own blind obedience to the system she was raised in.

Additionally, Amell being brought into the circle so young meant that she had a good 3-5 years of hardly anyone her own age. During this time Irving and Greagoir were both heavily drilling the chantry mindsets into her, with the knight-commander ensuring she wouldn’t want to leave, and Irving ensuring she would focus entirely on studies. By the time she was able to interact with others she had a very “katniss everdeen” social mindset, she figured most people were only nice to her due to Irvings influence, and she heavily missed most social cues. She ended up secluding herself naturally, she had read nearly every book in the tower library by the time she was 12. Which brings us to Surana.

Surana was brought to the circle at the age of 12. An intensly rebellious city elf boy who wanted to join the dalish but was caught by templars after electrocuting a shopkeep who chased him after he stole appples.Surana deeply valued his freedom and adventure. The circle was his worst nightmare. He tried running from the templar at every chance but efforts were (evidently) futile. When he reached the circle it was decided he would need a “companion” *cough* supervisor *cough* who he wouldn’t be overly hateful towards and who could possibly mellow out his personality. Which is how Surana and Amell came to be friends. 

Upon their first meeting, Surana was struggling in a Templars grip whilst the Templar told Amell to introduce Surana to the circle and be his “mentor” to the lifestyle. When Surana finally calmed he managed to somehow rope Amell into an “experiment” in which he attempted to climb down the tower rapunzel style using Amells insanely long hair, which quickly escalated upon a 15 year-old anders finding them and deciding to also try his luck. All three were inevitably stopped with anders going into solitary for two days, Surana recieving 3 days of cleaning duty and Amell recieving a soft chiding from an amused Irving.

Whilst Greagoir was begining to wonder if the introduction of Surana to Amell was a bad idea, Surana was completely set upon the plan of making the most, gullible, socially inept child in the circle, his friend.

[abyssal-ilk]

dai knew not to let vivienne and solas talk to each other for too long because she'd be able to sniff out his bullshit if given half an hour and two glasses of wine btw

[quirinah]

ummmmmmm guys this dungeons looking a little dark here..........................ummmm..... hello??? guys??

[puppppppppy]

doodles of my fav sillies

anton belongs to @poicyss

[s0fter-sin]

retired ghoap going on a renovation competition show

ghost takes over the budget and he's ruthless with it; tracking every paint swatch and piece of lumber down to the last cent, haggling for every purchase and making the most of their coupons. soap's in charge of design; he can visualise floor plans better than anyone, seeing the completed spaces in his mind when they’re little more than a steel shell

they run their site like a military base, treating their builders like rookies; expecting them to follow orders but also waiting for them to inevitably mess up so they can fix it

they're an immediate shock to the judges; they fully expected them to have no idea what they're doing, to have no understanding of style or trends, but they didn't sign up just for shits and giggles

they know how to hit a brief and can do physical labour faster than the actual builders. with soap's discerning eye and ghost's practically, they design gorgeous rooms and become a real threat for the prize money. they handle the stress and sleepless nights like it's second nature bc really, it is; a few all nighters painting are nothing compared to being shot at

they also take great joy in messing with the other couples

it takes a while for them to figure out they're even married; they argue like it's going out of fashion, never holding their opinions or frustrations back but it's their love language as much as their banter. you can hear them barking at each other from across the site; callsigns and “It” and “sergeant” thrown around just like in the field

the challenges are where they have the most fun

the day to day? that's work; they're strict, both with themselves and the schedule, never letting anything fall behind or go incompleted. but the challenges? that's play time. they love pushing the brief, toeing the line of the rules purely bc they can

they get to a two part art challenge and ghost's scheming before before the host even opens their mouth. part one? one half of the couple has to design some kind of art piece that will feature in their house. part two? the other person has to gather supplies and tools and make the art

there's a time limit for how long they can take to gather the supplies; once it's up, they can't go back for more and they can only use what they can carry themselves to their station. they're in a warehouse filled with scrap and paint and tools, the choices almost overwhelming

ghost politely interrupts the host to ask for a clarification; absolutely anything in the warehouse can be used so long as they can carry it?

the host confirms; anything under the roof is their's to use

ghost thanks them and steps back in line, standing at attention and waiting for round one to start

ghost volunteers to be the one to do the art, shocking everyone since soap is well known as the artist of the two of them. but soap sees the mischief in his eyes; he knows he's up to something and can't wait to see where it goes

the timer starts and ghost immediately shucks his hoodie and gets to grabbing; stuffing the impromptu bag with everything he recognises from soap's own supplies. there's seconds to go when he bolts for soap, throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry

the other couples are pissed and call it cheating, trying to get them disqualified

ghost just shrugs, soap still over his shoulder, "they said we can use anything we can carry. i followed the brief"

soap just laughs like a mad man

they win the challenge by a landslide

everything's going smoothly, they've won enough room reveals that they’re in a good financial position, they’re ahead in their current room and in a great headspace

then soap gets injured

it's an honest mistake, a part of the roof they thought was stable collapsing and hitting soap

and ghost, always calm and in control, panics

he's on the other side of the site when he hears soap cry out and goes running; shoving past cameramen and builders, screaming to know what happened before he even sees him. he finds soap on the ground, blood dripping from his temple and it's too familiar; a thing he sees in his nightmares

he doesn't know what to do with all his fear so instead, he channels it into anger

he goes off on all his builders, demanding to know how they could be so useless and careless as to miss the unstable roof; screaming at them in a way he hasn't done since he was on active duty, tearing down a rookie for poor trigger management

all the while, his gentle hands tend to soap; checking the wound, if he's concussed, soothing him before he can slip into a flashback of his own. he growls at the cameras, doesn't let the onsite medics anywhere near him; he doesn't know them, doesn't trust them with his johnny. it's only soap's gentle convincing that makes him step back, that forces him to stop and breathe; glaring the medics down from soap's side as they check him and come to the same conclusion soap already reached

he'll be iust fine; a few stitches and he'll be right back in it

ghost goes with him to the hospital to get the stitches laid, abandoning the site to their terrified builders to look after. it takes a few days before he can handle them being separated again, can't even handle one of them going shopping while the other site manages

but soap doesn't begrudge him for his clinginess, not when he knows it's rooted in the fear of losing him. he just keeps him close and calls him his good luck charm when they win the room reveal that week

[aqrilene]

Simple gentle gestures

(fixing each other's hair in the morning)

[zemi-noelle-art]

So at my work we sell calico critters which are near and dear to my heart, and I've also been super into Trigun Stampede lately, so naturally my brain gave me this wonderful concoction that I had to draw and share with you all.

Also because my coworker suggested it, I made them into stickers! Links below :) Vash sticker Wolfwood sticker

[mintedwitcher]

Since I can't write any bucktommy fics rn (rip to my laptop and pc) I am Graciously Begging for more bucktommy fics that are SOLELY bucktommy (nothing against buddie, love them, but please I want to drown in bucktommy for a little while without the buddie aspect getting in the way)

Anyone taking prompts is very welcome to reply to this or dm me, I have Many Thoughts

[alinalal-art]

SHOP UPDATE !!!!

I've added my new charm designs + sticker versions of them!

Link to my shop here

[ask2ps]

listen. i take you gently by the hands. none of the nations are good people. "you mean the 2ps right?" no. we are talking about the main cast now. "they're just doing their job—" no. when you're a nation your very existence is (at best) a competition and (at worst) a bloody battle for survival. there is a limited amount of space on earth. everyone wants to feel the high (the strength the riches the prestige) of being an empire. for some the fall has made them bitter and unpredictable. for others the fear of collapse makes them paranoid and violent. they are not good people. "well SURELY my little blorbo wouldn't—"

i am shaking you with tears in my eyes!! they are soldiers. they are weapons!!!! there are days they hate themselves for it and days they pride themselves on it!! they aren't human. they aren't human!! even if they want to be, even if they pretend to be, they're not human beings!!! and they are not good people!!!

[strawberrycowtime]

doodles!

closeups under the cut

[grif-hawaiian-rolls]

Is this canon? Technically no.

Is it even In character? Absolutely not!

Do I care? Not really!

Locus is my blorbo and i can put him in annoying situations, like having a small squad of annoying but just-good-enough-to-not-kill-them Feds, if i want to

[maples-wonderland]

ghoul and poison found a child

[cirrus-grey]

Sorry, okay, I don't give two shits about any of the plot or insights dropped in this episode, I'm too stuck on Trevor Herbert, MP.