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islandtarochips · 17 days

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Call of Duty OC: Nigel “Squirrel” Harrison

An American (And a bit of Scottish) male Sergeant who joined forces with the Samoan team. Use to be part of the Shadow Company before deciding to join with Kanoa and Tiala’s team after the incident from Las Almas. Wanting make up everything of what happened from the past. And now starting to make a new beginning for himself.

General:

🐿️ Name: Nigel Harrison 🐿️ Alias(es): Squirrel, Sergeant Harrison, Gel (Only Agnes could call him that) 🐿️ Gender: Male 🐿️ Age: Late 20s 🐿️ Birthday: January 1st 🐿️ Nationality: United State America 🐿️ Place of Birth: Virginia, America 🐿️ Home: Alexandria City, Virginia 🐿️ Spoken Languages: English, Spanish (conversational), Samoan (Learning), Scottish (conversational) 🐿️ Sexuality: Heterosexual 🐿️ Occupation: Sergeant in the Shadow Company (formerly), Sergeant in the Warriors Task Force

Appearance:

🐿️ Eye Color: Green 🐿️ Hair Color: Red Ginger 🐿️ Height: 6'0”/182 cm 🐿️ Scars: Small scar on the corner of his lip (cut by Tiala), a bullet wound on his left and right side 🐿️ Face Claim: Jake Austin Walker

Favorites:

🐿️ Color: Light Green 🐿️ Food: Haggis and Hamburger 🐿️ Drink: Sprite and whisky 🐿️ Flower: Thistle 🐿️ Hairstyle: Short hair but do like it braided nicely (he asked Agnes to French Braided)

Personality:

🐿️ Myers Briggs Type: ESFP Squirrel has a very playful nature. Always making pranks and jokes with his friends and the Captain. Just like he still was back in the Shadow Company (But NONE of the Shadows appreciated that). He enjoys helping people out even mostly helping the Captain for he owe him his life of sparing him back in Las Almas. 🐿️ Sneaky: He's a very sneaky man. Always popping out of nowhere. You won't even hear him coming sometimes. 🐿️ Loyal: He's always loyal to the ones who he trusted the most. He use to be loyal for Graves and the Shadows. But after finding out about their orders from General Shepherd. He question himself if they're even doing the right thing. So after the raiding of the Las Vaqueros base. He was spare by Kanoa and was taken in. So his loyalty to him is 100%. (He might even try to gain Tiala's trust after of what happened to her brother though😅) Negative Traits: 🐿️ Squirrel can be unpredictable at some times. He always get in trouble of having that habit. Can't think straight in a situations that he can't handle (mostly emotionally). After of what happened to Las Almas. He doesn't even know if he should trust his own instinct. 🐿️ He has a tendency of wondering off without even saying anything. Once he's with you and then one second you look away. He's gone.

Skills and Abilities: 🐿️ Fighting Style: Hand-to-Hand Combat, Kickboxing 🐿️ Weapons: AT308, M16 and MK14 🐿️ Distinct Weapons: M17 and Night Stalker Knife 🐿️ Special Skills: Hiding in Plain Sight is his specialty. He knows where to hide that no one will find him until the next day. He even know where to hide his stash that no one knows where it is. Family:

Nick Harrison (Father, Alive)

Rona Harrison (Mother, Alive)

Iona Harrison (Younger Sister, Alive) Trivia:

🐿️ Squirrel is the eldest son of his family and the fun one too. 🐿️ If you needed to prank on someone. Quietly ask Squirrel to help you out. He's the EXPERT of that. And you think him being a sniper is his ONLY expertise? 🐿️ He got that name "Squirrel" by Kanoa. Because of his playful nature like a squirrel and also hiding his food from others too. 🐿️ He was planning to be a CIA agent. Just like his dad but yet ended up being picked by Graves to join the Shadow company instead.

Background Story:

Nigel was born in the state but his blood is Scottish. Just like his mother's side of the family. Except his accent is not like Scotland. If he wanted to, he could.

He's been a prankster ever since he was a boy. Loves to make some gadgets out of scraps and use it on people just for fun. He even got in trouble once in Elementary and once in High School. His mom gave him a good scolding.

His father wasn't around, due to his job. His father has been a CIA Agent for a LONG time ever since he married his mother. He usually sometimes visits Nigel and his mother and his sister. And gave them gifts to make it up for loss times.

Nigel doesn't mind his dad missing out most of the time. He knows that his job is important. And that is what makes him feel so inspired by his dad.

He was planning to take classes in college to earn a degree that is related to a CIA career. But his father doesn't want him to because he needs his son to stay and watch over his mother and little sister. Which Nigel also understands.

His mother could see that Nigel wanted to be like his dad to protect the world. And going on adventure instead of staying home. So being a spoiling mother as she is. She suggested to him that he should sign up for Military.

Which Nigel finds intriguing. So he decided to sign up for it until he was 18.

He finds it hard at first because being a bit scrawny at that time is difficult for him to do some physical training. But he never gives up because he doesn't want to waste his family's expectation of joining this military. So he has to think smart.

During the test. They have decided to train them to hide in plain sight. Squirrel knows he'll be ok because of how much of a good hider he was when he was a kid. Even playing hide-and-seek with his little sister too.

So Nigel have been hiding in a good spot to snipe the opposite team.

And once the higher ups saw this, they were very impressed and decided to enlist him. Nigel already told his family that he got in. And they are VERY proud. Even his dad.

So serving in the military for 7 years now and he's already risen up to the rank of being a Sergeant. He was very proud of himself and started to keep on working hard. And also, his performance had caught the eye of someone who took much more interest in him.

Commander Philip Graves. The leader of the Shadow Company. He saw Nigel’s performance, he saw his potential and he saw his skills as well. He picked him to join his team which Nigel gladly took.

The rest of his story and how he ended from being a Shadow to a Warrior. That would be the story for later. 😉

#sergeant nigel squirrel harrison #nigel squirrel harrison #nigel harrison #call of duty oc #cod oc #call of duty modern warfare oc #call of duty modern warfare original character #call of duty original character

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annachum · 2 months

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Cont. from that Fic where Sansa visits Highgarden and the Graves of Margaery, Renly, Loras and Olenna

The carriage ride from Highgarden back to Winterfell, although rather long, is overall smooth.

No Lannister assasin trying to jump on her and her family, no Baratheon fleet blockade trying to attack her and her siblings.

Great.

As soon as the carriage arrived at Winterfell, the colder air of the North embraced Sansa gently as she stepped out of the carriage into the Castle of Winterfell

It's strange how, only a few years back, she arrived at Kings Landing with her family, being more naive and only 13 then, and trying to fit into Southern culture, only to be betrayed and traumatized by the Lannisters one to many times.

Tyrion divorcing Sansa saved her family in multiple ways, and Sansa is eternally grateful for that act, for she and her family can flee to the North as Cersei targeted them over Joffrey's death.

Yet now, as Queen of the North, even with all that happened, Sansa feels more at home in the North than ever. For the first time in years, the North is finally an independent kingdom once again, away from whatever machination with the late House Lannister

Here in the North, Sansa feels at home

As she entered her dressing room, her attendants immediately got to work to help her change in the dinner meeting with Jon Snow at his tower.

Sansa opted for a dark purple Robe dress in more of Riverlands style, and also a black cloak with silver wolf fur trimmings akin more to Winterfell style. She let a handmaid style her reddish gold hair to a beautiful braided coiffure, as another handmaid gave her a handful of gloves to choose from.

Sansa chose a pair of black finger gloves - a classic Winterfell fashion staple. The North is also known for its gloves and furs in fashions.

As she made a quick work of light pink lip paint, dabbed her freckled cheeks with blush, she wore a beautiful silver crown upon her head, and thanked her handmaids, before Sansa went out of her dressing room to board on that carriage to Jon Snow's tower

Up at Jon Snow's tower at the borders of Winterfell, Jon Snow is pacing back and forth next to the fireplace of his tower's private dining hall. The dishes have already been placed, covered with beautiful silver lids. And Jon Snow smoothed over his navy blue robe as he looked out, in waiting of the Queen of the North.

What could possibly keep her? He wondered.

And on top of that, he had no idea why he was so nervous about this meeting. A dinner with a Queen, yes. He has dined with royals and nobles before, wined with soldiers who fought alongside him battlefields.

But this is totally different, especially when Jon Snow found his heartbeat quicken at the sight of the red haired Queen of the North.

No. He must be careful, and watchful. He cannot risk another heartbreak again, especially after the events concerning Ygritte and Daenerys.

His mind is still racing of the events concerning Ygritte, Daenerys and Sansa as of late, when all at once, his nerves are calmed somewhat when he sees Queen Sansa Stark being escorted out of her carriage to his tower.

' Presenting Her Majesty, Queen Sansa of the North. '

At the sound of a messengers announcement, Jon shuffled himself, and at Sansa's graceful entry, he bowed in genuine deference ans admiration

' Your Majesty - '

' No need for the formalities, Sir Jon. ' Sansa beamed as she motioned him to rise. ' You are also a Stark, remember? "

' Yes, I remember, Majesty. ' Jon stumbled. Pull yourself together, Jon! his little voice screamed inside his head, as he rose.

The dinner was overall smooth. The lamb and root vegetable stew is excellent, the apple cider warm, and the haggis is wonderful.

Even though it is technically a dinner meeting about border guard matters, the 2 gradually relaxed into the meal. Jon can't help but admire how far Sansa has come - from a desperate Princess who rushes to him for help against Ramsey, to now a dignified, wiser Queeb of the North.

' I must compliment the lamb stew, Jon. ' Sansa smiled. ' Brings back of some of the springs my siblings and I have in Riverrun. '

' A new chef from there made it, Majesty. ' Jon remarked.

' Is that so? Splendid, I shall send my regards to the chef later on. ' smiling, Sansa put down her chalice that she drank apple cider from and continued. ' Now, about the border guards - it seems we may need a new upgrade of the retinue of the border fleets. Arya written to me about the trade measures several nations of Essos wish to make with the North. Perhaps it has something to do with the matchmaking of Bran. Again. '

Jon Snow can't help but laugh, but Sansa only laughed along in agreement.

' Well, it seems that your brother has become one of the most eligible bachelors of the 7 Kingdoms. Lucky for him. Your brother has grown into a handsome, wealthy, King of the South. Of course I can't really blame several families trying to recommend brides to him. '

' My brother has to be more careful in these matters. ' Sansa noted. ' He is doing fine so far, with his regency of the South and diplomatic measures with the Bravoosi and all that. I sincerely hope he doesn't make similar mistakes as I did. '

' I understand. ' Jon spoke lowly, with a mixture of understanding and empathy. Yes, both of them made mistakes. Yet they were younger then, and didn't know any better. Now both are working to forgive themselves more on their past mistakes.

' Thus, the Border Guards of Winterfell may need upgrades on the custom checking of goods from Essos, lest there are any assassinations occur. ' Sansa shuddered at that and tried to keep her composure, yet Jon saw right through her attempt at composure - he knew that Sansa is actually concerned about such things. And rightfully so.

' I understand your concerns, my Queen. ' Jon said slowly. ' Yet fear not. As Night Watch, I and the border guards will keep greater watch of any other attacks Essos may have on The North. You have my word. '

Heaving a big sigh of relief, Sansa beamed at him. ' That's a reason why I asked you for help against the Boltons before. Because you are trustworthy. And you have proven it many times. '

' I thank you for such praise, my Queen. ' Jon nodded in respect

The rest of the sinner flowed smoothly, interchanging between on border guard measures, an upcoming diplomatic trip to visit Bran the next few days, and also how their days have been so far. They even enjoyed some stewed apples for desert while sipping some desert wine.

A hundred thoughts wracked through Sansa regarding Kings Landing. She hasn't been there for a time, especially when avoiding Cersei and her wrath about Joffrey's death ( Sansa remembered how her and her family rejoiced at that ). Olenna poisoned Joffrey, not Sansa. But that is a story of another time.

Sansa only hoped that the upcoming visit to Kings Landing can be overall smooth.

#jonsa #jon snow x sansa stark #winterfell #got fanfic

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anhed-nia · 4 months

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I've said it before and I'll say it again: Jeffrey Mandel's 1989 sci-fi horror holiday movie ELVES, about how Nazi occultists plot to perpetuate the master race by having a genetically engineered "elf" mate with virgin mall rats in Colorado, once saved my life.

OK maybe I'm exaggerating for effect, but not a lot. You'll get the idea. I was taking a semester off from college in Portland, ME, a weird dark place where I didn't know anybody besides the people I served coffee to. Despite promises that unhinged losers like myself really blossom in college, I had started failing classes for the first time in my life, I didn't know what to major in, all of my latent mental problems were spinning up fast and no one was taking it seriously at all. So I was by myself on Thanksgiving, trying to figure out how to make the most of the day. I ventured into a whiteout blizzard and got the stuff for a dish my dead mom used to make that seemed simple enough even for a walking disaster area like myself: white rice, green beans, tofu & soy sauce. Naturally I brutalized all of it into an unrecognizable paste. Hungry and feeling nervous about my blackening mood, I decided to visit the appealingly crummy little second-run theater downtown; they still had MEMENTO, so I bought a ticket even though I was 45 minutes early and sat down in the lobby. Pretty soon some big sweaty middle manager guy came over and started hitting on me aggressively. When you're not cute, and especially if you're vulnerable-looking, being hit on is practically never a fun experience; the perp is always someone as desperate as this guy who thinks you have no other choice, so he might start unloading on you about all his favorite movies about knights and wizards and shit, and telling you embarrassingly fake things like "you look just like Rebecca De Mornay in THREE MUSKETEERS!" (we don't even have the same hair color) because he assumes someone like you is starved for attention and maybe you're also stupid enough to buy it. I started to panic and, glancing up at the showtimes, I pretended to be persuaded by his praise for HARRY POTTER AND THE SORCERER'S STONE because it was conveniently starting in five minutes. I bought a ticket, ate the one for MEMENTO, and settled in for two and a half hours of something that had nothing to do with me. When I got out it was still snowing hard, I was still hungry, and sliding into a pretty unstable mindset. There was only one thing left to do, which was to go to Videoport.

Videoport remains the greatest video store I have ever been to in my life. Yes that includes Kim's. During my semester off I got an incredible education there by just renting whatever looked like it was going to freak me out the most, and I was always duly freaked. They had it all, including a big TV with prefab foods liked "canned vegetarian haggis" lined up on top. I'll never forget the can of pork brains whose instructions read DRAIN BRAINS, STIR, something I often say to myself. At the entrance was an iron gate by a local artist that formed famous movie images; here it is with the comic book store owners who moved in after Videoport left. (I also shopped at the comic book store, where the stereotypically jerky clerk had a vanity plate that said VEGETA and once told me that I could pay for my comics with "something besides money")

I started to get the feeling that only Videoport would prevent me from walking into the ocean. Sure enough, their reliable staff picks shelf showed me a movie I could never have imagined. I still watch it and recommend it on the holidays. I love the tag line "THEY'RE NOT WORKING FOR SANTA...ANYMORE!", as if the shocking part of the movie is that the elves used to work for Santa, they just got laid off or quit or something. Grizzly Adams aka Dan Haggerty plays an alcoholic ex-cop who is about to get evicted from his trailer, so in desperation he becomes a department store Santa. Meanwhile, sad teen Kristen performs pagan "Anti-Christmas" rituals with her friends who she draws as goddesses using a suspiciously swastika-like sigil; turns out she's the last pure Aryan specimen in the world, and her Nazi grandfather is plotting to make her the mother of the master race using elves--or really just one "elf" who you only ever see the top or bottom of, and who can't close his mouth. It's up to rude, loud, smelly, smug, self-pitying Dan Haggerty to leap into action and save Colorado from the fourth reich before it's too late...and like, you really want to see how this plays out, I promise. I was totally captivated. I've seen a lot of questionable movies, but there's really nothing like ELVES. It's so funny and weird that I completely forgot how hungry I was, and I definitely stopped feeling alone. It's not an exaggeration to say that it reminded me of why I was alive, which is to seek out increasingly novel and mind-expanding experiences through art until I'm dead. I would simply have to live another day if I ever wanted to find out whether there could possibly be anything stranger than ELVES out there. It's probably still keeping me going on some subliminal level.

So I guess I'm saying that if you don't know what to do with yourself today, watch ELVES! And if you can't find it, watch CHRISTMAS EVIL on Shudder, which is both a great movie and totally mind-blowing. The End.

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#Youtube

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thecaptainsgingersnap · 1 year

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OC Interview Questions - Nature: Gwen

🥀 [WILTED ROSE] How good is your OC at meeting deadlines? What motivates them?

Gwen is great at meeting deadlines. In her line of work, things are often literally life and death, so that's a pretty good motivator.

🌹 [ROSE] Does your OC believe in true love? Why?

She definitely does. Why else would she go to the ends of the earth and be willing to lose everything for a boy shed only meet two days earlier?

🍄 [MUSHROOM] How likely is your OC to eat random berries/mushrooms they find?

Not at all.

🍁 [MAPLE LEAF] What is your OC's favourite season? Why and what do they do during it?

Gwen loves fall. She loves to drive through the countryside looking at the changing leaves.

🍂 [AUTUMN LEAVES] Does your OC view piles of dead leaves as a mess or as fun?

She thinks they're so fun!

🌰 [CHESTNUT] What food group does your OC mostly eat (e.g., grains, fruits)?

Dairy is her favorite (especially peanut butter ice cream)

🏵️ [ROSETTE] What flower symbolises your OC best and why? What does the flower mean in floriography?

A sunflower. She's bright and fun and always looking for the light, but she's also study and tough enough to weather a storm. It stands for strength, happiness, confidence, self-esteem, ambition, devotion, healing, inspiration, loyalty, nourishment, opportunity, pride, vitality, warmth, and wealth

🌻 [SUNFLOWER] Where would your OC get lost in the moment/beauty of the place?

On one of their first dates, Tequila took her hiking in the mountains. They went up this trail for a few miles and at the end there was a ridge with a huge waterfall cascading down into a crystal clear river. The sun was shining on it and they're were rainbows glinting in the spray. It was breathtaking.

💐 [BOUQUET] If you could send your OC a bouquet, what flowers would make it up and what is the overall message?

Yellow roses and sunflowers because I admire her and would want to be her friend.

🌾 [RICE SHEAF] How picky is your OC with food? What will and won't they eat?

She's mildly picky. She'll try anything once but she knows what she likes. She will NOT eat haggis!

🌿 [HERB] Is your OC religious? What do they believe in?

Gwen's not actively religious. She likes to go to church sometimes on holidays just for tradition's sake and she pays when things are especially dire but mostly she just believes in being nice and trying to do as much good as she can.

☘️ [SHAMROCK] How passionate is your OC about things they love/hate?

Gwen would go to themes of the earth for the people/things she cares about. She would also go to war to fight something she hates.

🍀 [FOUR LEAF CLOVER] Would your OC spend hours looking for a four leaf clover?

🌲 [EVERGREEN] What does your OC's dream treehouse look like? What tree is it built upon?

Gwen is more of an underground tech workshop kind of girl.

🌳 [DECIDUOUS] What's your OC's favourite thing to do at the park?

She likes to play with her dog Winslow

🍃 [FALLEN LEAF] What's the darkest period of time your OC has been through?

After her dad died while trying to stop Poopy. She was... Not good for awhile.

🌵 [CACTUS] How physically resilient is your OC?

Very, she's a Kingsman.

🌱 [SEEDLING] What new passions/hates is your OC discovering?

Since meeting the Statesman she's developed a great interest in both liquor making and the rodeo.

🌴 [PALM TREE] What are the stops on your OC's dream cruise? What boat are they on?

Gwen isn't really a cruise person. The thought of being out in the middle of the ocean with no way to get to shore until the boat docks gives her anxiety.

🌸 [CHERRY BLOSSOM] Does your OC believe in legends/myths?

She lives in Scotland. Their national animal is a unicorn. Of course she does.

💮 [WHITE FLOWER] Has your OC ever kissed someone? Who, when, and where?

*gestures to Tequila* next question?

🌺 [HIBISCUS] What does your OC think is the prettiest name?

Arabella

🌷 [TULIP] What is your OC's favourite flower and colour?

Sunflowers and blue

Nature Asks

#Gwen Arabell Macintosh #Kingsman #Kingsman oc #My ocs

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theadventurerslog · 4 months

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The Curse of Monkey Island | Part 3

In which I continue the exploration of Plunder Island and work on getting a map, ship and crew. It was time to visit the Barbery Coast.

And Guybrush explains his presence before realizing it might not have been the best idea to talk about his solid gold girlfriend in front of pirates, barbers though they may be.

We've got some people to talk to here.

Edward VanHelgen: Not The! That's right, Edward 'Snugglecakes' VanHelgen. He wanted to enjoy the music of the sea without the dangers and so started a Barbershop Quartet! But they still needed money, so they opened an actual shop. They're also lacking a fourth member to be a quartet.

You can ask him about any cool pirate stories and he'll tell the story of a doomed voyage in which the crew was stricken with a melody. Incessant humming amongst the crew drove most of them mad and they returned with only 8 crew members. The melody is the main theme for Monkey Island. La la la la laaaa

You can also audition to the be the fourth member of their barbershop quartet!

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Which is best heard for Guybrush's dulcet tones. I just love goofy extra things like this. And there are so many options! It could have been a one song and done deal, but they went for it. They're all entertainingly bad options, but 'There's a monkey in my pocket' has genuinely stuck with me for some reason. And as it gets referenced again in a future game, I guess I'm not the only one.

Once I was done torturing Edward, I also had the opportunity to ask him to join my crew. He won't unless I can best him in a gentleman's duel and can't initiate that without giving him sufficient insult. Some options pop up, such as the cutting "You big old bed-wetting doody head." None of them work, however.

I can actually do this now, but I wanted to save it for later. So moving on to...

Bill, that is Cutthroat Bill: Here's a salty pirate who likes treasure. Like Edward you can ask for a pirate story and he'll regale you with the tale of their captain with a special sense for treasure. He led them out one time but after sailing around for a while the crew's jewelry and belt buckles and whatnot were throwing him off. So, they dumped all that and set sail again for two years finding nothing until they came back to Puerto Pollo to find treasure just off the shore! ...belt buckles and jewelry and whatnot.

He's fine with his job, but not particularly enthusiastic. Not that he is about anything... but just really exudes joy here.

Utmost sarcasm.

You can ask him to join your crew but he refuses to have you as a captain if you haven't found any treasure. So we gotta find some treasure to lure him in.

If you examine him: "He's a salty pirate. Sucking on some candy." That's important. You can ask him about the candy and it's a jawbreaker, but trying to get anything more about it from him doesn't go anywhere. However, if you slap on his back, he chokes on the jawbreaker. Slap him again and he spits it out where it's then free for the taking. Ick.

In normal mode the jawbreaker is already on the floor in all its hairy, spit-covered disgusting glory. If I remember right from my first time playing this mode I discovered slapping Bill's back to make him choke by complete accident and then that led to the solution, so it all worked out.

Haggis McMutton: Won't talk yet because he's busy cutting the hair of one...

Captain Renee Rottingham: "Only the most cunning and well-groomed captain to sail the Caribbean." Who won't really give me the time of day either, but will sure supply the snobbery. He doesn't believe Guybrush is a mighty pirate. If Guybrush is a mighty pirate, then he's bald.

You can ask him to join your crew too, but that's only laughable to him.

He needs to be removed so we can talk to McMutton. There are various dialogue options to taunt him about possible hair problems, or try to get him out but none of them are the answer. Just fun to bother him because he's an arrogant snot.

Other more extreme methods were needed. There's a comb that the barber periodically picks up while he's working on Rottingham's hair. That comb can't be picked up, but we can add something to it. The lice!

McMutton is horrified by them and there's only one option to deal with this. Amputation (of the hair.) To Rottingham's utter horror--his hair will be ruined! His hair will be outright removed is what it'll be.

And then McMutton tosses him out, so I can finally talk to him. Who's bald now!

A few things of note about Haggis McMutton here:

Like the others he has a story to tell about his former captain and crew who'd tried to get treasure but weren't strong enough then their rival came and got it with tools. Very sad.

His best pair of scissors that can cut through anything are stuck in the ceiling where they landed after they flew out of his hands when he was cutting hair too fast. He won't give them up though; they can cut through anything.

You can ask for a haircut which gets Guybrush in the chair. From there you can kick away the paperweight from the book causing McMutton to lose his page, so he'll leave to find another. Then the chair handle can be fiddled with enough times to get Guybrush to raise it all the way to the ceiling to grab the scissors. McMutton then returns without a replacement rock so he'll have to eyeball the haircut and Guybrush gets out of there.

McMutton is another crew member possibility but Guybrush has to prove his strength first by beating him in a caber toss. This is something that can be tried immediately as well, so it was off to the field of battle.

Where we promptly lose, basically knocking over his trunk instead of even throwing it. McMutton would never follow such a weak captain.

And a last detail in this shop:

All the portraits along the wall have a rhyming bit about the kind of hair styling/cut they got. I also tried picking up all the portraits. They all have some variation on not wanting it because of how ugly it is, except the parrot. The parrot is good. The parrot is the only good art in here. I feel like I have tried to pick up the parrot portrait before but I don't usually for the others. That was less familiar anyway.

Long live Crackers the Parrot. Well, his portrait anyway. He only lived a year...

Normally, I would leave at this point now I have the scissors. But, I have what I need to insult Edward and duel him, so I figured I'd get it done right away for a change. A gentleman's duel is initiated with the slap of the white glove and so it's to the field of battle once more!

Where you're given a choice of pistols. You can grab any of them, it doesn't matter.

But once you grab a pistol the duel starts and you immediately lose.

Edward is just that speedy and fires as soon they both turn around. And gloats.

Pistols aren't the answer. You know what is the answer?

In that pistol choice, you can flip the middle box's lid to reveal a banjo case in full. Choose the banjo! Even Guybrush is surprised that Edward accepts. Commence the Banjo Duel and greatness.

I love this bit so much. There are a lot of stand-out moments in this game. This is one of them. This is a bit I remember seeing our parents play through. I remember them laughing at this and I remember knowing what to do when getting to this point myself.

You just have to match the strings that Edward plays and there are three rounds with an increasing number of notes played, starting with 4 notes and ending with 6. Once you get through that though, Edward gets real serious and starts rocking out with his banjo and Guybrush has no chance of following him. But we're given full control again and there are always other methods...

The pistols are still available, so grab one and use it on Edward's banjo.

Blam.

One busted banjo, putting an end to that showoff.

Edward's impressed by such a lowdown trick. Guybrush is a real pirate after all! And so Edward is happy to join the crew. First crew member acquired!

That's everything that could be done at the Barbery Coast for now. With the scissors I was able to go cut through that jungle that was blocking the route to Danjer Cove. Doing so also cut off an ipecac flower that was added to the inventory.

That took me to a clifftop and a variety of items and a sign... Snake Crossing...

As soon as you try to move the reason for that sign becomes apparent.

One snakey ambush.

And one eaten Guybrush. Well, swallowed anyway. I don't know that you can really say eaten; he's fine. For now. Just jammed in there...

The various items scattered around would all be helpful in this snake situation, such as a snake beating club, high fibre bran cereal, or jaws of life. But, of course, Guybrush can't reach them from inside a snake. There is however quite a collection of items the snake swallowed that's free for the taking.

A whole bunch of items.

Most of them are useless but the are a few important things here:

encyclopedia most of which is too battered or digested to read, but there is a page about what a compass is

reservation slip for Blondebeard's Chicken Shop

syrup

Now there was that sign earlier talking about how the ipecac flower was used as purgative. That was an important hint for this part. You gotta use the ipecac flower with the syrup to make syrup of ipecac then use it with the snake.

And the snake vomits Guybrush out.

All good!

Or not... out of the frying pan into the fire, as we've landed in quicksand. And unfortunately, most of the stuff from the snake got sucked out by the quicksand, except for the encyclopedia and reservation.

This was another area I remember being stuck in when I was a kid. But there are a few things here for use or for information:

sign from a former naturalist talking about quicksand before devolving into asking for help...

reeds

Pappapishu Bush, which according to its sign, it was named by the Plunder Island indigenous people and named after their word meaning 'Youch!". The fun thing about examining that is that Guybrush will start saying Pappapishu at points he'd say ouch, like when getting a thorn off that bush

life saving vine - can't reach

branch pinning the life saving vine down

So, the vine is needed here, but it needs to be freed. You have to attach one of the helium balloons (had from the start of the game) to the paperweight which makes the rock float. Then attach the thorn to the reed to make a peashooter.

Blow on the balloon to float the rock over the branch and vine, then use the peashooter to pop the balloon dropping the rock and freeing the vine, so Guybrush can pull himself out. And we're free! And from there it takes us to Danger Cove.

Unfortunately, there's not much to be done at Danger Cove yet. The pirate ship that stole Elaine can be seen but the only way over is a boat with a hole that makes it useless until the hole is patched up. It's a nice little area though! I like the waterfall--obligatory waterfall screenshot.

Now that I had a reservation it was off to Blondebeard's. There is quite a bit to do here starting with Blondebeard himself who has plenty to say:

First: He's all out of chicken, so there's not much to serve, all thanks to...the devil chicken, El Pollo Diablo! He's sure this giant evil chicken is out for revenge, unleashing all his chickens and eventually...coming for him. But he'll be ready to take him on and solve his chicken crisis.

The devil chicken.

Second: You can ask him to join your crew, but he's offended at the idea of leaving his shop.

Third: You find out he's a member of the Brimstone Beachclub but lost his membership card during an awful sneezing fit in the kitchen while preparing chicken.

Fourth: He has a gold tooth. Very admirable. Very...gold.

Fifth: He's running behind on a delivery to the mangy pirates in Danjer Cove and warns not to go near them. If you're caught near their boat you'll be tortured for sure.

Sixth: And finally conversation leads to him craving something hard and crunchy to crack his teeth on. He's missing his bucket o' beaks due to the chicken shortage.

As for the shop itself there are yet more things:

First: Barrel of 'Biscuits 'n' More.' Buttery tasty biscuits. You can grab one, bite it and... eugh, there are maggots in there. Congrats, there's the more. But both biscuit and maggots are added to the inventory.

Second: There's a pie plate and biscuit cutter off to the side that can both be scooped.

Third: There's a quiet patron sitting at the table with a gross crusty greasy roast chicken, I guess the last one. He won't respond if you talk to him and you can slap him on the back causing him to fall over the table and is then revealed to be a skeleton with a knife in his back. One of LeChuck's skeletal horde who insulted Blondebeard's chicken and Blondebeard wasn't having that. He also has an "Ask me about Grim Fandango" button. Yeah, he's an ad and reference to Grim Fandango, but you get the knife. And Grim Fandango is a great game, so it's deserved.

Fourth: The chicken. If you use the maggots on it they eat all the meat leaving only the bones and a Brimstone Beachclub membership card. That was one heck of a sneeze. This is another Mega Monkey thing. In normal mode the chicken is already gone and the bones are there with the card on full display.

Fifth: There's a menu you can examine to see all kinds of items that are served. There are several, including the biscuits of which the comment changes if you've already tried them. Guybrush is grossed out. There are other things too like Blondebeard's Mashed Taters.

Mashed chitin and flour mixed with coconut milk.

It took me a few plays to release the menu was split into multiple parts--mains, sides and drinks--and you could examine them each multiple times for multiple results. Doing this affects some dialogue later too!

And finally back to Blondebeard's gold tooth. There's the gold we need for treasure. He wanted something crunchy, so give him the jawbreaker. That loosens his gold tooth and then he wants something fleshy and chewy instead. So, give him the steak flavoured gum. He blows a bubble with it and inside the bubble is the tooth.

Pop the bubble with the needle causing the tooth to fall out. And it's free for the grabbing. In normal mode you'd be able to grab it and walk out. Not so in Mega Monkey and I still remember being startled when I tried to walk out only to be stopped by Blondebeard who searches you and takes the tooth back. So, another way to get the tooth is needed. I'd gotten stuck back then here too.

But what you have to do is, chew some gum yourself that gives you chewed gum, add the tooth to the chewed gum, suck in some helium from the helium balloons, chew the gum again and Guybrush will blow a bubble that will then float away out the open window.

There'll be a rattling sound from outside. Go outside and there's a drain pipe and mud puddle.

Use the pie pan on the mud to pan for gold.

And presto we have a gold tooth.

I brought it back to Cutthroat Bill who took the gold tooth and is now willing to join my crew.

2/3 crew members acquired!

And I now have all the materials I need to start work on getting Haggis to join, and I can get moving toward the map and ship as well. Next time!

#monkey island #the curse of monkey island #CMI #CMI_Log #adventure games #LucasArts

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dykemd · 10 months

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Have you ever tried haggis? Very white people food but with some flavor for once. I went to UK for an exchange trip and it was the only thing I enjoyed other than their ethnic food. Everything else just make me homesick (I'm Jamaican)

never had it but i always wanted to try!! i think all food cooked in animals stomach is gonna be good as hell tho we have something similar here buchada de bode n it’s delicious frrrrr 🤤

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harmonyandriley2022 · 2 years

Text

Sinn Fein.

I'm not an IRA sympathiser on the contrary my family kill terrorist groups no lie but Sinn Fein have kept their political eye on the fucking ball they take nothing for granted their eyes are open their ears listen and hear and their brains are working they are politicians it's about time other political party politics organisations wake the fuck up and throw the European Union in the sea.

England will fucking drive Scotland and Wales into the fucking sea if they want to fuck up the Union and go to war with England and we will take the landscape so turn on England and we will smash you again this time there won't be a fucking Scotland and Wales so unite Ireland if you want we will make sure you are taking Wales and Scotland to stay in fucking Ireland.

I tell you this about England and the English you fucking Scotland leader the Pink Haggis Nicola Sturgeon and the Rapespawn leader of Wales Mark Drakeford before you break up the Union you will have to wage war against England and frankly speaking we carry you through the valley of the shadow of death.

Pack your fucking bags and get the fuck off our lands we tolerate you out of respect for you and ourselves we give you the tools to prevail and you want war with England and the English it is then time once again to show you why you hate us because you are cowards and we are ruthless proud resourceful and flexible and unrelenting destructive power and we fight against the tyranny of the corruption against our enemies if you can't remember what the English do to you when you are lazy cowardice and devious backstabbing bastards then try and attack the English.

You are attacking the English In a cowardice and devious nature.

I for one won't touch a Scottish or Welsh citizen I would just tell it how it is and prepare for war against Scotland and Wales via their leaders and wipe them out.

Be grateful I am not the Great British Prime Minister.

Scotland and Wales and Northern Ireland are the Union with unlimited potential to be realised deliberately sabotaging the people of those countries and imposing deliberately coordinated suffering and injustice upon the free people of those countries for the realisation of the destruction of their history to satisfy terrorist groups leaders is worthy of war.

If Scotland and Wales want war with England and the English then you won't be able to border England outside of the Great British Union get in small boats and head for France and the European Union and Germany.

I welcome your war against England and the English people I will drown you all you fucking cowards then Scotland and Wales and Northern Ireland can be powerful and capable and effective.

I have Bajan blood I have English blood whatever you want to threaten my family and friends and children then fucking really fight.

Wales and Scotland learned nothing about freedom and justice.

The European Union is not freedom and justice for Scotland and Wales and Northern Ireland it is a more hostile chastising and corrupted union than the one you can't make work for you now.

You are part of Greatest Britain today and I would have your heads on spikes for betrayal outside of Westminster.

Fuck you pathetic fools called the leaders of Scotland and Wales and Northern Ireland.

Come on over and stop bitching about the English and England and get slaughtered by the English and driven off this island and go home to your European Union masters you fucking cowards.

We will make sure your lands are precious and productive and English.

Fuck the Union there is only England and the Unions is over the sea in France where the corruption is bring your own little Union to war against the English and we smash you all the way to fucking Morocco you filth.

Fucking Cowards.

Cut loose the anchor and make sail for freedom and justice and war against the tyranny of the corruption deport the Scottish and the Welsh they want war against England and the English so give them fucking war.

Scotland and Wales and Northern Ireland and England are the same we massacred each other we are fighters and warrior tribes preoccupied with war and death in the end one tribe won out the English we could have wiped out Scotland Wales and Northern Ireland so we compromised and created a great union today the weak selfish and pathetic fools called the leaders of Scotland and Wales and Northern Ireland so blinded by their own sense of inadequacy and the failure to recognise their own destiny and their potential to be realised turn on England and the English good we can finish you off and take our Island of England to glory.

You weaponise devolution and you forget that you are going to be slaughtered by the English today good good fuck off you weak selfish and pathetic fools called the leaders of Scotland and Wales and Northern Ireland.

England and the English are here fucking attack us in open warfare you cowards you political party politics freaks we will do to you today what you think you remember and more ruthless than you think you can create against us will be served upon you.

You homeless wanderers of the former Great Britain drift away and disperse your blood lines and heritage and culture and history and tradition and identity across Africa and the European Union and the Middle East begging for your future that is dead and gone.

Get the fuck off this land this Island of England and the English and fucking leave Greatest Britain today and swim for France where the master of Scotland and Wales and Northern Ireland lives one..

Monsieur Macron.

And then you can hate an infinitely more powerful and effective and efficient and reliable and trustworthy and honest and sincere and dedicated and focused country called ENGLAND.

Face it Wales and Scotland and Northern Ireland are mislead by the weakest small minded imbeciles all I know is for the last fourteen years an elite weapon of judicial system knowledge beyond touch an enigma named Keir Starmer retracted my name my life my experiences my learned education my promise of access to justice my voice my identity and my family and friends and children and their own lives I was left with one response to the corruption.

I will distance myself from Leann Harmony and Riley and Ruby Bella until the children are too old to be stolen from their Mother and build a dossier of evidence to expose corruption and the arrangement of the theft of children to silence investigation into the Greatest Britain Police Forces Corruption by families misrepresented in court and sent to jail their children and their families and friends destroyed to cover up corruption.

Well now yeah I almost died but I didn't die did I assholes...

I and no one else I and no one else I Mark Anthony Ward has single handed over fourteen years of isolation and intimidation stood up and fought for the key to unlock the door of mass fraud and deliberately enforced and utter coordinated organisational structure of corruption.

The challenge was to attract the attention and the power of the Great British citizens and residents and businesses and individuals within the media to a point where my evidence hard one individually became plausible and too truthful for deniability.

Keir Starmer has been decimated by the truth about my children and their Mother Leann he was going to be our Great British Prime Minister and I stopped him just before my youngest child my son Riley's sixteenth birthday.

I struggle every day and night with the sheer magnitude of the task and for twelve years I fought for the justice of all Great British citizens and their children and their families two years ago I fell down not out but down and I fell hard and the Metropolitan Police and the London Ambulance Services Paramedics and the Samaritans asked me to explain what the fuck I was going on about and respected that through their own sense of conscience they had just had enough of my suffering from the Labour party politics and saved me.

My evidence was true and I was going to die alone and terrified and haunted and silenced.

They decided to save myself from myself.

They saved my fucking life and so they should.

Mark Anthony Ward @ Harmony & Riley 2022 Potential Realised.

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captainpikeswoman · 3 years

Note

Trying to get Bones to become more cultured, I feel like he only eats and drinks the same thing 😂😂 AOS or TOS up to you xx

Hope you like it!

Trying to get AOS Bones to expand his food and drinks tastes would include:

-he’s very set in his ways, which is fine! You respect his tastes and desire to stay true to himself at all times. But as you point out regularly, that doesn’t mean that he can’t try things!

-to which he points out, he’s friends with a wild pain in the backside called James T Kirk, so he’s tried plenty of things, the vast majority of which he really doesn’t want to try again.

-but with a few minutes of flattering your eyelashes and pouting at him he soon comes around. (He complains bitterly about how he’s a human god dammit and he doesn’t have a heart of stone, and how you seem to have him firmly wrapped around your little finger.)

-you’re not cruel though, you don’t want to just dump him in the deep end as it were. You start off by introducing him to other cuisines and tasty non alcoholic drinks that are from Earth. He discovers that he really loves Mexican food!

-somehow Scotty discovered that you were getting Bones to try new foods, so he insisted on doing a dinner party for all senior staff and the theme was Scottish foods. Most of it was very nice indeed, you even tried Haggis and managed to get Bones to try it too…it was unusual for sure, but both of you agreed you’d have to try it again in future to see how you really felt about it.

-only once he was comfortable with eating a variety of different dishes did you expand your culinary horizons to off world tasty treats!

-Orion food was a great hit with you both! It was like a sensuous experience to eat. The drinks however…had some unusual side effects, resulting in a few uncomfortable issues that could only be remedied by the hasty administration of some hyposprays. But that didn’t put either of you off the food, it was too good.

-you insisted that the two of you try some Vulcan dishes, Bones believed that this would be pointless and Vulcan food was bland in taste but it did have great nutritional value. And even though he put up the most resistance to trying Vulcan dishes and then moaned bitterly about how boring they were and how much he didn’t like them, you found it amusing how often you’d find him having a bowl of Plomeek soup during a snack break at his desk. (You never mentioned it though, you didn’t want to undo the good work you’d done).

-all in all it turned out to be a lot of fun trying different foods and drinks from Earth and other planets. It became less about expanding his palate in the end, and more about discovering and appreciating other cultures. And the bonus is that it did change what he ate and drank, he ended up having a broader taste than you!

#star trek alternate original series #star trek aos #star trek x reader #star trek imagine #star trek headcanons #aos bones #aos dr mccoy #dr mccoy x reader #dr mccoy headcanons #dr mccoy imagine

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crispyafterdark · 1 month

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And now, a good scene from Fugget About It, featuring the hot and shirtless strongman, Angus MacTavish!

#shirtless #muscular #Angus MacTavish #fugget about it #you only try haggis once #hairy chest

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kangaroo-sniper-imagine · 3 years

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Mercs and dinner duty

Engie

Most likely to cook. Mostly stews, chilis, meatloaf, roast chicken; heavy, hearty meals. Has a meal equation; meat, starch (noodles, rice, potatoes, corn), root vegetables (carrots, radishes, turnips) and non-root veggie (broccoli, beans, peas). Good home cooked meal. Once refused to cook for a month because he felt underappreciated, and everyone came crawling back and begging because he’s the only one to remember the vegtables

Spy

Good food, a little over dramatic tho. Steaks and lamb, honey glazed carrots or roasted small potatoes; pretentious foods. It tastes good! But it takes all day to make, and like every French cook, he uses a shit ton of wine, and drinks most of it. By the time dinner rolls around he’s buzzed and acts insulted if someone doesn’t like 100% of the meal

Medic

Lots of potatoes. He doesn’t mean too, it’s just that he cooks what his mother cooked for him, and, well, he’s German. It’s potatoes and sausage, cuz it’s easy and quick to make and he’s a busy guy. Sometimes he’ll get inspired and try to make something “outstanding” and he either nails it and everyone rejoices, or he fails and everyone has food poisoning for a week.

Sniper

Not as bad as everyone would assume. Mick is a mama’s boy and was at her hip in the kitchen when she cooked. They’re simple meals; grilled cheese and tomato soup, meat pies, homestyle macaroni and cheese, shepherd's pie, etc. All really nostalgic, really, and he knows all the recipes by heart. Mick loves cooking on the base kitchen because the one in his trailer is way too small.

Heavy

Cooks the same meal every time it’s his turn to cook dinner. His mother’s borscht and rye bread. He wakes up early to make the bread and is very careful preparing the borscht. It’s his favorite food and it reminds him of home and his family, and he is honored to make it every time. When he sees the cleaned out bowls, he smiles and can’t wait to tell his mother when he sees her next that all of his teammates love her food.

Scout

Can’t cook alone. Not because he can’t be left unsupervised, but if you had seen my Scout HC post, I believe that Jeremy can only cook with others around because, to him, it’s supposed to be a family ordeal. So usually Spy, Pyro, or Demo help him. He makes big family dinners, like spaghetti and meatballs, ham and cabbage, and lasagna. It taste good, if not simple, but you’d be surprised who fights to help Jeremy cook because he just act so happy and grounded when he does

Demo

To be a bit of a bastard, because frankly he loves cooking but loves pranking his team more, he makes traditional Scottish food. And if you don’t know, some traditional Scottish food is terrible. He made haggis before and all but Medic was disturbed for days. And right as he’s about to be removed from the dinner duty rotation, he makes something stellar like a fish dish and he stays on for another month before the discussion of kicking him out comes back

Soldier

Good, old fashioned american food! Baked ham, cornbread, he grills so much food, it’s like a cookout. He’ll try and grill anything at least once. In all honesty, Jane is actually better at baking, but it’s his secret skill that no one has figured out yet

Pyro

Banned from the kitchen. They can help, but they aren’t allowed to be unsupervised, for obvious reasons

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 engineer #tf2 spy #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 heavy #tf2 scout #tf2 demoman #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro

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halfmoonshines · 2 years

Note

Could you do a Bucky x Scottish reader? She introduces him to her cultural foods and music at a festival? Or it could be the whole team. Just fun and games and everyone not hating haggis and Cullen skink, deep fried Mars bars (good god I’m drooling)

Of course! Disclaimer that I'm American through and through, so google was my best friend during this but I tried to capture it as best I could <3 If you want it differently let me know and I can always rewrite. (Also I literally watched YouTube videos of Scottish music festivals)

Bucky x Scottish!Reader

Immersion

You felt the laugh bubble out of you, the beat of the drums awakening something you'd been missing lately. You glanced back at the man who's hand you had a firm hold of, proud to see Bucky's awestruck face as you pulled him through the crowd at the music festival.

You hadn't felt this free in a long time, it was good to be home. The sound bagpipes, accented by the swift drum beat drowning your senses. To your left there was a large patch of grass cleared of everyone save the stomping of peoples feet, dancing happily around each other. Your goal for your fiance however was the line of food stands that wrapped around the edge of the property.

Once you'd cleared the main crowd, Bucky walked in pace beside you, squeezing your hand. You glanced up at him with a smile, squeezing back.

"You okay?" You checked in.

He nodded, pulling you to a stop for a moment and leaning down to press his lips to yours. You accepted happily, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to deepen it, pulling him down to you.

By the time he pulled away you were both breathless, he brought one hand up to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing across your bottom lip and you smiled up at him. "Having fun, then?"

"I haven't ever experienced something like this. Plus," He placed one more chaste kiss on your lips. "You're positively glowing."

Your smile only widened, resuming your path back to the food. "Only because I have amazing company."

You caught Sam's eye, him standing at the edge of the crowd just kind of observing what was going on and you were quick to change paths, making a beeline for where he was standing watch.

"Sam!" You exclaimed, grabbing one of his hands with your free one and towing both boys behind you. "Come with us."

Sam looked at Bucky curiously and he just shrugged, gesturing to you in a what are you going to do? fashion.

You pulled them both to a stop in front of a stand and ordered three helpings of something that came in a styrofoam cup before turning and offering the boy one each.

They both looked uncertain, and you couldn't blame them. "Just try it."

"I don't know, Doll. It looks a bit..."

"Rancid?" Sam finished, ever the helpful.

You put your hands on your hips, not at all entertained. "Try it now. I promise that you'll love it."

Both of the boys spared each other a glance before simultaneously taking a bite. You were delighted at the look of shock on their faces, both of them going in for a second bite.

"What is this?" Sam inquired. Bucky was too busy shoving it in his face.

"Cullen Skink." You announced proudly, eating your own helping hungrily.

Bucky twitched a bit, continuing to eat his. "Maybe I didn't want to know what it was called."

Sam nudged him, shaking his head. "Whatever you say Buck, but you can't deny that this is straight fire. Is this what I've been missing without the Scottish experience?"

Bucky threw his cup into the bin nearby, having wolfed his down, and wrapped his arms around your waist. "I think I have the best Scottish experience, if we're being honest."

You giggled, discarding your own cup and leaning back in his arms. Sam just rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to go find Wanda, but ya'll keep being sickly sweet."

"We will." Bucky replied with a kiss to the top of your head while you waved a goodbye to Sam. "Where to next, sweetheart?"

"Well it's time for dessert." You said, pulling away from him and grasping his hand once again.

His smile was almost feral. "I think I know just what I want."

You laughed, turning from him. "Later, Sergeant. It's time for deep fried mars bars."

Bucky's eyebrows flew up to his hairlines. "I'm both scared and intrigued."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnesxreader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x scottish!reader #my works #marvel #mcu

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hummingbird-of-light · 2 years

Text

Desideria Praeterita

Part 61

Scotty

They soon enough had dinner together. They chatted about the flights, about America, about their jobs and lives.

But no one dared to mention Khan. Scotty was quite happy about that. He wasn’t ready at all to talk about his ex-boyfriend yet. He could see the looks his mother and brother gave him, but they didn’t ask about anything that had happened in the last years.

“Tomorrow I’ll show ye all of Aberdeen, mo gràdh. Ye’ll love it! The architecture, the nature. If ye want we can travel a bit outside of town.”

Leonard chuckled softly. He still looked tired as hell. And slowly but surely Scotty felt his own eyelids getting heavier. The excitement was slowly leaving his body, the food made him feel warm.

“I’d love that Scotty. Maybe I will learn even more about your Gaelic then.”

Oh yes, he would! Scotty would teach his love everything he knew.

Maybe he could even get Leonard to eat some haggis! In the States it was forbidden but in Scotland McCoy would get the chance to try it.

Scotty was just so happy that he’d be able to show his boyfriend his country of origin.

“So, do you live here with your mum, Robbie?” McCoy eventually asked and the Scotsman shrugged.

“Yes, I do. My wife and I divorced nine years ago. It wasn’t always easy for Chris, but… we made it through that time,” Robbie explained and Scotty felt his own body tense.

He knew about Leonard’s ex-wife… but Leonard didn’t know that.

“What about ye, Leonard? Ever been married?”

Scott could see his love swallow hardly. What would he say?

Part 62

McCoy

The love and joy around the Scott’s dining table was wonderful. The knowledge that they would eventually have to talk about Khan was there, but pushed aside for now. McCoy could see the questions in his boyfriend’s family’s eyes, but they were waiting. That was for later. Now was for reconnecting.

“What about ye, Leonard? Ever been married?” Robbie asked after McCoy had asked if Robbie lived in the house too.

McCoy swallowed and glanced at Scotty. He hadn’t told his love about Jocelyn. He wasn’t trying to hide or keep it from him, he just really didn’t like to think back on that mistake.

He nodded slightly. “Uh, yes actually. We were high school sweethearts. Married after college. But it just wasn’t meant to be.” He looked at Scotty again. “Worked out though, or I wouldn’t have met my real love.”

Scotty smiled at him at those words. What was he thinking about him for never saying anything? McCoy’s anxiety began to rise. Was Scotty mad he’d never said anything about being married before? In fairness, Scotty had never asked. McCoy couldn’t tell what his boyfriend felt about this admission. Scotty’s face wasn’t giving anything away.

“No kids Leonard?” Mrs. Scott asked.

“No ma’am. Which was probably a good thing with how badly the divorce went.”

McCoy’s heart gave a queer beat. There were still times he wished they had had a child. Some little person he could scoop up and hold close; who’d call him ’daddy’ and he could teach about everything.

He tried to hide a yawn behind his hand. The long day was beginning to really press in on him, especially now after a good meal.

“Oh my,” Mrs. Scott exclaimed. “You lads have had such a long day; we should let you get some rest!”

“I’m sorry,” McCoy said when he and Scotty were alone in their room after Mrs. Scott had bustled them off to go rest.

“For what mo ghràdh?”

“For not telling you about Jocelyn.” McCoy pulled back the covers and laid down, keeping his eyes on Scotty.

“I knew,” Scotty said quietly.

“What? How?” McCoy was taken aback.

“Jim mentioned it once,” Scotty admitted as he climbed into the bed next to McCoy.

“You’ve never asked? Weren’t you curious?”

“Aye. But I figured if you wanted to talk about it you would. I didn’t want to be nosy.”

A smile crossed McCoy’s face and he reached to pull Scotty close.

“Thank you. Do you want to know about it?”

“Only if you want to share mo ghràdh,” Scotty replied.

“Her name is Jocelyn. Married after college. Went to hell after I went through med school. I was working long hours and she was seeing someone behind my back.”

“Oh Leonard!” Scotty said with wide eyes.

“Took a long time to get past the wondering what I could have done better. We fought it out tooth and nail and I moved as far as I could get at the time. But it meant I met you.”

McCoy ran his fingers through Scotty’s hair. “And I couldn’t be happier.”

#star trek #montgomery scott #dr leonard mccoy #scones #robbie scott #mrs scott #past mccoy/jocelyn #au #desideria praeterita

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 3 years

Text

Gold Rush

Finally venturing into writing for Brock, and so excited to put this out there!! Very appreciative of the encouragement I’ve gotten throughout this from @brockadoodles who had (rightfully so, man deserves it) made loving Brock her BRAND. If there was any hockey who’s made to be a dad, it’s Brock Boeser, and I’ve genuinely loved getting to put this together. Love hearing feedback and what your favorite parts were, so reblog and pop into my inbox!

word count: 3.8k+

Brock had loved kids his whole life. Being around them, looking after them, the first day a kid asked him to autograph his jersey was burned into his brain alongside precious few other memories, most of the others involving you. And anyone who had ever seen him with Easton could tell that Brock Boeser loved babies. He had wanted kids since he was old enough to know what being a dad was, and knew so strongly that was a path he wanted — needed, honestly, there was too much love in his heart to not share it with everyone he could — that he wouldn’t ever have let things get serious with you if that wasn’t a life you wanted for yourself. Parenthood wasn’t for everyone, and he never held it against the women he had dated who didn’t want to be moms, but it was for Brock Boeser.

He remembered the day he brought it up with you, his voice soft and hesitant as your head rested on his shoulder, a blanket thrown haphazardly over their laps as Return of the Jedi played on the TV. “Do you want kids someday?” Brock asked. He spoke gently, not wanting to scare you off with thoughts of the future coming too fast for you to handle, wondering if maybe seven months into a relationship was too early to bring up the type of commitment that lasted a lifetime. But he had to, had to protect himself from getting more invested and one more broken heart in a relationship that wasn’t just headed down the wrong set of train tracks, it was going the opposite way entirely. But, as you spoke, it turned out that he never had anything to worry about, and Brock wasn’t sure if he’d ever been more relieved in his life.

“I do,” you said, looking up at his face, trying to read his expression. “Always have. Not sure how many, I’ve always thought two or three sounded good. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Brock couldn’t help the way his heart absolutely swelled, the way you spoke of him in your future, with such ease and certainty as if you weren’t even entertaining a possibility that he wouldn’t be a part of it, that he wouldn’t be the one you would have children with. He twisted his neck, dropping a kiss on the top of your head. “We will.”

So Brock loved kids, and you loved kids, and it had been established over a year before he put a ring on your finger that they were something in your future. You bought a four-bedroom in Shaughnessy, the idea being that one would be a guest room and two would be reserved for the kids, whenever they came along. “We can always add on,” Brock had said as you signed the papers, the real estate agent dropping the keys into your palm with a warm smile. And you knew that he would, you knew that Brock wanted as many kids as you were willing to give him. But you’d start with one. That was the plan. That was the plan, so a few months after you got back from your honeymoon in Scotland you went off of your birth control. Kids would happen when they happened, but you both knew you’d rather them sooner than later, and thus had begun your journey towards starting a family. That was the plan, so a year and a half ago you had swapped the pill for a stock of pregnancy tests, taking one a month and whenever you were feeling even slightly off for good measure, sure that your nausea and headache wasn’t the beginnings of a flu but rather your baby making themself known.

When six months of trying came and went without a single positive test, you both started to get a little antsy, but you knew that these things took time, and you knew that it hadn’t been long enough for there to be any real cause for concern. But you still called your doctor, started exercising more and taking folic acid like she recommended, you and Brock both cutting down on your alcohol. “If you’ve got to do all this, it’s only fair I have to make some changes, too,” he had said. You loved your husband for many reasons, chief among them being the fact that no matter the circumstance, where you were or who you were with or how people were acting, he never made you feel like you were on your own. Everything was a team effort in the Boeser household.

It was six months, and you were doing okay, and Brock was genuinely winning the award for the world’s best husband with how deftly he could calm you down every time you saw the words not pregnant show up on a pregnancy test, but then it hit a year of trying without success and you started to get worried. It was July, and you knew it was common in the NHL to try and time births for the offseason — if you got pregnant in the summer, your baby would have been born in the middle of a playoff push — but you honestly would have settled for any timing. So you visited a fertility specialist at the Mayo Clinic, a quiet recommendation Brock’s mom got from a friend’s daughter. You loved your own mom, but Laurie truly had been your saving grace in everything. A quiet, steady presence who offered more love and support than you could ever ask for, giving her advice only when asked and never once betraying your trust by telling anyone. But Dr. Gonzalez got the tests back, both yours and Brock’s, and said that nothing was wrong. “Unexplained infertility,” they called it. It was nothing anybody was doing wrong, nobody’s fault, not a matter of hormonal imbalances or obvious lifestyle factors or anything that would have let you blame it on yourself. Which, on one hand, was so good and so relieving, so desperately needed. You needed to know that it wasn’t your body, and it wasn’t Brock, that was keeping the two of you from finally being able to grow your family. But on the other hand, there were few things more hopeless or frustrating than hearing that they couldn’t find a cause. That meant that there wasn’t anything you could have done differently, true, but that also meant that there wasn’t anything you could do. It was a waiting game, and you were never good with being patient.

Pregnancy scares were more common than people might know, if the experiences of you and your friends were anything to go by. There were high school boyfriends, college roommates, half of the people you knew had worried they were pregnant or had gotten someone pregnant far before they were ready. But now, when you were settled down and established and were building a life with the most amazing man you had ever had the fortune to love, and you wanted a baby, it wasn’t happening. The clinical definition of infertility was the “failure to achieve a clinical pregnancy after 12 months or more of regular unprotected sexual intercourse.” You had committed the definition to memory over the past 14 months, and whether you knew it or not, Brock had too. You had always been good at tests. Good grades, always the essay the teacher used as an example in class, graduated top of your class at UBC. But this was one test you couldn’t study for, and one you couldn’t believe you had failed time and time again.

Which brought you to December, normally one of your favorite times of the year but one that you had recently begun noticing all the doom and gloom in that others had always mentioned when speaking about the winter months. You still loved the holidays, Christmas and New Year’s and everything in between, but you thought that in your second year as a married couple, you wouldn’t still be a family of two. It was a year and a half since you and Brock had started trying for a baby, and there was still no luck. It was a year and a half, and you had started talking about options. Vancouver had some amazing fertility specialists, and adoption was something you had discussed looking into, but you had both agreed on waiting a few more months before taking that route.

---

Which brought you to almost three weeks later, two days before New Year’s Eve, your head in the toilet and your husband leaning up against the doorway. “God, I feel like shit,” you said, leaning up against the wall when your nausea had finally seemed to subside. “I bet, last time I threw up was our honeymoon,” he said, trying to make you laugh. Brock had insisted on trying haggis in Scotland, saying he needed the “full experience,” but regretted that decision as soon as he spent the better part of the second night of your honeymoon in the hotel bathroom throwing up from food poisoning. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, gratefully taking the cup of water Brock handed you as you leaned up against the bathroom counter.

You caught his eyes searching yours as you set the glass down, his face wearing an expression you had come to know well in the four years you had been together. There was something on his mind, but he wasn’t sure if he should say it. “Yeah?” you prompted, raising your eyebrows.

He gave a tiny shake of his head. “It’s nothing, seriously.”

Now it was your turn to look at him. “Brock, it’s going to eat you up if you keep it all inside. Spit it out.”

“How long has it been since you took a test?” Brock asked gently.

You should have known. God, you should have known that’s where his mind would go, and the worst part of it all, the part that made you feel even worse for getting your husband’s hopes up that maybe this was finally it, maybe it had finally worked, was that you couldn’t even blame him. You had been snappier at Brock the past few days, something both you and he had attributed to your overall weariness about the whole process, you had to practically slap his hands away from your breasts the other night while you were having sex, and this wasn’t even the first time you had thrown up this week. But it was flu season, and you worked with kids, and seemed to catch it more years than not despite taking the flu shot religiously each October. You’d be looking for a missed period, but they had always been light and you had experienced some spotting when Brock was on a road trip the week before.

You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, shaking your head. “I don’t know...A month? A little over? I just hate that it’s getting so clinical, that’s not what it was supposed to be about, that’s never what it was supposed to be about.”

Brock ran his hands up your arms, back and forth, the same way he had been comforting you for years. “I know, baby. And I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel that way, more stressed or disappointed in yourself, because it’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. We’re going to have a baby one way or another, because I love you and I’ve never met anyone who’s more excited, and ready, and made to be a mom quite like you. And whether you have the baby yourself, or we adopt, or whatever path we decide is the right one for us, they’ll be ours, and they’ll be so loved.” Brock ghosted a kiss over your forehead, his eyes closing. “You don’t have to take another test if you don’t want to, the last thing I want to do is make you more anxious over all of this. But I think it might be good. I think it might help.”

You breathed out deeply through your nose, shooting your husband a weak smile. God, he was so good to you. “I’ll tell you if I do.”

Brock nodded, stepping towards you and wrapping you in his arms, whispering your name as he leaned his forehead against yours. “No matter what happens — tomorrow, next week, next year, I don’t care — nothing you do will ever make me love you any less. We’re good. We’re gonna be okay.” You could have filled a hundred books with the reasons why you loved Brock Boeser, and this was one of them. The way he loved you, so selflessly and sacrificially, without an ounce of ego and never expecting anything in return aside from your heart. You didn’t know what you had ever done in this life or any past one to deserve him, but there wasn’t a day you didn’t thank God for the privilege of letting you love this man.

---

It was finally New Year’s Eve, festivities having taken over the city — really, they hadn’t stopped since Christmas — and hardly a flat surface was left undecorated with posters or metallic tinsel, or both for good measure, including almost the entirety of yours and Brock’s house. He had volunteered your place weeks ago as the site for the team’s New Year’s Eve party. It didn’t generally draw a crowd as big as the holiday party earlier in the month, which usually had not only the players’ partners, but children and whatever family was visiting at the time, so Brock had asked if you’d be willing, and you agreed easily. You loved getting to spend time with the team, and you were even more inclined than usual to gravitate towards any kind of distraction that would take your mind off of the stress you were under. The stress that you put yourself under, to be fair. So you threw yourself into planning and preparation, pulling out the ice chest from the garage and filling it up, making sure people were bringing enough champagne, cleaning every inch of the house with Brock until it was spotless despite the fact that you both knew you’d have to do the same thing in the morning.

Some two and a half hours into the party and most everyone who was drinking was sufficiently drunk, the TV in the living room flipping back and forth between the broadcast from Times Square and Youtube karaoke that nearly everyone had been roped into at some point or another. You sipped your soda, half-sitting on one of your barstools next to Holly. “You’re not drinking?” she asked curiously.

“I had some earlier, trying to pace myself” you said, waving your hand. “Someone’s got to look after that one.” You nodded towards Brock, who was having what looked to be the time of his life in your living room while badly singing along to One Direction. Holly nodded. You knew she probably wanted to ask more, but she was too tactful to push. “It’s so nice to see them all like this, just letting loose, having fun. It’s hard to remember sometimes that these are just guys in their 20s and 30s when they’re constantly off travelling or away at games, doing things most people their age only dreamed of. They don’t get the chance to be normal hardly ever. And the season can get stressful...It’s just good to see,” you said.

“It is,” she agreed.

You checked your phone. Twelve minutes till midnight. “You want to help me get the champagne ready?”

Holly smiled. “Let’s do it.”

Nearly twenty flutes of champagne later — you had no idea where Brock had managed to find all of the glasses — you walked around the corner, your head poking into the living room. “Champagne’s in the kitchen, everybody. Five minutes till midnight!”

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Brock said, leaning in for a kiss after walking over.

You scrunched your nose. “Babe. It hasn’t even been ten minutes.” The second you had gotten back from refilling your drink earlier, Brock had dragged you into what turned out to be a very endearing but not-so-successful rendition of I’ve Had the Time of My Life in the living room, minus the lift. He wanted to go for it, and you trusted your husband with everything, but you really didn’t feel like spending your New Year’s Eve in the ER after having crashed into the Christmas tree. Dirty Dancing was one of the first movies you had ever watched together, so there was more than a little meaning behind the choice, but you doubted you were exactly making Jennifer Grey proud.

“Ten minutes away from you is ten minutes too long,” he said, nuzzling his head into your neck.

The fingers of your free hand carded through the hairs at the base of his neck; you loved it when he let his hair grow out like this. “Okay, babe, I believe you. How much have you had to drink tonight?”

Brock pulled back, rolling his eyes at you in exaggeration. “Only two beers since the night started. I’m not drunk, I’m not even tipsy, I just love my wife.”

“Could be worse,” you quipped. You squeezed his hand as the two of you walked into the kitchen, after half of the guests had already grabbed their flutes and made their way back into the living room for the countdown. Grabbing your drink from the other side of the counter, you held it in your far hand as you and Brock turned back around, taking your place by the Christmas tree. You glanced towards the TV, where the Times Square ball was slowly inching towards the ground. “Anyone else think it’s a little weird that we’re all staring at a TV waiting for something to happen that already happened 3 hours ago?”

“I don’t believe in tape delay,” Elias said.

Quinn nodded seriously in agreement, but the corner of his mouth twitched up. “It doesn’t exist. That little notice in the corner, saying ‘this is a recording of an earlier broadcast? Fake.”

You snorted into your glass as everyone’s attention turned back to the screen. Three minutes till midnight. “I was a little apprehensive at first when you said you’d put us down to host,” you said, leaning back into Brock’s chest, “but I’m glad you did. This is nice.”

“I’m glad we’ve got everyone around,” he said, looking down at you. “What are you drinking?” he asked curiously. He hadn’t noticed before, too caught up in the euphoria and exhilaration of the night, but the more he looked at it, the more he realized that your glass looked different than everyone else’s.

“Sparkling cider,” you said, your heart rate picking up. “I brought it in case any of the kids came.”

“But there was plenty of champagne left?” Brock questioned. “We’re at our own house, it’s not like you need to be playing designated driver.” You let out an airy laugh, the kind that made Brock’s eyes immediately snap to yours because he knew you so well, he could read even the slightest actions, the smallest shift in tone, and he knew what that particular laugh meant. It was your nervous laugh. “What is it?” he asked, guiding you around the corner to the darkened hallway, the residual glimmer of the lights from the Christmas tree glowing softly on the walls.

You looked up at him, the purest most radiant smile you had ever given him crossing over your face. “You’re not supposed to drink when you’re pregnant,” you whispered, your top lip trembling and letting you know that you were only moments away from tears.

Brock was speechless as he looked at you, the near-silence of the hallway a strange contrast to the growing noise in the living room as the clock ticked closer and closer to the new year. “And you’re...You’re not drinking because…” He faltered.

You gently took both of your glasses, setting them on a side table before taking his left hand in your own, running your thumb over his wedding band. “I’m not drinking because I’m pregnant, Brock,” you repeated, your voice cracking.

“Are you sure?” he asked. You felt a twinge in your heart, but you knew you really couldn’t be upset with him for not being sure. It had been a year and a half and there had been more than once where you both thought it was finally it, that it had finally taken.

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I took a test the other day, after you had asked me if I was going to. God, I wasn’t expecting anything different, Brock. I wasn’t expecting anything,” you said. “But three minutes was up, and I turned the test over,” his hand tightened almost imperceptibly around yours, “and I saw a plus sign. I’ve never seen one before, Brock, it’s never been positive.” You didn’t realize you had started crying until Brock reached up with the hand that wasn’t holding yours, wiping away a tear that had fallen onto your cheek. “But I didn’t want to get my hopes up again. Not until I was sure. So I found a midwifery center online, called — thank God they had a cancellation — and went in yesterday. I wanted to get it confirmed, but I didn’t want to do anything without you. I didn’t even look at the ultrasound, all I had her tell me was that everything looked absolutely perfect for seven weeks along.”

It was your husband’s turn for tears now, neither of you paying any mind to the deafening countdown that was happening just steps away. “You’re really pregnant?”

You nodded again. “We have an appointment again in two days. They’re going to show us the heartbeat.”

That was what broke him, bringing Brock down to his knees in front of you, his hand slipping from yours as he brought it up to rest on your lower stomach. Where his baby was. Where your baby was. “I’m finally going to be a dad,” he said, as if the knowledge that both of your lives would be changed forever come next July was just now hitting him, as if he’d never known purpose and fulfillment quite on the same level until you spoke those words to him.

You knelt down next to him, dropping a kiss on his lips just as the clock struck midnight. It wasn’t like any kiss you had ever shared before, not overwhelmed with passion or desire or want, nor the small, steady sort of kisses you had grown to love in your years as a married couple, the kind that said you’re my best friend in not so many words. This was a kiss of adoration, of devotion, of pure reverence for your husband and the life you had finally created together. “We’re having a baby.”

#hockey fanfic #hockey writing #brock boeser #hockey imagine #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #nhl writing #hockey fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #realized four hours after posting that I never added a title oops

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