back-up plan.

indie timothy lawrence from borderlands as written by becks

[copyism-blog]

I need to properly write my verses down, but there's two different ways he went. Mainly [not the best time to be alive, post tales] is where Timmy left before BL2 after he invoked as much havoc and sabotage to Hyperion beforehand to going into hiding. Otherwise, right now only with @bellcdonna (tagging doesn't work on mobile does it), he stayed loyal until the bitter end, seeking Nisha as soon as he gets out and very much on revenge for the Vault Hunters that took everything he had.

[txtalmayhem-blog]

--> Preacher Sentence Starters

haha I know my blog has nothing to do with it, but I’ve been watching the show lately and I think some quotes would make good starters. Warning for drug/alcohol abuse and violence!

“Anyway, this is how you make a bazooka.”

“I don’t hate you. I wouldn’t know how.”

“Sounds like the first verse of the worst country song ever written, man.”

“I’ve not had a single morning where I didn’t wake up and have to force my feet to the floor to face you.”

“As of today as of right now, I’m going to fight.”

“Look, I’m just sayin’, boring’s not the worst thing a person can be.”

“I think you’re wrong. I think boring’s the worst.”

“Please God, or whatever the hell you call yourself, I know we hate each other, but please, please, please, just this once, do the right thing here.”

“I’ll be good, I swear. I’ll be good. I’ll be so damn good, you won’t even know it’s me.”

“What were you smoking?”

“What if we’re held to account for our actions? What if there’s punishment? What if there is fire?”

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“I’ve been feeling different.”

“A power like that, who wouldn’t want it? The question is, what do you want it for?”

“You look like shit, but that’s becoming more and more regular.”

“You were right, love. I think I’m gonna make it!”

“The world is turning to shit. And you know what? It’s all your fault.”

“I have a weapon! You just better announce yourself!”

“I know all kinds of crazy, all right? Just…tell me how it feels.”

“That’s a combination of rubbing alcohol, coffee machine descaler, and a bit of shit I found dripping out the back of the air conditioning unit.”

“After a sip of this, you aren’t gonna feel like one of the "good guys”, alright?“

"I have no money, I have no transport, I’m running dangerously low on drugs. And I’ll do something desperate, I swear to God.”

“Just run around, do whatever you want, whenever you want. What kind of life is that?”

“You admit you’re a sinner, and in need of a savior?”

“Oh jesus. Oh god. I’m so sorry. Oh, please don’t die.”

“Nice outfit, by the way.”

“This is my "very on it” outfit.“

"Cops find your body, I’ll make it look like a suicide.”

“Hold on, I killed you. How’d you do that?”

“I’m gonna ask you to do this job. You’re gonna say no. But I’m not doing it without you.”

[copyism-blog]

                      I’M NOT YOU, JACK.

                                                                                                art credit

[iigniiferroque-a]

The first, immediate instinct is diffidence. It’s due to a clash of senses: her eyes are telling her one thing (Jack), her nose another one entirely (who is this). The realization hits a second later than she’d like - this is one of the infamous doubles. The super-not-really-secret secret. 

She shouldn’t be as surprised. But he caught her nose off guard, and well, she never really thought she’d meet one of them face to face. Knowing Jack, they probably get terminated once they wear out their usefulness, bit like Kleenex wipes. So is this just a coincidence?

“Hello. You have a name or should I call you Jack 2?”

[copyism-blog]

                  Well, that was sort of a record. Not really, Mox had been similar                   fast when she first laid eyes on him, but still — makes him worry                   a little bit that Jack decides to fix things up to keep people from                   discovering right away he isn't ... him. And he does not want to                    know what sort of ideas the guy might get. 

      "Uh."

                  Very smooth and intelligent right there, Timmy. But there's barely                   any reason to pretend anyway then.

      " — 'm not reeeeally allowed to tell.        But it's similar to Tom. Uhm."

[pastismyown]

Natasha was normally the type to take things at face value, given that most things on and around Pandora weren’t as complicated as people liked to paint them. Things want to kill you, so you kill the things first. Easy. But this? Something was wrong.

“Uh huh. Considering that you’re suppose to be in a meeting, oh, now, I’m having a hard time believing… this.” She gestures to him, and a look back up him helps her put it together. Oh.

“Fucking- he has body doubles? Why did he hire me?”

The question’s rhetorical, considering she continues oh. “He hasn’t told me as much, but Jack’s got a bum eye. An’ you look perfectly healthy there. Shit.”

[copyism-blog]

      "Aw, shit."

                  There's no real use to try and pretend when she knows (and                   she was fast, like hell, he knows he fucked up, but that was                    still — uh.) Shoulders slump and he falls back into the chair,                    one hand pressed up against his head.

      "Can we. Can we not mention this? Like. I'm pretty sure        he'll rip my throat out, and I kinda like my throat where it        is, and intact, and all that, so — I'd. I'd appreciate it a lot."

                  Well, probably not literally. Not because Jack is such a nice                   person, or because he is so attached to Timothy, but simply                   because he's one of a kind. There are some guys with the                   cloaking devices, sure, but he's the real fake. So to say.                    Sorta too expensive to just get rid of him. (It's sad that that                   is what keeps him alive.)

[ampleinnuendo]

                             Shotguns ! – she’s a big fan. Now someone who didn’t know her might consider the SMG her weapon of choice and while that’s true, after all she does have a soft spot for RuBi, nothing quite got the job done like a good ol’ fashion sawed off. Tediore, to be exact, with an accelerated chamber and a double-shot gauge. Something smokey and sensual about the way it just eviscerated a person’s innards, although that could be the charred flesh. Either way, it gave her a nice tickle in her lower regions and that exact sensation pulsed through her as the barrel points down the line of a head that looks way too familiar for it’s own good. The bar is closed, shut down for the afternoon whilst prep goes on for the later bits of the evening. Something she always done, that and a girl can only get slapped on the ass so many times before an ice pack needs to be applied.  At this angle, she might be able to blow his head off at risk to her elbow and shoulder. Dislocation would be absolutely worth price of it all, but instead she rounds on him, heels clacking and weapon unwavering.

                            ‘    you know, i never thought i’d see the day when one of his doubles was stupid enough to walk in here.  ’    She knows him though, the familiar dodge of his eyes, the tense of his mouth, and that’s perhaps why she hasn’t bothered to unload a round in his face.  Pure speculation as to why this boy would even bother to risk his life to come crawling to her of all people. The inkling of kindness she had showed him back on Elpis ? Well, that might have just been for old time sake. ‘  – what are you doing here ?  it’s not exactly safe for you and more importantly me for you to just waltz up into my bar in broad daylight.   ’ 

[copyism-blog]

                  Stupid? Yeah, that was probably just the word to describe him                   this very second, and what went through his head. He can be                   glad idiotic thoughts were the only thing to go through it lately,                   especially with a nervous look to the shotgun in her hands —                    a thing that looks even more blunt and brutal in hands like hers.

                  (Him, personally? Big fan of sniper rifles, really. Taking out any-                   one before they come close to taking him out — a rather late                   development, really, back on Elpis he'd take a pistol rather any                   way; clean and easy. But now he takes whatever advantage                   he can possibly get.)

                  Even though there are some things in his face that differ from                   Jack (the fact there's neither a mask nor a scar, for once; the                   color of his eyes being rather hazel and a few freckles actually                   breaking through the skin), it's not like many people would                    actually pay attention to these details. In fact, he knows about                    three that are still alive, and one of them — well, he's speaking                   to the lady in person.

                  (Is it bad for him to think the gun looks really good on her? Oh.                   Probably. Likely. Concentrate.) 

      "I know. I'm sorry. I — "

                  He's not sure what to say. Of course he thought about it before,                   but there's just nothing that really catches it. He doubts it makes                   much of a difference he left when he could; before shit really                    went down, and that he'd like to undo... a lot of things, including                   those that aren't really his fault. (But he was nothing more than                   mere property, and it's never this easy.)

      "I know you have like. Zero reason to help me and all to just        kick me out or. Shoot me or sell me to whoever wants to get        some sort of personal revenge on. Him. But — look, I really        don't know where to go and I'm — I could really use some         help. Trying to fix things. Not like. Anything could ever make        up for what happened."

                  He'd really stop talking.

[hyperiontrxsh]

The new vestments are form-fitting and considerably more stylish on him than the previous Hyperion brand attire. He could get used to this, but getting accustomed to a new prosthetic arm and cybernetic eyepiece may take a while longer. There is still a dull, annoying pain residing inside his head from the VERY traumatic act of ripping every- -thing out just days beforehand. Atlas is now in his possession and he’s only just – literally just – begun to fix it up and get it running once more. It’s all really exciting and he definitely feels as though the clouds have cleared from over his head. No more psychopathic A.I buzzing in his brain or trying to outright MURDER him. Just him, his technical jeep and the remnants of his past. 

What a mess.

A boot lifts and moves to kick a half intact Handsome Jack tour mask that had SOMEHOW managed to avoid being destroyed on the way down to Pandora. He gives it a dirty look before stepping on by and wandering away from the ‘junkyard’ of memories, only to stop near his technical when he hears a voice in the distance. It startles him a little because for a brief moment it almost resembles … someone else’s voice. Maybe his mind is playing tricks on him? Yeah, that had to be it. Rhys sets what he collected into the front seat before squinting out at what looks to be a figure. Someone is actually over there. But who? Despite his better judgement and knowing that most strangers on Pandora are never friendly, he begins to walk over to them. 

“Uh, H-hey you! Who are you…?”

[copyism-blog]

                  Shit.

                  The sole thought that rattles through his brain and has his whole                    body frozen for half a second as he hears some voice. He has                   dropped his guard — enough for someone to come close enough                   to shout, which means they are also close enough to shoot. He                   guess he can be glad they didn't (he knows Pandorian people,                    knows them well enough and has enough of their blood on his                   hands for several life times).

                  Lady growls somewhere in the hole she hid herself, which doesn't                   keep her from staying put. Great. Of all skags he could've gotten                   friends with, he does not only pick the young one with a deformed                   leg, but also a cowardly one. Not that he can blame her, really.

      "Uh, can I get out of the dirt before you shoot me?         I'd like to keep some, nh, dignity."

                  Yeah, right, because he can totally save that when he's robbing                   through half holes after a scared skag. Right.

                  Carefully he retreats, slowly so too — there's no attempt to reach                   for the gun on his side, because he knows the chances of getting                   up and aiming before he gets shot himself. Which he will. Second                   they see his face.

      "Also, I'm. Not. I'm not who I look t'be."

                  Not that he blames anyone for not believing him, he guesses;                    pushing himself up from the ground (hands raised halfway; not                   above his head, but maybe it still gets the idea across) when he                   turns to show himself.

      "Just for your information, there's a scared skag beneath         there. She's friendly, just scared. Don't, uh, kill her, yeah?" 

[bellcdonna-blog-deactivated2020]

              she can’t help the snort that escapes at his response, god,               what an asshole. part of her wanted him to be lying, for               surely, surely, being stuck with that face and stranded on               pandora would be the most logical thing to be worried               about rather than an ex-teammate’s wellbeing, but her               instincts knew that that wasn’t the case. well, that and that               there was nothing she wanted more than to punch him in the               face for being a goddamn idiot, but there was always time               for that later. 

      ❝ oh, come on timmy, i thought you knew i can take good enough care of myself.                                   ain’t you got more important things to be worrying about anyway ? ❞

              eyebrows rise in a look that was definitely questioning his               reasoning, the anger that had flared up so vicariously now               withered to but a simmering heat held tightly within nisha’s               chest. the thought of just slamming the door back in his face               seemed pretty appealing, but for whatever reason she definitely               wasn’t going to dwell on, the sheriff merely turned, and began               to walk upstairs to the living area of her abode - door remaining               open, as much of an invitation as he’d receive.

[copyism-blog]

                  Well, of course he's not happy about being stuck here, looking the                   way he does. Not at all. But there's not much he can do about it                   now (and, if he's honest — the thought that things might get better                   for him if he waited it out seems like a very ridiculous one). So he                   might spend his time rather on this than hiding under some rock                   for the rest of his probably rather short life.

                  (How did he end up here, anyway. He should be home on Eden                   Five. Or even further away for that matter.)

                  Slow, careful steps inside, door locked behind him. He shouldn't                   stay on a place for too long, even if it's the Sheriff's doorstep —                    he wouldn't bet on her anger over a ruined floor would be enough                   to not send a few bullets his way.

      "So could Wilhelm."

                  The response is dryer than intended, despite the fact he's rather                   silent. He's not as idiotic to throw Jack's name in (they both know                   it'd be a lie anyway, the man might have been a lot of things, but                    in knowledge of how to take care of himself wasn't one; and also                   he does not want to fuel her anger any further). But Wilhelm? That                   one had been pretty much a shock to him, and to be fair, it's one                   part of the reason why he's here, too.

      "It's easier together. Not gonna lie, my chances are higher with        you than alone, and also you are all I got left."

                  It is selfishness in there, yes. Egoism. It's also worry, he didn't lie                   about that, but he assumes she'll believe that reason rather. Or                   can allow herself to accept it. 

      "Are you — are you okay, Nisha?"

[copyism-blog]

Take this quiz and find out! It’ll have you check off all traits that you think apply to your muse, then calculate a color. REPOST, DON’T REBLOG!

you are darkviolet #9400D3 Your dominant hues are blue and magenta. You're the one who goes to all the parties but doesn't quite fit in at every one... you know what you want, but are afraid of what the world might think of it. You're a little different and that's okay with them, and if you're smart it's okay with you too. Your saturation level is very high - you are all about getting things done. The world may think you work too hard but you have a lot to show for it, and it keeps you going. You shouldn't be afraid to lead people, because if you're doing it, it'll be done right. Your outlook on life is brighter than most people's. You like the idea of influencing things for the better and find hope in situations where others might give up. You're not exactly a bouncy sunshine but things in your world generally look up.

tagged by  :  @bellcdonna tagging  : whoever wants to?

[kintsukis-a]

                   The only friend she had as a child was a little girl, about her age,                          named Maya. Maya was lost in a bandit scuffle, and her head was                          blown off, right before her eyes. Needless to say, her track record                          wasn’t so stellar when it came to making ( or keeping ) friends.                          People left her, used her, abandoned her when she needed them                          most. Despite her best efforts, she kills anything she touches.                           Hotaru took this as a sign that she was meant to be alone.

                         At least Tim was kinder than most of the people she used to know.                          Less violent, too. Sure, he was quiet, but that only gave importance                          to the times he did speak. He was important to her, both as a team-                          mate and a friend.

                         She can only hope for his safety; now that she knows him, it was                          only a matter of time before he LEFT.

            “ Awesome. “

                         She couldn’t help the little spark in her eyes, a happy spark at the                          idea of hanging out with Tim. Patting his shoulder, she then stands                          to go and make the waffles.

          “ Well, then! I’ll go get the waffles started!”

[copyism-blog]

                  He's not technically less violent, he just didn't see it as his go-to                   solution for everything. If necessary he has just about the same                   tendencies as everyone around here; it seemed to be some sort                   of requirement for Hyperion. But Taru had not yet experienced                    that, and honestly, he would much rather not have her to.

                  (And his safety? He's literally just here to be shoot at instead of                    the boss. Didn't actually seem like a very safe job, then again,                    just a few more years — keep telling yourself, Timmy.)

                  Any thoughts in that direction are quickly swatted away, and he                   instead manages to bring up a rather bright smile, hands tugged                   away as he moves to follow the whirlwind in front of him.

      "Yeah? Cool. That's. Neat."

[copyism-blog]

@hyperiontrxsh

                  He hasn't slept in days. Eaten properly neither. And now                    he's robbing through the dirt trying to coax his skag friend                   out of the hole she hid herself in. Which just so happened                   to be a little too close to the area the Helios crashed in.                   Where he absolutely did not want to be; honestly — later,                   yeah, but not right after it happened.

      "Lady, damn it — please get out. Come, baby."

                  He supposes she got scared of the Loaders that were still                   intact. Couldn't blame her, but it really made stuff harder                   on him. 

[copyism-blog]

@next-door-nightmare

                  His job is to be up to date. Well, actually, that's not his job at                    all, but it's part of it. A minor part. Either way, he has some                    vague idea about who she is, and why she is currently in the                   office (well, not right now, just in general) despite the fact the                   man himself is not here.

                  He just really wishes Jack would actually tell him things so he                   knows how to react. 

      " — ... Hi?"

[bellcdonna-blog-deactivated2020]

     death was something that nisha had long since become accustomed      to. practically a day hadn’t gone by that she’d failed to bear witness to      someone’s passing, heck - most of the time it was her fault they were      dying in the first place, but for some reason jack, at least in her mind,      was supposed to be exempt from this ubiquitous finality. it was stupid,      worse than stupid, to believe that the man was any inch the god he      so loudly proclaimed himself to be, but handsome jack was,      unarguably, more than a man at this point. there wasn’t a person      alive who didn’t know the name, his legacy was going to last forever,      it just didn’t make sense that he wouldn’t as well.

     an unstable temperament at the best of times, the past week would      have made the previous nisha look like a goddamn saint       or at      least it would have done, if not for the illness that had suddenly      struck her home-bound. her posse was smart enough to keep      their distance ; a vengeful sheriff was bad enough, let alone       one fuelled up on aggression at her own well being. 

     amber eyes lock with their reflection in the aged bathroom mirror,       as she wipes the residue of her stomach contents off unusually      unstained lips. not that there was much there in the first place,        hunger and nausea were two symptoms that shouldn’t be able      to fit in the same sentence, and yet there she was. fucking      typical. she hated feeling like this, it made her weak, unable       to go outside and do her damn job. there were bandits to be      gutted, liars to be hung, stupid, idiotic vault hunters to shoot      at until their bodies were barely mush on the sand    and where      was she ? puking her guts up or sleeping for 12 hours straight. 

     instantaneously, nisha’s mind jumped to jack. bastard. for some      reason this entire situation was 100% his fault - an impossibility,      but still truth in the lawbringer’s mind. a noise roused nisha       from her thoughts, fire once again burning hot within her chest.      they were supposed to leave her alone. they were supposed      to be doing their goddamn job ! quick as a whip, she was       storming down the stairs in some kinda blazing glory, the door      to the sheriff’s office swinging open with all hell’s fury. 

❝ THE HELL        ❞

❝ … the hell do you want ? ❞

[copyism-blog]

                  Now, even after  — or rather, especially after — working with                    the woman herself for quite some time, he can't help but be                   intimidated by her. They all had been ruthless killers (despite                   the way he acted outside of it, he himself was just the same                   given a proper gun and the situation; and while his very own                   survival had priority, that didn't mean he didn't want revenge                   just all the same for all they took away), but Nisha was always                   something else. With barely contact over the passing years,                   he was not entirely sure in which direction that might have                   developed.

                  And that approach made him think about how all these people                   currently going for anything with Jack's face were by far the                    least of his problems. 

                  Yet, he also feels relief. She's still there. Even if nobody else is;                   and as selfish as it is, he's just glad to not be the last one to                    remain. Probably better not say that alone or she'll fix that. 

      "I was worried about you."

                  A honest reply, coming silently over dry lips. That was the main                   reason after all. And now that he comes to actually pay attention,                   she doesn't look well. (Not that he thinks too much of it; part of                   him just assumes it's grief.)

[copyism-blog]

                      I’M NOT YOU, JACK.

                                                                                                art credit

[copyism-blog]

@bellcdonna

                  He doesn't like Lynchwood. Has never, for that matter, and to be                   fair, he only has stepped foot in here once before (not like he did                    not want to see Nisha, because despite everything, he still did                   consider her a ... friend, probably, even though he doubted she                   ever saw it the same way; but simply because Jack wanted to                    make trips here on his own and it would have been weird if he                   strolled around additionally). 

                  Now they are gone — Angel, Wilhelm, Jack, all of them, and he's                   not too sure about whether Nisha is still around or not, but answer                   to that question is ahead of him. Hopefully.

                  (Even if she is still alive, he doesn't know how high chances are                   he'll meet her here. Or what her reaction might be; he can only                   imagine the emotional state she must be in.) 

                  Scarf tugged around his face good as he could — little desire to                   test out how the Lynchwood inhabitants would react to him, either                   — and hand practically cramped around the gun, he makes his                   way to what he remembered her office. 

                  If he won't find her, maybe he'll find out what happened to her,                   at the very least. 

[pastismyown]

Wait. What?

While Jack had never been one to shy away from confrontation (at least not when she was around), the squeal causes a noise of shock from her. That, on top of the stuttering, and the lack of a mask had Natasha pulling back and staring. 

“Look, I know you fancy yourself a good actor, but this  is beyond over the top. The fuck was that noise?”

Because that’s what it was, right? Acting? Why else would Jack be making a noise stuck between a rakk and a choking toddler? And- well that was new.

“That’s what you look like under the mask? Don’t know why you  wear that thing, then, you look much better with it.”

[copyism-blog]

                  Ah, shit. It's just due to her comment that he actually does                    remember he's not, in fact, wearing the mask right now, and                   god, Jack is going to gut him alive if he ever gets any know-                   ledge of this. Which he will. He sort of has a sixth sense for                   knowing just when Timothy fucked stuff up.

                  (Slip into character slip into character shit.)

                  Not that he's any good at it; least not right now. He needs a                    bit of preparation time to actually... well, get into asshole-                   mode. (Didn't say that aloud ever, right? Hopefully.)

      "Don't see how that's any of your business, kitten.         What are you even doing here?"

                  Oh god, that was so bad, he can barely keep his face straight.                   (The book still pressed up also doesn't really help.) Oh god,                    he is so dead. 

[copyism-blog]

Okay, but. Tim has clearly the least experience in shooting anything really at the start of the game, and if you consider he didn’t become a Vault Hunter because he wanted to, but simply for poorly made choices, I feel like the others might actually had to teach him before the mission. Which went... differently well.