Crawling out of my hole to remind people that with this current update to Firefox (version 144) they've gone and dumped in their lot with a buncha lil AI tools, namely Perplexity as a new search engine.
So if the sound of that leaves your mouth tasting of tar, here's what you want to do:
In the url bar, type in about:config
It'll give you a big scary warning page that you might poke holes in your browser. Good. You want to do that. Click continue.
One by one, you're going to need to put each of these into the search bar in the page, not up top:
Each of these are gonna have a lil toggle icon on the right hand side that looks like a funky double-ended arrow. Click that and the value next to it should change to false. It all auto saves as you go. Some of these might already be set to false by default and that's peachy.
The next best thing you can do for yourself is to set your default search engine to udm14 or Qwant, but for now, we're just tidying the garden a lil bit.
This is an experiment to see if there really are as few of us as people think.You can also use this to freak out your followers who think you’re 25 or something. Yay!
141 + Los Vaquero's and y/n who likes bigger clothes:
141 raising their eyebrows a few times when they notice the collection of bigger hoodies/shirts you would wear. wondering if they belonged to your partner.
no seriously.
they were lowkey kinda jealous.
that a.) it wasn't their clothes you were wearing and b.) how comfy you looked.
you showing up to training with sweatpants a couple sizes bigger than you, wearing a pair of loose jeans and over-sized sweater at a briefing.
would try to be slick about asking if they belonged to your partner.
as soon as you establish that it is infact not your partners but yours you start to notice some things.
your baggy clothes- gone.
141 are wearing very familar clothes...
"price are those my cargo pants?" "...yes, very comfy, a little tight but-"
you could be lounging in the common area and then soap and gaz walk in. soap wearing a sweater, filling it out. gaz wearing a t-shirt, a little looser on him. without a doubt you know full well that they belong to you.
walking into the kitchen to see the back of someone wearing an oh so familar hoodie.
oh my gosh if it was a hoodie you got from a concert that you know damn well the 141 wouldn't of had attended.
"oh so you went to see *your favorite artist* too?" the person freezes and whips around. it's ghost. clad in his balaclava, holding a mug of tea.
from then on, it became a thing for the 141 to pinch a peice of clothing from your room everynow and then. something you didn't really mind.
only another thing you took note of, is when you asked for your clothes back, you find yourself having twice as much clothes.
a dark green hoodie with bold white letters on the back spelling, 'MACTAVISH'.
a dark grey shirt that doesn't smell like your other clothes.
grey sweatpants you thought was yours but there was a little embrodied intials on it, 'K.G.'
a button up that smells a little of cigars.
even a black long sleeved shirt.
after working with the los vaquro's, and getting closer you notice Alejandro and Rodolfo starting to do the same as the others.
a grey hoodie that was ever so slightly smaller than your other hoodies.
a bigger black shirt.
i wholeheartedly believe that they would steal your pants alot- especially when everyone is going out.
or even when everyone is just getting together for drinks.
your clothes are just so nice :))
walking into the common area, the smell of food was thick in the air, making your stomach rumble. now what you expected to see was a table stacked with food- which very much was true. maybe you expected to see a couple of the men wearing one of your clothing items.
not all of them.
"are those my jeans?" you asked soap who had fit his ass into your jeans that were usually too big for you.
he went over to you pulling you further into the room, "yup!" you eyed the t-shirt he was wearing, knowing that it was Alejandro's. seeing your stare, "yeah I pinched your shirt too."
gaz was wearing a grey hoodie, that fit his frame well, Rodolfo's, along with jeans that looked like his. but wasn't upon further investigation. and was one of yours. he just smiled at you as you were seated next to him. throwing an arm over your shoulder.
standing at the oven was Price and across from him was Alejandro. Alejandro wore a dark green sweater, underneath a jacket. Price wore one of your darker jeans, and a long black sleeved top that was a little loose on him.
when ghost came in, you rolled your eyes noticing he wore the same hoodie you had caught him wearing a few nights ago. but had on black pants that you were pretty sure was Alejandro's.
when everyone had settled, food being past around, "y'know..." you started, raising a glass to your lips, "you guys really like my clothes." there was a flash of fear through some of their eyes.
"have we crossed a boundry, love?" price asked. worry crossing his features as everyone else's faces matched.
you laughed, "no i don't mind! my clothes get washed when returned and sometimes I get more stuff- but you do realize, most of you's are just wearing eachothers clothes."
"huh?" after dinner and more drinks, people were playing, 'who's the orginal owner.' it caused alot of blushing and flirty remarks. surprisingly Price had blushed the hardest when he realized he was wearing Ghost's shirt.
a/n: can be read as platonic or romantic relationship with reader. just a lil something random, hope ya'll are well ♡
For y'all Graves simps. I'm in a phase right now LMFAO HE'S JUST SO FUN TO DRAW.
Here's my warm up sketch for the SC commander. His gives off more expression in MWII than the whole Lion King live action movie combined. I love him. I love Warren Kole.
You get captured by the enemy, you don’t know where you are, or who you’ve even been captured by. Your boys better hurry up and come get you because time is ticking fast.
Platonic!141st x medic!reader
Warning: Angst, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, heavy mentions of physical assault, being tied up against ones will, kidnapping, gore, mentions of death and dying, cussing, medical inaccuracies, military inaccuracies.
This was not how you were expecting this mission to go, to put it lightly.
Your head pounded, the pain raidiating through your skull, making you feel as though you were a rung bell. You peeled your eyes open, glancing around. You were in a dark, damp cell made of stone. The only light was from an old, flickering lamp that gently swung on a chain in the middle of the room. The door on the other side of the room from you was a large heavy looking thing. The only signs it was a door at all were the hinges on the side, and the small, barred window near the top of it. There was no handle facing into the room.
You struggled to piece together the memories of how you got here. You vaguely recalled rushing along an alley way, trying to meet up with your team mates, when you felt a hard *smack* to the back of your skull.
Ah that’s right. You’ve been captured. Those fuckers.
As your memories started to return you could feel your panic at the situation start to rise before you willed yourself to focus. Don’t give them the pleasure of a reaction, there will be time for that later. Focus.
Observing your surroundings you noticed that you were sat on a cold metal chair which your arms and ankles were tightly tied to with a rope. You pulled on your restraints, trying to see if there was any way you could gain an advantage in your situation, but the restraints were tight, and you could feel rope burn developing already.
Suddenly you heard a loud THUD outside of the door, and there was the small sound of metal hitting metal over and over again. Then the door was pushed open, the stone on the bottom of the door dragged across the stone floor with a horrible screech, forcing you to attempt to conceal a wince.
Out from behind the door came a shriveled looking man. If you had to guess he was about 5’6. He had pasty, greasy skin and looked under weight, although it was hard to tell due to the fact he wore a black suit a size to big for him. He wore no shirt under it, revealing his flabby chest. His facial features looked sunken in, yet somehow at the same time engorged from all the excess skin that hung at the edges of his face. He was clean shaven, with a large bald spot bordered by thin wire-like white hair that was coated in grease. He was closely followed by two large men on either side of him. If you had to guess they were the size of Ghost, if not bigger, but it was hard to get a good read between the fact that they were covered in tactical gear and the poor lighting in the room.
The slimy man slunk forward, approaching you with a sneer that pulled up the flaps of skin on his jaw unnaturally, his two body guards followed closely behind him, starting straight ahead, unbothered about the fact that the light hanging from the ceiling brushed the top of their heads.
“How are you feeling?” The greasy man crackled, putting his face far to close to yours, his breath stunk of rotten fish, and his teeth were yellow and more stumps then anything else.
You did not give him the pleasure of a response, only staring straight back into his shark like eyes. It would take much more than bad breath to make you break.
“I really am so sorry about this.” he began, placing a hand on your shoulder and walking around you. You swore that you could feel his hand leave a trail of slime as it passed along your shoulders and the back of your neck.
He stopped in front of you once more. “I just have a few questions. I’m sure you understand how this… business goes?” He asked.
“Who are you?” You asked, willing your back to remain straight and constantly reminding yourself to maintain eye contact. Don’t give him the pleasure of a reaction.
His sneer, which has been consistent up until now, faded at that. Instead it was replaced with a stomach curling smile.
“Oh? Oh oh oh, come on now!” He cackled, his eyes almost seeming to bulge from his skull. “That’s not important!”
“What is important,” his voice dropped into a sudden whisper, the smile dropping from his face in an instant, “is where those documents your friends found are. So, care to share?”
You kept your face neutral, projecting what you could only hope was a display of perfect calm, as you leaned forward to look him right in his beady eyes. “Go fuck yourself.”
His skin started to stretch and bulge again as his mouth pulled up in to a smile and he erupted in giggles that sounded almost like radio static. Seriously what is wrong with this guys voice?
“I was hoping you’d say that!” He yelped, the sound reminding you almost of a hyena. How they laugh when they’re hunting. How they derive joy from others pain.
“Have at em’ boys.” And with a final sickening smile in your direction he walked out of the room.
~
Your time here so far had been absolute hell. After that very first beating they tossed a bag over your head and dragged you to another room. This room was similar to the old one, except it had a flimsy cot in one corner and a bucket in the other. Not to mention it was far more filthy.
You could only assume these people operated on a 24 hour schedule, and if the lack of daylight hasn’t completely fucked up your sense of time yet you’d deduced that you’ve been here about a week.
Everyday was the same. You’d wake up on your flimsy cot, and have nothing to do for hours but contemplate when, if, you’d ever be saved. With each passing day that if was getting bigger and bigger.
A little after your daily crisis two large guards would enter your cell, restrain you with a bag over your head, and drag you to another room. Once there and secured by multiple pieces of rope the bag would be removed and you would be greeted by the horrible image of grease man and two of his goons.
He would ask you multiple questions, you wouldn’t answer, and thus he would leave his goons to beat you. Following that they would bring you back to your current residence.
Shortly after your daily beating two guards would enter your cell. One would point a gun at your head while the other would set down a tray of food, if you could call it that, on the floor. The substance on the tray was simple, to put it nicely. A small cup of water, paired with a small stale bread roll, and maybe half a cup of some kind of strange, greasy vegetable mush. Is this what made the guy who was obviously in charge so greasy? You hoped you wouldn’t stay long enough to find out.
And thus that was your routine today. You sat on your cot after your tray was collected by the guards. You could feel the festering wounds on your ribs, given to you the first day you got here. The pus in them told you they were getting infected. God you hoped your boys found you soon. What the fuck were they doing?
You shifted on your cot, taking inventory of your most recent injuries. You had multiple bruises on your face, and you feared you had a concussion, as when you stood up the world spun and you felt weak. Although that could very well be because you were being given practically no food or water. You also could barely walk, you suspected a broken knee the cause.
Your clothes were absolutely filthy and you are sure you smell like shit. You’ve been left in a tank top and cargo pants. Everything else had been taken when you’d gotten captured. Including your socks and shoes, to prevent you from getting far if you ran you suspect.
And then, unexpectedly, a large guard burst into your cell and stood in front of you, aiming a gun at your head. You leaned back on your cot, calming observing him as two more men hurriedly came into your cell, one of them being the slimy man in charge.
“You are going on a little trip.” He growled, anxiously glancing over his shoulder at the guard behind him.
You kept your vision on the guards gun that was in front of your forehead despite the spark of excitement in your gut. Don’t give them the pleasure of a reaction. “Nice gun.” You quipped, trying to mask your feelings.
The guard evidently did not appreciate your compliment as he yanked you up onto your feet, causing you to wince as your knee screamed at you, and he roughly tugged your arms behind your back and secured them with a zip tie. The other guard quickly approached you and tugged a bag over your head.
There would only be one reason they would move you on such obviously short notice. Someone was raiding their base. It might be your boys coming for you or it might be someone else and they’re taking precautions. Either way you had to treat it like the latter, this could very well be your only opportunity to escape.
You struggled to orient yourself as you were dragged through the complex. You tried your best to note corners and the sounds around you but you were being dragged more than you were walking and you could barely force yourself to stay conscious.
As you turned another corner you heard a loud bang of metal hitting something. A door opening? You were dragged forward and felt sunlight on your skin, you never thought that you would miss that feeling so much.
Just as you were basking in actually being outside you heard the loud screech of a plane overhead, and then the whistle of bombs being dropped. Fuck.
You heard the guards yell something, they pulled and pushed but you couldn’t tell what was happening, and then, all at once, an impact.
You flew back, your travel stopped by violently crashing into something. A wall? You could feel intense heat in front of your still covered face, it was almost painful. You knew that you had to move, now, but your knee was screaming at you from you putting your weight on it and your ribs hurt worse than ever. It would be fine to just take a little nap right? At least you would die in the sunshine.
You were startled out of your nap by someone roughly throwing you over their shoulder, causing you to let out a pained grunt.
“Sorry Stitch but we have got to move!”
Wait a minute you know that voice. Don’t you? You at least recognize that name, there isn’t many people who call you that.
The person was running, you could recognize that at least by how much they were moving, every time their shoulder moved it jostled your ribs causing you to let out a pained groan.
After what felt like a century they slid to stop, shrugging you off their shoulder and placing you against a wall. They yelled something you couldn’t make out and then the bag was off your head and you could see again.
Hovering in front of you with his brows furrowed in concern was Price. He reached behind you to quickly free your arms.
“Stitch! Are you alright?” You heard someone yell over the sound of gunfire. Turning your head you saw Soap next to you. You hadn’t even seen him there.
“Evac is in 1 minute! Hold position!”
Who said that? Price? Where did he go? He wasn’t in front of you anymore. You tried to will yourself to focus, being this out of it in an active war zone guaranteed death.
You attempted to ground yourself by taking stock of your surroundings. You’re on a roof, placed against a wall. Soap is on one side of you, peaking out from behind cover to fire at who you could only guess were your kidnappers. Price was on your other side in a similar situation, but where were Gaz and Ghost? Did they not come or are they just outside your line of sight? You hoped they were okay.
Your vision was swimming. How long had you been awake? It felt like forever. You leaned your head back against the wall. You could just rest for a moment couldn’t you? Your boys would wake you up.
~
You were stirred awake by your body being jostled side to side, and the loud sound of wind rushing past. You had to will yourself to wake up, were your boys alright? You could never live with yourself if they got hurt retrieving you.
You slowly peeled your eyes open, and your suspicions were immediately confirmed, you were in a heli.
“SITCH.” And with a call of your name someone’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, causing you to yelp in pain as they constricted your ribs.
“Let up Soap!” You heard a raspy voice bark from the other side of the Heli, causing you to lift your head to look at them. You were met with Price, who was looking at you with obvious concern. You never thought you would be so happy to see his horrible, horrible, hat.
Soap pulled back to hold onto your shoulders, being much more gentle now but still keeping a firm grip.
“Scared the shit out of me Stitch.” He admitted, raising his voice to be heard over the Heli. Despite his loud volume the look in his eyes told you that he had nothing but soft intentions.
You rocked forward to tackle him in a hug, which he immediately returned, taking care to be far more gentle this time. Gosh you missed him.
Pulling yourself partly away from him you called out, “Is anyone hurt?” Only hoping your voice was able to carry over the sounds of the heli.
Gaz leaned over from where he was sitting on your other side to put a hand on your shoulder. “We’re all fine Stitch, worry about yourself for once!”
“What he said!” Price called out, giving you a pointed look that clearly said “Rest for once in your life or I’ll make you.” Ghost simply nodded his head, but you could tell he was questioning your sanity at being help captive for a week and the first thing you ask them is if they’re all alright.
“We are landing!” You heard from the front of the heli. Nik? You never thought you would be so happy to hear him.
As the heli cruised down to the base you saw a stretcher and medical personnel waiting, one of your boys must have called in your injuries.
The heli landed and your boys systematically got out until it was just you and Ghost left. You attempted to stand to get out but started falling over as soon as you got your legs underneath you.
Before you could hit the ground Ghost quickly wrapped one arm, with a gentleness you did not know he possessed, around your waist. He brought your other arm around his shoulders and gently and slowly helped you walk. He let you limp along, yet he was still supporting most of your weight, he knew he would at least want to walk out on his own two feet if he had just survived a week of torture. You deserved the same respect.
And so he helped you make your way slowly out of the helicopter, and assisted you in sitting down on the stretcher as the rest of your boys watched. As the medical personnel rolled you away you gave one final wave towards your boys. You couldn’t thank them enough for this.
~
You were getting increasingly anxious to see your boys.
It had only been about 6 hours since you were brought in, and you are sure that if they had been allowed to they would’ve come in already, but doctors and nurses were still anxiously fluttering around you, although thankfully the scans and blood tests were slowing down to a stop at last.
You were in a hospital bed, the smell of antiseptic was comforting and reminded you of home. It reminded you of long hours in the medical bay tending to your boys stupid injuries, yelling at them for not taking care of themselves, what you would give to go back to them right now.
You were roused out of your daze by a sound coming from the other room, the lobby? It was hard to tell where it was coming from.
The doors flew open, (unsurprisingly, you really needed to teach them how to open doors normally) and Price came stomping in.
“It has been 6 bloody hours! I want to see them damnit!”
“Captain I know your upset but we’re running tests, please step outside.” Said a nurse who quickly came up to try and push him back outside.
“Price!” You croaked, your voice was shot to hell and back due to all the smoke you had inhaled earlier.
He immediately rushed over to your side and gently brought you into a warm hug, you could feel his shoulders shaking slightly, was he crying?
“Kid I am so fucking sorry. This never should’ve happened on my watch.” He said sternly as he pulled back to look you in the eyes. Contrary to what you suspected he wasn’t actually crying, but his face was getting more and more red by the second and he was shaking fiercely.
You pulled him back into a hug, (on a list of things you missed, Price’s hugs definitely make top 10).
“Don’t say that. You did everything you could, it was my own fault that I got captured.” You said, attempting to soothe him.
He pulled back once again, and you had to suppress a whine as his heat and comfort left you. Let me hug you damnit old man!
“No. It is no one’s fault but the bastard who captured you. Roger?” He asked strictly, looking you dead in the eyes.
“Check Captain.” you said, your eyes filling up with tears. You missed him, you missed this, so much.
Your emotional moment was interrupted by someone clearing their throat, causing you to turn your head.
There stood the rest of your boys in all their glory. Their presence was not helping your emotional state as once you caught sight of them the tears started flooding out of your eyes like a waterfall.
Gaz and Soap immediately sprung into action, both of them leaping forward to wrap you in a hug as gently as they could. Price fell back to let them comfort you but kept a hand on your shin the whole time to remind you he was there. Ghost didn’t join in on the hug but he was rubbing gentle circles on your back, his presence was quite but his intentions could never be lost on you.
You had a long, long road of recovery ahead of you, there was absolutely no denying that, but with your boys by your side you have no doubt that you’ll make it.
Just after one more question.
“Hey guys, which one of you ordered those bombs dropped on my head?”
Silence.
“OHHHHH would you look at the time? Ghost don’t cha’ remember we have that uhhh meeting! Yeah a meeting!”
“At midnight Soap?” You asked, completely deadpan.
“Yep! Y’know those people in charge! No sense of time! Come on Ghost!” And with that your local Scotsman ran from the room with his tail between his legs, Ghost following behind with a sigh.
“I’m gonna kill that fucker the moment I can walk again.”
What's the fun in being normal? @governessknt609 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
