ON WITH THE SHOW!

JUST GIVE ME THE DIRT.

[motleyscrew]

PINNED POST !

hello , hello ! i’m motley , my pronouns are they / them , and this is an independent multimuse blog featuring canons and ocs . generally this blog is medium to low activity due to me working 20 hours a week on top of full time university , but i am always available for plotting and chatting and even writing on dis.cord ( goth (mot)h#6660 ) if that’s your cup of tea !

here is a link to my google doc.  thanks for reading !

edit jan 27 2021: this blog is moving to semi-hiatus for a while. i’m spiralling and i’ve becoming too reliant on the attention of tumblr and tumblr friends in order to like ... get through my day, which is not what i want for myself! so i’m stepping back for a bit. things will be written, but slowly, and only stuff i’m really invested in. much love if you choose to stick around <3

[motleyscrew]

REMINDER THAT I HAVE MOVED TO @motleysaints

[motleysaints]

          𝑷𝑹𝑨𝒀  𝑻𝑶 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑳𝑶𝑺 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑺.

                                   A REBOOT BY MOTLEY. EST. JAN. ‘21. ©

[motleyscrew]

like this for a refollow on the new blog! <3

[motleyscrew]

like this for a refollow on the new blog! <3

[motleysaints]

          𝑷𝑹𝑨𝒀  𝑻𝑶 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑳𝑶𝑺 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑺.

                                   A REBOOT BY MOTLEY. EST. JAN. ‘21. ©

[motleyscrew]

ARCHIVE NOTICE.

find me rebooted at @motleysaints . drafts will be carried, most asks will not

[reblogthings]

The first 5 Asks to send 💋 get a kiss

[reblogthings]

The first 5 Asks to send 💋 get a kiss

[motleyscrew]

leschanceux​:

phil can hear himself saying the words, but his mind is not currently his own — the consequences of opening alien artefacts in the scientific division without fully knowing the long-reaching consequences. the thing had whispered its way into his ears, taking hold of his wits before he quite knew what was happening, and now he was stuck behind his own eyes, mouth moving like a puppet’s as it spews such toxicity to one of the rare people he can admit to loving with his entire heart. “you’re not good enough.” his eyes sharpen like flint, tongue dripping with more poison designed to cut deep. “you’ve never been good enough. all these years i’ve known you, and all i’ve been doing is wasting my time and attentions on somebody who doesn’t deserve them.” his lips take on a sneer now, blunt and ugly and nothing like what he’d usually say to her. “i should demand your resignation, conroy.”

you’re not good enough. it’s enough to send her reeling. she’s heard it before, but never from phil, who has always had such unwavering faith in her. what has changed? “i don’t believe that, phil. i can’t.” hearing him say what she’s always known about herself cuts deeper than she’d expected it to. so she does what she does best - protect her heart from the jagged barbs of hurt that phil hurls her way by turning cold. jess steels herself and grabs hold of the doorframe in a white-knuckled grip, meeting his eyes with the hardest expression she’s ever given him. it feels wrong, deep in the pit of her stomach, to be so cruel to him, even with the things he’s saying. “you’re not going to get it, director,” she says coldly, “i do my job and i do it well, and you damn well know it. you want me gone? come down to the range and drag me out of it yourself. don’t try to make me give in by being cruel.”

[motleyscrew]

hiscommand​:

X ———— OPEN FOR MUTUALS

THE COMMANDER COULDN’T SEEM TO FOCUS. Sitting on the floor , legs crossed he found himself trying to steady his BREATHING. Eyes closed and his mind just couldn’t shut down. “ maybe I’m not doing it right . . . ” Words mumbled to himself as he tries to remember what the General had told him but failed. The war and the brothers he was losing CLOUDED his mind. He winced , a sudden pain in his heart at the thought. He was too stressed , by now he was practically running on caf. The sound of footsteps caught his attention and he nearly JUMPED from his position. He turned and frowned. He stretched out his legs and his brow pulled together. “ I don’t know how . . . this works. so much for a peaceful day. ” He sighed and stood from his position. A part of him was frustrated that he couldn’t even spare a moment to clear his mind but . . . it was near impossible. He looked at the other , slightly uneasy over the SUDDEN intrusion on such a private thing but regardless he raised an eyebrow as if to ask what they needed.

“commander cody!” rowan’s eyes widen as she enters the room - wrong room! - and she immediately straightens her posture. “i’m - i’m terribly sorry, sir, i was looking for general skywalker, i was told he might be around this way. i’ve been working on repairs for his ship.” maker knows he’d brought it back in rough enough condition, rowan’s ready to be working on it for days. it’ll be a miracle if she can get it off the ground. “i don’t suppose you know where i might find him, do you sir?” she hates to ask, especially from someone who truthfully, she doesn’t know at all. she takes a step back as he stands and folds her hands behind her back, averting her eyes towards the floor. after a moment, the question she’s been trying to restrain bursts forth without much warning, “what - what are you doing, commander? when you were kneeling on the floor there, i mean. i’ve seen general kenobi do it once, but i never asked.”

[motleyscrew]

@wilczmin​ said: “technically a dead body is an object.” ( for evie )

MY D&D MEME!

evelyn stares in wide eyed horror for a moment longer at the body that’s been unceremoniously dumped on the floor of her apothecary before she turns her gaze on geralt, and all of the fury contained in her barely five-foot body is unleashed, “yes, it is an object! but not an object for me! what on earth do you expect me to do with this?” she flings her hands towards it, “this is a problem that i am not helping you with! please remove the body from my shop!” evie’s nearly ready to tear her hair out - she’s ill equipped to deal with a situation like this. it’s not even the dead body itself that bothers her so, it’s the audacity of the witcher to come dragging it in behind him as if she’d know where to put it. “get out!” 

[motleyscrew]

@wilczmin​ said: “ small sips. there you go. don’t want you getting sick. ” ( for evie )

YE OLDE MEME!

“you have no faith in me, geralt,” evelyn shakes her head as she takes her pint of ale and downs what remains of it in an undignified manner. he shouldn’t have faith in her - she’s too small to hold her alcohol, but she’s too stubborn to admit otherwise. “i’m not a child.” she folds her hands around the sides of the cup, thumb tracing across the metal rivulets holding the wood together, “i usually come here on my own, it’s nice to have company.” already, her head is pleasantly fuzzy, eyelids drooping a little and a contented smile across her lips, “you’re not like the stories, you know,” evelyn states matter of factly, “you’re much kinder. i think people are wrong about you.”

[motleyscrew]

@wilczmin​ said: “ i thought they’d killed you so i lost my temper. ” ( evie )

YE OLDE MEME!

“of course they didn’t kill me,” evie shakes her head as she drags the back of her hand beneath her nose, smearing blood up her cheek, “i’m fine.” tear tracks have dried on her cheeks and there’s a horribly darkened bruise blooming purple across her cheekbone. she’s definitely not fine, but for geralt’s sake, she will be. she’d been in the tavern and had found herself on the wrong end of a few drunkards’ rage. blasphemous witch, they’d called her, wicked woman. “they - they think i’m a witch. for the experiments i’ve been doing, i suppose. but that’s all right.” evie looks up at him and smiles as wide as her tender cheek will allow - but there’s sadness in her eyes. her smile slowly fades as she takes in his expression and she takes a small step backwards, “geralt, did you - what did you do to them?”

[motleyscrew]

@wilczmin​ said: "Did I leave you hanging every single day?" ( evie )

YE OLDE MEME! 

“not every day,” evelyn begins quietly, not meeting geralt’s gaze, “most days, but not every day. i’d hoped you’d be coming back sooner.” more often than not, evelyn kept the shop open long after she should have, just in case. as the months wore on, though, she’d begun to slowly lose hope - perhaps she was not meant to encounter the witcher again, as much as she’d like to. she’d stopped her careful experiments with the witcher potions he’d told her about, she no longer wandered too far in search of something new and helpful, and her life had begun to settle back into its melancholy routine. the bundles of herbs she’d set aside for him had begun to wither, and rather than see them go to waste, she’d always given them to anyone in town who’d needed them. she almost feels guilty now that he’s standing here, for not having anything immediately on hand for him like she always does. “white orchard is lucky to have you passing through again, geralt,” evelyn says cordially, mustering a smile, “what do you need?” 

[motleyscrew]

leschanceux​:

allie’s presence here is the result of a spontaneous impulse, memphis’ name listed on a social media advert for the bar that caught her eye the evening previous. she hangs around by the bar, trying to work out a way to find him and say hi, i heard your song and i’m wondering if it’s about me to his face ( or, alternately, escape before he finds her and pretend it never happened ). turns out she doesn’t need to worry about finding him; he finds her first and brings tea with him. she offers a grateful smile, waving away the mention of a peace offering - it isn’t needed. there’s nothing to smooth over between them - they split on amicable terms, she doesn’t hold anything against him - a peace offering makes it sound like the two of them have been at each other’s throats. “i can take a cab by myself just fine, thank you.” if he’d come to pick her up, the kids would’ve been so excited and they would’ve never escaped in time for him to play - but she appreciates that he would have come, had she asked. “i loved your set. you sing so well, memphis - you always did.”

“i know, i’m just letting you know there’s a standing offer,” memphis shrugs. she doesn’t mention the song immediately, and he’s grateful for it - memphis breathes out silently and the tension releases from his shoulders. why is he tense? it’s only allie, the mother of his children, the woman he’s been in love with for years ... right, he needs to bottle that back up immediately. “thank you, i’m - i’m glad you liked it,” he starts, “i’m really glad you came, allie. it means a lot.” honestly, memphis had expected to never see her at one of these ever again. he’s missed seeing her smile at the back of the room when he looks out at the crowd during his sets. he tries not to let his fondness creep into his expression too much. “do you want to sit down and talk for a while?” he’ll understand if she has to leave (he knows, too, how expensive a babysitter can be), but he wants to be selfish, for her to stay just a little while longer. 

[motleyscrew]

leschanceux​:

“ah, free shots go against the first rule of this team, chèrie; no unnecessary deaths.” arguably, most of their deaths are unnecessary, but that’s a point to tackle on a different day. his hand stays on her shoulder, not shrugged away but not wholly invited either ( he persists, despite how awkward he feels ). “unfortunately, killing comes with the job we’ve given ourselves,” he tells her, his tone gentle - though maybe not as reassuring or absolving as nicky’s may have been in this situation, “but if it helps, the people we end up killing are usually monsters. we’re helping the world, one connard at a time.” perhaps he’s just become too desensitised to it all over the years - perhaps he’s been desensitised since he was a child, growing up during the <long-reaching effects of the british assault on france during the american war of independence>, and thanking god that his family were not rich ( though a little more money to ensure consistency in regards to sustenance in their everyday lives would have been nice ) during the french revolution. “i listen to nicky talk about the right reasons, i suppose. it helps somewhat.”

jess wrinkles her nose, “i thought the first rule of this team was that as far as anyone else knows, there is no team,” fight club, jess thinks. his hand feels heavier than it ought to upon her shoulder, as if it carries the weight of the world along with it. “i didn’t get to make the choice though, book. i didn’t give myself this job.” she shakes her head, arms folding tighter around herself. jess isn’t sure what kind of an answer she’s looking for from him. “i chose to join the army, i took on that burden on my own, but this - i was effectively kidnapped from a hospital, and now i just have to kill more people for the rest of my life, however long that might be?” it doesn’t seem fair. maybe he’s right, and maybe they are helping - maybe it will get easier once she’s as old as the rest of them. but it’s a long way off, and already the grief is eating her alive. she shakes her head again and blows out a long breath, “they can’t be the right reasons if they’re not your own, booker. and these aren’t mine.”