ᴘᴏᴘᴘɪɴꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ is a selective rp blog written by M ( she/her/34/CST ) mature topics will be featured. minors please do not interact, 21+ rp partners are preferred. replies will be made as muse allows, real life will come first. please allow me time to respond. I don’t mind if you reblog things from me but please don’t use me as a resource blog, if so it will result in a block. no godmodding. no ooc drama, im too old for that shit. DISCORD IS AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST TO MUTUALS ONLY.
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Maeson was hardly paying attention to whatever violence was being portrayed on the television in front of them. All of it was a watered down version of the real thing, especially when you involved so many rules and an audience that knew nothing other than that they liked watching people bleed for their entertainment. His voice, however, seemed to shake her out if the haze, gaze lifted to screen finally, and she laughed.
“Lack of situational awareness seems to be a problem a lot of people share.” She mused, glass picked up from the bar in front of her, finishing the amber contents inside before offering a shrug. “There.” She points as they rounded back to another clip. “You don’t win a fight simply because you’re the bigger beast, you win it because you’re one step ahead.”
You know what? He could get behind that. "Sounds like you know your way around a ring." He mused, passing her a glance that was a mix of curiosity and admiration. "You fight? Or you serve? Gotta be one of the two, only guys who talk about situational awareness are the ones trying not to get blown up or avoiding a street fight."
Open to: All
“Easy, I’m not here to kill you.” He said, casually taking a bite of the leftovers he’d helped himself to. “I’m just here to collect.”
The truth was, Jarek more than likely had gotten the wrong address. He barely paid any attention when given directions, usually resorting to blundering his way through his bounties until something stuck. And apparently this time, something had. Atop the table he sat at was a decapitated head submerged in a bucket of ice, a detail that was hard to miss. “Think of it like a…centerpiece.” He said with a nonchalant wave of his hand as he leaned back, setting his bowl aside. He crossed his legs at the ankle, keeping his boots propped up as he folded his hands behind his head languidly. “You don’t got the cash I’m open to other forms of payment.” Jarek reasoned. “Long as I get something valuable out of it.”
It was always the bars with a little character that drew him in most, preferring the familiarity of dusty tabletops and sticky floors to anything else. He knocked back his beer, taking a long pull off it, gaze glued on a fight playing onscreen across from him. One guy was getting pulverized, back up against the cage, pummeled until his guard broke. He watched blood go spraying, the commentator's voice getting drowned out by the bar's sudden eruption as they watched the guy get KO'd, straight to the mat.
"Guy's a fuckin' beast." Garrett remarked as the match's highlights began playing. "But that fuckin' cross. You drop your guard like that, you're just fuckin' asking to get hit."
her heart felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins and she hadn't even been the one fighting. when garrett had brought up her coming out to see him fight, she didn't know what to expect but thought it would be fun. sports had never really been her thing, so she didn't really even know the difference between the styles and what not. so she thought sure, she'd be a supportive girlfriend, rah rah cheer. what she saw, however, was a completely different side of him. the guy in the ring was the person she knew, but also it wasn't. when he was declared victor, it felt like an automatic response when she clapped, joining the crowd though she was shellshocked. as soon as he had exited out, she bolted, heading straight for her car. she didn't leave, just sat there for a bit, taking in everything that she had seen. when she saw him exiting the small arena, she got out, leaning against her door, waving until he spotted her.
once he was close enough, she took in his appearance. he looked freshly showered, hair still damp, but her eyes zeroed in on the fresh bruise beginning to form against his temple. her hand automatically reached out, fingertips brushing against his skin. "you won," she said, trying to sound excited for him, though she was sure her expression was a poor showing of it. "i had no idea that you were so ... good?" she tilted her head to the side, mouth scrunching up. "that's how you describe it, right? good that you beat up the other guy?"
So he hadn't been entirely truthful about how brutal his fights would be. But seeing as they'd been dating for a few weeks now, he figured it was about time she came and watched. It wasn't the first time she'd seen him bruised up, even if it was the first time she'd witnessed him getting them live. But there was something special about seeing her in the stands ahead of his fight like he had. Boxing was his life, and truthfully being with him meant developing a thick skin. There was never a day he wasn't going to come home looking worse for wear. And as graphic as it might get, it meant a lot that she'd made the effort to show. He couldn't exactly say the same for past girlfriends, which meant she was a keeper.
"Better than good, babe." He said, mirroring her excitement as he pulled her in for a kiss. "That's a W on my record and a title shot." He couldn't stop the boyish grin that crept up onto his features, eyes alight, as he took her hand in his, interlacing their fingers together. "So you coming to the next one? Think I fight better when I know my girl's watching."
" well, aren't you a ray of fuckin' sunshine. " southern accent rounding out the end of every word adding a warm tinge to her voice, like cinnamon on an apple pie. she couldn't blame him, even across the bar she was annoyed at the sight of the couple.. but this was her bar, meaning she was the only one who was allowed to be agitated. " their harmless, if his tongue ain't down her throat at least ten times tonight, something's wrong. " a true bar slinging professional, brown eyes remained hooked into him, as she popped open two more bottles for a couple of regulars. another swift movement, stuffing the bar key into her back pocket. " you're new here. i've never seen you before. " there was no need to ask, when she knew every face that walked through her door.
"Sure am, nickname was sunshine back in the day." He said, playing along, completely unfazed by her assessment of him. He'd gotten way worse. But of course she'd never seen him before. He'd never set foot in her bar 'til now and was only in town for the night. Just a couple drinks, and he'd be on his way.
"Yeah, you know I'm just passing through." He said, taking a long pull off his beer, still eyeing the couple out the corner of his eye before shifting his attention back towards her. "Heard there was a band playing, figured I'd check them out. I miss 'em?" He wasn't there to cause trouble, much as he gave off that vibe. Just there to enjoy some live entertainment before heading back to his sketchy motel a few miles down the road.
"awh what's the matter? you want an invitation or somethin?" indy's new york accent was amplified from the tequila as was her libido. truthfully, she was working and the man she had been tasked with distracting had gotten her drunk enough to make it as fun as it was easy. indiana didn't intend on sleeping with either one of these men by the time the night finished. as soon as she got the text she was waiting on she could go home. maybe this man could unknowingly help her with her task. his interruption had given her enough time to pull away just enough to give him enough attention without taking away from her job. "if we made this handsome fella spill a drink, it'd be on us right baby?" making the two men buddy buddy up would make it much easier to slip away when the time came.
She was damn right it'd be on them. "Just watch yourselves." He said, prepared to take his drink and put some distance between them, but unfortunately for him, her man didn't care for his tone. He watched his demeanor take a rapid shift from playful to aggressive, eyeing the way the guy appeared to squeeze her a little tighter, as he confronted him. 'You got a problem, buddy?' He didn't, but he was about to fucking have one.
"Ain't your bud, bro." He said, glancing between him and the girl. She didn't even look like she was enjoying herself. "How 'bout you ease up?"
Born in Brooklyn, Garrett was a military brat, his father having served in Vietnam and among the few who chose to enlist as opposed to getting drafted. Even when the war ended his dad continued to serve, moving his family from base to base, sometimes on U.S. soil and sometimes on foreign ones, never living in any one place longer than 6 months to a year.
By the time the Russell family had settled back in New York, Garrett, 12, was struggling to make friends. Growing up in such a strict household not only meant a curfew but made it hard to invite any friends over that he did manage to make. it was always ‘Yes Sir, No Sir’ and treating his elders with respect. Anything less meant a beating.
For almost all of middle school he’d managed to stay out of trouble until his dad began drinking heavily, an even more abusive and monstrous side of him emerging that no one thought possible. A side that Garrett is convinced killed his mother just 4 years later.
By high school, Garrett’s obedient, dutiful attitude did a 180. He began cutting class and failing academically, focusing his efforts on stepping up in ways his father didn’t to keep them from poverty. He eventually took to selling pot on school grounds, resulting in his expulsion; upon hearing the news, his father beat him so hard he wound up in the hospital with broken ribs, contusions, and severe facial trauma.
In an attempt to escape their situation his mom began packing more than a week’s worth of clothing for her stay at the hospital, planning to escape somewhere safe with Garrett upon his release. But his dad, realizing he was about to lose his family, turned on her instead that night. The police report states cause of death was due to blunt force trauma from falling down the stairs; Garrett, however, knows the truth.
The fallout following his mother’s death was instantaneous. The moment he was released he never returned home, wanting nothing more than to put a bullet through his own father’s skull. But instead of enacting vengeance, a recruiter gave him a chance at redemption instead, enlisting in the Marines at 17.
Garrett spent his initial years in service refusing to ever visit home, traumatized by what he’d left behind until he met and fell in love with his future ex-wife while stationed at base in Quantico.
Things seemed like they were looking up for a while and Garrett was on cloud nine. With her attending college nearby he made a point of trying to see her as often as possible, feeling for the first time in a long time that he wanted something more out of life. They talked of building a future together, of what life would be like when Garrett was discharged, and the kind of parents they would strive to be. The fact he was even having that conversation had Garrett deciding then and there that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, getting down on one knee a mere 2 weeks later.
Though their walk down the aisle was only a walk to the courthouse, they left the happiest of newlyweds, surrounded by family and friends.
As the honeymoon phase began to wear off, the first few months or so of marriage was off to a rocky start. With Garrett still in active duty and getting deployed following 9/11, the illusion of building a family together began to crumble. She wanted a baby and a family. Garrett, still in the thick of his service, did not.
Over time they began to develop a hot/cold relationship. They were on again/off again, always seeming to reconcile when Garrett returned home, each return to civilian life short-lived and bittersweet. However, the ‘war on terror’ was beginning to take its toll, Garrett bringing sides of him home that his wife had no idea existed, slowly turning into the man he hated most: his father.
After many unsuccessful attempts to try and get her husband back she eventually gave up, filing for divorce only to discover she was pregnant. Sick of his absence and sick of worrying if he’d ever even return, she made a decision. She was determined that her baby have a solid father figure in their life, to be part of a nuclear family, and to not have to raise her baby alone. So she told a lie. Writing a letter to him, she told him she’d been seeing someone else, detailing the dissolution of their marriage and that when he returned next, divorce papers would be waiting, causing their marriage to come to its abrupt end.
Garrett, troubled by the news that no one was waiting for him, began to get blackout drunk any opportunity he got. He was reckless, forcing his supervising officers to grant him personal leave.
He did not cope well. His wife had left him. He was entirely in the dark on the fact he had a kid, and in his mind, the only thing standing between him and the life he’d had was this ‘other man’. Frustrated and at a loss for how to win her back, he turned to the Marines. It was the only thing he knew, his only constant, and he was good at it.
He served three tours as a Force Recon Marine until he finally returned Stateside in one piece, save for a slight limp he now carried. His transition to civilian life wasn’t easy, making a return to his hometown. The first place he visited? His childhood home.
His father at this point was nowhere to be found, the rundown complex was long abandoned and in the process of getting torn down. With no place to call home and not wanting to sleep in his truck during New York’s freezing winters, he began to squat in the abandoned building until fellow Vets at the VA assisted in helping him get a roof over his head.
One vet in particular did more than help him get settled, he was Garrett's in into the world of professional boxing. And the moment Garrett learned he could fight people for a living? It was over. The man became obsessed, focusing all his time and energy on training and participating in amateur bouts. For years he worked his way up to going pro, until one career-defining match thrust him into the spotlight, putting him on the map.
He watched her for a moment, debating whether or not to respond. He wasn't so good at calming people down, if anything he was real good at pissing 'em off. Clearly she didn't need any more of that.
"...you okay?"
Let me tell you, Jon Bernthal, if he’s around food, he eats it. Season 1, there were Italian sausages and he ate all of them. Then this season, I see him in the kitchen with Jamie [Lee Curtis], and they’re just eating the meatballs.
– 'The Bear' Culinary Producer Courtney Storer on Jon Bernthal
plot: spencer has hired your muse (escort / s*x worker / someone looking to make extra money / etc.) to confirm whether or not her husband is cheating on her. they’ve come back to let spencer know what has happened.
“…so you saw him?” the woman asked, the once bustling home filled with children and life was empty except for the two of them seated at the kitchen table. her husband was away on some trip with his church, and she’d always suspected he had eyes for almost every person that ‘worked’ for him there. boys and girls alike, barely legal. but she also thought… maybe she was paranoid. “he used to tell me that it was unholy to have… relations if we weren’t intending to procreate. so… we haven’t been… together in any sort of way. i just, um, find it hard to believe that he would stop.”
"Ma'am, I'm just telling you what I saw." He knew she probably didn't want to hear what he had to say being that he wasn't the bearer of good news right then, but he hadn't spent a week tailing the guy for nothing. It was just hilarious, the guy's excuse, saying it was 'unholy to have relations'. That was the biggest load of bullshit he ever heard. He had to be careful not to burst out laughing. "With the kinda shit he's been feeding you, sounds like your man's been unfaithful for a real long time now." He mused, attempting to sympathize. The guy wasn't great at this sort of thing, but hey, points for trying, especially when he was just itching to collect his money and go.
