born recluse//ARCHIVED

MOVED to unsolicited-manuscripts

[slave-949-blog]

[ Hey guys! Well, here comes that announcement-- I’m moving Monkey over to a mulitmuse blog: @unsolicited-manuscripts!

All drafts will be slowly transferred over there once my writing picks back up, so I hope the whole mulitmuse scene doesn’t bother anybody! Thank you all. 💚 ]

[slave-949-blog]

Does Monkey get bored often? How does he deal with it when he does?

[ Boredom isn’t too much of a regular issue for Monkey– the man leading a highly active (if not interesting) life most of the time. Working as something of a salvager means that he’s always on the lookout for the least traversed parts of whatever abandoned city that he happens to find himself in at the time. Living out on your own in the wild also means there’s almost always something that needs to be done.

But for the rare moments where this isn’t the case, Monkey is admittedly rather fond of the occasional catnap when he can get away with it. Apart from this and given his interest in all things “people” he’ll sometimes wander through old homes or establishments (libraries, malls, so on), just for the sake of looking rather than looting. ]

[slave-949-blog]

combat stats – !

General:

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★  — strength ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★  — offense ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆  — defense ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆  — speed ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★  — durability ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆  — accuracy ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★  — agility ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆  — stamina ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — teamwork ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — stealth

Specifics:

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★  — close combat ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — bladed weapons ( swords, daggers ) ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★  — blunt weapons ( clubs, staffs, axes ) ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆  — ranged weapons ( archery, guns ) ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — superpowers / abilities ( magic miracles) ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — traps / setups ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — medic

Any lasting injuries from combat?

While Monkey is utterly littered with scars (some deliberate, some not) the man has somehow managed to avoid sustaining any permanent damage over the years– save for those marks across the surface.

Fighting style? ( bold any that apply. )

commander / duelist / honorable / dishonorable / would have others do their fighting / stealthy / long-ranged / melee / technological / sorcery miracles / superhuman abilities / has fought in a tourney / a lover of fighting / a hater of fighting / cowardly / reckless / strategic / uses underhanded tricks / renowned for their skill / trained / untrained / keeps skills a secret / won a battle / lost a battle / ruthless / merciful

Tagged by: @positronicminds [ :D ] Tagging: Anyone who hasn’t-- Seriously, tag me ‘cause I wanna see!

[slave-949-blog]

DOG PERSONALITY QUIZ

Woof! You are a: Pit Bull

You might intimidate some people, but once they get to know you, they'll see how soft and gentle you truly are. You are the most loyal in your group of friends, and you act as their protector if anyone should ever threaten them or break their hearts.

Tagged by: @positronicminds [ Thank you, friend! ] Tagging: Whoever wants to!

[slave-949-blog]

How Sinful Are You?

NOTE // You may leave some questions blank or select multiple answers if you desire.

Sloth: 40%

Wrath: 20%

Envy: 0%

Gluttony: 0%

Greed: 0%

Lust: 0%

Pride: 0%

Chance You'll Go to Hell: 9%

You will get bugs, because you're too lazy to shoo them off. And then you'll die.

Tagged by: @positronicminds [ Thanks! ] Tagging: Whoever wants to!

[thesassycat]

*Seductively lays on a table* Hey bab- *Table breaks*

[slave-949-blog]

ecstasyofblood:

         Have you ever known someone in your life who rarely smiled, but when they did, it was enough to light up the whole god damn room? Or perhaps you’ve seen this trope in movies— the greaser, the punk, the emotional reject, he gets his scene, he gets his moment where he smiles, & the world & the audience rejoice, so happy are they for their little boy…. finally, Marlon Brando gets the love & the attention he deserves! Oh look at him smile! Look at that face light up! & then there are the characters of whom the smiles you dread to see: these are your Anthony Perkins in Psycho, your Jack Nicholson in The Shining, or your Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange. Lucienne’s smile was a mix of both: the character who never smiled did, & oh—— he did so so wonderfully, a ray of sunshine!— but for all the wrong reasons, & glistening canines, sharp, too sharp, do nothing to help set a pleasant mood.

           A single stride forward acted as the nail in Reggie’s coffin; the pallbearers rushed to greet him as Lucienne squished his cheeks in his hands & twisted— as effortlessly as a toddler would pull an eraser head from a pencil, he twisted the head clean off; poor Reggie hit the ground, blood spurting from his neck.

           I’d like to at this moment advertise PEPSI-COLA (the superior alternative to coca cola, & with a nicer logo, as well, despite its failed mascot): A woman screws the cap off of her Pepsi; the carbonated, caramel-dyed drink sprays everywhere. The woman laughs. Lucienne laughs, fancying this a small triumph, not really taking into consideration what the other may think of such a display of brute, ugly force. He’s more preoccupied with (ex) Reggie’s head, sticking his hand up the neck, fascinated to see it poking out of the mouth. REALITY FINALLY SETTLED; he shifted like a snake back into his former demeanor, wide-eyed as he looked back at Monkey, opening his mouth slightly. Slightly, but not saying anything. HE WANTED THE OTHER TO SPEAK FIRST. Would he be reprimanded, or considered a hero? Had he met a gentle man, or a machine capable of destruction such as himself?          This & more next week… on the Twilight Zone. 

In what was probably the loosest sense of the term imaginable, Monkey had technically gotten what he wanted: the phone was out of Reggie’s hands. The aforementioned phone now laying face up near the feet of the body, where Reggie had dropped it the second that Lucienne had taken his face in his hands. The kid had just barely started screaming, his own hands in the process of lifting up to tear and claw at the larger man’s flesh, but Reggie’s head had been removed like a wine cork before he could even touch the other.

The light from the screen of the discarded cell phone persisted, illuminating the blood that had spilled across it and turning it a sickeningly bright pink in color. After a moment the screen dims, locking itself due to inactivity.

Monkey stands stock-still in the doorway, and he can just feel the fact that he’s gone a few good shades paler in color himself-- extremities immediately going cold, stomach dropping. Unwittingly he mirrors the taller man; mouth opening without the intent of offering any words. Or any sounds, for that matter. For one brief moment he stares, wide-eyed but tunnel-visioned at the still spurting neck of the now deceased store clerk. Everything that had been so subtlety off with Lucy this entire time suddenly taking center stage, holding hands, and seemingly waiting for applause from the audience. The applause wasn’t coming, but Monkey was a little afraid that if he kept watching the pooling blood then the contents of his stomach most certainly was.

Closing his mouth, swallowing, and finally blinking, he slowly looks to that ever expectant face.

“W-why the hell did you do that? You--” He can’t hold eye contact for very long, however, and without thinking about it he takes a step inside the room. Gaze bouncing between the head (complete with fingers poking up out of the mouth) and back down to the body. “You just-- you fucking killed him.”

[slave-949-blog]

fixesforkicks:

Truth be told, Wort never thought much of his old nickname. ‘Fixer’ doesn’t have the same ring to it that ‘Monkey’ and ‘Teddy’ does, but something about the way his patient says it stays with him, making it feel less like a convenient excuse for others to avoid using his real name and more like a medal of honor. Fixer, he thinks, pride swelling in his chest as he mulls it over, wondering if he should start using it more. It doesn’t sound half bad, actually, thinking about it like that. Not bad at all.

“I wouldn’t compare the two. You know what they say: qualities, not quantities, and you helping me means a lot. Hopefully mine does too. It shouldn’t be long before you feel good as new.”

Monkey’s massive hand rises again, except this time, it’s a welcome sight and not a positively terrifying one. Wort beams back at him, jutting out his chest, and makes an stiff-jointed gesture in mimicry of his patient’s. A toast, or a full-hearted attempt at one, to their health and luck. Monkey’s in particular. Nomad or not, it’s immensely more dangerous living out there than it is in here, like a rat in a maze, shrouded in darkness and crumbling, labyrinthine halls without end.

“Don’t worry. I know you will, because you told me. Oh, and please… please…” The doctor lifts a finger and puckers his lips, his gaze filled with intensity, as though he’s about to divulge the secret of a lifetime. “Be careful. You know how they are. The machines and the others with their violence and power. Wouldn’t be favorable running into them. Any of them!”

“Yeah, your help means a lot, too.”

Also on the list of firsts was the fact that Monkey had never garnered such a seemingly confident reaction out of anyone before. Seeing the man smile brighter, quite literally puffing up with pride, was perhaps something of a self-satisfaction on Monkey’s part, as well.

All things considered here, he had gone form wary of the stranger to downright fond of him in what had to have been record time. Some (probably most) would argue that this wasn’t exactly his most rational trait, but forming fast attachments to particular individuals was a tendency of his. A rather rare tendency, but a tendency nonetheless. Regardless their time together is coming to an end, and fond of the Fixer or not saying goodbye has never been all that difficult to do. Even though this time it’s temporary, after that it won’t be, and of course that’s fine. Fast attachments are one thing, but lasting connections are something else entirely.

“And don’t worry ‘bout me, I’ll be careful.” That said he turns to head out of the room, and back down those hallways that had brought him there. But not before he adds, “You be careful, too. What’s dangerous outside can be ‘specially dangerous inside, y’know.”

He’s sure the other man knows the building that he’s been holed up in quite well by now; most of the exits, all of the hiding spots. But much like how living outside left you exposed, living inside could sometimes leave you cornered just as easily.

[slave-949-blog]

positronicminds:

darling-red:

     She certainly wishes that Lore would drop the suspicion towards her – she only lied once, and that was out of fear that the docking bay would be painted red with her husband’s blood.  She wants so desperately to explain to Lore that not everybody has some sort of ulterior motive.  At least, having one that caused him any sort of trauma.  Red shakes her head, turning a corner.  But like every other thought and complaint that she has at present, she knows there’s a time and a place to air her grievances.

      Now certainly isn’t it.

     “I know, Lore.  I know.” She says softly, understandingly.  “Why do you think I’m here?  Soong told me of B’s back switch when we were still on the station, but he was so scared.  I couldn’t just – I couldn’t doom him to stay there and be a slave that was terrified of being erased for little mistakes.  I don’t know what your father originally created you for but the direction he’s gone down now makes him too terribly close to a tyrant.  So I’m not going to let him take you either – because I wouldn’t wish that sort of fate on even my worst enemy, and you most certainly aren’t that.  Nowhere near.  So I’m going to fight tooth and nail for the both of you.”

     Another minute or so, and she’d be there.  The medication is kicking in a little more now, and all she feels is a strange void in her chest.  One that presses against her skin and feels like it’s expanding; pressing up into her lungs and making herself lose air a little bit faster than usual.  But now, she can run.  She can make it before B-4 does, pretty confident in her one resolution.  And admittedly, she falls into silence because of a statement Lore said.

     ‘His’ little puppet.

     “Do you know if Soong’s override is complete?  Is our B in there and aware at the moment, or be able to get information as to what happened from his personal data banks?”  Red asks, sounding a little more out of breath than she did a few moments ago.  “Or will he wake up with no memory whatsoever of this whole debacle?  And what’s going on with you specifically – and what can I do to ease it when I get there?”

     The significance of their discussion doesn’t pass by Red.  Lore had allowed her to come help, and allowed himself to at least put a little bit of trust in her.  Sure, it had all been for self-preservation purposes – and that’s the same base instinct that’s driving the three of them to act and react in the way that they are to avoid the situation.  Unfortunately, Red has to silently ask for a little more from him.

@positronicminds​

Lore listened quietly, allowing Red to speak without interruption.

“I don’t want your pity,” he said after a small bout of silence, but there was no bite to his words– if anything, there was the faintest hint of understanding behind the exhaustion in his voice.

“Soong’s just like everyone else. Everyone in this damn universe is a tyrant, Red, or they would be if given the chance.” Except her, maybe. What Soong did to and with his creations seemed to genuinely disturb her. It was… kind of her to care.

“He’s my ‘B’, Red,” he snapped, much of the softness suddenly gone from his voice. “I’m sick of you all claiming him like he’s your family. We’re brothers, not you. You have no id-dea what we’ve been through except for what we choose to tell you. You don’t know the half of what happens in those mines, Red, and you never will– and I hate the fact that you met him first. If I had been the one who had managed to save him, he would have no t-tr-trouble seeing you humans for what you are.”

He didn’t speak again until she reached the bridge. Slumped against his seat, twitching with errant commands and irregular electrical currents, Lore looked more like a decommissioned robot than anything with a consciousness or a mind of its own.

“…Red?” He could hear her enter, but it was difficult to turn to look at her. “Noonien… he’s used some kind of virus, or… I think he was trying to remotely activate my recall protocols like he did with B-4, but I don’t have them any-an-anymore, so his hack is tearing up my systems looking for it.” There wasn’t much she could do for him; he needed a skilled engineer, a real one, or time to slowly try to work through the internal damage himself.

“…I don’t know. About B-4. When Often Wrong was testing his early designs for the recall n̠̗̤̦̮͈͜o̜̤̘̱d̪̝͖̤̞͠e̲̹̫̠̺͠ͅ, I remember finding myself by his side suddenly. It was… disorienting. I couldn’t ex-act-ctly remember what happened, but I could piece most of it together from memory logs if I tried. If it’s the same for B, I think he m-might be… sort of watching himself right now, unable to control what he’s doing. He should forget when we wake him back up.”

Lore was right, at least about his brother’s current experience. B-4 was vaguely aware of a sudden pressure at his back, and then he was falling forward until he stopped. His arms were outstretched in front of him. He did not recall catching himself.

The weight on top of him was nothing more than a novel distraction, but distractions of any sort were to be avoided at all costs. His elbow shot back five times in rapid succession, aiming for the most vulnerable parts of the weight (his attacker, human, male, Monkey, a threat, someone to be removed immediately). Without conscious thought, B-4 aimed precisely for the eyes, nose, throat, sternum, and the side of the man’s rib-cage with more speed and force than he ever would have used in a voluntary fight. He didn’t mind hurting Monkey, nor did he have any desire to injure him; he did not care what happened to the man, as long as the android himself could get up and continue walking.

“Stop,” B-4 said without inflection. “Please.” If the threat persisted, the next logical step would be to throw Monkey into one of the walls with as much power as B-4 could manage from this position. It was unlikely to be lethal, but breaking a human’s bones or knocking the breath out of them was an effective way of slowing them down, and that was the primary goal of this interaction.

@slave-949

If Monkey is surprised by the fact that B-4 manages to catch himself he doesn’t have time to show it. It is however a fairly reasonable indicator as to just how strong the android actually is. He hadn’t wanted to find out earlier, but perhaps it would have been a good thing to know before getting into this. Before he was squaring up against one that currently had no qualms about breaking his face (would Lore have had those qualms?).

Straddling B-4′s legs, Monkey puts the majority of his one hundred and eighty-five pounds against the backs of his thighs in what may be a misguided attempt to keep at least the bottom half pinned down. Of course this leaves the arms free, and before he can even reach for his back to try and find that switch, he’s ducking an elbow that would have most likely taken out one of his eyes for him. Flinching away farther saves his nose from getting broken, and yet farther still saves the two other areas below this from sustaining considerable injury as well. Unfortunately the rest of his mass is harder to move, especially as he’s reaching with his hand opposite the flying elbow for the other man’s back, and the last attempt wings him in the side. Being a walking wall of muscle was great, but it only got you so far; it hurts, but it doesn’t immediately feel like anything’s busted.

It hurts so much that Monkey involuntarily doubles over with a sharp intake of air. Despite this he reaches out again, only this time instead of going for his back he goes for the back of B-4′s head, putting those giant mitts of his to good use. The initial idea is to try and slam his head into the floor (what would have been repeatedly)-- that is before he moves to try and throw Monkey off.

With a split-second decision and any luck at all, just maybe he can use this to his advantage.

Thighs pressing against B-4′s, grip tightening-- one hand on the back of his head, the other quickly gripping his shoulder-- Monkey uses the momentum of the movement to roll himself to the side along with the android‘s prompt. Either they’d change positions and Monkey would be able to more or less springboard him into the wall instead, or he’d simply end up clinging to him for dear life on the floor. The former would be ideal, but the latter would still be better than hitting the wall himself. Maybe.

@darling-red​

[slave-949-blog]

darling-red:

     Just like that, those clouds in her eyes are gone; relief once again fills her features.  The more the days had passed and the stronger and more sure he had gotten, the easier it had been to convince her.  Monkey was still great at taking care of himself, too.  Red couldn’t blame him about the occasional complaint because God knows she would have if their roles were reversed – wait, it had been, kinda.  But as long as he smiled, spoke, reciprocated affection, and had a healthy appetite, there’s nothing more she could ask for.

     His question brings a much wider smile to her lips.

     Of course she’s fine.  It had taken her a while to adjust to the lifestyle that they currently lead, with her constantly asking questions – the why’s and the what’s usually – but she had learned over their time together.  And she learned well.  Specific objects stuck out in comparison to everything else, and things that she once thought she could never live without suddenly seemed so inconsequential when put aside the things they really needed.  Today had been no different, either.  Except for one thing, but that’d have to wait until he got better.

     Unfortunately, there’s no way to convey that, to explain it in its entirety.  So a simple but affectionate headbutt to his shoulder would have to do, leaving it sitting against scarred skin for a long moment as her still cold fingers curl and uncurl absentmindedly against him.

     She’s home, he’s awake, and that makes her happy.  Makes it all worth it.  And the fact that she can curl up against him and nestle into Monkey’s sleeping bag nest is one of the best rewards at the end of the day.

Craning slightly at the chest to briefly press his lips to the top of that head sitting against his shoulder results in the rather uncomfortable tugging of stitches in the side opposite her. A quiet, subsequent grunt escapes from the back of his throat before he can catch it, and he settles back against the fabric soon enough. Tempting pain maybe, but it was worth it. Besides, so long as she was all right he really couldn’t complain too much.

Something else he couldn’t very well complain about were the scars that were more than likely going to be left behind, once the assorted injuries had finally managed to heal. The one on his side in particular was simply going to be added to the three other vertical gashes that had already gathered there (there was just something about his right side that seemed to like getting targeted especially).

“Well, now that you’re back is there anything I can help ya with? Please say yes.” And please ignore the earlier instance of discomfort. He had said he was all right and he meant it. Under the circumstances a little discomfort was simply unavoidable. “'Cause if I have to spend one minute lookin’ at those things, I’m gonna go crazy.” At this he gives an illustrative glance over toward the pile of paperclips at his side.

Nothing against Truffles, the trinkets were still better than nothing, but there was only so much time that Monkey could spend looping little metal things around other little metal things.

[slave-949-blog]

darling-red:

     Having expectations of something that’s coming and actually having that expectation happen are two entirely different things – Red’s face once again going beet red as the two of them walk near, Pigsy’s words hitting her ears.  So much does it take her by surprise that she opens her mouth to talk, only instead of words escaping in an embarrassed jumble, a huff does – followed by another, almost more impatient sounding one before her lips fully close to contain it.

     Maybe she had hoped that Pigsy wouldn’t say anything about it.

     “Oh, well,” her fingers grip tighter around Monkey’s, as she turns to head back inside while she secretly speaks to him.  “We’ve got another twenty to thirty minutes then.  Let’s take up a whole hour.”

     Of course, her voice is absolutely dripping in sarcasm, and it’s also pretty obvious there’s no actual intent behind her steps – if Monkey wants to tug her back to his side, or keep her from walking far, he most certainly can, and she most certainly expects it.

Red gets one arm's length away from Monkey before she comes up against that resistance that she’s expecting; the larger man not budging from his spot, yet still keeping ahold of her hand. He does however turn his face to the side, previously annoyed expression now more amused than anything. He’s well aware that she’s joking-- particularly more so than the man peering out from the window on the bus, who screws up his face and waves that golden hoof of his back and forth in the air: erase, erase.

“Aw, c’mon. I, I was only joking. I certainly didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Uh-huh.” With no trace of irritation or accusation the noncommittal noise slips casually enough out of Monkey’s mouth as he looks back over to the heavyset man, who had already started to turn to make his way off and around to their side of the bus.

Which is fortunate for him, because being momentarily out of view means that they can’t see the flash of confusion that sweeps across his face. He’s obviously trying to figure the pair out, but damned if they aren’t hard to peg. While Pigsy makes his way nearer, Truffles lets out a questioning sound and turns.

【 ❛ . ❛ 】

Looking left and right for a second it spots the errant piece of metal that it’s seeking; the one that had flown past it moments prior. The pixelated dot serving for its mouth opens into an “o” before it quickly takes off after it.

【 ◠ ᗜ ◠ 】

[slave-949-blog]

positronicminds:

“Excellent.” Being “lousy when it comes to details” was not an excuse that Data would accept. Lore was an enemy of the Empire, and even if he really were floating out in space, there was no doubt that he would find his way back to a ship and to power sooner or later. Data was confident that the elder Soong was aboard this ship, but whether or not Monkey was telling the truth, Data wanted his brother found.

“I am impressed that you are able to identify my maker based on my appearance alone. Have you dealt with Doctor Soong in the past?” It took him a few moments, but Data located a suitable cord– one of Lore’s additions to the ship, clearly– and flipped up a panel in his head to attach himself to the console. He downloaded all primary sensor logs for later review, then tucked the cord away again and closed himself up. He was satisfied with his cursory look around the ship’s small bridge. It was time, now, to investigate those signatures.

“I will be clear with you, Monkey; I believe that the android you encountered here is still aboard. Perhaps I have not explained myself well enough. This is an official investigation on behalf of Starfleet, and providing anything less than your full support and cooperation will warrant punishment. If you have been lying to protect your property rights, I am willing to overlook your deceit and purchase my brother for a higher price than you would get from a regular trader– if you lead me to him now. If you refuse and I find him in my own search, I will have no choice but to subject you to a limited and reasonable time in a painbooth for obstruction of my investigation. Do you understand, sir?”

“Yeah, I understand.”

Monkey recognized the edge of a precipice when he came to one. At this point, there was no chance that Data was just going to up and leave before getting to the bottom of something, and he didn’t need to have seen his scanner to know that Data had already picked up enough of a trail to really compound his interest in the whole unfortunate mess; Data knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there were other androids aboard, just like Lore had mentioned that he might. It was the only thing that Monkey really felt certain about. Well, one of two things, anyway.

“An’ while I’d love to take ya up on that, more-than-generous offer, I’m afraid I just really don’t have the android that you’re lookin’ for.” And the offer was generous, assuming it was sincere, but money had never held much appeal for Monkey. For the most part, he was motivated by much more basic concerns, such as self-preservation-- which also told him to take the deal, if only to remove himself from harm’s way. After all, what reason was there really to be so foolishly steadfast to either agency at play, here? It all came down to the second thing that he’s certain about: he isn’t going to, quite literally, sell the other two out to the Empire. Not if it meant that they’d end up back in the mines that he had heard so little (and yet so much) about during his stay with Lore and B-4. Neither one of them deserved that shit.

“So, in the interest of cooperation--” Monkey’s tongue seems intent on tripping over the word “cooperation”, but it makes it out more or less intact-- “I haven’t dealt with Doctor Soong personally, but I may have uh, acquired two prototypes of your maker when I took control of the ship.”

[slave-949-blog]

TAG GAME

ic stats!   (   BOLD ALL THAT APPLY.   repost, do not reblog!   ) Tagged by: @positronicminds [ ♥️! ] Tagging: I’ve seen this going around before, so just anybody who hasn’t that wants to!

WEALTH  —

$  financial:  wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty ✚  medical:  fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non applicable ✪  class or caste:  upper / middle / working / street trash / slave / unsure ✔  education:  qualified / unqualified / studying / other ✖  criminal record:  yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but has not been caught yet

FAMILY  —

◒  children:  has a child or children / has no children / wants children ◑  relationship with family:  close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no sibling / sibling(s) is deceased ◔  affiliation:  orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parents / not applicable ♡  romantic relationship:  / single / dating / engaged / married / widowed / it’s complicated

TRAITS  +  TENDENCIES  —

♦  extroverted / introverted / in-between ♦  disorganized / organized / in-between ♦  close-minded / open-minded / in-between ♦  calm / anxious / in-between ♦  disagreeable / agreeable / in-between ♦  cautious / reckless / in-between ♦  patient / impatient / in-between ♦  outspoken / reserved / in-between ♦  leader / follower / in-between ♦  empathetic / apathetic / in-between ♦  optimistic / pessimistic / in-between ♦  traditional / modern / in-between ♦  hard-working / lazy / in-between ♦  cultured / uncultured / in-between ♦  loyal / disloyal / unknown ♦  faithful / unfaithful / unknown

BELIEFS  —

★  faith:  monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic / it’s complicated ☆  belief in ghosts or spirits:  yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ✮  belief in an afterlife:  yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ✯  belief in reincarnation:  yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ❃  belief in aliens:  yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ✧  religious:  orthodox / liberal / in-between / not religious / pagan ❀  philosophical:  yes / no / somewhat

SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION  —

❤  sexuality:  heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual / demisexual / unexplored ❥  sex:  sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favourable / naive and clueless ♥  romance:  romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable / naive and clueless ❣  sexually:  adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious / inhibited ⚧  potential sexual partners:  male / female / agender / other / none / all / unexplored ⚧  potential romantic partners:  male / female / agender / other / none / all / unexplored

ABILITIES  —

☠  combat skills:  excellent / good / moderate / poor / none   ≡  literacy skills:  excellent / good / moderate / poor / none ✍  artistic skills:  excellent / good / moderate / poor / none ✂  technical skills:  excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

HABITS  —

☕  drinking alcohol:  never / sometimes / frequently / to excess ☁  smoking:  never / sometimes / frequently / to excess ✿  other narcotics:  never / sometimes / frequently / to excess ✌  medicinal drugs:  never / sometimes / frequently / to excess ☻  indulgent food:  never / sometimes / frequently / to excess $  splurge spending:  never / sometimes / frequently / to excess ♣  gambling:  never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

[slave-949-blog]

[ So far tonight has apparently been devoted to cleaning up past memes (I completely retyped the last one because the font went screwy and I’m that kind of person). But while I’m at it, I’m going back through and altering something:

I’ve been on the fence about this since I started the blog, but orientation is changing from hetero to pan (demi-- Monkey doesn’t attempt to show interest unless somebody else shows interest first, on account of his limited socialization). Due to past experience I feel the urge to include an eight paragraph essay defending this decision, but I’m going to refrain and instead thank you for your acceptance on the matter!

Naturally this changes like, nothing at all, but I felt the need to address it.

I’ve also been trying to research myostatin-related muscle hypertrophy due to the mention by my BFF, because I think barring any potential medical problems (which I haven’t seen any documented?) this would actually serve to explain quite a few things. Such as how a child as young as he was managed to survive alone in the killer robot-infested wastelands. Or how one goes about ripping said robot parts off more or less bare-handed. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So you know, if anybody happens to have any info on that I’d appreciate the input! ]

[slave-949-blog]

ecstasyofblood:

       “You just want to check on him…..” His eyes narrowed oh so slightly, but he put up no further resistance. HIS SNACK COULD WAIT FOR SOME OTHER TIME…… maybe, depending on the strength of those vampiric urges. “YOU ARE MORE COMPASSIONATE THAN YOU THERE OUT SEE, Monkey Monkey.” He picked a bit off his lip, but the flesh returned almost immediately, like a damn loyal dog. “….but you hitted him not hard enough, if he already consciousness regains.” This comment caused Lucienne to actually crack a tiny smile; the euphemism for death was funny, to him. 

               A bit exasperated by the fact Monkey led the path, Lucienne trailed behind, sulking oh-so-silently, glancing curiously over Monkey’s shoulder to see the clerk— SOME DAMN KID. “Reggie.” SUBCONSCIOUSLY, the AAG read the name out loud, before realising his mistake— any movement could set this guy off (not that he could physically do much harm; Lucienne worried more over the telephone in his hand).He bit his lip, shying away a tad. VOICE BARELY AUDIBLE AS HE ASKED, “Monkey-Monkey…. do you want me to get this guy?” No need to describe what “GETTING THIS GUY” pertained. 

Making his way to the back, Monkey feels acutely aware of Lucienne’s presence right behind him. He’d also almost swear that he feels those dark, incomprehensible eyes burning a hole through the back of his head, but he just as quickly chalks that up to paranoia. Everything the man said, coupled with the ever so slight narrowing of his eyes, left Monkey wholly unable to judge whether or not he believed him. It didn’t help, having his own thoughts about perhaps not hitting the clerk hard enough the first time expressed aloud to him.

Jesus, you need to calm down. This was a better thought. What the hell’re you gettin’ so worked up over, anyway.

Looking up when he hears his name, Reggie freezes. And while his hands continue to visibly shake, his fingers become white-knuckled against the phone.

This is a disaster, is a worse thought.

Hands up, palms out, Monkey momentarily lets Lucieene’s question sit as he attempts to take one slow step forward. “Look, kid--”

And with a scream that a Viking warrior would be proud of Reggie stoops, grabs the jerrycan at his feet, and hurls it in Monkey’s direction. Immediately, he goes back to trying to get a shaking thumb to press down on the “emergency call” button on his lock screen.

Monkey keeps the oil-filled receptacle from clocking him in the head with his raised forearms, but it still manages to force him back a couple of steps-- and out of the doorway.

“Ya little-- Lucy, Lucy get the goddamn kid!” Unfortunately, Monkey doesn’t think to ask what “getting” pertained. He just wanted the phone out of his hands.

[slave-949-blog]

positronicminds:

darling-red:

     The same expression is leveled at Monkey, combined with an eyebrow twitch – a sign of her own stress slowly increasing to a threshold that made everything more difficult.  But at the last second, Red’s lips quirk into a smile and then Monkey’s gone.  Off to stop B-4 from doing something that he’d be appalled over if he ever found out.  Not like they had any time for any more sentiment than that with the next threat looming over their heads.  So with a soft sigh that almost echoes in the emptiness of the room, she presses the medicine dispenser against the side of her neck; eyes closing in a brief wash of relief as a soft hiss escapes from it.

     Maybe they didn’t have to tell B, comes the thought as chemicals make their way through her blood stream and take the pain away with them. What B-4 doesn’t know won’t hurt him.  He doesn’t need to know, does he?

     A grimace passes along her face at the thought as she tosses the dispenser away.

     B-4 isn’t a child, and it’d be much better to tell him now and figure out some sort of work around in whatever subroutines the brothers had or any other quirks that Soong could take advantage of.  Sure, he will probably be upset and beg forgiveness – but Red’s certain that between the three of them still aware, they’d get him out of that.  They will explain to him that it was Soong acting through him, and surely he’d understand.

     But he has every right to know.  And he needs to know the risks in the future.

     Stopping at the threshold of the cell, Red peers out into the hallway as she waits for the medication to kick in a bit more.  Already, there’s no sign of Monkey’s retreating form (the man always having been fast for his size).  There’s no sign of anyone else, either.  Finally, she dips out of the doorway and into the hall a couple seconds later.  Unfortunately, she doesn’t move very fast for the situation, a brisk walk having to suffice for the time being.  Despite the numbing of the pain killers, she still feels foggy.  Short of breath.  But she follows the lights like she’s instructed, the small, glowing slivers near the floor barely illuminating her way to the bridge.

     “Lore, I – I need you to do something, okay?”  Red asks after a moment, not concerned about keeping her voice down.  If he was right and B was taking the most direct path with a specific purpose in mind, his programming wouldn’t make him care about her being silent or not.  “I need you to talk.  About something.  Anything you want.  You can even threaten me if it makes you feel better.”

     And she sounds genuine about that statement – because that is one reason for the request.  To get Lore talking, to loosen him up.  Help him problem solve if such thoughts arise.  In times of extreme stress, she had turned to Monkey to rant about something that bothered her, and he had always been patient and listened.  Even if he had been less than kind to her, Lore needed that now.

     “But don’t stop talking.  It tells me that you’re okay.”

@positronicminds​

“You better, you useless sack of flesh,” Lore hissed, mostly to himself. He didn’t know if the comm system had picked it up, and he didn’t particularly care– he had bigger things to worry about now than Monkey’s feelings.

Lore didn’t have much in the way of internal visual sensors, but he diverted a little of the ship’s precious power into tracking B-4′s neural signature on a ship-wide map. The small beacon was moving at a steady, rapid pace, taking the predicted route. It was a small comfort to know that he could accurately guess his brother’s plan and movements, but the closer B-4 came to the bridge, the more anxious Lore got. It wasn’t simply a matter of the prototype turning the ship around (although that was the worst possible outcome); Lore knew that the elder Soong would view him as an obstruction to his return mission. B-4 might seriously injure Lore in his efforts to remove his brother from the controls, and in his current state, there would be little Lore could do to defend himself.

“Computer, alter course on my mark. And raise force field in juncture A-124, now.”

The marker on the map came to a halt. With any luck, that small hesitation would allow Monkey to catch up to B-4 before he–

“Computer, disable all on-board force field capabilities, voice authorization ‘Lore.’ Confirm.”

The computer confirmed B-4′s order immediately. There was no code or voice that Lore could use to instruct his ship that his brother could not emulate, and he shut off the tracker with a frustrated flick of his wrist. It was all up to Monkey, now.

“What are you playing at?” Red was up to something, and he couldn’t figure out what. “If you’re trying to make B-4̢̬̣̬̩͔ hear me threaten you and feel sympathetic, it’s not going to work.” He didn’t understand. Why would she want to know that he was “okay”? They weren’t exactly friends, and he was sure that she was a little more concerned about the safety of the other human than she was about Lore.

Ah– perhaps she was asking for updates so she would know whether Monkey had succeeded, or whether B-4 had killed her husband and made it to the bridge.

“B’s not here yet. I don’t know what’s going on down there.” Lore grit his teeth against a sudden fluctuation in his central processing core. …He might have whined pitifully into the comm channel, too, but he decided to ignore his own sign of weakness and act as though it had never occurred.

“You wish to talk, Red? L-Let’s– let us talk-k about what will happen if he catches us. I can’t go back. I can’t go back there, and I’m not going to let him and his little puppet make me. I’d rather destroy this entire ship than allow that to happen. …I bet you wish you’d left when you had the chance now, don’t you?”

@slave-949

Whether or not Lore’s parting shot manages to reach Monkey’s ears will likely remain something of a mystery. A mystery to the others, anyway, because it had. Fortunately the larger man’s feelings aren’t so easily hurt. In fact it took a great deal more than that to even begin to dent them, and any attempt to do so had to come from somebody Monkey was closer to than just an acquaintance-turned-kidnapper. Under the current circumstances and if it made Lore feel better to vent his frustrations, more power to him. Much like with the assigning of blame from before, Monkey would rather it was pointed in his direction than in Red’s.

Besides, he has somebody else to worry about at the moment. Somebody that, from the sounds of it, won’t hesitate to destroy anything or anyone that happens to get in his way.

Sprinting down the hallway, Monkey only vaguely continues to listen to the other two while they converse. Although he certainly catches the voice command that B-4 decides to override on Lore’s behalf-- and the only way that he could tell that that was what had happened was because it would have been pretty contradictory if it had come from Lore himself. That, and the voice comes from both the comms overhead, and from just around the next bend in the hall; dimly illuminated by the emergency lighting. The effect succeeds in standing Monkey’s hair on end.

Making it around the corner just in time to see B-4 start moving forward once more, he doesn’t stop, nor does he slow his pace. He is, after all, the only one available to get in his way.

And unless the android had other plans, Monkey would elect to try and tackle him from behind. The plan being that if he could pin him down long enough to find that kill switch in his back, he’d save himself a whole lot of pain and trouble.

@darling-red​

[slave-949-blog]

positronicminds:

Data was generally a more imposing figure when he was by Picard’s side, tall and otherworldly with his nasty-looking Borg implants, ready to carry out his captain’s instructions to the letter. He looked somewhat less threatening alone in front of the large human, but he wasn’t fazed in the slightest; people had a tendency to underestimate his mental faculties and mistake his loyalty for stupidity, but Data was perfectly capable of operating alone.

“That is very unfortunate.” Casually, he flipped open his scanner and tapped his fingers rapidly against the controls to adjust for his own positronic signature as he spoke. “I require a full description of the individual you ejected, and the exact coordinates of his departure.”

Three distinct signatures, one darkened– his own. Intriguing.

“Do you have a crew, sir? What is the size of your complement?”

Two separate marks. Noonien would never have sold one of his creations– had Lore rescued one of their brothers? Where did this man factor in? Perhaps Lore had gotten himself a slave or a servant of his own.

“I am the ISS Enterprise’s science officer, Data. I will be conducting a search of this ship to confirm that its previous owner did not leave behind any materials or weapons that may pose a danger. I expect your full cooperation, sir; let us begin with your personal details. State your name, profession, and your purpose in acquiring this ship.”

Data stepped neatly past the man, examining the helm controls and recent commands. If he were Lore, he would have hidden himself in a containment field in the brig, in a cargo bay, or in the transporter room, if the ship had been large enough to have one. There was no rush to go looking for Lore immediately, however; the human here with Data could undoubtedly provide information on the second positronic signature, and the soldier would rather be prepared for whatever surprise Lore had in store than go blundering into some ill-conceived trap.

Nodding along with the mention of misfortune (after all, if the intention there had been to try and sell the android in some fashion or another, having to eject him from the ship instead would have been rather unfortunate), Monkey’s gaze quickly falls on the scanner but he forces it back up before the glance can be taken as anything other than just that: a passing glance. Curiosity as opposed to uncertainty.

“My name is Monkey and well, job and purpose are kinda one and the same here, I work as a scrapper.” Naturally, Monkey allows Data to move past him and nearer to the controls without any signs of protest, simply turning in a circle so that he could continue to face him.

Conducting a search. A search that sounded more than a little mandatory. Lore hadn’t mentioned that possibility. Either the thought really hadn’t occurred to him, or it had and he just hadn’t put that much stock into it actually happening. With any luck they’ll congratulate you and leave, he had said. Of course the door had already shut on that possibility. At any rate, Monkey couldn’t exactly ask him what the hell he was supposed to do about it now.

Head tilting to the side he reaches up to run his thumbnail along his raised brow once or twice, his other hand coming to rest against his hip. “Y’know what, I hate to admit it but I’m sorta lousy when it comes to details.” The words escape in a chuckle, heavy with pseudo embarrassment. It isn’t embarrassment he’s feeling, after all. That spot is still occupied by nervousness.

“I can get ya the info you’re askin’ for, coordinates and all that, but it might take me a minute. What I can tell ya is that he looked a lot like you-- a Soong-type, I mean, and that there’s no crew. I work alone.”