@chickendave12 a rulie as per your request :)) it’s a little messy because it’s not really finished it’s more of an extended doodle and I don’t know what lighting is but !!! I think it turned out well :))
inspired by @silverlullabies doing truth serum drabbles, here’s mine
Extraction went about as well as they were bound to go, which is something you can distantly appreciate. When Soap had needed one last time, everything went tits up and semi-scorched. Which is how anything involving a concussed Soap is bound to go.
Concussion isn’t entirely off the table for you yet. Captain said he can hardly see the color of your irises, swallowed as they are by your dilated pupils.
“Sergeant,” Captain Price calls over the beating blades of the heli. “You broken?”
You feel your throat bob as you swallow. “Could be, sir. They stuck me with something.”
“Didn’t hit your head?”
“Yes, sir. But the side effects occurred after injection.”
“Sitrep. Now.”
You roll your words around your mouth with a thick tongue, holding them behind your teeth. Before more than a half second passes, a wave of nausea rolls down your spine, spilling the words from your mouth. “Elevated heart rate and body temp, blurred vision, nausea, muscle weakness, and compulsion to speak.”
“Compulsion?”
“Yes, sir. Can’t shut up, sir.”
“Seemed to be fine before.”
“That was before the questions started, sir.”
“Quit that, sergeant,” Captain says, but the corner of his mouth ticks up a bit. Fucker probably thinks it’s funny.
“Hey! Ye broken!?” McTavish shouts from the copilot seat, turned all the way around to look at you. Fat lot of good he does up there when Ghost’s the one piloting.
“A little,” you yell.
“Don’t ask her anything,” Captain shouts back.
“I’ll answer!” You add helpfully.
“Was it ye that broke the door outside the canteen?” McTavish asks immediately, the pissant. He’s been bothering you about that on and off for weeks. Pisses you off because you have literally broken the least amount of things on base. And besides—
“It was Garrick!”
“Negative,” Garrick shouts from where he covers their six outside the cabin window, eyes through the scope and hands on the M240.
“Positive! Saw it myself!”
“Ye bastard, Ah was stuck with the boot cause of that door!”
“Don’t distract cover,” Ghost grunts, doing the helicopter equivalent of jerking the steering wheel. Fucker loves doing that, and it makes you nauseous every time— even more so now.
“Cover your face from my fucking fist, asshole,” you gripe back, holding your head.
Captain clears his throat, making your foggy head snap back to focusing on him as he leans forward, elbows on his knees, in the seat across from you. “What were they asking you?”
“The usual— where are we operating out of, our contacts in the area, operative names.” Sweat trickles down your brow as you speak. You are sweating like a fucking adulterer at the altar.
“Give them anything?” Captain asks, more perfunctory than worried.
Your cheeks heat a little from something that is not the drug. “No, sir. Distracted them, sir.” You don’t want to say it, you don’t want to say it, it’s so stupid and should literally die with you so you’re totally not going to say it— “Started ranking you all in terms of attractiveness, sir.”
Captain’s eyebrows raise slightly, leaning back again. Soap turns all the way around in his seat. Garrick and Ghost’s heads don’t turn— they’re too professional for that— but you know they’re fucking listening.
The words trip over themselves as they fall from your mouth. “Noted that there were no female soldiers around. They specifically singled me out of five targets and my position was harder to reach than Garrick’s, leading me to believe that they targeted me for being female. Further commentary confirmed my suspicions. I couldn't stop speaking right after getting the drug, so when asked about my team I latched on to whatever I could think of in the moment that would make them lose interest in questioning me. Best case scenario was that they thought I was knowledgeable but stupid and focusing on the wrong information.”
Captain digests this silently. His eyebrows are scrunched together. Fuckkkk this is such a nightmare. And it’s really terrible that you fucking mentioned it, you could have just said no and been done with everything. But now Captain has to worry about shit that is definitely not fucking professional and you should not should not should not fucking mention that—
“I’m sorry, sir!” You gasp out after holding your fucking breath trying to keep this in. Your vision spins with those familiar purplish dots. “I did share information on team operatives! I told them that Bravo-6 was too old for me— by fifteen years which is just too-too much, so even though you’re very attractive and around my height, weight, and personality preference, you’re at the bottom! And that you’re too hairy and I respect you too much as my captain! I did not specify what height or weight or any names, sir!”
You’re panting now, hands shaking from the muscle tremors that had overtaken you when the drug was first administered. Is this a fucking resurge? A response to your increasingly elevated heart rate? “And I— I told them that Gaz was too lean! Perfectly nice and handsome, and he should be with someone nice and attractive, but not me and I like men that are broader than just fit. Still no specific information, sir!”
Captain reaches over to grasp your shoulder. “Slow down, sergeant. If you didn’t tell them anything other than what they can see with their eyes, we’re clear.”
“But what if I slipped up sir?” You ask, breaths still short. “I don’t remember everything I said because I’m fucking feverish and probably fucking concussed. I didn’t mean to say a lot of what I said, I just started going and going and nothing they did made me stop. I told-I told them Soap’s haircut wasn’t all as bad as what people said and that it suits him even though I don’t like ‘hawks. But I didn’t say anything about ‘hawks while I was there, at least I don’t think so. But that’s the thing— I don’t remember. I think I told ‘em that his fucking neck is almost as big as my thigh and his biceps even bigger. And that he’s real fucking funny,so that’s why he’s number one.“
McTavish punches the back of his seat out of excitement. “Ah told ye lads that lassies like the hair.”
“You motherfucker, I’m fucking dying right now,” you gasp out.
“You’re not bloody well dying,” Captain says curtly. He shoves a canteen of water into your hands that you shakily drink and spill over yourself. “Not in the next twenty to base.”
“Yer holdin’ together well, lass,” McTavish tells you helpfully, seeming a bit sheepish now.
“Information about his bloody haircut doesn’t matter,” Garrick assures from beyond your limited field of vision.
“That’s good,” you say faintly. Everything is swimming again, but your heart rate has finally decreased. You droop, sliding down your seat. Fucking embarrassing, letting everyone know what you kinda maybe thought about how hot they are. Kind of. Sometimes, But wait, you hadn’t said much about Ghost— which tracks because you never say much about him, ever. You’re not meant to. But you should tell him that you didn’t. Tell him that—
“I— Lt, Lt, I didn’t say anything about you. Not really. I almost said something for a minute— no less than. I wasn’t trying to. I just said Ghost would be first, but he’s such a fucking asshole that his rippling traps and all the other back muscles and height and biceps and his dumbass harnesses don’t even matter. And that he’s funny too but it pisses me off because I shouldn’t be laughing when he’s such a shithead and he’s lucky he shuts up most of the time because it makes him more attractive but I kind of fucking like it when he’s smug— but only when it’s not me because it makes me feel like throwing all his shit in the toilet where it belongs.”
"...Rog." Ghost says after a moment. It's grunted. Almost normal. But you're a fucking freak just like the rest of them so you catch the slight upward lilt of his voice. Smug fucking dipshit.
"Gonna tell medical you're over-fucking-wweight so they cut down on your rations, you dick," you snipe. It's far weaker than you want it to be. Ghost's head cants to the side. Smug little--
"You did well," Captain says, cutting you off from rallying yourself to try again. Or haul your body up to the pilot part of the heli to give him a better piece of your mind. "Stay awake, we're close to getting you medical."
I HONESTLY THOUGHT OUT OF EVERYONE, AMON WOULD KNOW INTERNET SLANGS (no i have not read it and im indulging myself into spoilers by reading the personality traits in wikipedia AHHAHAH)
FJ:LSJDKFLDS Originally, my thought process was that because “ni hao” is a Chinese phrase (and I like the head canon that CW’s appearance is one where ‘He’ wears a traditional Chinese clothing), it is something that Amon is not aware of but CW understands. Then, it kind of just evolved into Amon being clueless about modern internet meme culture in general because the idea of that was very entertaining to me haha
Also, please take this cursed image of Amon and Adam.
This ask actually made me think a bit and I had to go ask a friend what their opinion of this was LOL
Additional information forward is considered spoiler-y so if you do not mind getting even more spoiled read on ahead haha (Also to just random people reading this, this is MAJOR SPOILERS FOR STUFF IN LOTM VOL 6 so please be careful!!):
Since Amon is born as an Angel, he has little humanity (if any) left. And so my friend thought that ‘He’ does not care enough about what memes are to really indulge in them. This I do agree with. However, I can also see “Him” being curious in what they are, especially if ‘He’ finds out that these memes originated from what ‘He’ believes to be ancient history (time period of the Ancient Sun God). So Amon might just be interested in them in a historical aspect and not really as a “prank” kind of aspect haha
