There’s literally no way to tell how many chameleons are in your house
The darkened break room had a single projector hanging from the ceiling, stuck on with duct tape and the sheer force of will on York’s part. He had been the one to suggest a movie night, and was quickly backed up by North and Maine, with Wash following a little more skeptically, wondering if he’d wake up with a hangover the next day.
OH MY GOD YOU DIDN’T
WHY THE FUCK IS THIS FANDOM FULL OF SO MUCH GODDAMN HEARTBREAK FMLLLLLL
now i’ve been listening to sweet dreams (are made of this) all afternoon and all i want to do is write carolina/wash to it
how do these things happen
Maine pawed off the blood streaming into his eye and avoided a lightning-fast kick from Tex, then paused to wipe off more blood before shooting in to take her down. He heard Wash make an angry noise and spared him a glance; his lip was split and bleeding profusely, and Wyoming had managed to slash him right across the nose.
Maine wrestled the knife from Tex’s inhumanly strong grip and tossed it out of the ring.
hnnnnnngh these two.
satoru-13 asked you:
Everything you say to me / Takes me one step closer to the edge / And I’m about to break / I need a little room to breathe / Cause I’m one step closer to the edge / I’m about to break - Maine? Wash?
Something had gone horribly wrong and Maine could not find the words to scream for help. Air struggled past lumps of tar that disfigured the interior of his throat and soft, huffing growls filled the rec room. At the questioning glances from the other freelancers Sigma had smiled down at him benevolently and given a small laugh.
“Agent Maine is simply thinking aloud.” He explained, holographic hand resting lightly on Maine’s head, and the other freelancers took this in stride – accepting it as fact. After all, Sigma had a direct connection to Maine’s brain; He was sure to be an accurate translator for Maine’s now abbreviated speech.
A translator that Maine had no way of contending; more and more the freelancers had started talking at him – no longer to him, with him – taking Sigma’s word for truth as Maine slowly became a part of the backdrop.
It was as if he were a child. Some sort of pet.
Trapped in his own mind, he still (naively) held onto the hope that someone would notice something was wrong.
The rasp of air over mangled vocal chords once more came out as a growl as Maine futilely attempted to speak, to communicate, to exist.
“Woah boy,” York laughed, “keep growling like that and we’ll need to put a leash on him, eh Sigma?”
Sigma smiled benignly from where he hovered over Maine’s shoulder, flames casting a glow that flickered over the furrows of scar tissue that mutilated Maine’s neck.
“Don’t worry Agent York.”
“I‘ve got full control over him.”
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh my god. oh my god. This is just. Oh my god. If this is how it goes I just. Oh my god. Oh my god fuck.
goddammit you’ve reduced me to incoherence