Hello there! My name is Fool! This is an independent Brackish Okun roleplay blog, multi-verse and OC friendly. 21+ only, please. I am private and semi-selective meaning I will only write with mutuals. If you are interested, shoot me a message or give me a follow! This is a sideblog for @strings-have-been-cut.
@fifty-one-doc // Milt ;;
One last affectionate running of his fingers through Brack’s hair, and Milt was off on his Making the Love of His Life Less Miserable journey. The stop at the cafeteria would be last, that way the soup was as fresh as it could possibly be. Which meant that before it was poured into a small styrofoam bowl, it had only been sitting out for two hours rather than two hours and fifteen minutes.
He snagged the medicine pretty quickly, dipping in and out of the hospital’s pharmacy without so much as anyone questioning his presence. Payment wasn’t so much of a problem there. Especially if you were Head of Medicine. Especially if you were Head of Medicine and your not-so-secret-anymore secret boyfriend was sick. Once the soup was acquired, he hurried back to Brack’s room.
And was out of breath by the time he popped in. “Okay,” he said, panting. “First of all, I’m officially too old to be running around like this. Second of all-” he set the soup and medication down on the nightstand and plopped down on the side of the bed. “I kind of hope you’re too stuffed up to taste very well, because that soup smells like salt. And nothing else. Third of all-!” He’d been about to say ‘how awesome is your boyfriend,’ but suddenly he realized he’d forgotten something. “I didn’t grab a spoon.”
Brack managed to sit up a bit as he came back into the room. “Literally no obligation to run, Baby, but okay.” He managed a goofy grin at him before attempting to peek into the cup of soup to no avail. “Salt is good, man...”
He blinked. “Who needs a spoon? It’s liquid.” He reached out to take the cup and so carefully peel away the cardboard lid. “Thank you thank you thank you.” He blew gently on the soup. “Maybe later - if I’m allowed - we can go down to the kitchen and make some ourselves. Maybe we have those little stop-sign crackers down there...”
@ltbroccoli // Reg Barclay ;;
Reg shrugged hopelessly. “They warned me that – that all of his assistants request reassignment within six months. But – but I thought – it’s Doctor Zimmerman. Who doesn’t – want to work with Doctor Zimmerman?” But apparently no one did, because the man was an ass.
“…I just want to go back to the Enterprise.” But he couldn’t. It was in pieces.
Okun thought it was weird that anyone would ever want to work with Zimmerman. Maybe this guy just really liked the work he did or something. If working with holograms was his thing, then Zimmerman would be his guy. Shame he was such a downer.
“The Enterprise?” His face lit up. “You served on the Enterprise?! Oh, man, that is way cool! What did you do? Did you know Picard? That’s far out.” He was laughing, a high-pitched nervous cackle that came from his excitement bubbling out beyond his control. “I always wanted to go explore the galaxy! I used to have all the Starfleet manuals and stuff. But I couldn’t pass the entrance exam to the Academy. Or...I passed the exam with flying colours, but I couldn’t pass the interview.”
Pegasus in space, from Vincent Di Fate
Classic cover by Al Feldstein from Weird Fantasy #20, published by EC Comics, July 1953, as well as an original painting by Feldstein re-creating his cover, 2005.
Dont cry baby. Knew this was one way ticket, but you know I had to come.
The Abyss (1989)
Rick Guidice
@ltbroccoli // Reg Barclay ;;
Reg blinked, then looked down at the console. Processing the strange job he’d been asked to do, and figuring it out. His voice suddenly got very small. “This… is the third time he’s made up a job just to get rid of me for a while.” What was he doing so wrong? Was his work so awful that Zimmerman couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with him?
“Do you know him? Is he – is he always… like…?”
This guy looked absolutely crushed. It made Okun’s head hurt a little bit. He crunched in on himself like a giant, deflating balloon. Oh man. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that out loud. He shuffles a little awkwardly, looking down at his sneakers. That’s horrible man.
“I don’t know him...well.” He should say something reassuring. “He just kinda seems like the kinda guy who always wants to be left alone, dig? Like he’s angry at everything. I wouldn’t take it personally. I wonder why he hired you as his assistant though if he wasn’t groovin’ on it.”
A letter and a sketch by Mary Anning, which describes a discovery of a plesiosaur. Plesiosaurs are the inspiration of the myth of Loch Ness monster.
From Wellcome Library Collections.
Yes, having implants ripped out would have been very ‘not cool,’ but Hugh decided not to go any further with that. Hell of an understatement. For some reason, it got a brief grin out of Hugh. It only lasted a second, and didn’t quite reach his eyes. It nearly got a snort out of him, too.
What did get a snort out of Hugh was Dr. Okun asking Hugh how he was supposed to prove it. That would take time, really, but Okun wasn’t upset. He seemed more upset by the fact someone had, in fact, tried to tear Hugh apart. Which was a good start, for sure. People often just brushed past it, as though they didn’t even see a problem with it. Like that was just a normal thing done to the ex Borg.
Whoops, he should control himself. Don’t laugh. Keep it together.
He cleared his throat and put on a serious expression.
“Tell me everything you know about my people.” Maybe he could bluff. “I’ll know if you’re lying.” He tapped his eyepiece. “Built in detector.”
That was actually a lie. A complete lie. Why was he lying to someone who potentially knew it was a lie? Well.. Hugh didn’t know. He was still uneasy. The good news was, he didn’t think he was going to be immediately torn apart or used as a science experiment.
Oh, man, he said something funny. He had no idea what that was, but Hugh’s reaction got a grin and a goofy nod out of him anyway, like he was totally in on the joke. And after he made his demand, Okun really was in on the joke.
“Man, you don’t have a lie detector in there.” He chuckled. He just took it as the first test of trust or something. “Anything that’s public access about the Borg and the XBs I know. I’ve read every file on every interaction, from the first First Contact day in 2063 to every Voyager report from the Delta quadrant. Honestly, it has nothing to do with my job, I just found it fascinating how they developed - they’re unlike any other race in history.
“Anyway, once I started learning about ex-Borg though, then my interest really took off. There’s no one out there doing medical research to really help you guys. No academic papers at all on how those implants are wired into your system. Once you’re broken off from the Collective, you’re pretty much on your own. I know a lot of you don’t make it...” Whether it be medical, mental, or emotional trauma.
“When I read that you’ve been doing diplomatic work to try and help your people, I just knew I had to meet you. I don’t have too much to offer you by way of like resources or anything. I’m just willing to be put to work, Man.”
Milton winced in sympathy. Normally he refrained from reacting around patients, being a doctor and all, but Brack was different. If he could, he’d take away the cold and bear it himself if it meant Brack didn’t have to deal with it, and for a split second, his expression showed it.
“Alright, love. I’m gonna run down to the cafeteria and get you some soup. It won’t be like my nana used to make, but it’ll be something. And I’ll grab some medicine that isn’t more cough syrup. Think you can manage without me for a few minutes?” He smiled, pure love- and teasing- lighting up his face. The teasing was a nice distraction at least, Milton hated seeing Brack in a bed like this.
Milt couldn’t kiss Brack, not without getting his gross sick sweat on his lips. No matter how much Milt wanted to kiss Brack, he couldn’t. And he really wanted to kiss Brack.
He settled for pressing his forehead against Brack’s and murmuring, “I love you.”
God he was so cute. It was terrible. This was a crime. How could one man be so full of nerd? Amazing. “I think I’ll be fine.” But he didn’t want him to go. He didn’t feel like eating, and he would have much preferred keeping the cough in exchange for the company, but he didn’t want to keep Milt locked up with him forever.
“Love you too.” He snuck his fingers out of the blanket and scratched Milton’s beard just under his chin. The closeness was killing him, but he was leaking from every possible orifice, so kissing him wouldn’t be good. “Alright, hurry up so you can come back.”
@ltbroccoli // Reg ;;
“Uh… ah…” Absolutely baffled at how this man knew his name, Reg floundered for a moment before managing, “Yes, right. Lieutenant Reginald Barclay. But, um… call me Reg. Please.” If one more person called him Reginald in that angry tone Zimmerman liked, he might explode.
Curious, he glanced to where Okun’s lab was. “Sorry, I… I haven’t seen much of the rest of the station yet.” He spent all his time either in the lab with Zimmerman, or hiding in his cramped station quarters. “It’s a mess in here, I’m sorry, I, uh…” It won’t help, but he starts trying to tidy things. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Ooh...’Lieutenant Reginald Barclay’. Talk about a fancy name. Okun scanned him again. He didn’t really fit the aesthetic, did he? Even the uniform didn’t quite fit him right. “Reg. Dig.” He nodded in approval, glancing around the lab with blatant curiosity.
“Looks a lot less messy than my lab.” He waved his hand dismissively, ignoring the apologies. “No worries, man. I’m just here to re-wire some holo-emitters, but...” He shuffled forward to peek over the console Reg was standing behind. “Looks like he already got you to it.” He shrugged a little bit. “I’ve been asking if I could come over and help out, you know, just to be a good neighbour, and he tells me this whacko specifications he wants those holo-emitters set to. If you ask me, he’s just tryna give me busy work to get rid of me for a while. Seems like the type”
A quick realization and a mild look of panic at Reg. “Oh man...hope he’s not doing the same thing to you.” Wow. It was like setting up a date with two people and accidentally inviting them to the same restaurant. Not cool. “If you want, I can at least try to give you a hand for a while.”
@iamselfmade // Third of Five ;;
Third of Five’s head cocked to the side. “What is a hospital?” Then Okun put his hand out and Third of Five’s head cocked further. They studied it for a moment. They scanned it, even. Human. Full of bones and blood, as it was supposed to be. A normal human hand. Interesting.
What were they supposed to do with it? They looked back up at Okun and their eyes darted back and forth from Okun’s right eye to his left. Did he want them to touch their hand? Why? They lifted their organic hand up. They paused. They closed their fingers and then, cautiously, patted Okun’s outstretched hand gently. Three soft little taps, like they didn’t know the appropriate pressure and didn’t want to unintentionally cause harm.
Their first instinct had been to be gentle. After years of being forced by the Borg to injure, they had instinctively not done so. And they didn’t even notice. The significance was entirely lost on them. In the Borg Collective, if another drone had reached for Third of Five, it likely would not have been good. And Third of Five wouldn’t have even known they should be scared.
Just up until the ship had been disabled, Third of Five would only have touched Okun to assimilate him. That was what the Collective would have commanded. And Third of Five would not have been able to even think to do any different.
Instead, as a disconnected and lonely little drone, Third of Five was gentle.
They pulled their hand to their chest and looked at Okun expectantly, waiting to see if they had been right.
“A hospital is where you go to fix things. People. Fix people. Like...heal them.” Brackish wondered when this kid had been assassinated. There had ostensibly been several UFO sightings and tons of missing people - so maybe he had been abducted when he was little and he didn’t remember how Earth worked. Maybe whatever they did to him wiped out any memories he had. Who knew? Not Okun.
Watching the kid puzzle out what to do with a handshake was extremely interesting. Okun couldn’t keep the fascination off of his face, nodding encouragingly when Third of Five also lifted his hand. As they grew closer, Okun got more and more excited that he would perhaps remember this old Earth custom...and then the kid patted it. Adorable.
He was so careful too, which was really surprising because all of his brethren had seemingly been out to destroy as much as possible with little regard to Human well-being. Maybe this was like a peaceful little dude. Nice. Okun could preach that.
“...Close. Here, I’ll show you. Put your hand out.”
"I think you know what my nickname is for you, baby."
"Mmm...sure do. That and a million other things you'd never call me in the presence of other people...but I think I like this one the best."
Come into my inbox and give my muse a pet name/nickname. They will respond with whether they approve or not.
Third of Five tilted their head. "Nickname? Playful name. Affectionate name. ... Dad."
"Oh man, Buddy, that is the best nickname I could ever get. You did a great job! I love it."
Come into my inbox and give my muse a pet name/nickname. They will respond with whether they approve or not.
