[ Note to self: stop waking up clueless in weird places.
Granted, he's waking up with all of his limbs intact this time around, so maybe it's not so bad. Barring the fact that he's suddenly a crew member on a dimension-traveling ship with very little direction given to him aside from a very vague, very unhelpful 'go forth and...do whatever, honestly, you look like you can handle yourself'. Was he meant to find that flattering, or??? Then again, he's gone through nearly this exact scenario in his past, so. There comes a time when one has to buckle down and resign yourself to the fact that if you get shit shoveled on you, you better get started with shoveling, too.
Not much else that can be done, anyway.
The customary manpain that comes along with being a character from his canon can come later: first, what he needs to do is get a bearing on his surroundings. Know where he is. Assess.
So here he is, up in the observation deck to watch the expanses of space coil up around him. They really weren't bullshitting about all of this, were they— that thought is both unnerving and relieving.
Being that he's a man of very few words (we all wish he would use his words), he doesn't say anything as he meanders over the deck... though he'll notice that something just fell out of someone else's pocket. Is it their communicator? A handkerchief? An embarrassing photo of themselves?
Whatever it is, he's gonna reach down to pick it up with his bionic hand. Call out to whoever it is, for good measure. ]
Hey. —Dropped this.
[ or just feel free to get a load of this grown-ass man standing around alone by himself, what a nerd. ]
b. UNDER PRESSURE
[ Diamonds. Of course. Of course it's diamonds. Why wouldn't it be diamonds??? His entire life is one running morbid joke, apparently.
There's almost something despondent about the man crouched near the base of this particular volcano, if you can see his expression under the respirator he has pushed against his mouth. He's standing on top of what looks like a small mountain of diamonds, because let's be real, he's a hefty guy and the ash under his feet surrender to his weight fairly easily.
Is he... supposed to bring all of these back to base, or...??? It's potential funding for their travels, right? Military money?
A bit more time spent grappling with himself later, Venom tentatively... starts piling up a few of the gems into the crook of his arm. Earnestly. A few go in his pockets. A few say 'fuck it' and roll away from him to settle somewhere near someone else's foot.
He's acutely aware of the fact that he looks ridiculous, don't worry. ]
...We supposed to keep all of these?
[ please say no. ]
c. WILDCARD.
[ anything goes! lmk if you want me to set something up specifically for you...! ]
venom snake | mgsv: tpp (some canon about fiddles, probably)
[ Note to self: stop waking up clueless in weird places.
Granted, he's waking up with all of his limbs intact this time around, so maybe it's not so bad. Barring the fact that he's suddenly a crew member on a dimension-traveling ship with very little direction given to him aside from a very vague, very unhelpful 'go forth and...do whatever, honestly, you look like you can handle yourself'. Was he meant to find that flattering, or??? Then again, he's gone through nearly this exact scenario in his past, so. There comes a time when one has to buckle down and resign yourself to the fact that if you get shit shoveled on you, you better get started with shoveling, too.
Not much else that can be done, anyway.
The customary manpain that comes along with being a character from his canon can come later: first, what he needs to do is get a bearing on his surroundings. Know where he is. Assess.
So here he is, up in the observation deck to watch the expanses of space coil up around him. They really weren't bullshitting about all of this, were they— that thought is both unnerving and relieving.
Being that he's a man of very few words (we all wish he would use his words), he doesn't say anything as he meanders over the deck... though he'll notice that something just fell out of someone else's pocket. Is it their communicator? A handkerchief? An embarrassing photo of themselves?
Whatever it is, he's gonna reach down to pick it up with his bionic hand. Call out to whoever it is, for good measure. ]
Hey. —Dropped this.
[ or just feel free to get a load of this grown-ass man standing around alone by himself, what a nerd. ]
b. UNDER PRESSURE
[ Diamonds. Of course. Of course it's diamonds. Why wouldn't it be diamonds??? His entire life is one running morbid joke, apparently.
There's almost something despondent about the man crouched near the base of this particular volcano, if you can see his expression under the respirator he has pushed against his mouth. He's standing on top of what looks like a small mountain of diamonds, because let's be real, he's a hefty guy and the ash under his feet surrender to his weight fairly easily.
Is he... supposed to bring all of these back to base, or...??? It's potential funding for their travels, right? Military money?
A bit more time spent grappling with himself later, Venom tentatively... starts piling up a few of the gems into the crook of his arm. Earnestly. A few go in his pockets. A few say 'fuck it' and roll away from him to settle somewhere near someone else's foot.
He's acutely aware of the fact that he looks ridiculous, don't worry. ]
...We supposed to keep all of these?
[ please say no. ]
c. WILDCARD.
[ anything goes! lmk if you want me to set something up specifically for you...! ]