#and i was the only sniper. whack.

[kryptid-kitten]

Saturday's London MCM!! Had a blast again, great to see so many new and old faces

Can't wait for tomorrow >:3

plus bonus of me as sniper now that i can format this post

[death-rebirth-senshi]

What gun to give Ashley the eternal question

[starqueensthings]

A very Crosshair Character Analysis

I posted a poll the other day looking for some opinions, and the prompt was: does Crosshair ever truly miss a shot? Meaning, of all the shots we’ve seen him aim and fire, how many of the few that didn’t land, were intended not to land? Does Crosshair have the skill and ability to land every shot he takes, and what of the ones that go astray (because there are some!)? The overarching, collective opinion (77% of votes) is that the sniper only misses a shot when he intends to, but let me explain why I was asking— the "methods behind my madness," if you will… (Fasten your seatbelts, and keep all extremities— and pitchforks— inside the ride!)

If Crosshair “doesn’t miss”, then there are some things that demand consideration and possible explanation. Please accept this weird internet essay as a deep dive into Crosshair’s character based solely on how I perceived his actions throught season one and two, and opinions I formed while watching his character develop. And while this could not be a Tech-approved analysis without touching on both his perceived good qualities and “flaws”, please know this is not a hate-on-Crosshair post.

Before I get into specifics, I think it’s imperative that we establish a basic understanding of his personality before the chip’s activation. While there is, sadly, not much “footage” we can use to form a true characterization of him, there are some instances we can touch on. The Skako/Anaxes arc from TCW and the earliest few moments of “Aftermath”, Crosshair is shown to be quite sarcastic, uninterested in trivial conversation, measurably combative toward those with differing opinions to his (seemingly all regs, including but not limited to Kix and Jesse), moderately argumentative toward leadership outside of his own Sergeant (mainly Rex, as Crosshair seems to have no qualms following Anakin’s or Cody’s orders), comforting to those who need it (Echo), and an overall good tactical team player.

So, let’s start this analysis by dialling things way back to their mission on Kaller and the complications that arose once Order-66 had been dropped. More specifically, hunting Caleb down in the forest. One of the things I noticed upon first watching that scene and every re-watch since, is how often Crosshair toggles back and forth between blaster bolt and stun cartridge on his rifle, as if constantly battling the indecision of exactly how he wanted to detain the Jedi. Now, if you remember, Tech com’s in and basically says [paraphrased obviously]: “Shit is starting to his the fan, we better get our butts outta here,” to which Hunter responds: “Can’t. Haven’t found the kid yet.” Crosshair then chimes in with, what I have long-deemed to be his catch phrase: “Wrong,” and proceeds to shoot the branch that Caleb is perched on. Not Caleb, who, in Crosshair's mind, should be the rightful recipient of a kill shot… the branch. Hmmmm.

If every one of Crosshair’s shots is so masterfully aimed that its deemed an automatic hit, and thus every miss is intentional (a notion of which I also believe, less one particular shot which I’ll touch on a little later), then there would’ve had to have been a portion of Crosshair’s cognition overriding that Order-66 command to eradicate all Jedi, even if it was only enough to fleetingly switch his gun to stun.

Not long afterward, we see his beloved Firepuncher saber-whacked from his hands, and Crosshair opts to then continue his attack with his backup DC17. Missed shot, missed shot, missed shot, missed shot. Were these blown shots intentional as well? And if so, why does he continue to assail the Padawan? Is Crosshair only able to fight off the command to kill Caleb while his finger is on the trigger, possibly knowing that’s when the fight against his own mind becomes most crucial? Is he clinging to some autonomy in the moments where he’s not posing an imminent threat to those around him, like during the flight back to Kamino? Or can he only resist the chip’s influence when the urge to do something terrible is paramount?

Let’s skip ahead, shall we, to when the Batch is attempting to flee Kamino with Omega. Crosshair sashays onto the landing platform in his new gothboy armour, fresh out of an undescribed chip “augmentation” procedure (whatever that eludes to), and proceeds to have a small stand off with Hunter— both of whom have their weapons directed pointedly away from each other (interesting). During the succeeding fire fight, we see Crosshair line up several well aimed shots, many of which appear to be only inches away from landing on their “intended target”. He eventually succeeds in shooting Wrecker in the shoulder, and I’d like to point out that this shot lands almost exactly where Wrecker was hit by the training droid some hours/days previously. Was the placement of this shot intentional? Did Crosshair pick that particular target area knowing Wrecker would survive the damage?

The shot I find most intriguing is the one near-perfectly aimed at Hunter’s head (lol— brothers). You know, the one where Omega saves the day by unexpectedly blasting Crosshair’s rifle out of his hands. If the chip's activation was the reason he was now hunting them and claiming their treason, why had that moment seen him hesitate? Perhaps he needed a second to line up his shot, you might argue to which I would say argue: we’ve seen him use the active recoil from that same rifle to line up his next shot many times in quick succession with a zero margin of error (see the Skako/Anaxes arc in TCW and the first few minutes of Kaller), including when each shot was aimed at targets both more dynamic in action and further away than Hunter was.

Crosshair then takes several shots at the ramp of the Marauder as they take off, all of which are well aimed… and simultaneously redundant; the passengers are taking cover in the ship already, the Marauder has begun its take off, the ramp is closing, Crosshair running whilst knowing he can’t reach them. I personally attribute those last few shots as tokens of both anger and resentment for being left behind, not ones made with the intention of killing. I think that he expected his brothers to know him better than to believe these actions were of sound mind— he thought they’d be able to deduce that he was fighting a losing battle inside his own head, yet they were quick to believe he would actually entertain such sudden and aggressive hostilities toward them.

At this point, you might be itching to argue that maybe Crosshair's accuracy is largely diminished when he opts for a pistol instead of his rifle, and while I can't dispell this theory, I can provide some statistics. We see Crosshair use a pistol only four times in the entirety of the show so far: 1. against Caleb on Kaller (objective miss), 2. against the Batch Batch as their leaving Kamino (objective miss), 3. against a soldier while he and his new elite soldier squad infiltrate Saw's camp (direct hit), and 4. against Leiutenant Nolan when that asshole he gets on Crosshair's last nerve at the Outpost (direct hit). I will leave it up to you to decide if the theory of whether his skill level changes based on the weapon he's firing holds any merit, or is worth further discussion.

Moving on— the 99-clan is reunited on Bracca. Let’s turn our attention to the shot Crosshair takes at Tech whilst the latter was emerging from the ion engine, and I’m going to include pics this time to support my assertion.

Crosshair has an undeniably clear shot— his line of sight is not impeded, there are no environmental or atmospheric disturbances to disrupt his composure, he was ready and waiting for them to appear. The shot that he fires lands a good distance in front of Tech. Though the unexpectedness of it was enough to startle the genius into nearly falling out of the engine, I believe it was intentionally aimed this way (see below). A warning shot if you will. A “Hello, I outsmarted you and am waiting at your point of attempted escape. Stop trying, and get down here because I don’t want my new imperial cohorts to take aim for me and kill you” shot.

The next arc (Ryloth) quickly demonstrates that any neurological augmentations he’s been subject to (at this point, I believe we've been shown two, but have been led to believe there were several), have had no effect on Crosshair’s infamous sniper skills. First, he fires a perfectly aimed tracking beacon onto the moving target of Gobi’s ship. Then, upon the ship’s return, uses a single shot to disable one of the engines; a shot taken from, what appears to be, several kilometres away and having the immediate desired affect of disabling the ship. Finally, he makes the astoungingly precise shot (and I’m using astoundingly very heavily here) of blasting Senator Taa in the head. This shot, more than the previously mentioned two, are a sign of his impeccable marksmanship. Let me remind you, he was an undisclosed albeit very far distance away, on the opposite ridge of an enshadowed canyon, and is still able to shoot the senator in a place in which HE WOULD SURVIVE the attack. And not just survive, “make a full recovery” as Rampart claims afterward. This is unrivalled accuracy, and while I do not support the assassination attempt in itself, I can not deny how much skill was required to have achieved it.

My next point is something I have always personally found quite compelling, and it occurs in an off-the-cuff, likely forgotten about piece of dialogue.

Brief context: Crosshair has scooped Hunter off of Daro, they’ve landed on Kamino, and the duo (and a third soldier) are on their way to the Command Center to await the rest of the squads arrival. One of Crosshair’s elite troopers waits until he departs the platform before approaching Rampart and saying: “I question the clone’s motives with his old squad. I don’t trust any of them.” I’m intrigued to know where such a potent mistrust began. Is it simply because he’s a clone? A person born and raised unnaturally in comparison to someone with a traditional gestation and upbringing? Or has this soldier previously identified possible cracks in Crosshair’s imperial facade? Has Crosshair failed to hide his distress in quiet moments where he possibly longs for the life he had with his brothers? What is it that triggers this soldier to suspect Crosshair has an ulterior motive in capturing his old squad, and one that they’re apparently worried would not coincide with Rampart’s ideals?

Ramparts reply, in my opinion, gives us a well disguised clue: “If his plan fails, none of them will be a problem any longer.” If his plan fails. Crosshair’s plan. Crosshair has a plan for mobilizing his old family into one place, and what is it? Is he concealing the hidden objective of a reunion with his brothers under the guise of squad assassination? Was it always his plan to eliminate his new elite squad members, hence the perfectly placed mirror pucks we see him utilize in the training room, to make room for his old squad?

Remember, Hunter asks him some time later: “So this was your grand plan? Bring us here and kill us?” Crosshair answers: “If I wanted you dead, you would be.” And this is a statement which I believe to be incontrovertibly true. He has never wanted his family dead, despite having both the resources and skill to ensure they would be if that’s what he desired, but no. He’s angry that he’d inherently felt more loyalty to them than they had shown to him; frustrated that their choices post-Kaller did not align with his expectations of their choices, disheartened that they hadn't initially recognized to his choices to be ones made outside his character, and Crosshair now eagerly rebuffs their every excuse. Reference the spoken: “They don’t leave their own behind… most of the time.” . . . “You tried to kill us, we didn’t have a choice.” . . . “And I did?”

And follows the: “We’re loyal to each other, not some empire.” . . . “You weren’t loyal to me. I was one of you. You may have forgotten, but I haven’t. And it’s why I’m going to give you what you never gave me: a chance…” conversation. (Just stab me in the heart and twist the knife around, Jennifer!!!! Ouch!!! I'm still not over this!)

Was this his plan? To lure his brothers back to their home, and indirectly beg them to join the empire? To offer them the chance to join the ranks of those who have relentlessly hunted them, in the hopes that there might be some semblance of safety in conformity? To reunite the elite squad that they were in the days of the Republic (the original elite squad of which Rampart is trying to replicate with tactically inferior recruited bodies), simply for the safety that joining the empire could potentially promise? Is this the first demonstration of Crosshair using hostility to shield those he cares about from the callous clutches of the empire that he’d become painfully familiar with?

Regardless of the still-unexplained motive, Crosshair’s plan fails. Hunter has either become, or has always been, as protective of his family as Crosshair is stubborn, and he would never willingly subject his brothers (and now sister) to a life of committing abhorrent war crimes in the name of an Emperor who rose, uninhibited, to extreme and unnatural levels of power whilst abolishing the Republic of which they'd previously served. That’s not what their squad was made to do, despite Crosshair trying to convince Hunter perhaps maybe it was.

Unsurprisingly, Crosshair’s pitch falls on deaf ears, even despite killing his elite squad as an offering of trust. Once the training droids have been taken care of and the fray had subsided, Crosshair stands to find Hunter now has a blaster pointed directly at him, as does Wrecker— (Echo and Tech, curiously, keep their weapons pointed away), and the tables have quickly turned. Hunter begins his own plea to his brother, and it leads to a very ambiguous admission. Hunter: “Crosshair, forget the empire. This isn’t you, it’s your inhibitor chip.” Crosshair: “Wrong. I had my chip removed a long time ago.”

What degree of this admission is true? All of it? Parts of it? None of it? Was Crosshair only told that his chip was removed during one of the apparently many augmentations he’d been subject to? Was it removed and replaced with an alternative? Or was it truly extracted, and his questionable actions have been entirely his own? If so, was it the fall of the Republic that spooked him enough to join the ranks of an unknown empire? Did the thought of disobeying orders bother him enough to sacrifice the family dynamic he’s always known, and replace it with a safe sense of conformity? And if this is the case, was missing all of the shots he’d aimed at his brothers, a veiled display of love?

Atop the water hours later, Tipoca City has fallen. Due to their imminent death, Crosshair and his squad have been forced to work together to survive. Tech makes a lingering comment about Crosshair’s unyielding personality being outside of his control, and it’s still ringing in our ears at this point because it implies that a lot of this misunderstanding may just be because of how strongly Crosshair forms opinions, and how only one of his brothers understands that about him. Omega is mid-drowning trying to save her droid friend, Hunter is .4 seconds away from leaping into Kamino’s frigid and turbulent waters to try and retrieve her… and we see Crosshair grab his rifle. This is a shot, of any, that I would expect him to miss— water both impedes and shifts the trajectory of a projectile and mathmatically accommodating for this would take some serious, well thought out calculation; the only usable light for aiming is from the burning remnants of their home, and the container in which Crosshair is perched heaves and tips with every wave.

But he doesn’t miss. He, again, demonstrates that he can make any and every shot he wants to. He lands his shot on AZI’s chest (not dissimilar to where he shot Wrecker, on an obviously smaller scale), and pulls Omega from the depths of the water. Upon turning to see his brothers poised and ready to shoot him if they deemed the need appropriate, I think Crosshair realizes how monumental the fracturing of their squad was. They have no trust left for him. His actions, powered by an inhibitor chip or not, quickly led them to believe he was not the person they knew him to be. As much as he desperately wanted to them understand how powerful the control of the chip was, they didn’t. And I think this moment robs Crosshair of some of his anger and resentment he harboured toward them, and reaffirms that his only option now is to follow the path he was first influenced to follow, regardless of if it’s what he wants now or not. He then chooses abandonment. He chooses to be left stranded on that platform, likely aware that the potential he’d perish there was high. His separation was now his choice.

Let’s move on to Season Two! Episode 3, appropriately named “the Solitary Clone”, indirectly shows us more about Crosshair than I believe any previous episode ever has. Crosshair’s marksmanship is, once again, on full display as he takes down an old separatist tank with one shot (I’m still reeling over it, ok? That shit made me horny). And I can’t move on from this episode without also mentioning how it ended— we know Crosshair has respect for Commander Cody, that was demonstrated by his willingness to follow Cody’s command while he rebuked others’ in the Skako/Anaxes arc. I think it’s also apparent by the return of his notorious sarcasm, that Crosshair is happy to see a familiar face, one of which he may have previously deemed a friend. Cody, in return, places tidbit of trust in Crosshair (I’m also going to link this post in case anyone is curious about my thoughts on Cody’s initial comments). Not only does the commander inch toward the precarious conversation about “going rogue” and the Order-66 debacle, but Cody lets Crosshair take the lead after their shuttle crashes on Desix. “Trust me,” Crosshair begs, and Cody accedes.

They gain access to the strong hold; Crosshair, Cody and Nova (RIP) struggle only mildly with the droid forces ("Droideka's."). Crosshair demonstrates more inhuman trigonometry abilities and immaculate skill by using those mirror pucks to shoot around corners. Cody saves Crosshair’s tushy when a Commando droid gets a little too close to the sniper. Crosshair lowers his weapon at Cody’s request while they negotiate with Tawny Ames, a motion he had otherwise refused earlier in the episode (the civillians they come across behind a closed door— Cody lowers his gun and reassures them, Crosshair does not.) And when the Empire shows its true colours by demanding that Cody renege on his promise of peace and assassinate the governor, Crosshair does not hesitate to answer the call.

Now superficially, this act would appear as nothing more than a repeat of his crimes on Onderon, or Crosshair simply “following orders” as he had previously developed into a sort of mantra. But I think it’s much more layered than that. I think Crosshair recognized that Cody would be subject punishment did he not comply, a notion reinforced by his extended time at Rampart’s elbow, where it was regularly displayed that clones were of little significane and use to this new military regime. What would happen to Cody as a result of his disobedience? Would he simply be demoted from Commander? Would he be court-martialed and questioned? Detained and imprisoned? Killed? Is this why Crosshair took action into his own hands, and “did what needed to be done”? To protect Cody from the repercussions of disobeying a direct order? Or, more harrowingly and something that I am more inclined to believe, was Crosshair protecting Cody from the poignant shame and self-hatred that he knew the Commander would feel if he DID comply? Was Crosshair unwilling to let the mind of another clone be tainted by the emotionless demands of the empire, so he took the action upon himself? Was his objectively unnecessary and cruel attack, an action of deep seated respect and appreciation? Is this why Cody's comment about living with the consequences of their decisions affects Crosshair so deeply as they separate at the end of the mission?

Let’s dial back to the debated intention of Crosshair’s shots— are his missed shots deliberately missed? Our next stop on this journey is The Outpost (my personal favourite, and not because of the dreamy, sardonic, bearded Commander Mayday), but because of the overt growth that we see Crosshair attain. (Here’s an analysis I posted a while back about some of the messages I think the writers were trying to convey via symbolism throughout Crosshair's episodes to this point). If you've read it and even partially subscribe to my theory, then we can agree Crosshair’s mentality has been shifting little by little since we saw him last, and his attachment to Mayday (and the adjacent benefit that Crosshair rediscovers in companionship and brotherhood) is proof of this. So here’s what happens— raiders make it inside the perimeter of the Outpost thanks to limited man-power and degrading equipment. Crosshair heads directly to where he knows he can play to his strengths: high ground. He’s taking quick and careful aim at the retreating insurgent when the nearby shuttle explodes, and something peculiar happens. Whether it be the blinding flash of the explosion magnified significantly by his riflescope that had caused him such immediate discomfort, or something more (chip alert? Maybe? Or residual effects of having it augmented so many times?), but Crosshair’s subsequent shot is not of his regular quality. He hits his target, so I am not deeming this as a shot missed, but Crosshair has a track record of “one-shots” or “kill shots” of which this is not.

I’m inclined to ramble on for centuries about this episode because there is simply so much development, growth, and symbolism that occurs in those 28 minutes— it’s truly a masterpiece in story telling, but I’ve deviated too far from the intention of this essay (novel) so let’s trek forward.

Let’s get to Tipping Point, and what I would deem to be his only failed shot (and the implications of what it might mean). Crosshair has been sedated, interrogated, injected, neglected, confused, and abused since arriving on Tantiss. (You guessed it, I also have an analysis of this episode, structured a little differently than my previous but still helps to break down what I deem to be the motives behind his actions). Hemlock first attempts to bribe Crosshair with his freedom in exchange for information on his brothers, and as such, divulges his true need for Omega. Crosshair, who has never really had the chance to bond with her like his brothers have, refuses to provide any information. And why? Having only a surface level relationship with Omega, and having rebuffed her advances for companionship several times, why would he protect her in the face of imminent chemical torture? Because it directly protects them, and they are no longer being hunted by a squad of recruited bodies lead by an angry brother... but by a twisted and cruel doctor who's methods were proven unorthodox and tortuous upon immediate introduction.

Upon awakening from another round of interrogation, Crosshair understands the time to act is diminishing quickly, as is his ability to refuse Hemlock the information he wants. Each interrogation leaves him physically and mentally weaker; the time is act is now. He shoots and kills the pair of troopers, as well as the interrogation droid, with no difficulty. He stuns Emerie the scientist (possibly recognizing her clone accent for what it is, thus opting not to kill her?), steals her access card, and stumbles from the room. His body is no where near recovered from whatever toxin that droid injected him with, and he staggers through the unknown halls. Quickly coming across a pair of troopers guarding a doorway, the next shot is the only one that I believe he truly missed, and understandably so. It lands on the wall between their heads, and Crosshair quickly realizing his failure, shoots them with the following two rounds.

While missing that shot is largely inconsequential to the overall story, I think it’s an important anecdote for his character growth. In that moment, Crosshair is both physically weakened and mentally desperate to get a message to his brothers, and it’s the combination of those that had his aim faulty. He’s found himself nothing more than a man broken… stripped of the celebrated titles he’d once possessed and mentally mined until simply raising and aiming a blaster, a motion he’d once found more innate as breathing, was a motion difficult for him. He's forsaken his family, lost his purpose, been rendered nothing but an experiment and a tool.

So to summarize this egregiously long essay of Crosshair’s character, I’d like to reiterate that he is human. As we all do, he has faults. A lot of his reasoning is arguably flawed. He makes poor decisions, often in haste without considering the ripple effect it may have. He is extremely stubborn, and he does not communicate well. And there are things he’s done and decisions he’s made that I can not personally elucidate and would love to openly discuss with other Crosshair enthusiasts (example, trying to incinerate his brothers in an ion engine— did he assume Hunter would double back again, and this is Crosshair’s attempt at forcing them into the open? Or is this one of the moments when he cannot fight off the chips control?). You don’t have to like him. You don’t have to agree with him or anything he says. You don’t have to like me or agree with anything I say, but as we head into the third and final Act of this remarkable story, it is worth determining which of his actions are superficially misunderstood, and which have a deeper meaning that a casual viewer might simply overlook.

Thank you for attending the Ted Talk that no one asked for.

Holly ♥️

**forewent the taglist as this is not my typical content

[soapssuds]

what if i miss home

The squad that you were a part of were just assigned to team up with the infamous tf141 group. And your were scared shitless. Especially when you found yourself boarding the plane that would eventually take you all to where your mission was, and there would only be one spot left. That spot being right next to Ghost in the back.

To be perfectly honest, the man scared you, and your teammates knew this. So their snickering was as clear as day as you passed them to take your seat.

"Lieutenant," you greeted quietly as you sat next to him.

To your teammates, your fear was ridiculous. You were a sniper. A sniper who would sometimes be left on their own or forced to face too many enemies. A bullet just waiting to embed itself right between your eyes as enemy radio chatter like to say.

And yet you were afraid of Ghost of all people?

Well, it wasn't that you were afraid per se, you were just easily intimidated by big hulking masses of men who could snap you like a twig.

"Psst."

You snapped out of your thoughts to see one of your teammates leaning over the armrest of their seat to take a peek back at you.

'What,' you mouthed to them.

The girl giggled before gaining a little mischievous glint in her eyes. You didn't like where this was going.

"So red," red was a codename for you. If not for the red bandana you either wore around you neck or your right bicep then for the blood that always seemed to coat your sniper rifle.

"Yeah..," you questioned a bit uneasily.

"How many people did you kill with that sniper of yours?"

You furrowed your brow. This was definitely not where you thought it was going. For a moment you thought she was going to ask you about your hello kitty pajamas in front of Ghost.

"I- i don't count."

"Aww, why not?"

"Cause I don't like making people out as numbers."

"Even though they're the enemy."

"Yeah... i feel like if I make them out as numbers to count, then I'll eventually see my comrades the same way."

"What do you mean?"

"Some soldiers are easily swayed. I guess I just dont want my commanding officer to order me to kill my comrades someday and I wouldn't care at all."

"You're weird."

You deadpanned, "huh?"

"Only a weirdo like you would put this much thought into such a harmless question."

"You were literally asking how many people i killed-"

"Anyway!"

She cut you off causing you to sigh slightly.

"What," you grumbled.

"Did you remember to pack your hello kitty pajamas?"

Your eyes widened the moment the words left her mouth and just as you were about to give her a good whack to the head, she was already hiding in the safety of her seat.

And before you could unbuckle your seat belt to go after her, you heard a sound you didn't expect to ever witness.

Ghost was chuckling at you. Laughing. Even. It was low, unnoticeable to those around you but clearer than a window to you since you were sitting next to him.

"Hello kitty, huh?"

"I- it was- you see-" no matter how you tried to explain yourself, you didn't know how to, so you begrudgingly resigned yourself to your fate.

Forget being scared of him, you gained a new feeling. Pure embarrassment.

[chessiecc]

König being around smaller operative.

Not König ignoring your ass the first time you're in his unit. Not really viewing you as anyone different, special, or yet a pain in ass.

The only reason you got put on his radar was because you were shorter than him and went into his blind spot when he turned around. He was usually hyper aware of who was around him in a room, what they were doing, and where they were going to need to be. But you scurried in without a sound and threw him off completely. 

You had scared the shit out of him.

He caught you harshly by the arm before you fell, but afterwards scolded you for not paying attention to where he was. "That was not smart. If I was equipment, you could have been seriously injured.”

After your first encounter (and set of pushups), you ran into each other three to four more times. He thought you didn't get the point of being aware of your surroundings the first time and would smoke you constantly afterwards. 

"If you can't look up to see me standing or walking, how will you see a sniper coming after your team?"

"Do you run into walls as much as you do me?"

"For someone so small, you are in fact durable."

At the end of the day, it wasn't as though you didn't see him. It's just that the man moved too quickly around a corner and you only saw his equipment before it was too late. You would stop and try to dodge, but he would keep on walking and get you.

Apart from you running into him, he did hit you with the back of a rifle, a mug, whacked you with his glow sticks... several times, and has back handed you on various occasions from swinging his arm backward to give everyone hand signs. 

He also tried to move a broom and has literally swept you off your feet. Thinking he just knocked something over until he goes to check the sound of what may have fallen.

Also, when you have tried to scurry off duty by him, there have been occasions he has got your hair caught in his equipment, pulled it, and kept walking not even noticing he was dragging you until a body hit him.

He started finding your situation amusing / concerning and started using it as an excuse to not be around larger groups of people. He wasn't opposed to talking to them, but since he kept running into your disorganized ass... why not spend some time with you and occupy himself in other ways.

Nothing romantic, he just couldn't keep still and you were becoming entertaining to him in your encounters when you did not see him around a corner.

This Colonel has checked in multiple times with your team on how you are in the field and found out that though you are clusterfuck in the barracks and out, it tends to work for you when you're out... and are around flammable materials.

You were the team's tracker / hunter and was a damn good one if they were to say anything about it. (This would probably explain why you were so quiet when walking and would be so close to people when getting by unnoticed. Problem was, you were too good around taller people and since you did not see any of the taller people in your unit as an impending problem you would linger too long in their blind spot before being trampled.)

Nonetheless, he would try to train you more. That way you would be more predictable to him and you essentially became his mini me. (However, it turned more into him being the black cat in the relationship and you being the orange cat.)

---

When you first started to prevent getting in trouble with König, you would jump up or away for the first few times and freakingly go to salute him. Looking like you just heard the sound of 20 bombs go off on 80 soon to be dismembered bodies.

You would be tempted to make jokes and snap back, but the command in his voice would warrant a rain check.

At some point, depending on how aware he was when you were around and what he would say and do after would be a good indicator of his mood.

After you got over the interactions more, you would say things like

“Heh heh heh *cackle* You missed me.”

“I can see why you're not a sniper.”

“I didn’t think they put a new rack of equipment there? Looks like it missed me that time.”

Of course, you would salute first before saying these things, but still would get smoked for these afterwards since it was not an appropriate way to address a colonial and you still almost ran into him — again. But he was laughing under the mask while doing it and you learned to accept your fate.

---

König tries to take things slower around you, as you have too many random bursts of energy and may hurt yourself… or him if he is also rambunctious around you.

The only time he may commit to his own chaos is if you are seevveeraal arms lengths away. 

He instead waits for you to be rambunctious. (This method seems to distract his anxiety enough over time that he gets very comfortable around you as a monitor and Colonial.)

He has also gotten better about getting out into social situations. As whenever you two are walking together, you tend to say greetings to people you know or try to get an itinerary from people to get others prepared in your unit to save time by prior planning. (Your foresight is something he gets encouraged by for you to stay and flourish in your position) 

He gets indirectly introduced to people and seeing you tend to keep the conversation on track and predictable, social situations end up being more enjoyable with you more than by himself or with anyone else. 

He starts creating situations that would call for you to be an icebreaker with him more and more until you're tied to the hip semi-naturally.

---

When in a room with König while training you tend to sit up high on top of the vending machines or mats to make your presence known. At first, he ignored you since you were staying out of the way and wouldn’t care if you disappeared from the spot in the beginning.

However, as you have run into each other more, if he does not see you in your usuals spots he will start to panic and move very slowly until you are located within the crowd of soldiers.

There have been a few occasions, he has had everyone line up in specific areas so he can keep a path clear for him and relocate you.

However, this system has failed him a few times and he has ended up getting aggravated and setting you, personally, above mat stacks and vending machines himself, telling you not to get down unless someone has brought you back to the floor.

You decided to be an ass one time and responded in German (only words you knew he wanted to hear from you from when you were being smoked). He decided that would be how you respond from now on.

---

If you guys haven't seen each other because of being on a mission, it would start to become tradition for you two to bicker and revert to old dynamics between you to. 

You: “What don’t give me that long face. I missed you so much, I just wanted to give you a return hug.”

König: "Wow, you manage to duck under the sniper bullets and live. Looks like I have trained you well."

You: "Well damn, I can see that China’s missing there wall"

König: "They said I couldn’t be a sniper."

---

One time, you tied bells to your uniform, so he could hear you from afar. He immediately told you to take them off and that was not combat appropriate. But after you two kept running into each other, you tied them to him and he started laughing. (At this point if someone had a problem with you, he would handle the smoking endeavor and since you decided to bring bells into the mixture. The sessions intentionally had the objects involved at times.)

Another time, you peaked around the corner before walking around it cause you thought you felt his weight through the floor or his booming voice around the corner laughing at something someone had said.

He flicked your head after seeing you in the reflection of a nearby object and made you act it out as a sniper getting you. He made you go to a funeral with your team and afterwards made you all sleep in separate one inch propped open caskets.

When König was monitoring you guys, he learned you were not only an idiot walking around corners, but also when you move in your sleep.

---

One day, he overheard you talking with another operative as you were preparing to go back to work out of the mess hall about how you are 'not short' and that you are in fact average height. Everyone else was just overgrown. Your theory was that people of a taller stature needed people who were shorter to grab things in small crevices and get into holes to clear them, meanwhile smaller people didn't need any help from another person, and when needing help could just grab a stool.

"Taller people are not needed, they are wanted."

"They are the defective height and too overgrown for society, but since there are so many of them we have to accommodate. Otherwise shorter people are superior—"

*Thump*

Guess who you ran into?

I feel like if he were pissed or feeling sadistic, there would be little to an extreme amount of humor with this man at that moment. Seeing he does not want to run into people and deal with a concussion. He would definitely throw you into a hole after that and tease / barrage you into how short you could be. Only letting you out once you asked for help. He might continue on occasions by putting you in various situations to show your body type weakness in an attempt to cut out your complex. Not too intensely or too bullylike, but enough to highlight to you, you were "short" and needed to watch your shit.

If he was in a good mood, he would just laugh and mumble something in German before giving you some form of leniency. Later, if he or another person were smoking you for being in people’s blind spot, he will have you do an extra set of workouts just to keep his points far and consistent. (not as many as he would usually have you do for it though)

About two months after your shorter, taller argument, you got a vehicle stuck in the mud and could not get it out. He laughed and was an asshole demanding that you do something about it. He was meaning it in fun, but he made himself come off authoritative.

But after an hour of you seeing you were too small and would not be able to get it out, you yelled at him for not helping, being impractical, and making it worse by sitting in the vehicle. You also told him that if he was not a Colonel and would take off his rank right then and there, you would fight him (but we are totally gonna ignore that, right?). He single handedly moved it himself after that.

He wanted to get the move on, but still wanted to teach you a lesson to cut your shit. However, learning that did not work but made your eight foot one shadow come out to play, he decided it was best to motivate your energy elsewhere.

---

Sometime in your time being an operative around him, he was put on a case with you where you were working on hunting down a war criminal.

There was an instance in the mission when he was lecturing you on the aircraft about your performance in the field and how you were not to go into holes without giving everyone enough prep time to be prepared to back you up in case something happened while you were in there.

This occurred after a spur of the moment transition from you to clear a tunnel area. You thought you were doing the natural clear cut thing to do, but apparently you should have given more warning and paused for everyone to settle in. (NOTE: you WERE NOT used to working with that many people up close!)

Anyways, you guys hit turbulence and he was heavy enough that he didn’t go anywhere. You on the other hand went flying. He saw it coming and caught you, planting you firmly and passive aggressively in the seat next to where he was sitting.

Seeing handing you something heavy to hold or put on your back while you could help everyone strap down the contraband on the aircraft would create possibly two flying projectiles, your Colonel ended up forcing you to strap in as everyone else handled the cargo or confiscated contraband.

For the rest of the plane ride, he was fuming.

---

He has gotten very impressed by how destructive you are in the field and will let you off your leash when needed. Otherwise you are on his hip and are not to move unless directed.

---

For Christmas, you got the higher ups a small object each catered to a theme about them (if you knew them well enough). After all, it did not seem like a lot had family to celebrate with and it seemed like a small gesture that would not overstep too many boundaries... 

But for König, you also got him and you a tracking bracelet. That would show where your positions at any given time. The bracelets would also vibrate if you got within a certain proximity to each other.

He thought this was really fun and clever, but most importantly a breach of security if worn inside the facility.

After considering all the ways he could mess around with you with it. He decided to smoke you again when you got back from leave.

The oversized teddy bear still put it on and wore it. Afterall, he was a little worried about giving you a concussion. 

---

After a while he does not smoke you as much and just gives you disappointed dad sighs or grumbles. As if you have really done something he knows smoking won’t fix.

Instead, he will just lift you onto a tall object and walk away letting your complex take over from there... 

---

Just please keep your temper in and don’t throw anything at his helmet.

[cbsxreader]

Rating the mercs based on how much you could trust them to walk you home at night (Platonic)

I guess you can also see which ones I would trust the most, so if someone disagrees with this that’s okay! :)

Scout

7/10

Takes his bat with him

Wouldn’t be the best, but would somehow, eventually get you home

Tries to calm you down by talking to you about baseball, videogames or something like that

During an actual encounter however, he may struggle just a tad bit, but leaves with only a few bruises

Soldier

9/10

Acts like your personal bodyguard and convinces himself it’s like defending the president

Goes ahead of you, stopping at every corner and path, and gives quick responses depending on the situation

If you do get approached, he will just snap their neck and continue further 

Insists on staying at your place and ‘’scans the perimeter’’, making sure you’re safe

Pyro

7/10

Holds your hand in theirs and their fire axe in the other

Good chance they scare everyone who might want to hurt you, so the majority of the walk is calm

When someone does approach you, you can depend on Pyro to decapitate them with their axe and then continue walking like nothing happened

You get home safely but Pyro might get too worried and asks if they can stay to make sure you’re okay

Demoman

8/10

If you tell him earlier that you want him to walk you home, he is going to stay sober just for you

He makes sure you don’t feel anxious and looks out for any threats

If you get into a tough situation, he would know what to do because he has gotten in bar fights and could defend you

You get home safely and he says goodbye

Engineer

10/10

He’s got the Gunslinger and wrench ready and would be ready to whack someone if his polite reasoning doesn’t work

He would also be understanding why you ask him to walk you home because his parents raised him right

Maybe he’d give you one of his inventions or wrenches to make sure you’re safe for the rest of the night and future nights when you’re walking home

Heavy

10/10

This man’s intimidating frame and strength would straight up scare anyone within a 5 mile radius

If something does happen, it will be over quickly

Also he’d be understanding of your fear and maybe let you hold his hand

And then you could invite him over at your house and you could drink tea and eat honey cake together

Medic

4/10

His behavior would be the thing that scares everyone away...

..but he would probably get the police called on him

Or after he defends you he gets too carried away with organ harvesting or something and almost forgets he’s supposed to get you home

Would get you home, but not without a nice dose of traumatizing memories

Sniper

8/10

Takes his kukri along with him, just in case

He might look not too threatening but once he has a weapon and a chance to speak in a low voice, the person bothering you will be gone

Sniper might not be the best in close combat, so he might end up with some small injuries, but he won’t let you get hurt

Gets you home safely, just tend to him and his injuries and only then let him go his way

Spy

5/10

He would probably walk along with you, but when you start feeling anxious you look around only to not find him

When you get in a tough situation only then he appears and defends you

Once you do get home, he suggests he should stay for the night to ‘’protect you if needed’’, but it’s up to you if you let him in or not.

Ms. Pauling

7/10

Can’t come along with you because she’s always so busy, so she gives you a handgun and a contractor instead

Talks to you in a calm and collected voice through the contractor, soothing you

Everyone is pretty much scared off when they see your weapon, but if the situation escalates it can go either way:

You shoot the person who is bothering you or you don’t

But in both situations Pauling, without warning, would just show up on her moped and rescue you, getting you home safely, before getting back to work

Saxton Hale (bc why not)

6/10

His build would probably scare anyone off and he looks like a man who others wouldn’t want to mess with

He might get too carried away fighting off whoever bothers you and you might have to remind him that you have to get home

If the police gets called on him, he would pick you up and sprint to your home, dropping you off, and then would run away from the cops

[overdueforarevival]

Crosshair secretly listens to Taylor Swift.

It started out as a guilty pleasure thing where he'd only listen to it at like 2 in the morning through his helmet when everyone else was asleep cuz he didn't want anyone to know. One night Hunter woke up to use the fresher and Cross fucking yeeted his helmet across the room tryna act natural. Then he started getting bored posted at a vantage point to do sniper things so he'd casually whack on a bit of Reputation to 'get him in the zone'. Then one day he gets caught by Echo, who's only been with them like a week, who can faintly hear I Did Something Bad playing from his helmet. Cross immediately panics, jamming the button to turn it off and starts coming up with an excuse, until he falters when he hears I Can Do It With A Broken Heart fucking blasting from Echo's headpiece

Now they always volunteer to take first watch of the night together and they have a Taylor Swift playlist carefully crafted specifically for this.

[miz-chase]

tw canon typical abuse/violence

I really do wish Bones gave the time to unpack Brennan and Booth's individual relationships with violence and how they intersect.

Brennan from the opening of the first episode, is violence first, always. I wonder where she learned that, as it seems she was defenseless while she was in foster care. More likely it was as a young adult in college, where she was finally free to make her own choices in her life. It's easy to imagine that she utilized those skills often on field-work trips. It would make sense if her school/work life was bouncing between 1) being the only woman at a field site in dangerous locations, and 2) being socially isolated in labs. If that's the case, it would make sense that she never really acclimatized to 'normal' life wrt to violence. In the States, you'd figure she'd have had some repercussions for doing things like breaking noses and wrists on an impulse.

God forbid there be police violence accountability in a copaganda show, but it would make an interesting story if Brennan attacking a suspect had real consequences, getting charges dropped, blowing the case no matter how good the evidence they had. How would she cope?

Meanwhile with Booth,

we know experienced violence at home from an early age. He shielded his brother from his father's beatings, which probably involved hitting back. Pops takes Jared and Booth away when they were "little kid(s)." Presumably that violence was subsumed by his football playing that gets him a scholarship to college, but he then spends the entirety of his 20s in some form of military or violent FBI circumstances. He goes from an army grunt boxer to a specially trained sniper, turning the emotional physicality of violence into something remote and dispassionate. These are the kills he truly regrets.

When we meet him as an FBI agent, he's a bully who will casually, indifferently shove suspects around, uses his physicality as a tool to maneuver anyone he likes. He also explicitly, morally hates killing. The series sees him grow out of (most of) this violence, to the point where he has a minor crisis over losing his temper with a guilty suspect.

Again, I wish we saw consequences for the casual violence, though his bullying suspects is in more in line with cop-standard-deniability injuries rather than Brennan literally breaking bones.

What I'm really interested in, though, is this contrast, where Booth uses violence as a dispassionate, even disliked, tool while Brennan acts all on impulse and always assumes she's right to do so. Booth can't stand to lose control, anything that comes from anger sends him into a spiral. We can contrast this with Brennan's embrace of impulsive violence, where she always feels she is justified (and the narrative usually agrees).

We know that from the beginning, Booth finds it "so hot" when she loses her temper and whacks a senator in the nose, but it also is the reason their partnership dissolved in the first place. It always seemed like a charged thing that, when Brennan hit him, he was quick to defend her. He was raised in a household that made excuses for violence, and it feels loaded that he continues to do that for Brennan over the seasons. It isn't until season 11 where he is like, hey babe, maybe don't.

"It is my job to make sure I don't lose my partner because she can't control her temper."

It's not that I think Brennan is abusive, not at all, but do I think that she's oblivious-to-careless about the kind of trigger that hitting Booth is. We rarely see them fight, but the angst in me wants more arguments like The Shot in the Dark. Arguments are a normal part of life as a couple. Brennan losing her temper and lashing out is in character. What would happen? how would they cope?

The flipside is, and this is the real angst, is if Booth ever actually lost his temper with her. If we use Signs in the Silence as our model, he goes right into a self-hatred spiral even with justified violence, just because it comes from a place of anger. If he got angry enough, he wouldn't even need to touch her to view it as a massive slip up. Because deep down he thinks he is his father, and if he ever gets angry with Brennan, then maybe he will hurt her. That faint possibility, the minute potential that he could ever hurt her? He would absolutely lose his shit. He'd be out of the house never to be found again. He would absolutely do the worst thing he could possibly do to hurt Brennan (abandon her) in order to protect her from the worst thing in his entire life (violence through anger).

I don't think I could ever write the fic, because it's just too damn angsty, but man, what a situation to put these specific characters in. It's both of their worst nightmares combined, no better way to hurt both of them at the same time.

[plushyvi]

“they said a man rich with love would go crazy!”

game: fallout 4

character: robert joseph ‘rj’ maccready

summary: as goodneighbour’s star mercenary, maccready has to keep tabs on all his clientele and competitors. one of the latter happens to be you. the rivalry between the both of you has maccready thinking of you a bit more than necessary.

warnings: g/n! reader, no pronouns used, canon-typical violence, reader is morally gray (reader only really cares about getting paid most times, but can be considerate), maccready calls reader some nicknames (slowpoke, sweetheart, honey), reader swears a lot when angered, reader is around the same age as maccready, slight angst, rivals to lovers, sex innuendo

you take in a deep breath as you rest your cheek slightly against the body of your sniper. you target waited in the open, as your client told him to. the plan was for the both of them to meet up and your client give you the signal that it was the right twin (it was imperative that you got the right one).

you watch as your client gets closer. you have the target’s head in the centre of your scope, awaiting the signal. then, your client stretches her arms above her head. there it is.

a smile dawns on your lips as you gently squeeze the trigger—

SHHK!

you widen your eyes and lift your head up from your weapon to see your client on the floor, blood pouring from her neck. you can see through your scope the entry wound by the way her body falls. your target wipes his forehead and lets out a sigh. he glances up towards where you suspected the shot had come from.

you knew it. fucking maccready.

a grunt leaves your lips as you stand up from your sniping spot, pulling your rifle and fixing the stands up again. you trudge your way down the stairs and towards your target.

it was a few minutes until you reached him and see maccready throw his rifle across his shoulder and approaches your target. he holds out his hand and the twin drops a rattling bag if caps into his palm.

“hey! maccready!” you shout before you’re close enough to them. the target widens his eyes before stepping away. you jut a finger into the mercenary’s chest. “you roach! what are you doing killin’ my client?”

“abiding by mine’s wishes,” he retorts as he waves the bag in front of your face, “you just gotta’ be quicker next time, slowpoke. i could see the glare from your scope.”

you get a little more irritated at him, which makes you grab the barrel of your rifle and go out to whack him. maccready leans away with a smirk. you glare at him before doing the same to your ex-target.

“you better watch your back, fuck-ass,” you spit out, “your brother’s gonna’ go fuckin’ mad when he finds out you hired someone to kill his wife.”

you jab maccready in his shoulder before you walk passed him to the body of your client. you begin looking through all her pockets before you pull out a slightly bloodied letter. you stand as maccready peers towards you.

“lootin’ your clients, now?” he asks.

“shut the hell up,” you scoff as you pocket the letter, “she said she was gonna’ give this to her husband after today’s encounter. i’ll finish it for her.”

maccready stares at the side of your head before nodding. you glare at him before moving on. maccready stays back with his client.

“wasn’t that the mercenary from diamond city?” he asks in a quiet voice, “l/n’s fee is so high… 450 caps.”

“good sniper,” maccready retorts, “and good with a knife too.”

“maybe i shoulda’ just paid the extra 200 then.”

“she’s dead, isn’t she? gotta’ run — maybe your brother’ll hire me.”

maccready leaves right after.

ever since he found out about you from magnolia, he’s been intrigued. not many hired guns make such a reputation, much less for being good at their job. magnolia met you when you questioned her about the whereabouts of your target who was last seen there. the singer had told maccready to watch his back — you were a smooth talker when you needed to be.

he didn’t venture to diamond city very often, but the one time he did to talk to another customer of his, you were lounging around the front of dugout inn.

he didn’t think much of you until one of the brothers came out of the bar and handed you another drink.

“on the house, l/n,” vadim says to you, “let me know when your client gets here, yes?”

“thank you,” you reply as he goes back inside. you glance up to see the other mercenary watching you. “you got a starin’ problem, kid?”

“‘kid’?” he scoffs back as he walks closer. his hands reside in his pockets as he tilts his head at you. “i look about as young as you do.”

“what do you want? i’ve got a meeting,” you say as you lean back in your chair. you take a swig of your drink as maccready sits across from you. “oh, join me, why don’t you?”

“how kind,” he chuckles, “you’re diamond city’s killer for hire, aren’t ya’? i’ve heard a lot about you.”

“you a fanboy? i don’t do autographs,” you huff out, eyes stuck on his weapon, “nice sniper rifle. you a mercenary too?”

“maccready, you’ve probably heard of me,” he says with a smile. you cock a brow.

“definitely. many of my clients say that they like me more because i’m a professional.”

“really? i could say the same about you, sweetheart, but with the addition that you’ve also got a stick up your ass.”

“oh, is that so?” you laugh as you stand up and lean over the table. “listen up—”

“you’re l/n, right?” another person comes up to you, “i’m… the one who hired you.”

“get lost, maccready,” you sigh out as you sit down again, “i’ve got shit to do.”

that was the first time he met you. he never would’ve thought that a hired gun would be allowed in diamond city, but apparently you were on good terms with the mayor. from then on, you two would be butting heads over and over again.

however, maccready has never thought of killing you.

“what? you want me to go after y/n?” maccready reiterates. he blinks at his new client. “why? what do you have against that freelancer?”

“l/n was hired to kill my brother. i know he’s a stud, but my wife was a crazy bitch,” the customer claims, “knowin’ that l/n is around helping these crazy sons of bitches is a nightmare. better if there’s no chance.”

maccready tilts his head as he cleans his rifle. he has encountered plenty of idiots in his lifetime, but this was a new kind of crazy.

“i’ll pay you 700 caps for this job.”

“deal.”

he’s a simple man to the end, though.

it’s rare that a hit is put on a hired gun, usually because they’re so strong that nobody would ever try. most idiots go off on their own to pursue this dream. but hiring one of the best in the commonwealth to do this was the closest thing to that goal than anything.

he finds you in the middle of a job. you always liked making your stakeout points far away. with the help of your scope, you never needed to be too close unless absolutely necessary. maccready notices that you do this operation at sunset, though.

“watch out,” you call from your hunched position by the broken wall. maccready stops on his tracks. “tripwire.”

he blinks at the shotgun that rests a foot away from his head by the wall. he carefully lifts himself over the wire and settles in a stance behind you. you don’t even turn to him.

“what’d you want?” you ask.

“nothin’. wanted to see you.”

“yeah? you only come to see me if you’re gonna’ steal my score,” you scoff at him. the way your head turns just barely in his direction has him smiling. “what mess did you get caught up in this time? i can’t imagine it’s good.”

he rubs his neck as he shifts on his feet. you await your target to show up to the settlement with his lackeys, like your customer said he would. the cold air brushes against you as you listen to him.

“i, uh… you’re next on my list, y/n.” he flat out says.

that catches your attention. you pull yourself away from your mounted gun and stare at him. “what?”

“my client is the husband of your last one,” he sighs out, “wants you dead.”

“motherfucker…” you scowl as you stand up, “i oughta’ beat the shit outta’ him! you kill his wife and i get punished?”

“look, i’m not about to argue with you about all of this,” he mutters out with a hand up in defence, “i just—”

“how much did he pay you?”

maccready looks away from you for a moment as you glare at him. a loud sigh leaves him.

“700 caps.”

“goddamn, 700 caps and you’re willin’ to toss me away like that,” you grunt at him with balled up fists, “can’t believe you, rj, you’re a scumbag! i coulda’ paid you 1500 to leave me the hell alone!”

“i—i never said i was here to off you,” he retorts, “if i were, i wouldn’t’ve told you.”

you continue to glare at him before you click your tongue and turn back around to your target. him and his other raiders are there, now walking up to the entrance. you sit back down and ready your gun. “whatever, maccready. get outta’ here. tell him i’m dead or whatever, i don’t give a shit.”

he clenches his hands as you let out a few rounds. screams and shots are heard. you don’t even bother to talk to maccready again while you work.

so he waits impatiently.

“i’m sorry.”

“you took the money, didn’t you?”

“it’s a lotta’ caps.”

“at least i know how much i’m worth to you.”

“no, honey, i—”

“look, i don’t fuckin’ know what game you’re playing with me, but i’ve had enough of it, maccready,” you spit at him as you take your eyes away from the scope. you begin to pack up your things and turn off the radio nearby. “get the hell outta’ my life. i couldn’t care less what happens to you now.”

you stop yourself short when you look behind maccready. the tripwire goes off and the first raider’s head gets blown into chunks. the second one comes up behind the dead man to aim a pistol towards you.

maccready lets out a short grunt as you push him to the ground and pull out one of his knives from his holders. you immediately attack the second one, using her as cover as the rest of the group walks into the room guns blazing.

“you gotta’ make yourself more scarce than that!” one of them yell at you, blowing shotgun shells into the open stomach of the raider.

“maccready!” you shout out to him. he’s in a slight daze as he watches you grab the dead woman’s pistol to shoot two raiders in the head. “get your ass up right now, maccready!”

he’s following in suit with his rifle now loaded. you take one of the raiders to the floor and shoot point blank into their head. maccready kills out the two coming in from behind.

one of the last of the group throws in a frag, to which maccready hastily kicks through the broken wall and into the street. it explodes in the air and the loud noise rings in your ears. you’re slow to your feet as you hold your head. but the pain in your back as a bayonet slices across your skin makes you yelp. you turn around to attack when maccready shoots the last people dead.

half an hour later, maccready is asking you to take off your leathers whilst in one of your holdout spots in an abandoned hotel.

“right now?” you tilt your head with a raised brow.

“not like that, idiot,” he scoffs as he pulls out a chair for you. you sit down and suck in your breath as you take off your upper layers and leave yourself in a blooded blue shirt. “got you pretty bad.”

“did you tell them i was there?” you ask.

“no, of course not,” he says to you, “why would you think that?”

“you knew where i was, somehow. maybe you didn’t wanna’ do the dirty work for once,” you mumble out. maccready gently lifts the bottom of your shirt and wipes away at the blood. “can’t believe you…”

“i couldn’t ever bring myself up to kill you, y/n,” he claims as he disinfects your wound. you shiver away. “never bear the thought.”

“so why’d you take the money?” you question.

“i… i seriously don’t know,” he tells you, “but i just knew i couldn’t ever let you die. i can cancel the deal, no problem, but i want you to know that i really do care about you, y/n.”

maybe he was going crazy. some sort of hallucinogen or something. because he’s known for finishing off all his deals. but this one? it’s impossible to complete.

he applies a few bandages to your wound and lets you redress yourself as you sit quietly. maccready has never sounded this sincere before. it makes him sound like he’s been thinking about it a lot.

you stand up and roll your shoulder with a hiss of pain.

“i should go,” he says as he stands up, “i’ll return the money, let him know you beat me up good. slug me once so that it’s believable.”

you turn around and he expects you to sucker punch him good, but instead he sees your tears.

“you’re such an asshole, rj. you’re the stupidest guy i know…” you mumble out to him, “i can’t believe i’m in love with a bastard like you.”

“oh, sweetheart,” he responds as he steps forward and wraps his arms around you. you’re hesitant to hold him back as he leans his head against your shoulder and presses a kiss to your neck. “i’m so sorry, i never meant to do this to you. it does sound stupid, but i genuinely care for you. i love you.”

your hands grip the back of his jacket as you cry against him. after a few seconds, he pulls away slightly and holds your face. “aw, don’t cry anymore. you’re supposed to be the meanest mercenary out there, right?”

you sniff as he wipes your tears from your face gently and lets you rest against his palms. he knows all too well that you’re melting against him, like you’ve done little by little over the past year you’ve known him. maccready leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your lips. it lasts a couple seconds until he pulls away and hugs your tightly again.

maybe he didn’t need anything in the world if he had you.

“i’m sorry, again, y/n.”

you hold a hand on his back as you turn your head away from him and furrow your brows.

“you’re a dumbass, rj.”

[sonic-adventure-3]

more-or-less finished my sonic ocs, carrion the cat and squabble the pigeon! they’re part of a trio of freelance postmen/hitmen

+ alt reference, doodles, and more under the cut

jacketless when off-duty + their bases. their colourations are based on karpati cats and lahore pigeons, respectively, though ability-wise squabble is actually a homing pigeon. side note; do you know how many pigeon breeds there are? there are a truly insane amount and some of them are so fucking wild to look at. highly recommend looking up fancy pigeons

concept sketches + two carrion sillies. i had a pretty solid idea of what i wanted for carrion, but the only thing i knew about squabble was her name and species for the squab pun, until i doodled a design and was instantly captivated. i just had to stick with the newsie-amelia aerheart cosplay-ema skye-razputin thing she had going on

i think the squabble in the very upper lefthand corner is the cutest thing i’ve ever drawn in my life

various things about them i should mention:

i’ve yet to design these, but they all have mailbags as part of their uniform, and squabble has a pair of heavily modified skate type extreme gear that have wing accessories like the ones on her head as a reference to hermes, messenger of the gods. also they have a plane. a mail plane? still working on that

not set in stone yet but carrion is abt 16-17 and squabble is 11-13

carrion is a trained assassin, born into it, skilled in close quarters combat, they’re proficient in all kinds of weapons including firearms, they also really like knives and keep a collection of all sorts. she’s probably a cat. they don’t speak all that much. incredibly skilled at many things, especially combat related. skilled tactician but doesn’t care to tell anyone anything anytime so they suck as a leader. just generally doesn’t care to say anything. carefree and more-or-less easygoing; they’re just kinda vibing 90% of the time. perma-blep. poker-faced, will do everything with the same blep expression. very protective of the ones he loves, cares about squabble more than everything else in the world, would and has killed for her. will play along with any bit. ultimately: he stays silly

squabble is an untrained pilot, scout, and mechanic, as well as an enthusiast of mail delivery and explosives. she really really likes explosives. has killed before and will kill again, carrion and rig aren’t completely sure she knows that they’re assassins—she does, she just has such a completely out of whack sense of morality and common sense that it’s hard to tell. she has an infectious joy for life that creeps into everyone around her. she’s the beating heart of the trio, and the one who came up with the idea of the matching jackets. is a homing pigeon, has magnetoreception, and therefore makes an excellent navigator and scout. she always knows the way back home, and her home is with the other two. has a completely out of whack sense of danger, is something of a thrill-seeker, but real serious danger she is very acute to. is a mechanic, but not quite an engineer; she repairs, maintains, and makes heavily illegal modifications to machinery, but she doesn’t build her own completely original designs and tends to stay away from electronics. comes off as a little klutzy bust she’s rather proficient in various things.

the third of their trio who is now designed and named rig is a sniper. she’s a fair amount older than the other two, somewhere around 22-24 i’m thinking? the delivery service was just euphemistic for their assassination services before the other two walked into her life. doesn’t pay taxes

chaotix-like in many ways

they’re a weird non-traditional colleague-family. they’re family-ish :] they love and care about each other, despite it all :] THEYRE FAMBLY!!!!!

they fully do kill people, but also a good portion of their hit missions tend to be for robots or to cause non-lethal commotions instead of straight up assassinations

they have a reputation for this and often take on odd jobs that very loosely fit their job descriptions

they get super suspicious job requests like ‘please “retrieve” “my” ““parcel”” from this heavily secured gun base and deliver it to this super secret off-grid address xoxo~’ and fully deliver on them

thank you for reading about my sillies! i’m bad at talking about ocs cause i never can tell what’s interesting or what i’ve shared, but i like thinking about them a lot :]

[blubushie]

Your phone notification sound is Mick Taylor's chuckle

Only for my dad, when he texts me.

My regular phone notif sound is Sniper's "boom, headshot" line. My brother's text sound is Neville's "[WHACK] AH I HATE THE BUSH" line from Crocodile Dundee.

If I'm interrupted while working, I'd rather it be something I either enjoy or find amusing.

Oh also my phone ringtone is the theme from Magnum Force. Not because of Sniper, I just like the song and Clint Eastwood. I'm gonna eat my sandwich and watch Dirty Harry now.

[anthurak]

So recently reading an interesting/disturbing post/article on the Franklin Expedition and rewatching the Helluva Boss shorts have combined to produce this random little brain fart of an idea:

Who do you think wins a fight between the racist, xenophobic murder penguins from Mission: Antarctica, and the fucked-up monster polar bear from that one book/show about ‘What if the Franklin expedition had a fucked-up monster polar bear?’

Personally my money’s on the penguins. If for nothing else than by sheer weight of numbers.

Heck, while we’re at it let’s expand these matchups:

How well do the bunch of unhinged, murderous xenophobes fair against the unhinged, murderous xenophobes who happen to be penguins?

I.M.P. vs Fucked-Up Monster Polar Bear?

And finally; three imps vs. two ships worth of British dudes high off their asses on lead-poisoning.

Well for round one I’d say the Franklineers don’t even last long enough to start their Donner party. Like I imagine the penguins take one look at those Englishmen and are immediately infuriated that anyone else would DARE try to be more racist and xenophobic than them and massacre the lot on sight. Heck, maybe the penguins then try and get the ships free of the ice so they can sail out onto the open sea and make war on the English.

As for I.M.P. vs F.U.M.P.B., while it’s not an easy fight by any estimation I do think our imps come out on top. Maybe they need to call in Loona for some extra muscle/rip-and-tear. Like yeah, that bear is tough, but it also has to contend with armor-piercing sniper rounds from Moxxie, shotgun blasts from Blitzo, AND a Millie likely in full feral-murder-gremlin mode going all stab-happy on it with a knife.

Alternatively, maybe Loona in full-on berserker-mode 1v1’s the thing? This one is entirely due to my bias of wanting to see Loona do cool shit :D

Finally we have our imp trio vs. the two ships of loony, cannibal-happy british dudes, AKA; I.M.P. getting a bulk order with the promise a very nice payday.

The funny thing about this matchup is that I feel like each side has an entirely different perspective as to what’s going on.

For the Frankliners, this is (more of) a horror story as they are gradually being picked off one by one in brutal fashion by a mysterious, unseen killer who appears suddenly to brutally slaughter one or two of them, then just as quickly vanishes without a trace.

Meanwhile, while Blitzo, Moxxie and Millie might LIKE to go all inverse-doomslayer on the hapless would-be colonizers, there is the little problem of it being REALLY FUCKING COLD. So they instead decide to take it easy on this one, using their Asmodean crystal to just pop in and take out one or three guys before popping back to the comfort of Hell for a few hours/days, rinse and repeat.

And the best part is that when our heroes pop in to take out a couple guy only to find that they’ve already been whacked by a third guy who also seem to be trying to eat them for some weird reason, our imps realize these humans will just kill themselves for them! Now they just need to pop in every other day or so, whack one or two dudes, and the rest will do their job for them.

Admittedly, after a few days the remaining humans are looking pretty gross and possibly a bit undead, so Blitzo, Moxxie and even Millie start taking out their targets from a distance. Thankfully at this point they don’t really even need to be killing them directly. Like one of them just saw Moxxie perched on the mast, screamed about demons and angels, then immediately stabbed one of his mates to death and started eating him.

So by the last few days, Blitzo, Moxxie and Millie are just popping in to go ‘OOGA-BOOGA’ a few times and letting the job take care of itself.

[meet-the-coffee]

Nemesis | [ Speeding Bullet ]

A very cringe and gay fanfic I published on wattpad originally :')

They are so gay actually... and I am cringe but I am free.......

Authors Note: I don't really write or read fanfics or even books in general these days... sad. But I was inspired by an artist and I made this, lmao,, it's not graphic and no it barely contains any fluff or anything, but it does imply something at one part.

Please keep in mind that I don't write or read often at all, so this being pure shite isn't supposed to come as a surprise lmao...

That said, I'm also Swedish, so I apologize for awkward wording, misspellings or grammatical errors!

Content Warning: This story contains content such as suggestive reactions, aggressive behaviour, blood, internalized homophobia and homophobic behavior and slurs.

Read at your own risk.

~ ~ ~

What would otherwise be a very typical friday afternoon for team Red, had turned in to a few hours of complete frustration for the team's scout.

Jeremy had rounds before this felt the exciting thrills of bouncing off rooftops and straight in to the enemy team's spawn to whack people right in their heads, as well as zooming up to the enemy Sniper to give him a whack as well. He had been snickering the whole morning, putting enemy after enemy in the spawner, blasting them right in the face, bouncing around avoiding missiles, grenades and bulletshots.

He had been downright annoying, and he loved it. 

Finally he could maybe for once be respected for his success and ability.

He was so ready for it.

One of the snipers in team Blu completely raged after getting hit with a fish, splashing that rotting ocean water not only over the sniper's face, but also over the walls and anything else within range.

That same sniper sat in spawn after that, furious and cussing outloud, when another one, a fellow sniper, had finally decided to crawl out of his hole and come fight the red team.

The latter sat on the bench and watched as the former was complaining. While the first was always loud, furious and whiney, the latter was a reserved and methodical man. He always thought the other was a bit of an obnoxious mouthbreather, who never seemed to learn from his experiences. The theory was that he was too busy fuming about things and wanting black-seighted revenge.

The loudmouth's name was Lawrence, "Larry", while the other was Mick, "Mickey".

Mick had recently joined the team, but seemed to be a solid bullseye. He had a feeling Larry might be laid off if he didn't learn from his mistakes soon.

The two of them entered the battlefield again, both heading over to sit in their own little towers to peer through their scopes. They were not located many feet off from each other. Every once in a while, the trigger went off, and the familiar echo of the rifle rang through the valley.

While Mick sat in silence, he could hear the "Shit!" escaping Larry's mouth every now and then.

'Amateur.'

He listened intently. He took a silent, deep breath. At the very peak, he holds it... Bang.

'Down you go.'

He watched the enemy collapse as he reloaded his rifle. He jolted by the yelping of his fellow sniper in the tower to his east. He snapped his gaze to his teammate, who he discovered to be overrun by the same scout he had been whining about earlier. 

Mick got on his feet, raised his scope against his shoulder. Clear shot on the obnoxious scout. He pulled the trigger, and silence once again befalls the two towers.

Mick lowered his rifle, his eyes fixed on Larry, who was now correcting his vest and sunglasses.

Larry tried a nonchalant sniffle and gave a thumbs up.

Mick replied with an amused huff before sitting back down.

It didn't take long before Larry had been left alone by the enemy scout, and instead been frustrated by Mick "stealing" his kills.

Mick hadn't any intent to steal anything -- He was only doing his job after all.

It soon lead up to Larry throwing in the towel for the night, as the battle seemed to tire itself out.

There weren't many fighters left on the field. Even fewer were the enemies remaining.

Mickey, who had arrived a few hours later than the others, had only gotten started, he figured.

Besides, he had found a new favourite toy...

That scout from before.

He hadn't been able to get even close to the towers since Mick had been taking a liking to him.

This scout was fast. He was skilled. Unfortunately, Mick was just a bit quicker. And calculating.

~ ~ ~

The sun laid low now. It was snuggling up behind the mountains, and Mickey needed a small break soon. He choked a yawn, wondering where that scout had gone off to. The last four rounds, Mick had been chasing that speeder around with his scope, making him dance before blasting him back to last week.

It had been a while now...

Had he given up for the day? Was he pouting in his spawn?

Mick sat in his silence, sipping his coffee.

And suddenly...

The slightest change in atmosphere.

The softest pat of rubbersole on wooden boards.

Mickey shot up on his feet, kukri in hand, now facing the doorway.

There he stood. Sweating. There was a sense of horror in the scout's eyes, like stepping right in to a bear's den.

The scout had let his mouth slightly ajar, breathing whispering huffs of adrenaline, staring straight in to Mickey's glass-shaded eyes.

Mick held the kukri firmly in his hand. The corner of his mouth pulled, and he snickered.

Scout was, surprisingly enough, holding his handgun, pointed somewhere in chest-height of Mick's stature. Scout took slow steps in to the room before moving along the wall.

The odds were against Mick this time.

And yet, he went for it. He wasn't sure if the scout's aim was genuinely awful or if he only pulled the trigger when the sniper had thrown himself out of the way, but something felt off about it. He missed his shot.

Mick went in with his kukri, throwing the scout against the wall, threatening Scout's throat with a perfect angle for a good slice. In this motion, Mick had managed pinning the scout's right arm to the wall, holding the gun aimed away from their faces. 

Scout had yelped at the motion, thrashing and kicking. Mick held steady. The former was now frantically staring at his arm, as if trying to force it to muster strength to overpower the sniper's grasp. He darted his eyes into the stranger's eyes before trying to find somewhere less uncomfortable to look.

Mick wasn't wavering. He held himself composed, sternly looking at this quivering puppy.

'So helpless.'

The scout gave labored huffs of attempts to keep fighting back.

This was where Mick noticed the tears.

It distracted him enough to instinctively letting his guard down, which slightly loosened his grip.

This gave Scout an opportunity. It was only a split second, but it was enough for him.

Jeremy head-butted the sniper, and once a brief distance had been allowed, Scout flicked the gun upside down in his hand and struck the sniper over the face.

Mickey dropped the kukri as he staggered back, yet remained on his feet. That had pissed him off.

He came back with a swing of his fist and sat a solid bullseye on the scout's nose. There was loud crack, and blood.

And yet, Scout composed himself before he went in again, and this time, fired his gun with seemingly more attempt to kill.

In a last-second decision to move out of the way, the sniper's wound landed in the shoulder. He grunted and staggered, before swinging his other arm out. He managed to knock the gun out of the Red's hand, before grabbing him in the collar and shoving him around. They danced half a circle, landing the scout on the desk.

Mickey was fuming. He had made a mistake letting the scout distract him with those puppy eyes.

He really shoved him on the desk. He held a hard grasp of the enemy's jaw, almost squishing his well-sculptured face. Mick growled through a tooth-gritting smirk.

"Dominated," he almost snarled through his teeth, pushing his face close enough to Scout's to feel his own warm breath bounce back.

The scout teared up once again. The blood from his nose was running still, while the tears mirrored it, running down his right cheek.

"Sissy," the blue whispered coldly into Jeremy's ear.

Jeremy had tried so hard to get rid of this enemy.

He had no clue why the team had decided to appoint him the mission of taking him down.

Did they think it would be the same as with the other sniper? Regardless, they viewed him as a carpet. There had been plenty of other people capable in the red team, yet none seemed willing. They had shoved that mission on Scout, rather than admit their own incapability.

He had gotten his ass totally kicked the entire afternoon and evening, with his closest thing to success being wounding his nemesis in the shoulder.

He felt defenseless.

This man was leaning over him, pressing himself onto Jeremy.

He felt the stranger's hand searching for its way up under Jeremy's own arm, which he had put on the sniper's shoulder in an attempt to hold distance between them.

He felt the soft tug of the chain around his neck. The man was peering down at it. He sneered once again, and the scout realized immediately.

"Jeremy, eh?" he now looked at Scout, satisfaction plastered in those cold eyes. The dogtag had just given a name to the enemy, which was not a comforting fact to Jeremy. 

"You've been quite a mayhem to my colleague, I've heard," Mickey finally admitted. "And you've been quite a toy for me to mess with."

The timing of getting his head shoved in the gutter didn't feel appropriate, so Jeremy forced himself out of there. It sent goosebumps down his arms.

"You're quick on your feet, Jeremy," the aussie chuckled. "You almost had me... You were so, so close."

Jeremy listened. Usually, Jeremy is one to put up a good conversation while others sat in silence. As of right now, he just wasn't sure what to respond.

"You were however completely dominated. I've been dominating you since you showed up in my colleague's tower."

He corrected his stance, still pushing the scout to the desk.

He moved his leg, as it had gotten uncomfortable where it stood.

He moved it just a bit hastily, landing his mid-thigh where he thought was next to Jeremy's inner thigh.

Which... It was. However, this sudden movement had landed too well between the scout's legs.

Jeremy gave a surprised gasp, shoving hard on the other's vest, forcing distance between them.

Mick stopped dead in his tracks, studying Jeremy's reaction through unbelieving eyes. He didn't notice it himself at first, but it was instantly salivating in his mouth.

"You like that, you li'l freak," Mickey stated, rather than asked. "You can't even help your own face."

He continued studying the Red's body language, as Jeremy composed himself and stood up.

"You wish," Jeremy now wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand.

"It seems more like... you wish." Mick sneered, giving a nod as he shot an implying glance down Scout's body.

Scout got flustered and looked squirmy.

"You... we're both guys! You know that just happens sometimes, I mean... c'mon, man! As if that hasn't happened to you in absolutely awkward moments... I mean... c'mon...!"

The time seemed to pause for a second.

They just looked at each other for a moment.

Until Mick broke out in full laughter.

Jeremy wasn't sure how to react. He started nervously joining in, before he also realized just how funny this was.

Scout and Sniper had just been trying to murder each other, and now they were laughing at men's anatomy needing a bug fix.

At least that's what Scout was laughing at. Until the blue asked the question, still cackling.

"You are a definite gay, aren't you!"

Scout sort of calmed his laughter a bit, processing this comment, before he laughed a bit further.

"Takes one to know one, am I right?"

The two of them laughed themselves to tears for a while, before having to sit on the floor and calm down.

They sat there in silence for a while.

Mickey gave Jeremy a cup of coffee.

"So... same time tomorrow, then?" Jeremy broke the silence.

"Sure."

"Cool, cool..."

...

...

"So are you actually gay? Or did you just call me that to insult me?"

"Do you want me to be?" Mick peered up at him, taking a sip from his cup.

"Is that an invitation?" Jeremy chuckled nervously, "nah, I mean... I like girls..."

Another pause. The sniper took a silent sip of his coffee.

"You mean, you like girls too."

"Huh? What? Oh! Erm... no! I mean... yes? Wait... I like girls. That's it. Yeah. I like girls. That's all."

"... Do you like girls dominating you, too?"

Jeremy's ears got hot. His cheeks too.

"No."

"So why'd you react like that?"

"Because. I... just. I don't know. I don't know, okay! I don't know. I like girls."

They sat silent for a bit, Mick sweeping the last bit of coffee before getting up. He cracked his back.

"You're like an old man, y'know." Scout teased him, also getting up on his feet.

"I sure feel like one," Sniper sighed as his body was snapping and cracking.

"Aren't you only like, literally four years older than me?"

"Yes."

"So why do you look like a grandpa?"

"Not sure. Why do you look like a 10 year old?"

"I do not!" Scout punched his arm.

"Maybe not, but you sure act like one."

Jeremy scoffed. "Unbelievable! What a jerk-face."

"Jerk-face? You are a walking example of what I just said."

Both of them gave a small laugh.

"Alright, asshole, I'm heading back to base. Thanks for not murdering me, and for breaking my nose."

"You're alright, Jeremy."

"You, too! Though... I never got your name?"

"Mick."

"Mick? Alright. I know what that rhymes with."

"You can grow up aaany moment now..." Mick pretended to look at a wristwatch.

"Oh, fuck off. I'm funny." Another mutual laughter.

"Alright. Head off, then."

"Aight. Get yourself to bed now, grandpa!"

"Sure will."

"Buh-bye!"

Mick hesitated, but decided anyway.

"Hey Jeremy?"

"Huh?"

"I like girls, too."

Jeremy's uncertain chuckle echoed.

"Alright, good to know!"

"Emphasis on 'too'"

"... oh... Oh! Oh, alright! Uh... Same, dude."

"Yeah."

"... Yeah... G'night then!"

"G'night"

The moon was sitting high on the sky by now. The red shirt of the scout vanishing down the valley had turned to purple in the blue moon light, and the sniper gathered his stuff before heading out as well.

What an odd day at work.

He could barely wait until dawn to meet his new-found nemesis again.

[tf2-oneshots]

Can you write sniperspy where sniper brings spy out camping and spy keeps complaining cuz dirt keeps getting on his suit and stuff but they both know deep down that he's enjoying the time with sniper.

Yesss i love these losers

Warnings: none!

Rating: General

Spy glances at the folding chair set out for him with a grimace. He does his best to shake away any dirt on the seat before sitting down. It’s uncomfortable, and he sinks a bit, but Spy ignores it in favor of Sniper who sits next to her. The man was also in a folding chair with legs stretched out and a groan escaping his lips.

“Remind me what I’m supposed to do with…this?” Spy picks up a metal skewer laying atop the cooler with a brow raised beneath her mask. Although alone, he refuses to compromise his identity. Even if Sniper has seen her bare face during late night moments together.

“Stick a saucie on it and hold it by the fire. Once the skin gets crispy, you can eat.” Sniper grabs the other skewer and opens the cooler. Inside is a bag of homemade sausages nestled in ice next to their drinks. The Aussie chuckles at the grimace on Spy’s face when he fishes a sausage out.

“It’s not gonna bite you, love.” Meat stuck on the metal stick, Sniper begins roasting it. The thin pole is held between his legs, inches from the campfire he built from rocks and sticks.

“I would hope not.” Using only two fingers, she lifts a sausage and repeats the steps Sniper had displayed. Out of nowhere, a bug flies past Spy’s head with an obnoxious buzz. She grimaces, hand waving to shoo it away.

“Careful!” The sausage dips into the flames, catching ablaze when it rises again. With a sharp breath, Sniper blows out the flaming meat. The end is a bit charred, but the rest can be salvaged. Spy rolls her eyes and looks to his lover.

“Must we eat outside? You have a stove in the van.” Said stove is a gas powered hotplate with two burners. One of which is occupied by a kettle to brew Sniper’s decaf in the morning. She would have accepted a cheap instant meal over a hot, bug infested sausage.

“That’s not camping, love. You’ll be fine.” Sniper brings his sausage away from the fire and bites into it. Spy grimaces at the grease before looking to her own. Slowly, he takes the slightest bite at the end only for the liquid to shoot onto her mask.

“Ma groseille, if I may, this camping trip has been nothing but a filthy, sweaty experience that I would like to forget the second we hit an actual road.” It was bad enough when the dirt road kicked up from the tires. The dust cloud went right into her open window, leaving the woman to scramble and roll it up.

Sniper, on the contrary, was laughing as the van jostled from the untamed road. Rocks and divots bouncing the couple in their seats. Spy was forced to put his book down lest she risk puking from car sickness. How much abuse can one camper take?!

“You’re having fun. I can tell.” Sniper offers her the forgotten sausage, which she begrudgingly accepts. As much as he wants to huff and whine, he does like having a night alone with the Aussie. He takes a bite, ignoring the metal in the center before swallowing. It was pretty good for a literal stick of meat.

“And how are you so certain?” With a bit of effort, Spy brings his chair closer to Sniper’s. It drags dirt along with him, but she ignores it for now. If only to avoid looking at what she desperately hopes isn’t a grub next to her shoe.

“If you were really upset, you’d have crow’s feet by your eyes.” Sniper points to his own to gesture. The statement makes Spy do a double take, quick to feel along his eyes for such wrinkles. Yes, he gets angry, but he doesn’t wrinkle like a grandmother!

“I’m only joking, love. Come on, lets get you dry cleaned.” Spy snatches Sniper’s hat and whacks him in the arm with it. She stands from the low chair, storming away while her lover laughs. Thank god the shower is inside the van.

Hope you enjoyed it! -H

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Queens and gods🐍👑

Loki x fem reader

Chapter 1

Summary: Loki, the god of mischief, has brought chaos to new york. What happens when he meets a particular interesting human? Love? Havoc? or rather--amusement.

Warnings: death, swearing.

A/n: A recent commission was made by @kitxel-draws. Thanks for your supportive generosity. Chapter 2 shall be out soon. Enjoy💖

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

-----

War is where death follows between two opposing sides that fight until nothing but ash falls.

The city of New York was under threat, and the god of mischief had accomplished his goal; using the tesseract, he summoned an army that he had gained with the alliance of Thanos. The aliens came through the portal with heavy machinery and weapons, rifles, blasters, and snipers. These aliens, the Chitauri, were under the commandment of their one true God, Loki. The civilians in the area under witness to these extra-terrestrial beings were mortified in horror—the only reactions they could muster were screams and fleeing. The Chitahuri fell from the sky, riding their chariots. They resembled a swarm of bugs from above, bunching together before parting as soon as they hit the earth’s atmosphere. The Chitauri started attacking the streets below; their weapons blasted anything in sight, human or not. Loud explosions could be heard at every corner, blazing fires emerged from the streets, and the tall, mighty skyscrapers that towered above any human, fell into a pile of broken rubble and dust. Loki stood proudly as he gazed down, staring at the battle in his glory. Loki closed his eyes as he heard the screams of mortal beings fleeing from the chaos—it seemed too beautiful, finally, a world where he was crowned and worshipped. The word “worshipped” meant so much in Loki’s mind, a world built in his name, a world he could call his own.

However, the dream ended when a worthy foe appeared in his presence.

“And, what fool dares to challenge me at my hour of triumph?” Loki asked with a mischievous grin. He knows how this will end, another mortal who shall bite the dust or join his army.

“One that values freedom for their country” A familiar voice struck Loki with recognition.

It was Captain America, the first avenger, the first fighter for freedom, and a patriotic hero beloved by all. “A soldier” Loki grinned further. Was he serious? Is this mortal willing to battle a god? What a joke.

“I’m giving you one last chance, Loki; stand down,” Captain America ordered.

“Never!” He furiously hissed.

Loki blasted a magical force from his scepter, and Captain America quickly dropped and rolled out of the way. He was determined; he didn’t back down while his country was attacked. Captain America threw his shield in a straight line; the blue and white shield flew at an unnatural speed, the circular disk spinning in a smooth motion as it aimed toward Loki. However, Loki used his scepter to ‘whack’ the shield out of the way. Captain America tossed his shield repeatedly in all directions. He was determined to defeat the god of mischief. Captain America ran up to Loki, punching him square in the jaw only—it didn’t affect him. Loki hit Captain America on his back to knock him over, but Steve quickly pushed himself up and dodged the oncoming scepter smashing into the ground. Captain America held his fists up, his legs facing in a fighting stance; he was prepared to take on Loki.

“I can do this all day,” Steve determinedly said.

Captain America came in again, rushing toward Loki with his hands curled into a fist. One punch after the other, swing after swing, Captain America fought with all his might against the God of Mischief. Loki turned his scepter in a perfect balance, following Captain America’s attacks. It was a fight to the death that would last between two powerful men: one a god and the other an artificial soldier. The difference between fighting Thor and Loki was that Thor relied heavily on his strength while Loki relied on his agility and wit. After the last punch, Captain America pushed Loki off to retrieve his shield. Loki prepared to defend himself from more of Steve’s attacks. Captain America looked directly into Loki’s eyes; he threw the shield with all his strength. The shield’s impact was so powerful that it knocked him onto his back. Loki’s crown fell off with a loud ‘clank’ to the ground. Perhaps he was wrong; mortal heroes were undoubtedly more formidable than they seemed.

This didn’t stop the god of mischief; however, he was still willing to take down this artificial soldier. He was a god, after all, a deity more powerful than man. All it took was one hit, and Captain America shall be no more. Loki curled his hands into fists; his own dark, raven hair that was once slicked back was now unkempt; strands of his black hair dangled down the side of his pale face.

“Come soldier, are you still prepared to fight for your weak brethren” Loki teased threateningly.

Captain America grabbed his shield as he was prepared to fight God, though something significant impacted Steve on the head. He lost his balance as he held his hands to his head. Loki stared in blatant confusion, knowing he wasn’t using any magic to force something that heavy on Steve’s head. Captain America turned to his side to see where the oncoming impact came from.

“Fuck you, motherfucker!! It’s your fault she’s dead!” a voice emerged from the pile of rubble.

Loki was astounded yet kept quiet and watched in confusion toward this angered human.

Captain America immediately turned to the Civilian; it was a woman with tear stains on her face and messy hair. Captain America tried to order her, “Mam, you’ve been ordered to evacuate the area!”.

“No! Y-you’re supposed to be a hero; what kind of hero allows an innocent person to die!” the woman stood her ground.

“I understand your frustration, mam, but please, we are trying to take everything under control,” Captain America reasoned with the angered woman.

Captain America was frustrated that this lady wouldn’t listen; however, only to his astounded horror did he realize his shield had hit a Chitauri ship earlier. He was so focused on defeating Loki; he didn’t know the risk to the other civilians surrounding the area. Steve gazed at the fallen ship; beneath its crushed underside was a woman’s body. Steve felt horrible; he looked at the woman with a guilty expression.

“I’m sorry, mam, I had no intention of—.”

“Intention of saving those innocent bystanders,” the woman snapped.

The woman, named y/n, didn’t care if Captain America was brave or good-hearted; he killed off the one woman who meant the whole world to her. Y/n’s mother. She was the most audacious and kindest soul any could know. She sacrificed herself to save her daughter’s life, a tough decision that couldn’t be made quickly. It was always a battle between the heroes and villains, yet, they were all the same. No matter where who, or what they fought, it was always the same. Heroes do more damage, just like villains.

While Steve was distracted, a Chitauri emerged from behind the car, holding a dagger. Captain America couldn’t react fast enough for the alien to take hold of y/n by the hair. “FUCK YOU- AH!” she screamed, wrestling with the grey-armored, hideous E.T. off her. Before she could react, a blue strain of light formed beneath the woman. “I thank you, soldier, for the fight. However, you were getting a little boring, so I’ll take my farewells and leave your pathetic world behind,” Loki smirked. Y/n screamed out to Captain America; Steve rushed to try and save the civilian that hit him with ash felt earlier. Only, he didn’t grab her fast enough.

Loki shot a blue beam of light into the sides of the buildings; the buildings all started to tumble down as Loki escaped.

With the puny, feisty human.

[mickmundy]

rise and shine; a fic inspired by an (18+) bushmedicine piece animated by my friend @gremlinshoard! please go check out her amazing art!!

as usual, text for the above excerpt is below the cut!

“‘Course. But now you really gotta get clean, y’smell like me.” He made playful sniffing sounds against Medic’s neck and rubbed his chin against his skin, making the doctor crow with laughter. “C’mon, nurse. Up you go,” Sniper teased as he gave Medic’s rear a gentle whack like one might do to urge a stubborn animal to move. The mercenary erupted into laughter, his heart fluttering as Sniper’s own chuckles joined it. 

Sniper rose out of bed and turned to face the doctor, scooping him up and tossing him over his own shoulder. Medic squealed and kissed Sniper’s round belly, nipping softly at the stretch marks that adorned the hunter’s hips and stomach. “Yeah, yeah, do your worst,” he chuckled playfully at Medic’s giddy bites, watching him as he paced to the suite’s bathroom and started the shower. 

“Into the bird bath with you, pretty plover,” he grunted, carefully standing the doctor up in the shower once the water got warm. He loved when they could be casually naked together; observing him like this was always such a treat. Medic began to lather up some shampoo and washed his hair, watching Sniper with bright blue eyes as the bushman went through their itinerary, humming along as he rinsed out his hair products and cleaned himself. He didn’t really have to pay attention; Sniper would be the one directing them when it came to what plane or train or whatever they had to board and when…

“So then there should be a layover which gives us time to-”

‘My heart, you worry too much! We’ll get there when we get there!’ He wanted to say, but refrained; he knew it was a routine for the marksman to rehearse things like this out loud. Unlike his stalwart companion, he really didn’t care if they arrived back to the base on time. Medic grinned, rolling his eyes as he opened his mouth and filled it with hot water until his cheeks bulged. Sniper was still going on about that schedule of theirs, instead of showering with him like he promised!

He pursed his lips and spat it at the bushman’s wide shoulders, making him jump and spin around to face him. Medic hooked a finger and motioned for Sniper to come to him and pointed to the tile floor - a very clear come here command - to which he nodded and gave a sheepish, crooked smile as he interrupted his own monologue.

“Right, sorry. But dovey, it’s important. We’ve only got a few minutes if we want to be on schedule, so you don’t have any time to stir up trouble ,” Sniper snickered as though he’d won an invisible battle, walking into the shower and groaning as Medic eagerly scooted to let the hot water hit his beloved and began to lather his mullet with pleasant-smelling shampoo. He smirked as he heard Sniper begin to purr his crocodile purr again .

“My naive krokodil, a few minutes is all the time I need!”