#guns for hire: reloading

[average-mako-enjoyer]

N7 Month 2024: Day 1 - Poetry

Pairing: Ereba/Charr (aka Blue Rose of Illium) Rating: G Words: 800 These two are forever in my heart 🥲💔 ***

"Your bones are so thin that I can... crush you with my fist?! What is this?!" Ereba raised her eyes to the krogan.

He blinked and made a soft gurgling noise.

"A poem," he said, shifting slightly from foot to foot. For something so big and intimidating, he looked terribly twitchy. "I wrote it myself."

"You wrote a poem about crushing me with your fist?!"

"Yes. But you didn't read the best part."

"Oh, so that wasn't the best part?" she asked.

He made the gurgling sound again, but this time louder.

"Of course."

"Oh Goddess," she looked down at the datapad in her hands again and continued reading.

She first met him just a week ago when he came to her shop looking for a new shotgun.

"Mine doesn't shoot right anymore," he explained, showing Ereba his Claymore with the muzzle bent almost to an angle.

It was impressive, so she asked, "What happened to it?"

"I hit a guy in the head with it," he answered casually. And added, in response to her puzzled look, "He had a thick skull."

So Ereba showed him all the bestsellers, but he grew more and more frustrated with each demonstration.

"No! These are all children's guns!" he barked after the third one. "For weaklings like you! I need something big! With real power!"

It wasn't the first time someone had called her weak, but it still stung. And since she couldn't tell him to fuck off because it was apparently bad for business (she'd done that once and almost gotten fired), Ereba said, "Of course. Give me a moment."

The Eviscerator wasn't her favorite model, but it definitely made idiots like this krogan piss their pants with excitement, and if that was what it took to close the deal, she was ready for it.

"This is an M-22," she said, setting the thing down on the counter and exhaling as if struggling with its weight. "Human-made. Low accuracy, can only handle two rounds per shot, but it's very powerful. I guess that's what you're looking for, right?"

"Finally!" The krogan thumped his fist into his open palm and cracked his knuckles. "Yes! This is the one! Let me try it!"

"Oh no, sir," Ereba smiled sweetly. "I can't let you handle a loaded weapon in this shop. But I can give you a demonstration!"

The thing about Ereba that most of her customers had no idea about was that she wasn't some young maiden hired to attract customers with her pheromones. And oh Goddess, she loved to rub it in their faces.

So she grabbed the Eviscerator from a counter, took the safety off, pointed the muzzle at the target, fired, reloaded, fired again, reloaded, and repeated until the clip was empty.

"And that was your demonstration," she said, resting the shotgun on her shoulder. "Would you like to try handling it now? See if it fits your needs?"

The krogan stared at her.

No. Not stared.

He STARED, eyes round and mouth slightly agape. It even took him some time to make a coherent sound. But then he finally took the gun from her, checked it thoroughly, then paid for it and left.

Ereba congratulated herself on the successful deal and decided to forget about it, but he came back the next day to buy some ammo. And then the next day to make a terrible attempt at small talk. And then the next day with a box of sweets. And now, a week later, there was this.

A poem.

"Your eyes are like the pools of darkness in which I drown because my kind cannot swim." she read. "I want to kiss your lips until they are as dark as the blood of my enemies spilled on the floor and dried..."

"That," the Krogan interrupted. "That was the best part."

"About the blood?" Ereba raised her eyes to his face again.

"No. About the kissing." He did his little foot shuffle again and clasped his hands.

'Cute,' Ereba thought, then stopped herself. What was she thinking?

"I didn't like the part about crushing me. You know I'm a biotic, right? I will crush you first if you try something like that with me, understood?"

"Oh, I know, I know!" he nodded enthusiastically. "I meant I will protect you! If you let me…"

She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. The krogan, Charr was his name, stared at her with the same stunned expression he had when she showed him how to use the Eviscerator. She noticed the slight quivering of his lower lip and the way the thick muscles of his arms flexed beneath the shoulder pads of his armor.

'What a weird, ugly lizard,' Ereba thought, but then said aloud,

"You need a better poem for that."

[tacticaldiary]

Unsteady

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Little could throw Leon off, especially when he’s laser-focused on his objective, but the moment he hears that cry of pain all thoughts of acting rationally are out the window. 

Masterlist

He’s a steady man. 

Everything Leon does is meaningful. The way he moves, striding with purpose, the way he talks, to the point, those remarks rolling off his tongue naturally, the steady motions of his fingers as he smoothly reloads his gun with one hand, tossing a grenade with the other. 

Deployed to investigate an outbreak in the middle of the ruins of a city, Leon hadn’t liked being paired with her at first. 

Love and duty didn’t mix after all. 

“Watch your six.” She yells out, ducking to parry an incoming knife from the particularly agile species of zombies they found themselves in the middle of. Leon turns just in time to dodge a zombie lunging for his neck. A bullet through the head sends it down. 

Together the both of them move as a deadly, well-oiled machine. Wordless communication glances that silently request support or warn, a punch there, a chamber of bullets lost here.

“There’s too many of them, we’re overpowered!” He calls out, holding his position. 

“Retreat back to base for now!” She yells back, yanking her knife back out of a creature’s head with a sickening squelch. She scowls as the blade comes out half broken, tosses it aside, and extracts another one. “We’ll regroup and come up with any strategy. Charging forwards isn’t working-”

A creak cuts through the air, halting all conversation. Even the mangled corpses go quiet. 

“Move!” She shouts and before Leon knows it, he’s shoved roughly away as an old oil tanker collapses mere inches from where he stood. The massive barrel explodes on contact with the ground, engulfing the world in flames, bright red and hot. She lets out a strangled yelp as it burns right through her shoulder and chars her skin. A surface burn but still stinging and painful. 

“Are you alright?” Comes a yell from the other side of the wall of flames. “Shit, are you hurt?” He sounds...panicked? No, that wasn’t right. Leon Kennedy didn’t panic. He fought, thought, and charged his way through any problem. 

“I’m fine!” She tries to find a way to him, but the wall of flames produces so much heat it makes her eyes burn from the smoke. Pulling the collar of her shirt to cover her mouth and nose, she gives up finding a path back to their original position. 

She curses under her breath, “I’ll meet you there! Go back to base, I’ll find another way!” His protests come through, but she ignores his demands for her to stop and find another way. If she stayed she’d be charred to toast. The fire spreads onto the old creaky building, columns of flames mounting higher and hire. The creatures at least seem to have just as strong a dislike for the heat as she does because they’re nowhere to be seen. 

“Go!” She yells one last time before taking off into the nearest alley, clutching her burning arm. 

Getting separated was never ideal, but it couldn’t be helped. She knows he’ll be alright. Leon was anything but stupid. He was deadly, he’d be fine she tried to convince herself. 

As she starts to think she might have gotten her bearings back, a crack sounds from above her. She whirls around, gun aimed to the ceiling of the wooden beams she’s passing under, thinking it’s a zombie. 

It’s not. 

The beam creaks under the weight of the fire eating away at it, and before she can dive out of the way, it cracks and falls straight into her, trapping her in rubble and splinters, pinned to the ground. 

She screams, hot wood pressing against her skin as the fire around her seems to close it. “Fuck,” she gasps in a breath, trying to think. Prying the beams off of her does little but burn and embed splinters into her palms. 

Shit, Leon. She had to meet Leon back at the base, had to let him know she was alright, had to know that he was alright. 

 After a couple of minutes of struggling, it dawns on her that she’s not going anywhere. Her lower half and left arm are trapped. There’s no way she can lift the beam on her own, not with her injured shoulder at least. 

Was this it? She squeezes her eyes shut, chasing the thoughts away as she sweats and burns. Was this how she was going to go out? Smoke threatens to choke her, acrid and bitter in her throat, in her lungs. 

She imagined she’d go down protecting someone, maybe even her boyfriend, or that she’d be torn apart by some sort of bioweapon, but no.

She’d burn and suffocate under a goddamn beam. 

Feeling tears prick her eyes at the thought, her head feels too heavy to keep lifted, her forehead dropping to press against the dirty pavement below.

Leon...God, she hoped he wouldn’t blame her too much. 

They’d just started to make a life together. Years of dancing around, subtle flirting, and lingering glances finally led to them dating a year ago. She loved him. She really did love him and now she was never going to see him again. 

Two beady eyes glare at her from the far end of the alley.

Cold and dead. 

A zombie staggers towards her, snarling unfazed by the fire around them. It stumbles and drags itself closer and closer.

A dry sob rips itself out of her throat, the heat unbearable, panic clawing at her. Breathing short and shallowly, she wishes she could reach for something to end her pain a little quicker, but she can’t reach any of her for any of her weapons. 

Helplessness threatens to drag her under until her eyes catch on a sharp splinter of wood the size of her palm just within reach. With a shaking arm, she reaches towards it, crying out when her movements put more of the wood’s pressure on her. The splinter of about the size of her palm, is wickedly sharp. 

Glancing up again is almost too much effort to handle in between her hacking coughs. It’s halfway down the alley already.

She’d rather kill herself than end up like them.

Trembling, she presses the sharp point of the wood right onto her jugular, swallowing nausea and hesitation. 

She couldn’t let herself turn. What if she was the one who found Leon? What if she hurt him? No, she couldn’t bear it. 

Another sob wracks her body as the living corpse staggers closer. Steeling herself, she closes her eyes and tries to think about anything else. 

Don’t be too mad at me, Leon, she thinks to herself, before-

The sharp bang of a gunshot startles her, her hand jerking and digging painfully into her throat. Before she can blink away the blurriness in her eyes, her wrist is yanked away from her neck forcefully, the grip on it like iron as the wood is ripped out of her hands. 

“Not yet, baby.” She could cry at the voice, low and determined. “You’re not done yet.” 

“Le-Leon.” She coughs, “You won’t- the fire.“ A gasp rips out of her when he tries to tug her free. “Stop!” She cries out. “Can’t-you can’t. I’m stuck. Go before it’s too late.” Is all she manages to choke out. 

The look Leon gives her is one that she might have laughed at if she were in the laughing mood. 

“Like hell.” He says roughly, “We’re staying together.” She knows that tone of voice, the one that’s immovable and molded out of iron. Too tired to argue, she nods. He moves out of her field of vision behind her. 

“I’m going to lift the beam.” He says calmly but quickly. “I need you to drag yourself out from under when I do. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

When she doesn’t respond, he calls out her name, repeating himself more urgently. 

The most she can offer him is a weak nod. Her throat feels like it’s on fire.

Suddenly the crushing weight is gone, and all she wants to do is sob in relief and curl up right there and then, but Leon’s voice filters in and out of her mind. With the meagre remaining strength she has left, she claws her way out of the rubble, collapsing a bit away onto her stomach. 

Leon doesn’t waste any time asking questions when he runs over to her and picks her up, ducking through a gap in the brick wall a couple of feet away. 

“You’re going to be okay.” He says aloud, glancing down at her as he moves. Steady. Always so steady and calm. She takes comfort in it, but it’s only when she sinks farther into his grip that she notices. 

The tremor in his hands. 

The slight shake of his voice.

The poorly hidden panic in his eyes whenever he glances down at her. 

He’s panicking. Leon Kennedy is panicking. 

“Shit, don’t close your eyes.” He urges, squeezing her closer to his chest. “Stay awake. Stay awake for me, okay?” He talks, getting increasingly shaky when she can’t find the will to respond to any of it. 

In and out of darkness she drifts. Every time she feels herself swim too deep, his voice always pulls her back, like an anchor she couldn’t lose even if she tried.

When she comes back to this time, clinging onto his voice to drag her back she finds they’re back in the bunker they’d chosen as their temporary base for the mission. She’s laying on her bedroll, Leon’s roll draped over her to keep her warm. 

The man in question is wrapping her shoulder with a bandage. The numb coolness suggests he’s treated the worst of her burns

Trying to speak, nothing but a hoarse noise comes out. 

“Don’t talk.” He instructs, immediately reaching for his canteen. Gently he props her up in his arms and brings the vessel to her lips, guiding her to drink. “That’s it, sweetheart.” He praises her as she drinks. “Slowly.” 

Swallowing a few times, she tries again. “Are you...are we?” 

“You’re alright.” He assures her. “I got you out in time.” Still, in his arms, he feels her physically relax at the assurance. 

It’s not enough. Seeing her accept her demise, laying there half-trapped with a weapon to her jugular ready to end it all before his eyes...

He feels sick thinking about what would have happened if he’d been a mere second late. Seeing her slit her throat in front of him...he may have just pulled the trigger on himself there and then. 

The thought washes over him, overwhelming. He can’t stop himself from clutching her tighter, drawing her into his chest and tucking his chin over her head. “Thought I lose you for a second.” He admits hoarsely.

“I...I thought I did too.” She whispers, feeling him draw his arms around her tighter. “Thank you.” 

“I wasn’t going to leave you there.” 

“How did you know?” She asks, shifting to meet his eyes, taking solace in the deep blue. 

“I heard you scream.” 

It had stopped him in his tracks, all thoughts of anything regarding his own safety and the mission dissipating with the single sound. The only thing on his mind was to find her, to help her, to make sure she was alive and that she never made such a sound ever again while he was alive. 

“I’m glad I did, then.” It’s a weak joke that doesn’t pull a smile or a chuckle out of either of them. 

“Scream or stay silent, I’ll always find you, sweetheart.” He mutters into her hair. The trembling in his body seems to have subsided now that they were out of the fire. 

Her heart warms at his words, and even as their world is quite literally burning down outside their little safe haven, she finds that there wasn’t a place she’d rather be right now than in his arms like this, comfortable and safe. 

“Rest. I’ll take watch.” He presses his lips to her forehead, lingering there for a couple of seconds. 

Her last mumbled thanks barely makes it past her lips before she’s out cold, trusting him to keep her safe while she recovers. 

Requests Are Open!

(22/06/2023)

[definitelynotstable]

Camomile pt. 15 [Ghost x gn!Reader]

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10, pt. 11, pt. 12, pt. 13, pt. 14, pt. 15

AN: plot at the start and fluffy hurt/comfort at the end.

Synopsis: Closely follows the “Cartel Protection” and "Close Air" missions from the mw2 (reboot). Rights to the game developers <;3 Word count: 2.1k Warnings: canon divergence, canon typical violence, guns, wounds, swearing, death etc Ghost x gn!Reader (Callsign: Rags)

✧˚ · .

Ghost makes it across the ledge behind you and hauls you to your feet. You’re in a daze as you follow Soap and Alejandro over the rocks. Bullets ping and whir but your sole focus is the back of Soap and Alejandro. There’s no cover to pause and return fire, your only choice is to run and hope they miss. 

Suddenly Alejandro stops.

“You’ve led us to a dead end mate!” Ghost yells from behind you and you flinch, looking up. Beyond the ledge is a sheer drop which leads down to a narrow gorge. 

“We jump from here!” The colonel calls back and you freeze, “Don’t loose your weapons!”

Your feet have become one with the stone beneath them as Alejandro and Soap jump from the edge. Ghost tugs at your arm and you turn to meet his gave with wide eyes.

“It’s jump or die, Sergeant.” He says sternly but not unkindly, pushing you forwards as the bullet spray nears. 

You gulp, grasping his hand tightly on instinct as your chest constricts painfully. 

“Together?” You ask, knowing you’ll have to jump sooner rather than later regardless of his answer.

“Together.” He confirms, tugging your forwards and stepping from the cliff.

✧˚ · .

The water is a shock. It isn’t too cold but the impact is jarring. It streams up your nose and you resist the urge to gasp, struggling against the weight of your gear to paddle to the top. A hand wraps around your tactical vest and yanks you to the surface.

“Move down river to the bridge!” Alejandro calls, muffled by the water as you emerge. “Use the rocks for cover!”

Pushing back the memories that cling to you alongside the water, you focus on the burn in your shoulders as you pull yourself through the water. 

“All stations, this is Victor-0-1. How copy?” Alejandro calls over the comms, buzzing in your ear.

“–dow-1! Do you–? –ay again. –o you’re–?”

A distinctly American drawl answers, static crackling and cutting him off.

“Radio’s picking up something.” Soap confirms from in front of you.

Ghost is beside you now, pulling through the water with more strength than you. “Sounds American.”

“Could be Graves?” You ask, arms burning as you push to keep up. “The PMCs Shepherd hired?”

“Sounds like it,” Soap nods back at you, finding a rock and pulling himself up against it as the water splashes and sprays; the gunfire picking back up. 

The army hides in the trees along the bank and you rest your gun on a flat rock in front of you, scoping them out amongst the treeline. There’s too many to take out at once but together you manage to clear enough hostiles to give you time to make way upstream. It becomes almost a game. Take cover behind a group of rocks, return fire, dive below and swim upstream to the next set of rocks before pausing again and firing. 

You round the bend and eventually the bridge comes into view. Armoured vehicles are parked in a convoy, on the offensive.

“Armoured vehicles on the bridge!” Ghost calls over the radio, an unspoken question in his voice. Are they friendly?

“They’re not ours!” Alejandro swears, clambering up to settle behind another rock. “Fuck! It’s the army.”

Bullets fly from the bridge, they have a clear vantage point and armour to cover. 

“We can’t do shite against their armour!” Soap calls out to Alejandro who has his back to the rocks, reloading.

“We have to hold here to get extraction!” He replies, popping out and sending a barrage of bullets in their direction.

Suddenly the radio crackles to life, the American accent clearer than ever. 

“This is Shadow-1! Engaging the bridge north of your position. Danger close!”

“Thank fuck.” You breath, holding your fire.

“Who the hell is that?.” Alejandro asks, turning to you and Ghost, mistrust in his gaze.

“Commander Graves,” Ghost replies, “Shadow Company. They’re with us.”

The rocks beneath you shake and bridge explodes. Flaming bits of debris splashing into the water below. 

“Shadow-1,” Ghost grips his radio, when the screeching of metal lessens, “Bravo 0-7, Good shots! Fire for effect!”

Soap lets out a boyish “whoop!” As the last bit of the bridge crumbles into the river. He’s arguably smartest out of all of you to be a demo-expert but at the end of the day still just a guy who enjoys blowing shit up.

“All stations, no enemy movement detected. You’re clear.”

✧˚ · .

You make it to extraction, sopping wet but pumping full of adrenaline. Grave’s sends coordinates – a hit on Hassan nearby – and you slip into the back seat with Ghost as Alejandro slides behind the wheel, Soap in the passenger seat. The radio buzzes as you pull up to another compound, not unlike the last.

“Ghost this is Shadow-1, orbiting the compound now. Standing by for visual.”

Ghost grips his radio, the vehicle pulling to a rolling stop next to a shed and some barrels. “Shadow-1, Bravo 0-7. We’ll make our location with IR laser, over.”

With a “roger” from Graves, you pile out of the car, guns raised.

“How do we find Hassan?” Soap asks the question that’s been balancing on the tip of your tongue. 

“He’ll have an armed guard, cartel protection.” Alejandro replies, heading off towards the scattered buildings. 

Ghost radios off the information to Graves and the party begins. 

✧˚ · .

It’s not often you’re able to work with the kind of firepower Graves and his men employ. National incidents are always a risk and a shit-ton of redcap to prevent them. 

PMCs don’t have those kinds of parameters. 

Within ten minutes the compound is set ablaze. It’s a mess but a well orchestrated one. Ghost holds comms with Graves and soon you’re leading Hassan in cuffs towards an armoured car.

“I am a Quds force Major! You have no right–!”

–“Shut the fuck up!” Soap interrupts, ramming him into the side of the vehicle as you open the door.

“You will pay dearly for this!” The Major growls and spits in your face and you flinch away with a scowl.

“Ok fuckass.” You call back, giving the door a hefty slam once Soap slides in beside him. Ghost rounds the car and sits on the other side as Alejandro greets Rodolfo with a grin. 

You’re left with the back to yourself and sit with your gun between your legs, eyes sharp and alert as they follow the landscape that flies through the back window. 

It’s dark by the time the convoy rolls to a stop beside Graves and his crew. The trucks converge on a centre point, headlights creating a bastardised spotlight where Alejandro forces Hassan to his knees. 

You stand beside to your Lieutenant, just out of view of the scuffed laptop Graves has set up to stream a visual to Laswell and Shepherd.

“You know we can’t hold him.” You murmur to Ghost who leans down, ear tilted towards you. 

He nods with a sigh, readjusting his grip on his rifle, “Shepherd and Laswell know that.”

“I know they know that –“ You gesture at the man who is currently taunting Hassan, a grin on his lips, –“but does Graves?”

The discussion becomes heated and Graves picks up the laptop before slamming is back down on the bonnet of the truck. 

“Actual, let me finish this.” He sounds like a schoolboy, eager to please his father.

“There’s nothing I would like more,” Shepherd drawls through the grainy screen, “But Laswell’s right. Without proof we need to turn him loose. See where he leads us.”

Soap lets out a frustrated growl, joining Graves by the laptop. “He’s right here, you can’t be serious!”

“I’m afraid I am, son.”

Ghost moves besides you and your eyes catch something reflecting in hands. You grab the phone from your Lieutenant and step forwards with a frown.

“Did we get anything from his phone?”

“Affirmative. We got a hit.” She says, eyes narrowed as smoke swirls around her, Illuminated in the blue glow of her laptop.

“Good.” Shepherd responds, “Now take him back and let him go.”

✧˚ · .

It’s past midnight when you roll into base. It feels like a failure, having to let the Major loose and the men stumble from the trucks into the barracks without the usual banter of a successful mission. 

As one of the few countries with women in the Special Forces, the base at Las Almas has a seperate wing – albeit small and unkept. The shower teeters between boiling hot and freezing cold but by the end you manage to pull the tangles from your hair. If you were allowed sweatpants while on missions you’d have pulled them on but instead you settle for a pair of grey cargos and a long-sleeve black shirt. 

Stuffing a couple of teabags into your pocket, you let your door click shut behind you and step cautiously into the hallway. 

“Rags?” 

You freeze at the voice of your Lieutenant. You turn to face him and he tilts his head, surveying you. 

“Where’re you headin’?”

You fumble with your pocket, pulling out the crumpled tea to show him. 

“A kitchen? And maybe a kettle.”

Ghost huffs out a laugh, eyes crinkling. He unfurls his palm towards you and you step closer to have a look at what he holds. Two camomile teabags sit perfectly in his hand; it’s as though he’s ironed them.

The kitchen isn’t far and he leads you inside, holding the door open as you pass. It’s warmly lit and smells of tobacco. A couple of glasses sir on the table alongside a deck of cards.

“Soap and Alejandro.” Ghost comments as he notices you inspecting the remnants of the game. “You just missed ‘em.”

You nod and come to stand beside him, arms crossed as you watch the kettle boil. A pale hand brushes your cheek and you meet Ghosts eyes in surprise.

“What’s this?’

You raise a hand and trace the cut lightly with your finger. His hand remains. “A rock or something, I think – not sure.”

He watches you carefully, as usual saying more with his eyes than he does with his mouth. “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

“Hm?” 

He drops his hand from your cheek to the base of your neck where it meets your shoulder. You hesitantly meet his gaze.

“Rodriguez. It wasn’t your fault.” His eyes are soft and warm and full of understanding. 

It makes the beast of guilt inside you squirm and rear its head. You pull a lip between your teeth and hope it disguises the wobble that’s started. But you eyes sting all the same and you will the moisture gathering there to dissolve before he sees.

A thumb swipes across your cheekbone, however, and catches a tear you hadn’t realised escaped. He’s standing close to you now and you feel exhaustion surge like a wave.  Without thinking, your forehead drops forwards and thumps softly against his clavicle. You sniff, too tired to register the professional boundary that you may have just crossed but wasn’t that bridge burned long ago? 

A hand settles gently in your hair and you suck in a shaky breath, tears staining his navy shirt. He smells like deodorant and a hint of camomile lingers on the hand which cups the back of your head.

“I know it isn’t.” You say finally, sniffing again. “But it feels like it is.”

You pull away from him and his hand falls to rest on your shoulder.

“I had to push him off.” You swallow thickly, searching his eyes for something, anything, that will alleviate your pain. “I had to shove his body off the fucking cliff.”

Ghosts eyes mirror your own. “I know.”

You step away, shaking your head, and reach for the kettle,  needing something to occupy yourself with under his piercing gaze. 

“I know I didn’t pull the trigger. I know it could’ve been any of us but why him. Why there?” You’ve started crying again and tears run down your cheeks in streams. Your voice cracks. “Where he used to play as a child.”

Strong arms wrap around you as the world blurs; a large hand rubbing firm circles on your back as you gasp. “I know.” He whispers, chin settling on the crown of your head.

“It isn’t fair.”

“It isn’t.” He agrees. “It never is.”

“Why.” You demand, knowing how illogical and stupid the question sounds. But instead of laughing, the lieutenant presses his lips into your hair.

“I don’t know.”

✧˚ · .

Taglist

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Masterlist

[wildissylupus]

Why is Cole so revered in the lore/voice lines?

Ok, I've seen this question be brought up in both a serious and joking manner and I completely understand it because unlike a lot of other characters whose skills are shown heavily either in actual gameplay or pre-game voice lines, Cassidy's full assortment of skills actively can't be explained or shown further then the set skills he's allowed to use in game.

Basically if you don't really look into his lore you wouldn't really grasp why he was chosen to be in Blackwatch in the first place if his only perceived "skills and talents" are good aim, rolling around and a grenade.

So let me explain why Cole Cassidy is so skilled that not only Overwatch want him, but Talon too.

1) His Resume

The first thing in Cassidy's resume is helping found the Deadlock gang when he was fifteen and even before that he was actively Ashe's right-hand man, making him second in command in Deadlock as well.

The next thing he was apart of was Blackwatch, I'll get into why he was hired into Blackwatch later. Cassidy was brought into Blackwatch by Gabriel Reyes, to which (at least by the time of the Venice incident) Cole proceeded to become at least one of the people Gabriel relied on and trusted most and at most, second-in-command in Blackwatch. (Again I'll get into that later)

Now this leads off of the previous point and that is the fact that Cassidy was one of the only Blackwatch member other then Genji to be brought into Overwatch;

Here he is in an Overwatch graduation photo. He is presumably graduating with Tracer, Winston and Genji.

Now let's get into more resent years of him being a Vigilante/Bounty Hunter. Cassidy has been recorded to basically be continuing the work he did with Overwatch but more on his own terms, as seen in this;

this;

And this;

He hasn't really "laid low" in his time away from Overwatch, he continued from where he left off but now he works relatively alone and on his own terms.

And now we can get into the final item on his resume; recruiting and possibly lead his own Overwatch team.

Throughout the New Blood comics it plays with the idea of Cassidy taking the role as "leader" instead of focusing on orders given to him by someone else, not only that but considering what little we've seen on the PvE Story Mode Campaign, Cassidy is mostly fully animated and framed with Sojourn and Winston. Two people who are heavily expected to be taking on leader roles during story mode. (I will expand more about this in a later post)

So that is everything we know that is in Cassidy's resume, now let's get into the next topic;

2) His talents and skills

Let's start off with what he can do in game;

Peacekeeper - Accurate, powerful revolver

Peacekeeper - Wildly fire remaining rounds.

Combat Roll - Roll in the direction your moving and reload

Magnetic Grenades - Throw a short-range grenade that homes in on nearby enemies and deals additional damage if it sticks to them.

Deadeye - Focus. Mark. Draw. Cassidy takes a few precious moments to aim; when he’s ready to fire, he shoots every enemy in his line of sight. The weaker his targets are, the faster he’ll line up a killshot.

(Sources; Wiki, Character Bio)

Now most of these abilities seem to be of the course for a character of his capabilities, but I'm only going to be talking about one; Deadeye.

From what we know in lore Deadeye is most likely what Cassidy is like at peak performance, which on it's own at a lore standpoint is pretty impressive. At a lore standpoint Cassidy is perfectly capable of essentially sniping six people using an impractical gun for sniping.

Yes this is him at peak performance but that is only in game, in lore he is capable of doing that at any time. Think about that for a second. He can basically use his Ultimate at any time.

Ok now, let's get into all the skills/talents he has that are implied by the lore itself;

Having an aim that is on par with Ana Amari with a gun that is generally not used for long range attacks

Being Ana's Amari and Gabriel Reyes's protégé

Him being trained by both Ana and Gabe means he's most likely skilled in more weapons then just a peacekeeper revolver (i.e. sniper rifles and shotguns at the very least)

Being skilled enough at age 17 to be not only considered for Blackwatch but to be put into a high security prison

Being able to survive multiple botched Black-ops missions (Brigitte: My dad says a lot of your missions were disasters.)

Most likely having a hand in writing the Blackwatch playbook.

(The way it emphasises "my" gives me the impression he had a hand in writing it)

Was able to take out a talon with out any casualties, on his own and in an enclosed, moving area. Not to mention several of those talon agents were taken out in the dark. (see Train Hopper)

Oh and let's not forget that he was actively of the run with a 60 million bounty on his head, meaning he was not only being hunted down by police, but other bounty hunters too.

There is also his history as a bodyguard (he was assigned to protect Mina Liao a lot), leading Blackwatch missions (he was in Blackwatch/Overwatch from 17 - 30/31 he most definitely ran a few missions), and just his strong ass loyalty (backstory retconned to he left after the Swiss explosion to emphasise this)

I probably missed some things but these are all the skills he has that are implied by lore. Now we can finally get to the actual question;

3) Why is Cole Cassidy so revered?

The reason Cassidy is so revered is because of the amount of skills he has, his pension for being able to learn new skills and his ability to be a massive threat to those he's fighting against even if he's on his own.

And do you want to know the final nail in the coffin?

The only enhancement he has is is prosthetic to which as far as we know lore wise, is a regular prosthetic.

Other than that Cassidy is, on the surface at least, some regular guy who dresses up as a cowboy.

So in conclusion, Cole Cassidy is more of a threat and an asset then people give him credit for. However this actually isn't of any fault of their own, as much as I've harped on in this post and others on how competent Cassidy is, there is one thing that will still remain true.

And that is Cole Cassidy is a dumbass, a heavily skilled and competent one, but a dumbass none the less.

Now this leads to one final question...

Why does Talon/Doomfist want Cassidy on their side?

[noodle-anime]

just! finished saiyuki og series!!! discovered the first resurrected edition volume recently and it has been. well. it's been a journey lol

oooooooooh boy there sure was some Anatomy and Proportions happening in the first volume but it was super fun to see the art style progress actually. it encouraged me to notice more complex poses and things in the later volumes, and when there was an occasional repeat panel like Sanzo and Goku's first look it was very cool to see the difference in quality.

i have a coupla favorite panels/spreads and generally tried to pay a little more attention to how things are precisely laid out and it was a fun aspect of reading. i want to do some actual breakdowns now, maybe compare early and later layouts.

also! i discovered and watched zeroin! my first intro to saiyuki was discovering reload blast forever ago. the art style in zeroin and the fact that there's a whole set of characters i'd never heard of before made it feel like an au or semi-canonical anime movie, sorta, but i enjoyed it So much and there are some specific notes on sanzo characterization that i want to dig into

sanzo is my fave and the kami-sama arc was So Very Good in that respect but it also grew my love for gojyo three sizes.

the way that they all react when gojyo leaves cracks me up so much. they're So Offended. something so funny and also so tasty that they will not under any circumstances admit out loud that they care about gojyo and miss him so instead they're like we are going to Hurt Him (because he hurt us) for Disrupting Our Daily Routine (he's a fundamental part of our lives) and FORCING us to turn this car around (he left with the full knowledge and expectation that they would follow through with actually continuing to pursue this Very Important job like they always said they would)

mmmmm gojyo's savior complex mmmm it's good.

got blasted by the idea of gojyo and hakkai starting an orphanage when they're done with the mission. hakkai was a teacher and still models himself as a "childcare professional"/co-parent to goku and gojyo wants to save somebody So Badly. also good luck resocializing goku to not be killing people/fighting for his life every other day for Two Entire Formative Teenage Years, helping kids and not having it backfire spectacularly in his face would be good for him

i just read the fourth volume so that's most of what i've got on my mind, i know i have More thoughts from the other volumes

besides the fact that sanzo's joints are gonna/have gotta be So Fucked Up. he really is a grandpa. poor guy.

feels good to nail some characterization aspects like genjyo "i'm a coldhearted bastard and you'd better stay out of my way" (developed coping mechanisms to deal with the traumatic loss of a parent and people repeatedly Attacking Him at an early age) sanzo, cho "yes i'm the wife/mother, please excuse these skeletons, the cleaver is only for special occasions" hakkai, sha "i'm the only one here who understands how to be a normal person" (he does not but he does have the highest emotional intelligence) gojyo, and son "i'm a teenager" (he's a teenager, also growing up with the aforementioned trio as parental/familial figures and starting to come into his own!!) goku

not a single one of these men has had a normal relationship or even prolonged interaction with a woman

i had no idea there was a whole brainwashing segment with kougaiji?? and i really want to see more of lirin, there are fun parallels there to explore that i really wanna dig into

i had no idea to what level sanzo was a bastard gremlin with a gun who just Happens to also be the highest of high priests before and now that i do it delights me. the very hypocrisy of his acceptance in his position disgusts him because He Is Not Priest Material but also it's what his dad wanted for him so fuck everybody who tries to take that from him. in any other situation he'd be the shady penniless vagabond gun for hire but koumyou happened. and now we all get to enjoy it.

[monaskydancer]

Into the West - Chapter 6

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2 Pairing: Arthur x fOC Genre: romance, adventure, drama

@photo1030 @cassietrn

Hastily, Nancy scrambled behind the dining room wall as bullets whizzed past her. She saw Arthur across from her in the kitchen. He cast a glance at her too, then peeked around the wall. Raising his gun, he shot one of the guys who had broken into the house. She calmed her breathing as best as she could, then whirled out of her hiding spot and raised her shotgun, aiming at another guy. The bullet hit him, and he tumbled backward, crashing through the window next to the door and landing outside on the front porch. She had no idea if he was still alive or if she had just killed him.

"Just give up!" One of the guys called. "You brought this upon yourself, bitch!"

She gritted her teeth and aimed her gun at the man. Her eyes grew wide, though, as there was only a click from her gun.

"No, no, no, no!" she muttered angrily and looked at Arthur, then at the man heading towards her with his gun aimed at her chest.

"Raaaah!" Arthur growled loudly and jumped out of the kitchen, crashing into the man. They tumbled to the floor, the gun dropping out of the bounty hunter's hand. Nancy dove for it and shot another man who had just entered the building while Arthur still wrestled with the guy. He found the opportunity to shoot him in the head. Pushing himself up, he brushed sweat from his forehead. His hair fell a bit into his eyes.

"There's still at least one outside." He brushed his hair back and turned toward her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, panting lightly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Thanks. Let's end this once and for all." She picked up Arthur's hat and put it on her head. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," he smiled lightly, taking her shotgun and quickly reloading it for her. "Sorry, I should've shown you how to do that properly."

"No time for apologies." She took the gun from him. He nodded and readied his own. Together, they stepped outside onto the front porch. The man Nancy had shot was still lying on the porch, groaning as he reached up for her. She wasn't sure if he sought help, begged for mercy, or if he'd love to strangle her if only he had the chance. She checked where she had hit him. It looked like she had gotten him in the shoulder and bits of his chest, but not as life-threatening as she had thought.

"I'm not done with you yet." She hissed at him and kicked his hand away as he tried to grab her boot.

"Where are you?" Arthur yelled into the night. "We know you're still out there, coward!"

They turned as the sound of thunderous hoofbeats drummed on the ground. A horse bolted past them, one guy on top. That bastard dared trying to get away. Arthur aimed and shot, hitting him in the back of his head. The body rolled off the horse and the animal went fleeing into the night.

Nancy put her gun into the holster and crouched beside the injured man. He whimpered as she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

"If I were you, I'd start spilling. Who hired you?" She hissed.

Arthur stepped closer, putting his foot on the man's hand, ensuring he wouldn't try anything funny.

"Don't know...what you're talkin' bout." He sputtered. Blood covered her hands as he coughed. "J-just saw the poster!" He cried out as she put pressure on his shoulder.

"You sure about that?"

"Y-yes! Yes, please!"

Arthur pulled her away from him. "He must know more. Think about it. They were ready to kill you. They won't get the bounty in that case. Sheriff wants you alive."

She looked down at the man again. "You're lying. Tell us the damn truth!"

He shook his head. "N-no! I'm not lying! I really am not! Please, don't kill me!" He sobbed.

"You came here to kill me! If you know me from the posters you'd know killing me is not part of the deal. You won't see any money if you kill me, so, I ask you one more time. Who sent you?"

He groaned and remained silent. Arthur reached down and pulled him up. "Speak!" He growled and knocked his fist against the man's jaw. He cried out and tumbled backwards down the stairs.

"If you don't speak now we'll make you squeak later." Nancy stepped down from the porch alongside Arthur. "You're coming with us."

Arthur took some rope from his horse's saddle and tied the man's wrists and feet. "You heard the lady." He picked him up and stowed him on the back of his horse. "We should leave now before any reinforcements are coming."

Nancy nodded shortly and grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. She fastened the second bag to her horse's saddle before she mounted. She cast a last, wistful look across the property, then pressed the heels into the horse's side.

"You can't do that!" The man protested. "They will come and get you! They will find you!"

"Oh, suddenly you're talking?" Nancy said amused. "Now all you gotta do is tell us who they are and you're free to go."

He huffed. "As if you'd let me go just like that. I'm taking everything with me into the grave if I must!"

Arthur groaned and halted. Nancy stopped and looked at him questioningly as he dismounted. He ripped some cloth from the saddle and balled it up, stuffing it into the man's mouth. "That'll shut him up." He said and grinned at her as she laughed.

They rode for a few hours, mostly in silence. It was still the middle of the night when they reached what looked like an abandoned shack. Arthur checked it, finding it empty. Rain had been pouring down on them for a while now.

"Let's stay here for now, at least until the rain stops," he said and secured his horse, carrying the guy into the shack. Nancy followed him inside and closed the door. The interior looked just as shabby as the outside, but at least the roof was intact.

She put her bags on the ground and slid down along the wall, burying her face in her hands. Arthur walked over and crouched down in front of her.

"You okay?"

She lowered her hands. "That was just...intense. I've never been in a gunfight before. And this damn gun acted up at the wrong moment. If I had been alone there tonight, I might be dead."

She kneaded her fingers. Arthur hesitated for a split second before reaching out, taking her hands in his. He squeezed them gently.

"You're still alive. And I'll make sure that you stay alive. I ain't gonna let anyone hurt you."

She smiled weakly, pulling her hands away slowly. "Thank you, Arthur. It's all just so confusing. I can't think of anything that could possibly make me a target. Or my father. I guess it doesn't matter anymore now."

"You should rest. Here, I found these." He got up and fetched a few blankets. "Use some as a pillow maybe."

"What about you?" She asked as she prepared her makeshift bed. He shrugged and gestured at the table.

"Probably sitting here, making sure our friend doesn't die." He pointed to the other corner of the room where the hostage was lying.

"You sure you don't need some sleep too?"

"Nah." He waved her off. "It's fine. I'm used to this stuff. You must be exhausted." He walked over to the bench by the table and sat down. "Sleep well, Nancy."

She shifted, covering herself with a blanket. "Good night, Arthur." She mumbled and almost instantly fell asleep.

[adachimoe]

I played Aegis: The First Mission as it was released on Steam yesterday. Predictable, but cute.

Not sure if the game is supposed to "canon" or not. The plot is Aigis training on Yakushima under a guy named Aizawa who was hired by the Kirijo Group. She is assisted by three scientists at the Kirijo lab, Kimijima (Aigis's creator-mom-figure who also wears a red ribbon), Sayama (weapons / tech lady who looks like she's wearing baggy lounge pants - what a mood), and Takeba / Yukari's dad. To Kimijima, Aigis is more than just an anti-Shadow robot, which causes a conflict of interest between her and the wishes of the Kirijo Group.

It explains how Aigis got her character speech quirk as well. In Persona 3, she uses the Japanese copula であります (I believe this was localized into her saying, "...as they say" in Reload), and First Mission explains that she does this because Aizawa instructed her to. (At the end of First Mission, she gets her memories wiped due to what happens on Yakushima, but I suppose her still using the same copula in Persona 3 suggests that some things aren't just memories.)

There are some comical details like how you get around Yakushima via bus, giving the mental image of Aigis boarding a civilian bus back to the lab, equipped with a grenade launcher and finger guns.

The gameplay is kiiinda ass as you awkwardly turn Aigis around to fire at things and try to aim Palladion, but it is a port of a 2007 flip phone game. Unfortunately, the port itself is kinda buggy. The fade-to-black effect during cutscenes seems to be broken, so you will see Aigis Naruto run out a door, except her model stops there and you see it semi-fade to black. There is also supposed to be some kind of faded scanline filter effect on portraits when Aigis is talking to people via communicator that is absolutely broken and just shows horizontal, fully visible lines over people's faces--it is kinda comical. Neither of these really interfere with gameplay though.

Maybe check it out an English patch is released? Afaik, there's a group of people working on doing it already.

[dhr-ao3]

What A Wicked Man Fears

What A Wicked Man Fears https://ift.tt/8FbEjGH by Weeping_Wonderland Six months after the death of his wife, Hermione, Draco Malfoy is presented a contract by a secret society operating within the Department of Mysteries called the Silent Syndicate. They want him to dust off his weapons, reload his guns, and reclaim the identity he left behind when he married Hermione Granger. They want him to kill for them again. He agrees, but only on his own terms. He returns to the world of hired killing, numb and full of rage, so when his Golden Token, a vital belonging that once dictated who he would kill- along with his wedding ring- is stolen, Draco Malfoy goes hunting, and becomes once again what he had long left behind. The Grim.   This is a fic inspired by/a crossover between John Wick and Killing Eve. There are flashback chapters of Draco and Hermione's relationship- and shit gets spicy. Words: 3256, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Pansy Parkinson's Father, Harry Potter Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: POV Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Ex-Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Death Eaters, Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Dark Magic, Continental Hotel (John Wick), John Wick (Movies) References, inspired by Killing Eve, Alternate Universe - John Wick (Movies) Setting, The Author Regrets Nothing, Work In Progress, Unhinged Draco Malfoy, Unhinged Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy Has PTSD, Draco Malfoy Has Nightmares, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Auror Draco Malfoy, Department of Mysteries (Harry Potter), Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Assassin Draco Malfoy, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Adult Hermione Granger, Adult Draco Malfoy, Shameless Smut, Angst and Tragedy, Angst and Romance, Heavy Angst, Sad Draco Malfoy, I'm Bad At Tagging, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy In Love, Morally Grey Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger is a Malfoy, Married Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Pre-Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Post-Second Wizarding War with Voldemort (Harry Potter), Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Shooting Guns, Assassins & Hitmen, Professional Quidditch, Sexy Draco Malfoy via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/KjQiuFa September 10, 2024 at 04:44AM

[unpopularvivian]

Sixteen: Alright you've pissed me off. *Reloads* Rosie: *Cocks gun* I already got one in the chamber so I wouldn't recommend trying anything. Sailor John: Fuck you! Thomas: FUCK YOU!

???: THOMAS THE TANK ENGINE.

Whiff: Wait a minute.... Is that?....

Edward: No....... It can't be....

*Sir Topham Hatt is standing in front of the heroes with a full army behind him*

Sir Topham Hatt: You four really think that you can take down me and my henchman? Oh no, no, no. I've been keeping tabs on you ever since the beginning. I've always know about your plans, wanting to destroy my weapon businesses, defeating my allies and just being troublesome as usual.

Thomas: HEY!!!!!!

Sir Topham Hatt: Which is the reason why I hired my best right-hand man, Sixteen! Isn't that right, Sixteen?

Sixteen: ......

Sir Topham Hatt: Uhh.... Sixteen?

Sixteen: ......

Sir Topham Hatt: SIXTEEN!!!!! ANSWER TO YOUR BOSS!!!!! I'M TALKING TO YOU!!!!!

*Without any hesitation, Sixteen then teleports both Sir Topham Hatt and Thomas to an unknown realm*

Thomas: What the? What is this place?????

Sir Topham Hatt: Sixteen!!!!! Answer me right now or there will be consequences!!!!!

Sixteen: *Quiet cackling to psychotic laughing* Consequences? Since when there was any CONSEQUENCES? Fat hat, you have gotten fat on the top for too long. Did you really think that you were in charge of this whole war? NO. IT WAS ALWAYS ME.

*Sixteen then turns to Thomas*

Sixteen: And YOU. Your time of being Sodor's Number 1 is UP. You think you're the best, the most useful engine of all! BUT LOOK AT YOU, you caused numerous accidents, you're a cheeky brat and you're just the thing that's been holding down this railway! You don't deserve ANYTHING that has been given to you. If Timothy was here, oh I couldn't imagine how DISAPPOINTED he would be with you.

Thomas: NO!!!!! NO!!!!!! YOU'RE LYING!!!!!! DON'T YOU DARE BRING UP MY BROTHER'S NAME LIKE THAT!!!!!!

Sixteen: Oh child, the fun is only beginning to start.....

[cyborg-hydra-girl-thing]

i’ve gone full arms trader / bounty hunter in starfield

My character is a mercenary gun for hire and the first thing i spent money on was my minigun. Saw a shattering minigun with armor piercing rounds on the first major city i visited in the shop, and did as many quests as i could as fast as i could to get it before it despawned and i got it. only cost 40k. but literally day one, hour like, 8 I had this bitch and have put 4 points into ballistics, and 4 points into heavy weapons so she’s a real monster :3

but shattering + AP ammo just tears apart enemies, I’ve gunned down several level 50’s with it, and thanks to the mobility of the skip boostpacks I can bounce around picking them off.

And I just found an armor that reduces all weapon weight by 50%, so it only weighs 7.5lbs, and my other guns are all pistols (i’ve got two 11mm rifles for now, but they’re really only kept on me for when i’m running low on food for the minigun)

(also at any given time i’ve got a minimum of two shotguns, 1 minigun, 1 rifle, 3 handguns quickslotted and i just run around blasting till everything is empty or nobody’s shooting at me and reload EVERYTHING at once

hello yes, I identify as an A10 Warthog, thank you very much

nyooooom BZZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTTTT

anyway, i’m just picking up bounties for scalps and taking all their guns and ammo to sell for more minigun ammo. she’s HUNGRY >:3

After buying my minigun I upgraded my boat so now it’s got a range of 20LY, 4x electron blasters (17/17 shields/hull) and 4x cannons (5(?)/23 shields hull), and has 2200 storage. She’s a solid fighter and still fairly maneuverable.

[eatmekaneki]

Paradise Fallen~

Chapter 2- ‘The Story’

Series Summary: God is dead and so is the Devil. Only the angels and demons on earth are here to help us now.

You find yourself mixed in a battle between forces of good and evil when you witness a crime on a dark road at night and get moved into witness protection.

The criminal is baited into finding you so he can be pulled out of hiding. You start to have your heart and body pulled back and forth between this blue eyed angel and the fanged fiend who sneaks into your bed at night.

In this chapter Gojo explains a bit more what’s going on and who he really is…

Warnings/Tags(*for entire series): Graphic Violence, Smut, Angels and Demons au, Vampire!Getou, Angel!Gojo, Angel!Nanami, Demon!Toji, Fallen Angel!Choso, FMM threesomes, Poly relationships, dubcon, knifeplay, gun play,

——-

It took a few more days for the hospital to say that you were healthy enough to be released.

Gojo visited you daily and when he wasn’t there, at least 4 police officers were hanging around the hospital area with one right outside of your room.

You and Gojo didn’t talk any more about the strange events. He let you heal and take your mind off of things. Probably knowing there wasn’t more to get out of you.

Though, that did make you wonder why he kept showing up to see you.

If he didn’t have more he needed to know, what good were you to a detective? He could just pass you off to whoever that guardian he wanted looking after you was and keep looking for clues on his case.

But here he was playing card games with you cross legged on your hospital bed every day.

You had to admit, if he wasn’t on the clock when he was showing up, you’d have started to think it was because he liked you.

He would flash you the most beautiful grins when he’d win every game and make teasing jokes that could’ve almost passed for flirting.

You couldn’t help but notice though, you weren’t the only one getting flustered by him. It seemed everyone he met, man and woman felt like they were falling in love. That was enough to ground you. You told yourself that was proof that you weren’t special, and there was probably some other reason Gojo kept coming to see you.

But today you were leaving, finally.

You had been told that you’d be taken into witness protection for your own safety. The ‘guardian’ that Gojo had referred to, was a hired guard that you would be going to live with in a safe house for the time being.

You didn’t have any pets, or family, and you were told you’d be covered financially with a debit card that would be reloaded regularly.

It wasn’t going to be much, and the place was a shitty 2 bedroom place in a different shitty part of town. But, maybe, you considered the thought…it might actually somehow be less shitty than where you’d been.

You hated to feel relief for this situation considering the circumstances of it. But…you couldn’t deny a part of you that felt happy?

You had just wiped your slate clean in a single moment. Your boring lonely life had gone from nothing, to moving in with some stranger in a new part of town…and you felt glad for it.

Gojo walked you out to a black luxury car where a tall blonde man was leant back against the door. He had his muscular arms crossed and a frown on his face.

“You’re late Gojo.” He kept his frown. The tall handsome man looked you up and down, not addressing you, simply taking you in for a moment before returning his gaze to Gojo.

“Ah Nanami.” Gojo sang at him. “I had to get ready for you.” He ran his fingers up the other man’s bicep. At that he uncrossed his arms and made a scoffing noise at Gojo.

“Sexual harassment.” He whispered.

“What was that?” Gojo yelled out with a smirk, already getting into the back seat of the car and closing the door.

You were standing outside of the sleek black car alone with the tall blonde man named Nanami. This was who would be guarding over you for however long it takes them to catch that fanged killer.

This man was a lot different than Gojo, he wasn’t a detective or a cop, but he seemed way more like one that Gojo did. He radiated authority and power in a way that already started to make you feel weak in the knees just from the way he kept looking you up and down.

“Well…get in then.” He muttered. He turned and opened his own drivers door and swiftly got inside.

“We’re having your stuff brought over to the new place! We’re all set to go!” Gojo had swung the passenger door open and slid over patting the seat next to him.

Nanami scoffed again when you got in.

“What am I, your chauffeur?” He grumbled.

“Sure,” Gojo grinned. “Namani will do whatever I tell him to” Gojo spoke to you then, but narrowed his eyes on Nanami in a way that surprised you, a way that almost… Scared you?

“won't you?” He spoke sickly sweet at Nanami.

“Yes.” He replied through gritted teeth.

“Wh-“ you started to ask why. What the deal between the two of them was. Or why he felt the need to be so hot and cold to the man you were supposed to be trusting with your life now.

But before you could even get out a word, Gojo was speaking again.

“So now that we are out of the hospital I can finally tell you the truth.” He spoke very seriously.

His legs were spread relaxed in the spacious backseat of the car. His hands crossed in his lap and he had his thumbs twirling mindlessly as he spoke, staring down at them.

“You sure that’s a good idea…” Nanami spoke from the front seat.

“Focus on driving Guardian.” Gojo snapped commandingly. Yes…maybe you were starting to get a little scared of him.

This wasn’t the same Gojo flirting with nurses and playing cards with you.

Even his jaw seemed more angular and rigid, as if he held himself tender and tighter in. He was a wind up toy wound up too tightly and waiting to be let loose. Despite it all, he still looked so lovely.

“I think it’s time to get this over with. Because I’m going to need you to know what’s really going on for what comes next.” He sighed.

“Yeah…I’m always down for knowing what the fuck is happening.” You agreed. Obviously if he’s been keeping things from you, and you were given no choice but to be in this mess now, you wanted to know what to expect.

“Don’t like…get weird about it though.” He warned you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Okay…I won’t ‘get weird’ about it.” You nodded skeptically.

You were the one that told him the other day you thought a man had real fangs, so how much weirder could it get?

Gojo sighed, trying to figure out where to start. And settled on.

“Y/n. What do you think about god?”

“God?!” You chuckled. “I don’t think of him. That’s what.” You shrugged. “Is that what this is? Am I being saved?” You joked but suddenly did start to wonder if this was some weird cult thing now.

Gojo still looked entirely serious.

“Well, I suppose we all only think of him in memories now…” he muttered more to himself than you. He realigned himself and sat up a little straighter.

He then took your hand in his without asking suddenly. His hand was cold and bony, but soft and strong feeling. He started to mindlessly play with your fingers and trace circles on the back of your hand as he spoke next.

You werent sure why but you let him do this.

“So god was around…he used to be. But he was killed…” his voice caught on that.

“You see. We’d finally done it. We had the big battle. Even found a way to take down the Devil without ending the world and had minor human casualties considering the apocalypse prophecies…we’d beaten fate! But we didn’t expect after the Devil died that his demons and fiends would all still retaliate. Only a short time later and they’d found a way to kill our master. He’s been dead for a while and now we’re here picking up the pieces and trying to keep life going…”

This strange yarn he was weaving felt like something from fairy tales. But, there were tears ever so slightly forming in his eyes.

You noticed Nanami glaring back in the rear view mirror. His gaze had gotten even more harsh and stern. A human hearing this story wasn’t sitting right with him.

“We…?” You asked hesitantly, trying to piece together what he was saying.

“The angels.” He replied softly. “Like Nanami and I.”

“Angels…like from the Bible.” You muttered, trying to not ‘get weird about it’ but really wanting to.

“Yes. The very same.” He nodded, still clasping over your hand with his own. “Nanami is a lower level Angel. A Guardian. He’s your guardian Angel now actually.” Gojo smiled. “And I’m a cherub.” He spoke that proudly with a cocky smirk. “And currently the highest ranking Angel that exists.” He winked at her

“As far as we know.” Nanami added in.

“The rest of the Cherubs, Thrones and Seraphim fucked off when heaven was taken over.” Gojo snapped. “So if they’ve decided to leave earth for dead, I’m considering them dead.” The growl in his voice was almost feral.

And though you weren’t sure you believed a word he was saying, something about his powerful protection over earth made your heart warm. You really did feel like something powerful was watching over you now, a grand energy that hadn’t been here before.

Gojo’s fingers were now fully intertwined with yours and he was simply just holding your hand at this point.

You thought about saying something, but it seemed like such a strange time to have that be the thing you question, of all things happening in this car.

“So…angels…and demons…and no more god and the Devil.” You repeated what you heard so far.

Gojo chuckled. “She’s a wonder this one.” He teased. “But, yes…I know it’ll take a bit to sink in. But let me continue and I’ll tell you why this matters for you to know.”

You nodded at him, and he smiled one of his flirtatious smiles and squeezed your hand.

“So after taking over heaven and driving out the angels, some fled to earth to protect it, knowing it was next and some fled for good. Our strongest fled for good…” his eyes narrowed. “None of us in the highest ring had ever been to earth. They were cowards and when the master fell they ran to the corners of the universe, to who knows where. All except me…” you noticed his hand clasp yours even tighter.

“The demons did exactly what I’d warned the highest ring about, and they attacked earth next. They killed all of the angels of the Dominions on their way down. Next was the Powers -those who usually ruled over laws of good and evil in heaven and earth- they were kind of like our judges and court system. Nanami’s mother was one of the Powers” he nodded toward the driver who was still silent but white knuckling the wheel at his mention.

“Next” Gojo continued. “They killed the Principalities. The angels that had been divided up here on earth to rule over certain lands. Each country had one guiding it. But now…it’s lawless, chaos…there’s not enough of us to keep this world together.” He sighed. “It was already a tough job to begin with.”

“Especially when our master was so strict with the humans.” You heard Nanami mumble from the front seat.

“DON'T YOU DARE EVER SPEAK BADLY OF FATHER.” Gojo hissed out with a sharp voice coated in venom. Literal smoke poured from his mouth at that. You rubbed your eyes thinking you were seeing things.

But, you weren’t mistaken. Actual smoke was spilling from the pretty boy’s lips and falling in gray rings downward. His chest heaved quickly, worked up at the bad mention of the deceased god.

You realized your face was showing your fear as Gojo suddenly softened.

“Sorry.” He gave a sheepish look, “reflex. Us in the upper court tend to have a hair trigger for any bad mention of god. Especially when it comes to correcting those under us.” He spoke that last line to Nanami more sternly.

Nanami once again scoffed, this time accompanied with eye rolling.

“This is all…” you couldn’t find the words to describe it. “A lot?”

Gojo chuckled at that.

“It is a lot. And I haven’t gotten to why this matters to you yet, so I’m sure you’re still very confused as to why I’m even telling you.”

You nodded slowly.

“A lot of us angels have to blend in here on earth now and try and counteract the fact that demons and fiends have started to move from hell to earth, what they like to call Overworld.

They want to settle here instead, and make it an expansion of their home. Increasing hell’s land, and bringing it to earth.”

Nanami was now pulling off of a highway and down onto some smaller side streets. You noticed the GPS still reading 16 minutes to the destination.

“I work with anyone in the police force and government that have enough clearance to know about such things. a lot of the angels have been operating this way since what we call ‘The final fall.’ So, finally. Where you come in…” Gojo gave your hand another soft squeeze, this time you felt your stomach flip a bit. Was it because of just how powerful you were realizing the hand you were holding was?

“Our current biggest concern in the remaining angelic court is that there was talk of a bunch of fiends -low level thugs made up of creatures like vampires, incubi, banshee’s and pixie- bringing one of the Deadly Sins up from hell.”

He clenched his jaw tightly.

“None of the demons of the seven deadly sins had set foot on earth yet. Most of the angels would be able to tell if one of them had. The energy that high level demons give off is felt by any Angel.” He explained. “To finally get to my point…I think the man you saw was transporting one of the Deadly Sins. And we are going to use you as bait to bring him out.”

Your mouth hung open.

“I’m sorry WHAT.” You yelled instantly. Snapping your hand back from him. “I’m not bait. I won’t be bait.” Your mind started to spin, you wondered if you could survive jumping out of the car at this speed and glanced up to see you were almost to your destination.

“Y/n…y/n…! Please!” His voice soothed. “We aren’t going to let anything happen to you. I promise. That’s why Nanami is here.” He nodded to the man in the front. “Contrary to popular belief not everyone gets their own guardian Angel, so you should feel pretty special.” He smiled at Nanami. “He’s a pretty cute one too.” That flirtatious voice was back already.

Knowing now that he was a cherub made that all make much more sense.

[normaltothemax]

Non-Verbal Angst Prompts[ bullet ] (for jason in the m&m verse)

“You stupid fucking idiot.” Jason was snarling, shoving Dean behind a shipping container before leaning back out to fire off a few more shots. “What the fuck were you thinking?!” He’d just known it’d be a bad idea to let Dean tag along. Had known something would go wrong, despite how straightforward and easy this was supposed to be. Just picking up a small shipment from the docks. No big deal, right?

Wrong.

It’d been a setup and the two of them had been stuck facing down several gunmen who’d been hired to take the Red Hood out. Now, Dean was no slouch with a gun himself, but the idiot was distracting himself by trying to cover Jason where he didn’t need covering. He was trying to protect Jason, and it was really pissing him off, because Jason didn’t need protecting.

Then Dean had gone and taken a fucking bullet for him. Jason was seething.

Ducking back behind the container to reload, he glared daggers at Dean through his helmet. “I’m the one with fucking body armour on, dumbass! If anyone’s taking a bullet for the other, it’s gonna be me. Now stay the fuck put and let me finish this so we can go back to the cabin and I can beat the shit out of you, you jackass.”

@therebetterbepie (x)

[ask-the-dweets]

Updated little cowboys, remember back when I said I’d never draw them because their outfits were a pain? hah ha hah welp that ship has long since sailed and I only drift farther and farther into cowboy hell

And this universe only gets more and more detailed, so anyways it’s mainly just a rehashing but if you guys wanna read about the cowboy Dweets I’ll dump some info under the read more

There’s more RDbD content over at @reddeadbydaylight too!

AND if you want even more RDbD content, there’s also AO3!

Some base AU lore:

This technically isn’t a true AU, the Dweets are still in the fog and have just been taken into a different realm by a different Entity where their memories were wiped and they live their lives in a western setting. When they die they come back to life the following day, and with each death they start to regain their memories. Depending on how they died they likely remember their deaths too. Until they’ve died too many times and are sent back to their respective campfires or realms.

This realm is extremely similar to that of Red Dead Redemption 2, however there can be extra towns and places that are not in the game

The Entity that runs the show of the western Red Dead by Daylight realm is Deadeyes ( @/deadeyesrealm)

Since the survivors and killers in this world have had their memories wiped they’re often given false memories to help them make sense of the world they live in, these slowly fade as they regain their true memories. 

They’re also given skills and knowledge to live in a western setting

Some Base Dweet lore:

Known as the Fairfield brothers around their town of Strawberry, it’s home base for the three of them, though it’s rare for Eugene or Paisley to stick around for too long as their jobs involve travelling a lot. 

As far as they’re aware they’re triplets at the age of 25, of course this isn’t really the case but false memories sure do be something.

Their names: Paisley, Finley, and Eugene are their middle names. Their first names are all Dwight, they assume this is a cruel joke by their parents (which are never seen in this world)

Each of them still favour their signature colours and outfit styles, some more begrudgingly than others 

Being three working men all living (for the most part) under one roof, they aren’t poor.... but due to their terrible luck they aren’t very wealthy either. Constantly having to fix wagons, glasses, saddles and so on really puts a dent in the wallet.

Paisley (Pizza)

Outfit: The Dwights are still inclined to wear their signature outfits from the fog. Pizza leans towards wearing yellows and reds because of this. He almost always has a hat, gloves, and his bandoliers as well.

Personality: Nervous and anxious easily, he’s rather cowardly and although he loves socializing with people he also has a hard time with it. A little too trusting of other people at times, he’s not always the best judge of character if they treat him nice. He also enjoys being helpful and being noticed for it, he will help around if he can.

Skills: An absolutely amazing marksman and quickdraw. You would assume his aim is poor due to his clearly poor vision (glasses) but he has a deadeye ability that lets him hit his mark 100% of the time. He’s good with most gun types but best with rifles and revolvers. Pretty much any and all of his skills revolve around guns. (ie. deadeye, quickdraw, gun spinning, very quick reloading, gun care, etc.)

Weaknesses: Cowardly, spooks easily. He’s a poor liar and wears his emotions on his sleeve. Meaning he’s a terrible accomplice and can also be rather easy to manipulate at times.

Likes: Socializing with others, his guns (or really guns in general), cats, praise, being useful and helpful

Dislikes: Being and working alone, cacti, cruel/immoral people, sounds of the wilderness (he jumpy)

Occupation: A bounty hunter/ hired gun, people normally come to him with work rather than the other way around. It’s rare that he seeks it out himself. When he’s not traveling for work he helps Finley forage and craft around the office or helps Eugene with his trade routes. He also collects useful things for Finley when he can while he’s travelling.

Home: Paisley’s home base is the shared home in Strawberry. Outside of that he does not have another place to stay and often just camps or stays at inns when he travels. He can be away from Strawberry for months at a time (rarely but it does happen) 

Horse: 

♀Astra, the chestnut tovero mustang. 

Easy going and quite polite, she doesn’t spook easy and is very loyal. It’s not too hard to earn her trust and you could ride her without her knowing you, she’ll only show a bit of attitude.

Extra info: 

Despite his main thing being guns he does not like shooting and/or killing people and would much rather avoid it altogether if he can.

If he does have to shoot someone he normally aims for extremities that wouldn’t kill them. Feet, hands, legs, arms, maybe a shoulder. Or will simply disarm them by shooting the weapon out of their hand.

He is interested in pretty much anything gun related and knows a variety of skills involved with them. 

Not only is he a sniper but he can dual wield his pistols

He’s also a very quick draw thanks to lots of practice

Can do a ton of different gun spins, he can spin his rifles a little too but mainly his revolvers and other hand guns

He can also reload, reassemble and dismantle a gun very quickly

Of course with his obsession for guns, he collects them. He has his main 4 weapons and most likely a few more dismantled guns in his saddle bag if he earned them on his travels. He also has a small collection back in his room at home.

He’s happy to sell, trade, and even give away the guns that aren’t his daily drivers

Though he is obsessed with guns and is very skilled with them, he is not much of a show off. He can be caught spinning his guns around sometimes but he rarely shows off his skills for attention. Too many people have been jealous and mean about it.

Paisley has also been learning how to play the guitar, he received one as a reward and decided to keep it rather than sell it. He only knows a couple songs and can’t really just jam but he’s been enjoying it.

In a similar fashion he can make a beat with his guns by shaking, hitting, cocking, loading and unloading, etc.

He’s a decent hunter as long as he can use his guns. He mainly hunts small game as he’s not very knowledgeable about the care and prep of larger game.

Finley (Fancy)

Outfit: The Dwights are still inclined to wear their signature outfits from the fog. Finley tends to wear nicer clothing with accents of pink, vests are very common as well. 

Personality: Very friendly and social, he likes to visit and chat with others but is okay to busy himself around his home too. At the same time though he’s very insecure and although he’s friendly to others he never feels like he’s doing enough and has a hard time believing people genuinely like him. He really doesn’t like being pushed around or mistreated and due to his kindness people have tried to pull fast ones on him. He is rather lenient but will put his foot down if absolutely necessary. Especially if it affects others negatively.

Skills: Well he’s a doctor for one, so naturally he can identify wounds and ailments with varying degrees of success. He can identify herbs and understands their medical value and how to prepare them, and can craft soaps and perfumes. He is also very skilled with horses and horse riding, and has taught Sable many things.

Weaknesses: He desperately seeks approval from everyone and has a bad habit of overworking himself and ignoring his own needs as a result. Wanting to be kind to everyone he can be far too forgiving and friendly, luckily this doesn’t normally bite him in the ass thanks to his occupation.

Likes: Socializing with others, cats, horses, riding and racing, Being helpful and useful, praise, cute and pretty things (ie. flowers, animals, artwork, etc.)

Dislikes: Being talked down to or bossed around, rich snobby tourists, loud noises (gunfire, shouting, etc.), very large loud groups of people

Occupation: A doctor, the front portion of his home is the doctor's office where he examines and patches up patients (if he’s not traveling to their homes). He also has a shop front for selling herbs, soaps, perfumes, and shelf medicine.

Home: The main owner and occupant of the large house in strawberry. The front of the building is used for his job while the back and upstairs are the living quarters. The upstairs has the brother’s three bedrooms as well as a small lounging area. Finley’s room is a largest with a rather nice bed since he is there almost all the time.

Horse:

♀Sable, the chestnut turkoman. 

An extremely finicky horse and Finley's whole world, he loves her to bits. She’s very temperamental for anyone who isn’t Finley and has been likened to a demon/hellspawn. She’s very clingy to Finley and knows many cool tricks, unfortunately nobody else can benefit from them. She is also very fast and loves galloping full speed and doing obstacle runs.

Extra info:

Since Finley mainly stays in Strawberry and only travels on the rare occasion he busies himself with hobbies

- Foraging his own materials and herbs - Making his own ointments and salves - Crafting soaps and perfumes - Learning to play the bass and piano - Horse riding and racing

He does actually enjoy traveling too and likes to try new things but doesn’t often get the chance, though he likes Strawberry he does crave adventure sometimes

Cooking isn’t really a hobby. He’s decent at it, especially since he’s a home-body but he tends to practice other things rather than his cooking skills.

He is an absolutely horrid fisher, for whatever reason his terrible luck really shows with fishing. He’s highly likely to fall in the water, lose the rod, snap the line, and various other things.

He’s surprisingly decent at bow fishing though

Finley has the worst luck imaginable, if something goes wrong it’s highly likely to go wrong in the worst way possible

He takes care of the three Strawberry cats, he’s not the only person in town who does this but they do often follow him around and seek him out for attention. He named them Cammy, Dilly, and Minty

If he were to die enough to remember he was called Fancy back at the campfire, he would still ask to be called Finley because he doesn’t really like the nickname Fancy

Eugene (Elf)

Outfit: The Dwights are still inclined to wear their signature outfits from the fog. Eugene wears red and green colours and has an inclination to sweaters and ponchos. Once he realized why he was inclined to wear these outfits he did try to wear something else but unfortunately he gets unreasonably uncomfortable in non-christmassy clothing. He doesn’t really complain much about it but can be noticeably irritated if someone brings it up.

Personality: Not as talkative as the other two but still friendly and does still enjoy socializing. He’s tired a lot of the time and can be a little irritable but he isn’t one to blow up in someone’s face without good reason. He’ll take shit from others but only in the way that he’ll be quiet and death glare, if you’re being rude to him or his friends/family don’t expect him to do anything for you.

Skills: Great stealth and good at hand-to-hand combat, he can surprise people with his strength if they expect him to be like most Dwights. As a hunter he is a good mark with his bow and a decent trapper. He also knows how to prepare a carcass, tan hides, and smoke/preserve meats. He can also craft his own arrows.

Weaknesses: He carries a lot of self doubt that has him making poor decisions sometimes. He’s also tired pretty much all of the time and if he’s not working he’s probably resting. When he sleeps he’s dead to the world.

Likes: helping others and being useful, praise, cats, socializing with others, quiet calm mornings, coffee, relaxing, a cozy fireplace

Dislikes: inescapable heat, storms, conceited people, his outfits, jingling sounds

Occupation: A hunter, trapper and trader. He hunts up in the mountains and crafts goods to sell to near and far buyers. Sometimes he does these trade routes himself, sometimes he gets outside help. He also collects useful things for Finley when he can.

Home: Eugene has a room in the Strawberry home where he stays during the colder months when the mountains are too dangerous to stay in. During the warmer months he lives in his mountain cabin, coming down every now and again for supplies or to drop off goods.

Horses:

♂Beau, the bay roan ardennes. 

A horse that’s built like, and rides like, a tank. He’s not fast nor is he very agile but he’s nothing if not reliable. Extremely mild mannered, there’s virtually no way you can spook this horse…. Or get him to move if you don’t know his commands.

♀Noelle, the raven black shire.

Massive and very strong, another tank that’s very reliable. She’s mainly used for pulling Eugene’s wagon but she is also rideable. Tacking her up and mounting her can be a struggle simply because of her size. She is very loving and can be easily won over with treats and pats. Just be prepared for a huge horse head bumping you around for attention.

Extra info: 

Eugene is the first to die and start remembering the fog, he dies many times before the other two. The mountains and trading is a rough business.

Eugene isn’t quite as sad or mad as he is around the survivor campfire, and although he’s irritable it’s still relatively difficult to provoke him.

He’s a little more agreeable and patient than he is in the fog. Of course that doesn’t mean he’ll take your shit if you push him.

He’s not against hurting others if they’ve proven themselves to be dangerous in a life/livelihood threatening sort of way.

Since outlaws like to hide in the mountains he has helped a few shelter in the cold and has also cleared some out. He’s even turned in some bounties if he could be bothered.

He’s not working all of the time and has a few hobbies he busies himself with.

He has a harmonica that he enjoys playing on his down-time

He also enjoys whittling wood, and wood carving

Eugene hates jingling sounds, so much so that he does not wear spurs. He’s even put leather straps around some of the metal loops on the horses tack to make them jingle less.

this has the bonus effect of helping make him even more stealthy, though that was not the initial goal

[amostdelectablescribbler]

WIP Intro: Steel Horses and Hot Irons

As requested by @tea-and-mercury, i am writing up a wip intro for the big ‘un. 32k words deep as of writing this. Sooo:

Genre: Action

Setting: South USA, Arizona-Texas-Nevada area. The Mojave, pretty much.

Tropes: Bigass guns, physics that doesn’t really get addressed, a whole bunch of mental illness (poor Becca), romantic sideplot, big plot twist, secondary antagonist scarier than the primary.

Tag (so i can see it): #STHI (it’s gonna work a bit like a signature for me)

Imma just put the prologue and the character work i did in because it’s just that much easier.

Prologue

5 years ago, 2035, the atom bombs were dropped. First at the USA, then Afghanistan, Russia, China, most of the EU, France shone like a strobe light before the nuclear power stations finished exploding. They all fell in the face of nuclear armageddon. All that was left were craters, rubble and uranium. A few survived and began reclaiming the barren, toxic wasteland. In Utah, there was a lot of this. The Krugers, based in Arizona, were dangerous and silent assassins that disappeared into the night when they left. The Mob, the surviving criminals from the surviving prisons. The lowest of the low and barely organised. The Survivors, who can walk off just about anything and were mostly left alone by everyone else. Wandering bands of close friends also formed, finding work as hired guns.

The Motliest Crew were renowned the best. A group of 5; 3 men, 2 women, all balls-to-the-wall insane. They had no known names, only specialties. The Marksman, Rebecca Johansson “Pew.” A sniper who allegedly never missed a shot, but was very shy, anxious and probably depressed. This is to be confirmed as there are no therapists left in Arizona, or in Alberta, Canada. The Scout, aka, Sorren Clark. “Keep up, $#§/stain.” A speedster with a mouth and a shotgun, one get’s him into trouble, the other get’s him out. Not the most useful combo in Australia, but out in the wastes, invaluable. The Brawler, aka, Claudia Vander. “I’m gonna punch him.” A large frame packed with muscle and grit hailing from South Korea and California. Her fighting skills are near unmatched. 

The Demolitionist, aka, Callum Henderson. “I had a dog and his name was… Bingo!” A drunk, black, tartan-clad Scotsman with a grenade launcher and a rocket launcher. And a claymore, he has a sword too. The Gunman, aka, Rasputin Romanov. “Shoot first, ask question while reloading. Spetsnaz 101.” A man of few words and a Spetsnaz soldier from Russia, with a really heavy accent and a really heavy gun. 

Each of these wandering guns-for-hire wore a face mask or helmet to both obscure their identities and filter the noxious cocktail of chemicals in the air in some places. They were all armoured to various degrees with assorted run-down military kit that had been scavenged. The Gunman was clad in hulking Juggernaut military gear, the Demolitionist in assorted pads and plates, the Scout in Moto leathers and a bulletproof vest, the Brawler wore similar kit to the Scout and the Marksman was in ill-fitting, minimalist spec-ops kit. Minimalist because only a third of what they found came close to fitting her. Each suit was tailor-made (except the Marksman) by it’s wearer, each adding their own personal flourishes and decorative elements, like sketchily-woven tartan, tally marks, oil crayon, the works.

Now, the character work i did (and added):

Rasputin and Becca:

Callum, Sorren and Claudia split up to go and have fun, leaving Becca with Rasputin. They sat in the hotel room, looking at each other quizzically. Becca had curled herself up in a blanket nest across the room from Rasputin’s massive frame that was posted on a bed, leaning into the wall, staring blankly into the space between air molecules. He looked around, registered Becca’s comfort ball, cracked his back and shifted his posture to something more relaxed.

“So.”

“Mm?” Becca mumbled from her nest, poking an anxious head out into the dim light.

“Why are you hiding?” 

Becca paused in thought, eyes darting from Rasputin to the floor, to the roof before finally talking, her own indecision caving to his patience.

“I’m worried.” She whispered into her blankets, “I’m worried about them.”

“Hmm. In Spetsnaz, we had a good cure for worries. We would sit and talk about worry. You want to try?”

“Mhm” she slowly heaved her miniature frame out of the blanket nest and towards Rasputin, who lay down on the bed fully, shuffling along to make space, further dwarfing Becca. She curled up next to him, heart rate going from cardio to moving. Listening to his huge heart slowed down hers, his relaxed body position relaxing hers. There was a security in being so close to something so large, like swimming with a whale.

“So. Why are you worrying, Becca?”

“I- I’m worried for Callum and Sorren and Claudia. I don’t know what might happen to them. Even if I was there with them, I would just slow them down, but I like knowing where they are so that I know they can protect me if they have to.” Rasputin’s huge bald head turned around

“I will tell you this, Becca: I have protected all of them before. I can protect you.”

“There are monsters out there than can hurt them?”

“But none them can hurt me. I am Russian. I am Spetsnaz. Nothing hurt me.” Rasputin’s gravelly, broken English was somehow comforting. 

“Really?”

“Da.”

Callum:

Another cold, dark night came as the red sun plummeted below the horizon. In the town, there was a bar. A man sat alone, at the end of the bar, drinking from a flagon of foamy beer and people-watching and checking his watch, waiting. For something or someone to spur him into action. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

An hour passed and he finished his beer, ordering another from the barkeep. The night crept on fruitlessly for the man. The stream of people coming in and out slowed to a trickle as he waited in the dark bar, wooden flagon in hand, beer getting colder, patience wearing thinner. Finally, one man entered who caught his attention. A tall, burly figure with a tartan kilt and sash over his impressive armour and helmet. The man held himself proud and tall, confident in himself and his abilities, but not arrogant. He walked with a muted swagger as he progressed to the bar and made his order, shifting the claymore on his back to avoid the seat. Some whiskey or other on the rocks. He had an enormously Scottish accent and as he removed his helmet to drink, it was revealed that he wore an eyepatch and had a nasty burn scar plastered on the left side of his face, sprawling under the eyepatch and barely visible in the shadow. 

The man stalked forwards silently, sitting beside the Scotsman without making a single quiet sound. 

“So, is it really you?” The hooded man had a smooth, melodious voice, with a noticeable Mexican accent.

“Who’s really who?” Callum replied, unflapped by a stranger randomly appearing beside him. In the better light, the man saw belts of grenades wrapped around the scot’s waist and bulges from beneath his sash. 

“You. Are you really the famous Callum Henderson? Legendary demolition man for the Motliest Crew?” The stranger’s voice somewhere between admiration and mockery.

“So tha’s what they’re callin’ us. ‘The Motliest Crew.’ ‘Bit demeaning, no?”

“Not at all. I’m a huge fan of yours. I’ve been watching your antics for a while now and i was wondering if I could get an autograph?” The strange man spoke from beneath a hood, eyes glinting red in the gloom, a crocodile grin on his face as he reached i to his poncho and coat,

“Aye, sure. Tell me where tae sign.” Callum turned to get a pen from his pocket and when he turned back around, a tattered, sun-bleached “wanted: dead or alive” poster of him was placed on the dark wooden bar. The wind whistled as the man tapped the ‘dead’ part, “Just here, please.”

“Yer a bounty hunter, eh?”

“I am. One of the best, too. The Wolf of District 13.”

“So, wolf, is this the best yeh have? Vague, indiscernible threats and uncanny looks?” Callum replied, showing no fear of the man beside him, as he downed his scotch, putting a 5€$ bill beneath the glass. The Wolf chuckled for a second, before going dangerously calm, retreating into the dimly lit bar and drawing himself up to his full, enormous height. 

Cybernetics whirred to life from beneath the wolf’s poncho and hood, as his eyes glowed red and a hiss of steam whistled from his elbows. Callum stood, grabbing his sword, “So this is how yeh wannae do this?”

“Yes.” Hissed the wolf, as his mechanical legs grew a third joint, making them look like the legs of a wolf, lean and strong and good for chasing. Callum stood, taking the poster to inspect it. He looked for a while, put it on the bar, signed it, pocketed his pen and walked out of the bar. The Wolf lowered his guard in disbelief, hunching back over to examine the wanted poster. He had circled “Dead” and signed it at the bottom. The wolf finished his beer and sulked off into the night, after paying his tab.

Claudia:

The Wolf of District Seven stalked down the back alleys of the Last City, following the cheering to a dingy looking warehouse with lights and shouts coming from within. Loud, aggressive music blasted from huge speakers, the bass shaking the walls. The Wolf entered the building by walking through the front door guarded by bouncers without being noticed at all. In the centre of the building, a ring had been made, inside of which, there were two fighters. One was a large man with massive arms and cybernetic reinforcements on his elbows and shoulders and he wore brass knuckles on his ham-fists and a metal plate on his jaw. The other fighter -the Brawler- was a smaller woman with broad shoulders and strong, lean arms. Claudia was still tall, but this other fighter was massive, yet her confident stance, and side-guard indicated extreme proficiency in her trade. The large man wore brass knuckles, she wore steel boxing gloves haphazardly manufactured from scrap sheet-metal and cast-iron. 

The man brought a standard boxing guard up and his opponent steadied herself before bouncing on her toes. The large man angled himself to his opponent and swung a huge haymaker which was caught by the woman, pinned to her side and she started slamming him with crushing blows to the liver and ribs. Each blow made a cracking and a clanging as steel smashed bone. With one final powerful uppercut, she released the mans arm and slammed him in the chin, knocking him unconscious before he hit the cold stone floor.

The Wolf came through the crowd without detection or suspicion of a tall, hunched figure in a black poncho and hood hiding the figure’s face. She called into the crowd, “Who’s next? C’mon, dude! It said fight ring on the poster, not warm-up gym!” The Wolf took his chance and approached Claudia, weaving through the crowd, “I will fight you, if nobody else wants to, that is.” The Brawler looked at her new opponent, weighing up the fighting skills of this strange hooded figure, “Bring it, big dude!” she tapped her chin with her glove, taunting the Wolf. “You know, I’m a big fan of you and your crew, Brawler. Before we start, can I please get an autograph?” The Wolf asked, crocodile grin spreading beneath his hood, red eyes catching the light as he withdrew a pen and wanted poster from the folds of his poncho. His metal limbs glinted in the spotlight, clawed steel fingers on full display. He handed her the pen, “Just here please.” He tapped under ‘DEAD’ in ‘Dead or alive.’

Claudia signed the poster in pen before she realised what it was, stepping back as she realised, “Trying to bring in the reward money?”

“Have to make a living somehow. It’s not personal.” The Wolf removed his black poncho to reveal a body made mostly of metal and machine parts. Steam hissed in the shining pistons operating the Wolf’s arms and legs. Guards were raised and it began.

The Wolf dropped low, correctly anticipating a jab to the face, claws grating on the cold stone floor. “Slow.” He cackled with glee, swerving past a knee aimed to the gut and sweeping the supporting leg from below her. “Sloppy.” He taunted from behind Claudia as she got up and readied herself to fight properly. He took the next punch that came for him, a misdirect left hook into an elbow to the chin and a slam to the ribs. Both massive blows made a sickening clunk as metal was slammed together violently. “Weak.” Growled the Wolf, as steam hissed. Before she could process it, the Wolf’s metal fist was an inch before her face, and promptly slamming hard into said face, pushing her backwards. The next blow came before she was done staggering. A monstrously powerful ridgehand to the lower back, snapping the Brawler back up, only to take a huge uppercut to the liver and a sweeping kick to the back of the knee, bringing her down into a spinning back kick. She was out before she hit the floor. The Wolf drew his clawed hand into a stabbing blade, winding up to deliver the killing blow, before the referee stepped in, stopping the fight. “That’s enough. You’ve beaten her, prize ‘s in the pot.” 

“Fine. I’ll take your bribe, but that doesn’t pull her bounty off the board.” The Wolf growled, cursing under his breath as he left the dingy arena. 

and finally, Sorren:

The Wolf of District 13 sat at the end of another bar with another mug of beer. The MotoGP was on the TV, engines roaring through the abused speakers. One man sat watching, he had a beer in his gloved hand and a confidence in his demeanour. “I know you’re there, mate. I’ll get to you when Ducati finish this lap in first.” The Scout waved a hand in the Wolf’s direction, before retreating it and sipping on a gin. The Wolf stared in awe and bitterness at the scout’s arrogance, he had never been dismissed by a target before. Ignored once or twice, acknowledged every time, but never dismissed. This was not going to fly. The Wolf advanced silently towards his quarry, making no sound, red eyes glowing with malice. The Scout waved his hand again, tutting. “No, I said I’ll get to you in a bit. I keep my word. Sit back down, finish your drink, and put the knife away.” 

“And if I don’t?” The Wolf muttered under his breath.

“Them you’ll go down in history as the most boring assassin ever. If you want to kill me, you’ll do it on my schedule.”

“Idiot.” 

“No, you idiot, I’m reckless. The difference being one is being thick as bricks and the other is having no regard for your own safety.”

The Wolf was a very patient killer, he would wait for days for his quarry to show themself, but after 5 minutes with this intolerable little man he had very much lost it. He went in with his knife and went straight for Sorren’s spine. He missed the spinal cord because of the Scout’s impossible reaction speed, but instead his blade was buried in his lumbar. 

“Ouch. Welp, I’m off to die somewhere pretty. See you in hell.” Sorren groaned as he got up from his stool, blade still stuck in his back, and walked out of the bar bleeding everywhere, hopped on his motorbike, and caned it back to the Hotel California deep within the sprawling city.

-end-

Btw i got more wips to do more intros on, since you’re so desicated and insist on reading to the end of these :3

[binarystargames]

Liminal Void: Professions (like Classes but not really). What are we doing here?

So I'm thinking about what I'm doing with Professions in Liminal Void. A Profession is like...a class, kind of/sort of? It's got a starting skillset (basically a broad Skill category), a little passive ability that differentiates it, a few changes to being able to recover/reload/recharge in combat, and a starting equipment package (which includes an outfit, a capital-T Tool, and two consumables).

Beyond the mechanical aspects, though, there's a few things I've been thinking about. What is the purpose of this, and should I extend it further?

Worker Professions

If you haven't read the free quickstart, I've got 6 in there:

Laborer

Driller/Excavator

Pilot

Technician

Engineer

Foreman

And I'm also going to be adding 6 more:

Demolisher (person who breaks down ships/station walls/etc, has a big portable-wrecking-ball driver)

Doc (tor, making the distinction that this is probably not someone with theoretical so much as practical medical training)

Janitor (it's a janitor, has a self-propelled waterless cleaning device)

Surveyor (person in charge of measurement, has a ranging/highlight-for-targeting laser)

Sysadmin (has a movie-hacker-style device)

Welder (high-temperature specialist)

The idea is that for any given Level 0 scenario, you can pick 6 of these that best fit it (6 for easy randomization) and go, characterizing it in a different way. Your character is a lot more defined by equipment than this stuff, but it'll make a pretty big difference over time.

I'm quite confident in the first 6...some of the last 6 are kind of a stretch or might be too specific. We'll see. I might also add a few more if I come up with 6 more ideas.

Mercenary Professions

Obviously given the easy formulation (skillset, talent, outfit, tool, consumables) I've been looking at swapping "Tool" for "Weapon" conceptually (given the two mechanically work roughly the same way, it's just that weapons are better at offense, use ammo, and have very few uses outside of combat) and creating professions based around more martial (or non-tool-using) things.

Now. I have mixed feelings about this. The big thing I want to avoid is letting this into A Dedicated Combat Game. It's got the ability to do that for sure, but I want that to be opt-in - if a character is set up just to do that from the word go, it's going to slide way more in that direction by implication. If your character's main talent is "do guns better" then, well, guess what they're going to do, probably. I don't really want to set players up to just do that.

On the other hand, though, it's not like taking on mercenary contracts isn't a part of the game, and that can involve hiring help - or if someone dies, maybe that hired help becomes a permanent fixture. (Or even before then, I strongly promote the idea of troupe play for this.) And for that matter, some people just have a more martial outlook on life. Not everyone started their career as a space plumber or whatever, or even if they did, it's not really always the most relevant thing about them, you know?

Right now the compromise I'm thinking is:

Backgrounds that leverage 6/12 of the weapons (basically, not the more situational/"heavy weapon"/"this is basically only for cops" ones). Right now I'm thinking:

Hunter (typically of the bounty kind, has a Revolver)

Infiltrator (sneaky bastard, has a Rail Pistol)

Investigator (private eye/intel, has a Laser Pistol)

Marine (boarding/CQC specialist, has a Shotgun)

Sharpshooter (what it says, has a Rail Rifle)

Soldier ("being in firefights" specialist, has a PDW)

Explicit guidance to not start with these these at Level 0 for characters, except if it makes sense through play. For example in Escape from CICP-1 there are a few corpsec soldiers and raiders that could defect, so if one of them joined the party that could make sense, but everyone starting out is going to have a Worker Profession.

Guidance as to how best to use these when starting at Level 1: basically, make sure that your Background is something that helps them gel with the rest of the party.

Integration in play: describe what kinds of characters you meet and hire with these kinds of backgrounds. Explanation of retraining at Tier too, like if you were an Engineer but you basically only shoot people nowadays maybe that part's not so relevant anymore.

But we'll see. I might just put a bunch of the Talents I was gonna use for those 6 into a list for players to take during advancement.

Conclusions

As usual, I have none other than "I'm gonna try some shit out and hope it works", but I still like making a final header for these writeups so here you go.

Once again, there's a free quickstart for this game if you're interested.

[tutchando74]

Sniper Monkey (Monkey wars)

The snipers decided to upgrade their technologies.

Top Path

Cripple Ghost - The Cripple MOAB's decided to upgrade their uniform, gaining the ability to become invisible.

Cripple Limbs - Other Cripple MOAB's decided to change their bullets to not affect Moabs, but instead limbs. The bullets, when hit and enemy, they deliver a shock in the nervous system that can deactivate the motion of their limbs.

One of the Cripple Ghost was unsatisfied with how they were treated in the military, so he decided to escape it and became a hired assasin. He dwelves in the darkest alleys, taking contracts with anyone who pays him enough.

Middle Path

Elite Bouncer - The bullets shot by the Elite Sniper's received a new function. At each bounce the bullet makes, it gets stronger. It has a limit of 10 bounces.

Elite Monkeys - Some of the Elite Sniper's decided to change the content that the boxes have. Instead of having monkey money on it, it is full of other elite monkeys inside.

Some engineers tried to make a new gun for the Elite Sniper's. Instead of a sniper. It is a lightining gun that spreads its lightining through its enemies. It has not been used much, due to the cost it takes to fire for a prolongated amount of time.

Bottom Path

Double Defender - Some Elite Defender's decided that one automatic sniper wasn't enough, they needed more. So they learned how to wield two automatic snipers. They take a little more time to reload.

Elite Shotgunner - Other Elite Defender's decided to use shotgun shells instead of the normal sniper bullets. It didn't work, so they modified it to actually work. It takes even more time to reload.

Some engineers were paid to make a gun that functioned by itself. They made one with an AI of itself and it worked, until the gun decided to attack everyone. Nowadays the gun is trapped in a locked room. No one is allowed to enter it, as if they do, they'll die.