#operator ocs

[holistichiatus]

finally got a good day to get pics of the charms i made for my friends of our operators :] names and who they belong to

top row; Casswyn and Grendel @slimyteeths, Makalii and Ocatavia @grimmble

bottom row; Kemuda and Gauss @sanchomps, Tamrisk and Vauban (mine)

i love this game for bringing me some of the best friends i've ever had <3

[cardo-de-comer]

uh oh

[charliemwrites]

Gaz loves his Alpha.

He didn’t think it could be like that - a thief in the night after his heart. A silent creeping fog of devotion and affection, filling his lungs and clogging up his head.

From the stories his parents told - a beautiful Alpha/Omega pair, perfectly mid-spectrum that bore two pups - love is wildfire. It sparks, catches, spreads. Heat and light, it burns sometimes. Unmistakable, though, as it consumes.

It wasn’t like that with Saint. Like the Alpha themself, the love trickled in unobtrusive but steady, a dawning of new emotion, forging bonds like bands of sunlight cresting the horizon. Not a crackling blaze but a warming light. Until all at once it was day; it was love.

Saint, patron of devotion.

They’re sleeping under Gaz right now. Long, deep breaths that raise him with each inhale, a slight purr on each exhale. Content with his company even when unconscious.

Their eyes are closed, head lolling to reveal the strong column of their throat. The edge of their scent gland peaks past their compression shirt, a fresh smear of neutralizer over the bruised skin.

Post-Rut Saint is delicious. Lazy and slow as they recover energy and spent calories, napping in long shifts. Languid, relaxed, effortlessly Alpha.

They shift as the scent of Gaz’s arousal tickles their nose, tongue peaking out to swipe over the sharp curve of their fangs. Muzzle on again, of course, but one with bars instead of grid, easier to see their pretty mouth. Gaz is in no condition for another round, not after the thorough three days of fucking he and the other Omegas received, but the thought still makes his gut flip pleasantly.

He churrs, just to see what Saint will do, still mostly asleep.

The Alpha churrs sleepily back, the big hand curled around his thigh flexing.

Always so responsive, his Alpha, now that he knows what to look for. Saint never ignores them, never dismisses them. They’re always attuned to the Omegas, listening, ready to provide. Indulgent, even. Gaz and the others are spoiled - not that anyone would get away with saying so.

“Alpha…” he coos, nuzzling under Saint’s chin.

He does it because he can, and it’s still a novelty. An Alpha so extreme on the spectrum, yet so tolerant of vulnerability and all the liberties he and Soap take. Licking and nipping at their throat, scenting them on a whim, leaning and tugging and pressing close all the time. Not even a grumble for their trouble, just slow blinks and chuffs of amusement.

Alphas usually don’t let anyone but mates or pups near their throats, the submissive subtext and dangerous position grating on their instincts. But Saint has always let Gaz shove his nose against their jugular, or that tender spot beneath their ear, or the hollow where their purr sounds best. Even now, only just stirring, they tilt their chin back to grant him access.

“Omega,” they rumble, and a shiver wracks Gaz from head to toe.

Saint is rare with their voice. Saves it for the field or private moments; the subharmonics are intense, dominating. He barked at an Alpha recruit the other day, a touch less patient in pre-Rut, and the kid practically threw himself to the ground, belly up and whimpering submission. The other recruits dropped their knees and eyes, shying away from the Alpha’s correction.

The response that voice garners in their Omegas is different. Yielding rather than submitting. A happy, gooey melt rather than a brutal breakdown. For Gaz, it sounds like safety, protection, care, leadership. He still gets goosebumps remembering the first time he heard it, during a long-awaited Heat.

“Kyle.”

He jerks a bit, realizing that the voice isn’t just in his memory. Saint is waking, roused by Gaz’s incessant poking and prodding. As always, they don’t seem bothered. Their thumb caresses the back of his neck, sweeps along his hairline, soothing him.

He sits up a bit, anyway. Saint blinks at him through heavy-lidded eyes, obviously not quite with the program yet. That subsonic hum of an Alpha entreating their Pack member to stay, settle, sleep is still vibrating in their chest. Kyle chirps in return, a greeting and assurance in one.

“Time to eat, Alpha.”

Saint blinks twice more, takes a more deliberate breath in. Coming alive again. The subtle shifts in muscle beneath Gaz are enough to obsess over. He’d love to know what they do in that Alpha gym every day, they’re a work of art. Type of body that could go on the cover of porn magazines and Heat partner sites.

Saint yawns, big and wide, teeth on display. Shakes their head a bit to dispel the last of the cobwebs.

“Mm.”

That’s his cue.

He clambers off the Alpha, stretches out long and lithe, maybe showing off just a little. His effort is rewarded with Saint following, nuzzling his hip with an appreciative purr, before standing. They pop their neck with a quick jerk of their chin, before turning to Gaz. Always waiting, always ready.

“The others said they’ll meet us there,” he explains, heading for the door.

Like Alphas of old, Saint always stays at Gaz’s elbow. Easy to speak to, but clearly following the Omega without inciting the sense of being hunted. (Not that Gaz would mind Saint hunting him… not at all.)

“In the usual spot?” Gaz asks, pointing at the 141’s table. At Saint’s nod, he adds, “I’ll get you a tray if you want to go change into the bite guard.”

They hesitate for a moment, considering. Then nod, brushing their wrist against Gaz’s shoulder. He beams, swipes his jaw against Saint’s shoulder, before sauntering to the line.

It’s rare that Saint will wear any less than a muzzle, especially somewhere public like the caf. But post-Rut has them ravenous and slightly less reactive, lowering the bite risk in conjunction with their already iron-clad control. Enough so that they for once feel comfortable settling for a bite guard.

Gaz happily loads up their plate with their favorites, glancing around every once in a while for his other Pack members. Ghost and Price had paperwork to catch up on and Soap switched recruit duty with Gaz so that he could rest a little longer after that final round. They must not be done just yet - no surprise there, they’ve timed it to avoid the worst of the meal crowd.

As Gaz steps out of the line, a tray in each hand, he’s surprised to find the table absent of his Alpha. Saint’s adept with their muzzle and their bite guard, it hardly takes them any time at all to place or remove either.

Then he spots them by the water fountain. They’ve clearly gone to grab an extra cup, dehydrated from Rut. But they’ve been held up by someone.

Gaz recognizes them as a recent transfer, an Omega operator with a decent record. He has no opinion about them one way or another, hasn’t had much chance (or reason) to work with them.

Or at least he didn’t have an opinion until right this moment.

Because they’re not just talking to his Alpha. They’re leaning into Saint, tilting their head just so to show off their pristine mating gland. They’re peering at Saint through their lashes, swishing their hair to release their scent.

And that would be fine and good. At a cafe, a bar, a club, the bloody grocery store - hell, even here. It would be, if they were acting that way with anyone else. Gaz would even cheer them on.

But that’s Saint. That’s the 141’s Alpha. Their Alpha that they’ve built a bond with, that takes care of them, that they love.

And Saint is treating them the way they do every Omega. Calm and stoic, head tilted in non-threat. Listening to what this Omega could need of an Alpha. Only the subtle clench of their jaw and stillness of their chest indicating that they’re even remotely uncomfortable. Speaking to a strange Omega with no muzzle on, post-Rut, in a crowded place.

“Look like you’re about to explode, what’s got you burning pheromones?” Ghost asks.

Gaz didn’t even hear him approach but he’s too busy wrestling down his less flattering instincts to be startled.

Omegas don’t usually have the territorial edge to their protectiveness that Alphas have. Usually. Not never.

“Look,” Gaz growls, jerking his head.

Ghost follows his piercing gaze. “Ah.”

There’s a beat of silence as the Omega sways closer, obviously purring even if they can’t hear it at this distance.

“Well?” Ghost prompts.

Gaz takes a couple steps forward before he even realizes it. Pauses when Ghost’s hand lands on his shoulder, staying. Right. Best not to cause a scene, even if obscene instinct is demanding he climb Saint right there.

Instead, he clears his throat.

“Alpha!” He barks. Not needy or wanting. Demanding.

Saint’s head whips around, silvery gaze locking on Gaz instantly. They don’t look away as they dip their head politely to the other Omega, a silent goodbye, and stride across the room in a handful of long strides.

The rolling chur they let out is questioning, surprise in the arch of their dark brows when Gaz shoves his face in theirs. Scenting them there too, where the skin is so rarely available for it.

“You're irresistible, Alpha,” Ghost chuckles.

Saint grunts in distracted greeting, still looking confused. A big hand circles the back of Gaz’s neck, not quite a scruff.

“Settle,” they murmur, ducking their head to kiss his temple. “Eat.”

And Gaz would be more ashamed of how loud he instantly starts purring - if not for the way Saint’s eyes soften and the corners of their mouth curl slightly up, fond.

“Same to you,” Gaz huffs, tugging their belt loop.

Most Alphas would take at least mild offense, would tell him to watch it, only half joking.

But Saint chuffs in acquiescence and sits, leaving their own Omegas to stand over them - even if momentarily.

Ghost and Gaz settle in, just in time for the Johns to step out of the chow line as well.

“What did that bird want?” Ghost asks as he digs in.

Saint doesn’t take their eyes off their last two pack members. They shrug.

“Looked like they were chattering up a storm,” Gaz notes, only a little tart.

Saint flicks him a devastatingly attractive smirk. “Couldn’t hear them over you.”

And Gaz doesn’t need to hear them say it, to know that Saint loves him just the same.

[startheskelaton]

Peggy and her monster

I’m literally obsessed with them I’m sorry

[dvdexe]

many chapter 3 things......! mostly peter though. i need to write stuff down and organize it somewhere

[archiepelago]

New pressure oc came to me in a vision… his name is richie lazlow and he’s a janitor/former experiment under urbanshade (human spliced with leopard seal, orca, and flashlightfish in an earlier version of what sebastian went through with less desirable results, that being that he can’t actually breathe underwater, though he can stay under for much longer than a regular human) he’s trying ti clean up in the wake of the lockdown in the hopes that when urbanshade inevitably regains control of the blacksite, he won’t get punished or something

[psygull-arts]

the year is 1969. three years have passed, and K-Cell has a new mission - OPERATION KEYSTONE HUNTER:

one of two fresh agents joining K-Cell is BILLIE SILVER, a getaway driver who cut a deal to save herself from prison time after she witnessed the unspeakable, and proud owner of several pairs of Kickin' Jeans

Billie belongs to @steampunkforever who has retired Cary for now because he would, quote, "thrive in the nineties"

BONUS: Homer mustache (actual) and Kit mustache (hypothetical)

[egg-on-a-legg]

i had to speedrun this so its just a biiiit scuffed BUT PLEASE I NEED TO HUG HIM,,,,,

[grubbin22]

character reference sheets for my fic smooth operator.

[popfizzles]

Despite their constant tired look, I think they'd be good at crowd work :)

Their jokes hit harder because they know how to blindside.

[bunnysnared]

realized i have neglected to upload my operator's reference sheet even though its been finished for months now! a couple of people have asked about drawing fledge, so i hope this helps if that was u! (´▽`ʃƪ)♡

or if you just wanna soak in all the sweaty details of my boy. . . here u are! lmao- he carries the comms for his taskforce he got nepo-baby-ied on to. eventually when he locks in and actually gives a shit he specializes in demolitions and disarming ♡

[mih4nn]

Welcome to the operating table 💖

[goofy-clan]

Board game night, anyone?

——————-

Yeah idk.

Silly fanart for @fallenclan featuring Scorchstar, Goldenstar, Maplestar, Cherrystar, (as paws) and Ravenstar 🙄.

Had fun drawing it!

Yes he has baloney in his throat because that’s all he speaks okay bye-

[charliemwrites]

Can we get some horny headcanons for Saint?👀

You said they're big as fuck and I wanna know how he'd react to a smaller omega (fem) in the pack during his rut🤭

Hiya! I’m gonna use they/them and be vague about genitalia to preserve some of the lovely ambiguity of Saint’s vibe.

But Saint’s a virile Alpha through and through, with a pack of high-energy Omegas so they are horny. These aren’t just headcanons, these are canon canon :)

- kissing their jaw/chin instantly gets them going, esp if it’s messy. They make a noise that’s not quite a purr, not quite a growl. Not all Alphas make that noise, but Saint does. They get all narrow-eyed and relaxed, rolling their hips.

- omegas on top are their favorite position, they love watching their pack take what they need while they coo and praise them

- free use kink, esp for omegas in heat and pre-heat. They secretly love doing something else while their omega gets off, listening to them chirp and purr for attention while they have a conversation or fill out forms. Until their omega gets that’s sweet needy, demanding edge and saint gives them all the attention they could possibly handle.

- it’s a crass term that saint would never use, but “bitching” another alpha is a secret fantasy. They’re a bit ashamed of it, so they only ever really use it as fantasy material during pre-rut and rut, when their inhibitions are lower.

- their scent glands aren’t actually as sensitive as one might expect (due to applying neutralizer so often) so biting down on it, even without drawing blood, will have them moaning and getting close. Being a little rough with them in general is hot, they love scratches and bites and bruises, it’s what they’re built for

- soft dom. Loves to praise. Loves to gently correct. Coos and churrs and purrs while you’re falling apart, holding you close while you cling and murmuring sweet filth in your ear, subharmonics in every word. “I know, I know. It’s a lot but you’re taking it all so well. I knew you would, sweet omega. You can cry if you need to, I know you’re overwhelmed.”

[kxmpfflieger]

Drifter & Operator

[msn-04iinightingale]

Refusal

Kinship FOB Helios

"I'm just...concerned, sir." Colonel Bell said to her superior, Commander Owen McEvedy as the two walk down the hallway in the Kinship FOB medical wing.

"About what, Colonel?" He asks. He's in a good mood, all things considered. Not only has the Commanding General had delivered not only one of his people hge thought dead, but also, a great deal of good and...interesting news.

"...about Elenor, sir." she says, the taller raptor woman stopping infront of a closed door.

"Doc's say she'll recover fully. And Melissa mentioned that the SLDF has resources to help with the other scars." he says, stopping by her. "You worry too much." He says with a smile.

Bell blushes slightly.

"Eh, really should get a move on with that..." he thinks, remembering his conversation with Melissa earlier.

"Be that as it may, sir...I have concerns about what will occur should any of the clan based systems pick up on her...or indeed, any of our genetics." She look pointedly at Owen when she says this.

"Ah, that..." He says. She has a point. While Melissa at least...and others...are supportive, others might not be. Still, having a Commanding General in your corner counted for a great deal.

"...I don't know...maybe the word "Wolverine" won't be a dirty word someday."

Bell cocks her head slightly, confused. "Again, be that as it may...I am still concerned about what will happen if some of the more...zealous groups find out."

"I'll handle it, if it comes to that..." He says, reassuringly. "Besides, who's gonna know?"

"...I suppose you are correct, sir."

He smiles, and reaches out and pats her arm. "Like I said, you worry too much." he says, more softly. "Now come on, got some things I need to talk to you about."

The two begin to walk away.

@the-clawtake