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Hunter is the oldest of his brothers by the manner of minutes, but that is a fact he cannot forget. He takes this arbitrary responsibility seriously, using his senses and street smarts to protect his family. His Whānau. Thus, the death of their parents weighed on his heart the heaviest. As the son of New Zealand immigrants but born and raised in the Bronx, he struggled to maintain his family’s identity as he took the role of their new leader.
Upon being drafted in 1942 (along with the rest of his brothers), he was forced to leave his baby sister, Omega, behind. She was the person he felt most obligated to protect, and now a forced duty came in between them. His loyalty to his family proved he was the natural fit for Sargent when Captain Rex pulled the four brothers into the 99th OSS, also known as The Bad Batch. They were a specialized team tasked with specialized missions, receiving orders directly from General Skywalker. Hunter lead the team to many successes, but his greatest accomplishment was bringing his brothers home safe when the war ended.
Civilian life was an adjustment after that. With Omega as his priority, he opted for a part time position as a cook at the Copacabana. This allowed him to spend time with his sister by day, and be surrounded by his brothers at night. A part of their team once again.
High quality art images, references, and taglist under the cut! ~
I know Tumblr is full of posts about the virtues of commenting on AO3 fics and such. But like. It works.
I just knocked out 8.5k words in one single day for a chapter update because of one reader leaving one of the most absurdly endearing comments I’ve ever gotten. That is unheard of levels of productivity for me.
The power of the fandom. The power of the comment.
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*thinks about OCs* *Thinks about OCs* *thinks about OCs* *thinks About OCs* *thinks about OCs* *Thinks About OCs* *thinks about OCs* *THINKS ABOUT OCS* *thinks about OCs* *thinks about OCS* *thinks about OCs* *THINKS about OCs* *thinks about OCs* *thinks ABOUT OCs* *thinks about OCs* *thinks about OCs* *Thinks about OCs* *thinks about OCs* *thinks About OCs* *thinks about OCs* *Thinks About OCs* *thinks about OCs* *THINKS ABOUT OCS* *thinks about OCs* *thinks about OCS* *thinks about OCs* *THINKS about OCs* *thinks about OCs* *thinks ABOUT OCs* *thinks about OCs*
The idea of clones having absurd tan lines has been amusing me lately. Just think of a group of guys who grew up indoors without sun exposure and probably had supplements for the vitamins instead of actively getting UV. Their Māori genetics have been itching for any single ray of sunlight. So when they get out, and the only part of themselves they somewhat regularly expose is their face, they tan immediately. Like a dry sponge unfurling at a drop of water. Meanwhile, the rest of their body that’s covered in armor still has a slow way to go
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Proton torpedoes exchanged for simple sparklers. Armor replaced by swim shorts. Rainy and stormy seas swapped for gentle waves and clear night skies. A sister at his side with a bright smile and laugh.
Wrecker never pictured a life like this.
He wouldn't have it any other way.
speedpaint under the cut // <ref> // me yappin also under the cut
I'm turning this into a postcard to send to my online friends to see if I like making mini (5x8) prints and have the mental space to make the prints and write the letters on the back and send them out. If it turns out to be something I can mentally handle maybe I will offer a mail letter print thing - one design per month or somethin for like $5. \shrug/ not sure but for sure I am loving the idea to send my only friends I yap at all the time a card with a cute print. <3