me 10 loot boxes later:

     @knucklecluster​ asked:            ↪ 𝙁𝙄𝙍𝙎𝙏-𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙎 𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙈𝙋𝙏𝙎 (𝙋𝙏. 1)

" that  darlin'  rascal  ripped  a  fistful  of  my  hair  out  today,  so  if  you  see  a  bald spot, now y'know  why  it's  there. "

     “Oh — Evie? Yeah, she does that...” His smile BEAMS, as a proud father would as he bounces the three-year-old on his hip, despite the circumstances being far from COMMENDABLE.

     Maybe he didn’t hear Walter’s full story, distracted by the four OTHER things he was trying to do while pacing the kitchen, all with only one hand — or perhaps it was because she’s definitely done that before to HIM, and Hound, so it didn’t exactly come as a surprise...

          “If it makes you feel any better, I think she only does it to people she likes! Kind’ve like a...SOUVENIR — so you’ve got that goin’ for ya!”

     She’s squirming now, clearly wanting to be let loose to wreak havoc on anything else they dared to leave within her reach — something he couldn’t risk while he had so much going on already. So instead, she’s fighting him; tugging on clothes, trying to climb up and down, reaching for any and EVERYTHING on the counter — but he’s clearly had quite a bit of practice with this routine, considering how well he was handling it.

@knucklecluster for Maggie | meme. (no longer accepting!)

sender  tackles  receiver  out  of  the  way  of  danger .

 Crossfire echoes all across the open desert spread of King’s Canyon; a 30-30 crackshot from across Market, immediate SMG fire between the rocks, and certainly flying above their current position, tucked in the corner of an abandoned building. It’s not her STYLE - trapped like this, rather than pushing headlong into a fight and dominating - but even Maggie knows that’s a goddamn deathwish. 

But it doesn’t stop her from ascending the stairs, suddenly, hoping to get a peek at their closest enemies, to get a bead on them before planning a bullrush with the wrecking ball at the ready. “There ya are,” She murmurs to herself, pulling up her rifle to take a potshot or two, a warning if anything. But chaos soon comes with the lob of a frag grenade, already primed overhead, seconds from detonating. There’s only so much leverage Maggie has to push herself back down the stairs but in the heat of the moment, she feels two hands - warm and cold both - grab onto her, pushing her into the corner by the door and using it as a temporary blast shield -- before it is blasted into pieces and glass shattering, leaving them covered in bits of metal, but, for all intents and purposes: alive. 

 “Christ, Mags! What happened to duck’n’cover, eh?”

 It takes her a second to realize that Wally of all people didn’t hesitate to pull her back. And sure, the point is to win and survive, but he’s made it on his own before, down and out a partner in these games. She shakes her head and pushes herself up immediately, reaching for the rifle she dropped and kicking it up into her hands again. 

              ❛  dude,  how  much  does  that  thing  WEIGH?  ❜  newcastle  hisses  through  clenched  teeth  as  he  swiftly  works  to  drag  fuse  by  the  collar,  away  from  the  firefight  and  towards  safety——an  effort  that  TYPICALLY  only  took  a  respectable  amount  of  effort  for  the  new  legend.  his  grenade  launcher  strapped  to  his  teammate’s  back,  and  not  to  mention  the  metal  arm,  was  giving  jackson  a  bit  more  of  a  work  out  than  he  was  expecting.  dirt  kicks  up  into  the  air  as  he  finally  manages  to  reach  cover,  a  large  hut  that  also  managed  to  shield  them  from  the  island’s  terrible  heat.

              ❛  here,  take  these,  we’ll  need  to  move  soon,  ❜  a  bright  blue  shield  battery  and  a  health  kit  emerge  from  his  pack,  both  for  the  salvo  born  to  take.

@knucklecluster​​​ : gotta  vibecheck  rev  and  know  his  interest  level  for  aftercare 》 send a kink

not today satan | fuck no | no thanks | eeeh | not sure | I’d give it a shot | sure why not | omfg yes | there go my pants | holy fuck take me now

his aftercare for a partner is typically kissing & cleaning uwu it can extend to whatever they ask of him if he’s Attached™, and he can definitely warm up to cuddling if his partner likes it.

@knucklecluster​​ : All multiples of 6 for the HC meme !    》 sad hc questions

6. answered here

12. does your muse tend to push themselves too hard?

definitely sometimes, if he’s motivated enough. it’s not like there’s any consequences for him to do so besides a lil extra suffering on his part and he’s used to that 🙃

18. answered here

24. does your muse lean more toward “forgive and forget” or “resent and remember?”

GOLLY

the latter lmao

@knucklecluster​ said:     ❛ i always get myself into this mess. ❜    ||   MILK AND HONEY STARTERS

𝐎' 𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒, 𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒.     Holy glory reaches for his hand, they are slipping between his fingers like bullet shells, he is becoming one himself. The swirling smoke plumes of used casing scatter at his feet, crown him here, oh Ullr, your warrior is waning.

             A HUNTER IS ONLY AS GOOD AS THEIR ASSESSMENT. The adept skill of determining threat. Fuse is a man of golden fingertips, even his walk announces his presence, with the subtle   clink   of metal pieces. You can hear him from a canyon away, but that’s the point isn’t it?   GLORY IS NOT SILENT.    You watch him now, a checklist forming in the back of your mind, all the ways it would be easy to find him. All the ways you can pick through whether his words are true or an invocation of sarcasm. 

You find it hard not to believe him, standing in the rubble of a fallen ship, the smoke and gunmetal crater where his arrival marked the land immemorial. The dirt and rock will remember him here. The blood spilled for the crash will too.      Blood never forgets, it cannot.        You are brought to wonder if his blood still sings where metal meets flesh. If it finds him in the shallow hours and reminds him of his humanity.       -- Mess. A fine mess indeed. The landscape reflects the man now, you suppose, marred in some ways, still resolute regardless. War will still paint it, people will still walk it, as they will with him. 

Boots scuff the ground in the lightest of kicks, testing for how settled the ash is, if it will leave tracks, if its disturbance can be read like a map. You can tell a lot about a person by the way they carry themselves, how they talk, the simplest way they pick up their mugs of coffee in the morning, the first things they say after sleep leaves them, the last tings they say before it takes them again. But you cannot see inside someone’s head, not enough to answer the question:   What are they thinking of?      So you are caught wondering what he thinks, when it is his turn to toe the dirt and reminisce...    WHAT PLAGUES YOU, SON OF ULLR?   WHAT MESSES DO YOU MAKE? 

            “ It is a little concerning if this is a frequent happening for you...                                              ---     You must live a very INTERESTING LIFE. ”