SOLDIER ON;

slow your breath, unclench your fist; even in sleep you are ready for war.

[deadshotvasile]

S P A R R O W.

@deadshotvasile​

One of these days Lucas was going to get himself into deep shit for being as dismissive of his superior officers as he was, and yet he found no reason to slow down or take more notice of the tasks at hand. Going about his post-flight duties was excruciatingly painful knowing that somewhere in this new, strange camp tucked in the stretching copse of trees was the only person in the world he wanted to see. It had been too long since he’d been in the presence of so many Commandos at once, least of all the Commander himself. 

At his dismissal from his post, and the arrangement that one of the other pilots would stow away his aircraft and cover for him for the time being (he was not exactly subtle in his shaking excitement and fretful anticipation to get away from here), Lucas followed the stream of his comrades milling about their temporary new home. A few that knew him well enough wordlessly pointed him in the direction of Deadshot’s whereabouts, and the sparrow flew, born on invisible wings of yearning, barely even registering what was around him. There were more important things at hand - things that he had been dreaming for and jabbering on in Esca’s ear about since their leave had barely even started.

Though he was itching with excitement, and could barely contain himself as he rounded the bend and saw Costin deep in conversation with some Commandos - newbies he assumed, on account of their unfamiliar faces. Even if the suspense hadn’t been causing him to shake like a leaf, or his self-entitled nature that spurred him on when it came to interrupting higher ups. The sparrow schooled his features into something with a semblance of calm, though he was certain the wolf would see right through him within milliseconds, and spoke up. He knew his distinct accent, and chiming laugh would have those broad shoulders turned towards him in no time.

“Miss me?” 

His shoulder rolled on occasion, the bullet having torn through masses of muscle and tight-roped tendon. As his gait lengthened, and his stride continued, the limb became inflamed and irritable. A simple lift of shoulder-blade warped into his opposite arm gripping the languid-healing wound. When a medic’s glance caught him in the aggravated action, his prying limb fell and attempted to elude their healing prowess. He’d only known Doc to trail after him, her resolute diligence forcing his hand. And now, statuesque before a band of fresh, unmarred recruits, they knew to cinch their lashing tongues.

The speech was archaic and delivered in monotone; its verbal recital may have taken the victory of his most professed dictation. The laws of war-- where war permitted none-- were laced within its cautionary tale. Peering at them as he did each delivered batch, the Commander knew that less than half would survive, that even less of the surviving remnants would become inducted Commandos. Their adolescent faces were proudly stern, but he knew how swiftly a bullet would fracture strong-willed features.

If Bane had been present, at least one would piss their assigned breeches. He’d sent the wolf scouting, the massive brute due to return at any passing moment. Yet, it was not the beast’s presence which interrupted his premature dismissal. Unruly curls latched onto his peripheral, and the voice turned his heels. A simplistic flick of hand sent the bundle of soldiers on their way. “Vrabie.” his features remained sedated, tone allowing no emotion to slip as he took the distance between them. “This isn’t your assigned area.”

Halting before him, the acted portrayal shattered. Both arms constricting beneath the younger’s thighs as he stole him from the ground. His shoulder howled against the movement, yet its bearer disregarded each aching protest as the Sparrow was whirled. When the celebratory spin ceased, his mouth sought the skin of Lucas’s neck in a confidential exchange. His head tilt back, sapphiric irises pinning his pilot. “Ai fost ratat.”

[deadshotvasile]

S O L O.

“These aren’t yours, are they?”

“Don’t try to tell me it would make a difference if they were, Solo.”

[deadshotvasile]

R E D.

“Please do not complain or make minuscule comments about the size of the needle. It’s a new vaccination and yes you need it” Red called out in a loud yet blatantly monotone voice. The brown clipboard was held steady by digging its way into the petite Doctor’s side, hazel eyes glancing over the recruit in front of her momentarily before looking back down at the chart, making sure the information matched. She was only dealing with her fellow shadowed commandos today thankfully, the fly-boys from other brigades had a tendency to vomit out their ignorance on her shoes with a cocky smile and belittling tone.

“Roll up your sleeve, it will only take a second. And while you are here, has your medical history change at all in the time off? Have you experienced any fainting spells or been exposed to any illnesses?”

The Commander had begun to make his respective rounds as duty demanded. Cargo had misplaced a fair volume of ammunition crates, their iron existence adrift. A passing medic expressed their formidable upheaval regarding absent sterile articles, resulting in yet another vexing, mental tally. It happened often-- perhaps the singular pitfall of being an elite, secretive unit. Coordinates got muddled; at times a purposed proceeding in order to mislead potential adversaries. Eventually, each reported deficit was unearthed at Deadshot’s command. Still, the issue was the cause for his redirection toward the medical tent.

He leant against a sturdy pole, shoulder pressed against frigid metal as he listened to Red’s scrutiny. “If you can’t handle the needle,” the Romanian announced, “then how do you think you’ll handle a bullet?” An inquiring gaze flicked from the recruit to the veteran doctor. “I’ve heard you may be missing some supplies.”

[analogradyo]

Visit Original Link

[buccbarnes]

[buckys]

[wordsnquotes]

I think hell is something you carry around with you. Not somewhere you go.

Neil Gaiman, The Sandman. (via wordsnquotes)

[fxjustifiedgifs]

[deadshotvasile]

B O O K M A R K !

[deadshotvasile]

sparrowlucas:

“You should get a better guard dog. This one doesn’t seem to good at keeping away those you don’t want to talk to.” He laughed slightly uncomfortably, but scratched fondly underneath Bane’s chin just as he knew he liked.  Like his constant companion, Bane was far less intimidating than his immediately appeared, in Lucas’ opinion. Both had been born with innate ability to kill, predators through and through, and yet both had so far had had mercy on the sparrow perched between their teeth. For Lucas, the need to kill was but another unfortunate side effect of the sickness that was war - a sickness that he only found respite from in the arms of someone who apparently did not want to hold him anymore. “I know.” He said sadly, focusing on petting Bane instead of doing the hard thing and making eye contact with Costin. “I just, don’t quite understand. But that’s my fault, not yours.” The sparrow swallowed hard to expel the lump from his throat. “I’ve just missed you, is all.” 

Though his laughter held a harmony Costin was used to drifting away to, his current state braced a war between them. The Sparrow’s laugh was even of melancholic defeat, and Bane knew the strain between two spurned lovers. “It will never be your fault, Lucas.” Costin replied, leaving his usual note of vrabie unspoken. “What you want is not built during a war. I’m not sure it is found, and I am not sure that you have chosen someone capable of solidifying it, either.” But he knew what he was doing-- ripping an opposing heart from its birdcage. There was nothing left for the wolf but to die. “Don’t look for me, Lucas.” I will always miss you. “There’s nothing to find.”

[deadshotvasile]

sparrowlucas:

It had been weeks since Lucas’ tender gesture at Costin’s sniper’s nest had lead to him storming away in frustration, and the sparrow was not too proud to admit that he had missed him ardently in the days since. The sight of the two wolves sitting together across the way made Lucas smile despite himself, and he wondered if it was safe to approach. The smaller of the two caught sight of him before he’d made a decision, and a steadily wagging tail greeted him with less animosity than he knew he would get from the man painstakingly removing pieces of enemy from between the teeth of his companion. “Hey, buddy.” He mumbled fondly to the white wolf, ruffling the snowy fur atop Bane’s head before looking up. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” Lucas replied to Costin, his voice returning to a cautious tone that he had learned to use in the presence of a man who’s anger was deadly, and who’s hostility made Lucas feel less than whole. “I didn’t think you wanted to speak to me.” I didn’t know I wanted to speak to you.

If he had hackles, they would have raised. The voice obstructed what little serenity he’d gathered in the moment. He recalled a time where Bane snarled at any individual who approached without Costin’s say. Lucas had never been a part of that grouping, because Bane had been raised alongside Costin and his Sparrow. To the wolf, both Commandos were his pack. And despite his own irritation, he could not fault Bane for that. “I do not want to speak to you,” he acknowledged, “but I need to.” I did not know it was you until the furball wagged his tail. “Or should. I do not know what to tell you, vrabie." Nothing I say will ever make you happy. “I was not made for what you want. I told you at the start.”

[aesterismos]

you cried wolf, so i came running. QUESTION: am i the wolf or the savior? is my smile too sharp or just my teeth? ANSWER: come a little closer.

efb | questions & answers, #2 (via qrowfalls)

[deadshotvasile]

“Deschis.” A maw parted, revealing teeth stained by the splatter of blood. His thumb held the wolf’s lip above pink gums, and a toothbrush scraped paste against wet crimson. Costin splashed the minty excess with water from his metal canteen. The scarlet swirled with the toothpaste’s white foam, and dripped towards earth where a soiled moat made its birthplace. Bane lapped at the remnants of his cleaning. With a damp cloth, Costin mopped red streaks from the brute’s muzzle. Before battle, the beast made camouflage with the innocence of snow. But after, he blended with a sea of bloodshed. They had guns, he had fangs, and Deadshot owed his life to a four-legged comrade as much as he did of those that sported two. He was planted on his knees, ruffling the neck fur of his companion when a shadow swept over them. “Speak,” the Commander encouraged, “and I don’t mean the wolf.”

[deadshotvasile]

xo-walexander:

Of course. Of course Costin Vasile would challenge him beyond measure - of course his wretched man would forget that the hierarchy and rules and bureaucracy of war existed for a reason. William disliked them just as much, he had once been trained as a field soldier before being chucked into an office and realising he could do more for others by pulling strings and signing bills. Of course that man wouldn’t quietly go into his office so they could take this fight elsewhere, of course there’d be no diplomacy. William knew that broken men, burned to the ground, ravaged by war with nothing but nightmares had very little to care for and often lost themselves in pain and anger. Of course. As he stood there he sighed resigned, picked his glasses pensive, cleaned them and put them back on his face, staring up at Costin. 

“Very well, since you want to do this publicly, so be it.” He moved one step closer, bracing himself. The smallest part of him, buried under duty and resolve, was scared out of his wits. He knew this man could physically destroy him, rape him, humiliate and destroy everything William had worked for thus far but he wouldn’t be deserving of his job if he did not face adversity. “Clearly you like putting words in my mouth, Commander so I’ll correct you, I don’t think you’re just one thing but I won’t argue that with you, what I think about you doesn’t matter.” He clears his throat and keeps his chin raised, defiant, strong. He was lanky, he wasn’t built like other soldiers and yet he dared not to back down. “Practically speaking, you are their fearless leader and I respect your position but in other terms, I am the superior officer of this regiment and if you challenge me, if you don’t cooperate, Costin Vasile, I can have you removed from your position and arrested for insubordination, you’ll get a dishonorable discharge and you won’t see your Commandos until the war is over, I assure you, it is in your best interest to not front me, Lieutenant.” His voice did not break as he spoke dryly. Usually soft and kind, Costin had pushed aside anything William could use of his good will, leaving only his military facade. 

He hated pulling those cards, he hated making threats that weren’t idle - it wasn’t an empty threat, if William couldn’t get the Commandos to work, if he couldn’t justify their cost, this would be just another Unity that the Headquarters disbanded. “I will be giving you orders as long as they are necessary and you will work with me.” It was a final-sounding statement, no margin for toying. He held up his glare against Costin’s. “And as for your previous statement, Lieutenant, I’ll have you know I have buried more soldiers than you have ever met, boys, girls I have personally trained, I have fought to bring them back home and I have hand written their Death Notifications myself so don’t you dare talk to me as if I did not know the value of human life.” He barked back, feeling the flare of anger on his chest. 

“I don’t think this is a game of chess but those who are pushing the pieces do, they don’t care if I, you, all of these kids–” He waves towards the line of soldiers watching them in awe. “–if they live or not, I do, so, Lieutenant, take your high and mighty attitude elsewhere or I’ll have it taken from you.” He clenched one fist by his side. “You might not believe me but some spineless, pencil-pushing, pretentious grunts like me are the last line between life and death so either you fucking work with me or your pride will be the ruin of us all.” 

His patience-- if any more had existed-- ruptured with the earth where minefields imploded. “Your threats are weak as you are. You would not be the first to approach higher ups about me. You would not be the first to fail. They need me; there’s no one else like me, and I could have you removed before you could remove me. You work at a desk that is run by a bigger desk. You’re expendable.” The war was all he had, and knew. He did not plan to survive it. He only planned to win it. Threats did not exist when it came to the leader of the Shadowed Commandos. They were minuscule nuisances, if anything.

If there were anything to completely end the relationship that was demanded to be built between them, it was what came next, what no man could claim. A laugh of discord that answered the adversary’s next statements. “If you ever pretend to have buried more, to have written more godforsaken letters, I will put an end to your position just as you have attempted to threaten mine. I have dealt with the dead before this war. Where I come from, this is child’s play. That is the one thing you will not stand here and claim. Don’t write me a novel on liability.” He did not care what had been seen between them; or what responsibilities were shared; or what chaos could be created if you put both night terrors together. “Perhaps you hadn’t taken a look at that file, or you wouldn’t assume something to that caliber.”

“Actually, I’d like for you to take a look at the two that came before you. Learn what they have done. I wouldn’t speak to me again until you have.” It was unforgivable, and came from an unforgiving man. But the ones he bled with, they knew what darkness had come from Headquarters more than they cared to recall. “There is nothing you can say that can re-break what is already broken. Arrest me, discharge me, I will never leave the war. If you lose me, you lose them all. I’d keep that in mind if I were you.” A skeleton with a beating heart, slowly disintegrating from the mind outward, was what comprised the Commander’s makeup. “If you want me out, you will have to put your pistol to my head, and pull the trigger yourself.”

“If you care, prove it. But me? You’ve lost my support.”

[deadshotvasile]

sovietati:

“You’ve been hiding here for a while”, Tatiana said as she walked up to the other, a ration pack craddled in her small hands. 

Food had always been hard to gain and just as precious, so Tatiana bringing any amount to someone else was no minor proof of how big her heart could be. The mere thought of any allies starving always reminded her of her brother swimming, the rivoulettes of water running down the valleys in between his ribs. 

“I thought you’d be hungry.”

"If I were hiding you would not have found me. This is simply,” he paused, waving a hand toward his crowded camp, “out of the way.” The food was tempting. As usual, Deadshot failed to seek it out himself, and rather made sure his unit had received enough instead. And when he did receive rations, they found themselves in the company of others.

A wall crumbled, a tiny split in the barricade for a moment. “I am.” he admitted. “Come, sit.”

[shanesmadej]

“Dead, but not allowed to die. Alive, but as good as dead.”

[deadshotvasile]

docxstone:

“Only because you’re my commander,” she teased lightly. She let him pick at the food, her gaze finally lifting to meet his. “I’m not picky. As long as it’s edible and doesn’t look like someone threw up and scooped it in a bowl.”

“Pretty image,” he mused, “still not as bad as what we actually see around here. I’m serious, Markus.” As he often was when he withdrew her first name. “Give me a favorite. It’s the least I can do with you having to deal with my head.”