Life could always use a lil' more gun.

" Now, I ain't one for always shootin' folks on the spot, but if a mean mother hubber starts makin' his way towards me, you best bet I'm gonna shoot my gun. " AFFILIATED WITH Isola Radiale INDIES READ RULES BEFORE FOLLOWING

[goshdangdarnit]

killerlakill‌:

He doesn’t really have a piece at the moment, at the least not one worth going into ‘business’ with…but that’s not to say he won’t later. From what he’s figured out so far, the powers that be will probably see fit to give him his gun back…and until then, Sniper needs to keep his aim sharp. Not much of a professional if he lets himself get rusty in a place like this full of potential customers, now is he? 

Hence his current setup–a somewhat private little corner nearby his home ward, somewhere he’s not gonna be botherin’ the neighbors, with a plank of wood set up on a couple of cinderblocks a good distance away. It’s here that he’s chosen to set up his own makeshift little shooting range, with about 10 or so tin cans set up an even distance apart atop that plank of wood. Of course, for a man of his pedigree, just hitting a tin can isn’t that hard…so, he’s decided to challenge himself a little bit. He hasn’t bothered to make all of the cans the same brand, but there’s always somewhere on the design he’s decided to shoot for–and, if that logo happens to have a person on it, then why not go for their heads?

He’s on his third at the moment. Look down the sights, keep your hands steady, and….exhale. Squeeze the trigger. The BB gun itself isn’t that noisy–but the tin can clattering to the ground makes up for it well enough. As for whether he’s risen to his self-imposed challenge, he’ll check on that when he’s put little BB-sized holes in all the cans.

Footsteps approach, and his eyes glance off to the side behind his shades to see…well, he’ll be stuffed. His stance relaxes, and he sets the BB rifle down beside him as he turns to face his old co-worker, a pleasant smile finding its way onto his face.

“You too, then, Truckie? Bloody hell, mate, between you, me and the doc, if I didn’t know any better I’d say someone’s lookin’ to hire us.” He gives a mirthful chuckle before nodding and adjusting his hat. “Or don’t tell me this is where you’ve been mucking about all this time? Ah, but where are me manners? ‘Course you can hang about, if you don’t mind standin’. Sorry, mate; if I’d known company was comin’, I’d have brought some chairs and a coupla frosties. Actually–you didn’t bring that toolbox-chair-whatsit with ya, did you?”

     Friendliness begets friendliness - though he’d have shown the same amount of warmth regardless of the Sniper’s reaction. He’d always appreciated that professional air, finding it an admirable quality most of their coworkers could use, had he felt any less fondness for the mercenaries he’d come to know. Even Scout’s childishness had grown on him over the years.

“ ‘Fraid so, . Would’a appreciated a letter or fair warning if someone was lookin’ to hire... ” Perhaps that was a flaw of his, not that he’d think anything of it. Not when most time spent with fellow colleagues had felt almost normal. Bloodstained hands set aside, he’d have no trouble in confessing that he’d looked forward to shared moments such as these, even when said moment happened to occur in foreign territory. Unarmed. Spare a children’s toy which he finds himself tittering about, showcasing their shared “weaponry” from a firm pat from where it hung from his tool belt.

“ Can’t say much ‘bought where I’ve been. You know how it is - privacy an’ all... ” Not much more to say beyond that of a shrug and a dismissive wave from a gloved hand. “ Ah, don’t worry about it, 'less you got any beers yer willin’ to give up. Frosties ain’t my kinda thing. ” He quips, testing the wooden board before deciding it stable enough to hold his weight, elbow rested and cheek against palm. “ Funny y’mention it, but I just ran into the Doc the other day. Seems in high spirits, not that I’d expect anything different, but I can’t say that I’ve seen much’a anyone else... Ain’t no hide nor hair of my toolbox either. I reckon someone here didn’t want me pokin’ around too much. ”

[goshdangdarnit]

notyourpocket‌:

Study continued to take its toll on the old man’s free time, that lack of technological prowess keeping his quest for knowledge relegated to books and medical periodicals. The library’s become one of his best friends in that regard, something that’s had him taking weekly trips. A heavy messenger bag gives away his success in finding his latest research material, already eager to get home and dig into it-

At least, until an all-too-familiar drawl has him perking up and excitedly seeking out goggles. “Herr Engineer!? Grüß dich, mein Freund!!“ He’s upon the shorter man in an instant, booming volume and the strength of those friendly claps on the shoulder giving away how absolutely excited he is! “Nein, of course not! I would insist on it, in fact! It’s been too long since I’ve seen so many familiar faces!“

     He’d have expected nothing else to come from a man as eccentric as the Medic. A strong hold against shoulders allowed and returned with a contrasting gentleness of a pat to the back of his right hand.

“ Good t’see you too. ” Evident concerns quickly mar warm features, brows all too quick to furrow despite a stubborn smile. “ I reckon Miss Pauling never got to you, then? I would’a thought you’d be next on that list... ‘Course, what would I know. Been kept in the damn dark ever since I was called in. Unless... ” It was a stretch, but with the drastic change of scenery lying in wait past heavy doors behind, it simply couldn’t be ruled out fully. It would explain much, were it true. How could he be contacted if he’d ceased to exist in their era? Come to think of it... How did he get here? Both of them.

“ ...That ain’t what you’re talkin’ about, is it. ” 

[goshdangdarnit]

sterrenlied‌:

✧*:･ﾟ| SIEBREN takes to being in public more than he’s once been used to. Having been trapped, imprisoned, treated as little more than an object, he thrives, seemingly drowning in fresh air and cool breezes. Despite the EVER INCREASING bags underneath his eyes, the sleepless nights and coffee addiction, he’s alive and breathing. And he keeps telling himself that is enough. The cafe is busy, and he’s found himself drawn to people watching, perhaps even hoping for a shred of happiness to stick out in the crowd. When instead he finds a MEMORY of a man he’s all but begging he could forget.

THE stranger is certainly a most odd one, a sight that sticks out amongst the crowd. Not quite appearing as an IGNORANT soul to the city, but also not a familiar sight either. Except, he swears there’s a hint of familiarity, a sense of deja vu. A familiar symbol stands out against the fabric of his clothes, of which Siebren parses out a near silent growl in response. Luckily being many men and women between them, the other SURELY wouldn’t hear unless he bore superhuman hearing. Surely, that wouldn’t be the case!

HE looks away, though in the end still found out by the engineer. A jolt, eyes widening before he seems to shake off the other’s eyes upon his personage. Tall, looking, and utterly intimidating to many an average man, his spine straightens, shoulders pulled back. There’s a SIZING UP of the Texan beneath sharply angled brows. ❝… A screwdriver?❞ He remarks, lowering his eyes to the man’s phone. ❝Are you certain that it is WISE to take something apart like that? At least find one that has been trashed.❞ Ne'ertheless, he slips a screwdriver out from one of his pockets, twirling it idly betwixt fingers. ❝Knock yourself out.❞

QUICKLY, he ducks his head again, burying it once more behind his book. A picture of shyness, a touch demure, a part of him WOULDN’T CARE if the stranger leaves with his screwdriver, truth be told. He takes a sip of his coffee, seeing words, but not reading.

     Hostility is not uncommon, though never well received despite an always warm and welcoming front. When one struggles on a daily to survive in an endless war, recognizing subtle changes in one’s demeanor was a must. Widening eyes telling of shock that both confuses and worries given how they’d just met. Had he known any better, he’d have summarized a guess that his uniform had been recognized in some fashion; however, the unfamiliarity of both territory and current unknown era do little for that theory. While it could never truly be ruled out, he settles for the simpler - assuming the man entirely anti-social.

“ Thanks, partner, ” Seemed he’d been correct in seeking out this man for tools, though he could do without the snide remarks. “ But I think I’ll do me, if ya’d be so kind. ” 

     He considers it sheer luck that the man wastes no time in retreating back to the comforts of a novel. It lessens the tension, he finds, taking his seat across without any further thought put behind such actions, thoroughly preoccupied by the phone mere seconds away from being gutted. Excitement rouses crooked grins and gentle murmurs. It’s not long before the flat of the screwdriver slips into that same slot and gifting him the luxury of a pleasant pop as the outer shell gives way. It’s almost as though he’d entirely forgotten about his surroundings, all too eager to dig and prod - study every detail down to the smallest parts. “ Now what were you so intent on hidin’ from me, darl’. ”

     The LCD screen was the first thing removed, revealing foreign parts to which only increased interest. Each one removed had been meticulously examined and set aside with great care until the table was fully lined with every uprooted part. Goggles adjusted, large fingers collect a tiny memory chip, the first item chosen for further studying.

“ I don’t mean t’pester y’all again, especially while you’re in the middle’a readin’... ” Eyes hardly wish to stray from their current fixation. It’s only for the sake of being polite that he tears himself away, perking his head up to give the man his undivided attention. “ ...But you wouldn’t happen to have the date, would you? Current year, to be more precise. ”

[memetaped]

nonverbal starters prompts featuring nonverbal scenarios.

guide take them by the hand, arm, or shoulder to guide them.

shelter protect them.

shove push them.

loop drape an arm around their shoulders.

touch a gentle touch like rubbing their back, hugging them, holding their hand. 

kiss a kiss on the cheek, knuckles, forehead, in their hair.

palm smack them upside the head.

bed rest gently push them back down when they try getting out of bed.

aid help them with a task.

note pass a note to them.

cry wipe away their tears.

wash wipe something off their forehead, cheek, so on.

bandage patch them up when they get hurt.

heal take care of them when they get sick.

book silently read a story with them. 

carry pick them up. 

scrap punch them.

cherry find blood on them.

sit help them sit down.  

medical wake up in the hospital and find them holding their hand.

steer place a hand under their chin to make them look up. 

beat dance with them.

stare stare them down. 

off track get lost with them.

no shaking their head in disagreement. 

yes nodding their head in agreement.

rush tackle them to the ground.

open hold the door open for them.

[outofcontextdnd]

GM: “He takes 5 damage.”

Player: “… Because I used my Texan Mom voice?”

[goshdangdarnit]

@killerlakill​ || STARTERS 3/3

     Finding ways to keep his hands busy was a coin flip these days. Sharing a Townhouse with strangers meant swiping away the kitchen appliances just to take them apart for the third time that day could only happen so often. Bitterness turned to impatience. Impatience grew into frustration. Before he knows it, he’s leaving the confines of a stuffy room in exchange for more pleasant fresh air. The winter chill had done more than enough to clear his mind, hands deep in overall pockets, mindlessly fiddling with screws and bolts, uncaring to how far or how long he travels. Wherever he finds himself taking interest in exploring would be leagues better than sitting indoors fighting against an itch to tinker.

     There’s only so much scenery a city could provide, he assumes. Shops came and went, hardly catching his eye spare those of the local convenience stores stocked full of fresh beers. It’s a debate upon whether he presses on; a quick check to the anomalous digital device gifted upon arrival informs him that a little over an hour had passed since he’d stepped onto the streets. His steps come to a slow just before the sound of a tin can being shot just nearby catches his attention. Silence follows - left in wait for the sound to return, and when it has the Engineer wastes no time in investigating for the source.

     It only made sense that if the doctor was around, others would be as well. He recognizes the hat and vest before even glimpsing to the familiar patch adorned with a unique symbol for each mercenary. Lips twitch, pulling into a loose crooked smile, legs moving before he’s even a chance to consider whether or not the man would be interested in his company.

“ ...Reckon you won’t mind me joinin’ you? ”

[sanatorium-industries]

●｀ε´●)爻(●｀ε´● )

[sidestuiff]

Send [♥] to give my muse a box of chocolate!

[arisell]

an Engie

[goshdangdarnit]

@notyourpocket​ || REGULAR STARTERS 2/3

“ Well I’ll be damned. ” Hard to mistake a man like the Medic. Aside from a strong accent and a boisterous personality, his broad build combo’d with a proud stature easily set him apart from the crowd. Stands out like a damn sore thumb, that one, and it’s a relief, really. If anyone has answers, it would be him - and if not? There’s always the pleasant conversations they’d had.

    A crooked smile grows as he calls out to the man, uncaring of the questioning gazes casting judgments towards his raised voice. They can keep to being quiet like after he’d gotten hold of his attention. “ DOC’! Feels like a darn century since we last met up. ” Maybe it has, if the drastic changes lingering just outside of this library has any say.

“ Y’all not too busy to catch up some, are ya? ”

[spengsart]

I totally forgot i could upload this engie i did last year for the tf2 fanzine!

[goshdangdarnit]

#TBD

{ but he just engi-got here??? Oh well. I’m throwing this boy to the wolves anyways considering it’s all for the fun! If anyone’s interested in a happy lil southerner who just wants to build guns, then give this a like!

Uncapped for now and I’ll try my best to get to everyone if I can! }

[memeasaurus-promptus]

Some Questions Sentence Starters

“Where are you going?” 

“What are you doing?” 

“Where is __?”

“And where, do you think, are you are going?”

“Who do you think you are?!”

“Who are you?” 

“Who is that?”

“Who did this?”

“Where are my __?” 

“How on earth did you manage to hurt yourself?” 

“How did this happen?” 

“How could you?!”

“What the fuck?”

“There’s nothing between us, is there?”

“How can I fix this?” 

“Do you need a hug?” 

“Is sorry not enough?” 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“It’s over, isn’t it?” 

“How can someone of your size bleed this much?” 

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” 

“Is it supposed to hurt?” 

“How can you go off without me like this?”

“You’re not happy, are you?” 

“Why won’t you listen to me?” 

“How can we stop this?” 

“Can you just shut up?!” 

“Why are you bleeding?!”

“Do you think you can help me?” 

“Can you smile for me?” 

“Why are you so sad?” 

“Are you okay?!’

“What are you?” 

?+ Add your own!

[goshdangdarnit]

#TBD

{ but he just engi-got here??? Oh well. I’m throwing this boy to the wolves anyways considering it’s all for the fun! If anyone’s interested in a happy lil southerner who just wants to build guns, then give this a like!

Uncapped for now and I’ll try my best to get to everyone if I can! }

[texts-from-tf2]

[goshdangdarnit]

deadeeye‌:

@goshdangdarnit​ – sc.

     “they took her from me! she was my world, my everything, my darlin’ angel – and they stole her away!” mccree laments drunkenly, leaning so heavily on the bar in front of him it’s a wonder he doesn’t fall over. “it’s a cruel world, ain’t it?” 

     any assumption that he might be talking about an important woman in his life is squashed the moment one notices the holster in his hands – removed from his hip and missing the revolver it was crafted for. his earlier wailing had been directed at nobody in particular, but now he spins on his barstool to clutch the leather holster in the general direction of the man sitting next to him.

     “my sweet peacekeeper! gone! hand-tooled by yours truly – and she never hurt a soul who didn’t have it comin’! how could they just take her from me like that?”

    Local bars didn’t come without their entertaining few. Seems this place was no different. Man hardly seemed like he was drinking much before breaking into hysterics, though he’d always been one to brag about holding down his beer well. Still, the bartender is given a light shrug before requesting his third bottle, paying half mind to the fellows heartbroken wails.

     Until he hears the bar stool squeak. Feels pitiful eyes locked on his side and the mention of a women becomes less person more gun. That, he could relate to. Lamenting woes of a lost lover? Not so much. But the question burns bright; does he even want to humor the man?

     Something tells him he won’t have much a choice, or maybe it was damn empathy considering how his own gear had been stripped from him. Nevertheless, he sighs, signaling for the bartender to bring a second bottle before sliding it towards the stranger.

“ I hear ya. Best if you took a drink now, son, help settle your nerves... ”

[goshdangdarnit]

@sterrenlied​ || STARTERS 1/3

     Once his mind is set, there’s very little that can get in his way. Concerns for his environment are swiftly forgotten as eyes stare with fondness upon the small device in his hand; curiosity having been sparked after wandering indoors thirsting for a fresh cup of Joe, informed then of it’s usage as a means of payment rather than cash. It was a relief, really. The longer he’s here the more he finds missing in pockets - money being one of those, though it seemed whomever sent him here gave him a small sum for the road.

      Beverage in hand, gadget in the other, turned in his hold with every detail appreciated. Grazing a thumb over it’s screen causes it to brighten, the afternoon hours winding down slowly. “ Seems like I was wrong about you, darlin’... ” He chuckles low, searching high and low on the backside for some sort of screw. Nothing. Then surely on the front...?

     He stops in place, taking a slow sip of coffee, disregarding how loud his slurping might be. All eyes are locked on the phone until his thumbnail trails along the sides, finding a thin slit piecing the frames together. “ There ya are, y’little sucker. ” A pause. “ They really don’t want me diggin’ through ya, do they. ” Another sip. Pushing with just his nail alone won’t likely get him anywhere other than a one way ticket back indoors for an emergency kit. Not that loosing an entire nail would be anything, though still something he’d like to avoid if possible.

     It’s then that he gazes up, taking in the drastic atmosphere around him. Faces come and go but one stands out, a man dressed head to ankles in what looked to be armor. He scoffs, though finds no better person who might have something on hand to help with his problems. If anyone has the right kinda tools to help him chip away at this damned thing, it had to be this guy.

“ ‘Scuse me, pardner? Y’wouldn’t happen to be carryin’ a screwdriver under all that bulk, would’ja? ” The most he can manage is a friendly grin and gentle shrug - though now he’s starting to regret his decision. He’s been around tall men all his life, even some who were down right out of their minds, but this guy? Something just wasn’t right.

“ ...Figured I’d ask. If it ain’t too much trouble, that is. ”