her whisper is the lucifer

Victim | Tank | Road Warrior | Farm Hand

[legendaryquill]

*gently presses a hand against your face* [renholder-walker]

“…your hands are cold. Have you been sticking them in a freezer?”

[legendaryquill]

Peter gasps at the sudden feeling within him. His first reaction is to jerk his hands away, but he cant. His heart begins to pick up speed, beating twice as fast as it already does, and he can feel pain.

“S-st..” He cant get his words out, his chest feels tight and every nerve in his body feels like it’s on fire.

“Stop!” He shouts when he can finally get a good breath in. Almost instantly, the feeling seems to subside and he can breath again, and he doesn’t feel like he’s in the middle of some kind of disaster .”What the hell was that?”

[renholder-walker]

She makes a silent sort of laugh. She’d been playing to intimidate him, to mess with him. To frighten.

And didn’t know how much was too much, anymore. He’s flung her hands away from him, smart enough to know that if she’s not touching him, he’s safe.

“That’s what it feels like. To be canon-fodder.” Renholder’s grin is a little cracked, it always is. “You should know.”

[legendaryquill]

*gently presses a hand against your face* [renholder-walker]

“…your hands are cold. Have you been sticking them in a freezer?”

[legendaryquill]

“How?” Peter asks, staying put. She rests her hands on his skin again and he’s glad they’re not as cold as they were the first time.

[renholder-walker]

She takes his hands in her own. His hands are larger than hers, a rare occurrence. She holds them firmly but not painfully (for now).

And then she pushes the feelings of one of her first jobs as an Enforcer at him. The first time she walked into gunfire, the blaze of it lost under the neon arches of the synthetic sky. Empty chest compressing concussion when she fires her gun. The overwhelming impact of a solid slug to her thigh- scar’s still there. Blind screaming. She wasn’t the only one down now.

She pauses the regurgitation to look at Peter, watch his eyes and his breathing.

There’s more, there’s always more.

[legendaryquill]

*gently presses a hand against your face* [renholder-walker]

“…your hands are cold. Have you been sticking them in a freezer?”

[renholder-walker]

legendaryquill:

renholder-walker:

Crew. She’s crew. So fresh and green. It might be racist that they call her greenie, but the word is a time honored tradition in these parts.

“I’m just new crew. In with the last batch.” Her antenna move slightly asynchronously as she shakes her head.

She’d seen Peter around. Word had gone around to not fuck with him, but ex-Enforcers aren’t super good at following the rules. 

She grins and rolls the word off her tongue. “Cannon-fodder.”

“Ah, newbie,” Peter smirked. Time for him to assert his ‘authority’ like he did with all new crew. He didn’t really have authority, but he took advantage of the fact that although he was almost a man by human standards, Yondu still thought of him as “the kid” and orders were not to bother the kid (too much.) Which meant he could get away with a lot more than the average crew member.“

"Um..?Are you…insulting me?”

“MM, nah.” She shakes her head. “Not insulting you.”

“I’m canon fodder. You’re above that.” Now she smiles, perhaps with more teeth than absolutely necessary. “I can change that.”

She reaches out a hand again, as if to touch him.

[legendaryquill]

*gently presses a hand against your face* [renholder-walker]

“…your hands are cold. Have you been sticking them in a freezer?”

[legendaryquill]

“You must be the new guy…or,uh , girl around here, right?” Peter asks. “Never seen you here before. But then again there’s so many people and Captain over-works me just to laugh at my suffering, sometimes I can go a whole day or two without ever seeing anyone. Unless You’re just one of Yondu’s friends? Well, more like business partner. Yondu doesn’t have friends. He has people that make him rich.”

[renholder-walker]

Crew. She’s crew. So fresh and green. It might be racist that they call her greenie, but the word is a time honored tradition in these parts.

“I’m just new crew. In with the last batch.” Her antenna move slightly asynchronously as she shakes her head.

She’d seen Peter around. Word had gone around to not fuck with him, but ex-Enforcers aren’t super good at following the rules. 

She grins and rolls the word off her tongue. “Cannon-fodder.”

[legendaryquill]

*gently presses a hand against your face* [renholder-walker]

“…your hands are cold. Have you been sticking them in a freezer?”

[renholder-walker]

“No? I’m just like this.”

She puts her hand back on his face and the pushes a memory of warmth at him.

[legendaryquill]

“Now that’s better…but, why are you touching my face? Not that I mind, It’s just…not usually how you greet someone.”

[renholder-walker]

She leans back, taking the warmth with her, and shrugs one shoulder.

“I don’t care.”

[legendaryquill]

*gently presses a hand against your face* [renholder-walker]

“…your hands are cold. Have you been sticking them in a freezer?”

[renholder-walker]

“No? I’m just like this.”

She puts her hand back on his face and the pushes a memory of warmth at him.

[warboywhisper]

[elenamgilbert-archive-deactivat]

​reblog this if your muse is female, and you’re comfortable shipping her with other female characters.

[bulletfarming]

(relevant for Ingot at @ingotblackthumb who is bisexual, just like everyone on the Farm…except for Heckler who doesn’t count ;p)

[aniquotes]

“People don’t understand the word ruthless. They think it means ‘mean.’ It’s not about being mean. It’s about seeing the bright, clear line that leads from A to B. The line that goes from motive to means. Beginning to end. It’s about seeing that bright, clear line and not caring about anything but the beautiful fact that you can see the solution. Not caring about anything else but the perfection of it.”

- Marco, Book #30: The Reunion, pg. 71 (by K.A. Applegate)

[crowdazzle123]

🐣

For Ren he had to think long and hard. What to get an explosive expert?

When inspiration hit, Crow recruited his most skilled Work Boy to aid. Home made grenades.Smooth and oval. He painted them himself, rather smug of his idea. When it was time to gift them, He grabbed one and used it to demonstrate. Vividly colored smoke shot out into the air, swirling in the wind. Each had their own special color

[renholder-walker]

She throws one the same way Crow had, and it explodes into a giant poof of colored smoke as well. The colors mingle a float on the breeze, and she laughs and kisses him happily on the cheek.

“Thanks, Crow! I will treasure these. And use them to good effect!” She winks at him.

[charliethemute]

Out in the wasteland, Charlie rarely expected to run into anyone. Travellers were few and far in-between, and when they did show up they rolled through in trucks or on bikes and never seemed to stop. Despite driving cars for a living before all this shit hit the fan, his instincts and the nature of these new drivers persuaded him to run for cover each and every time he heard the familiar drone of an engine.

With all thing considered, it made him all the more dubious when he found somebody he knew before all this.

[renholder-walker]

This place had felt no different from the others when the gang had passed through, but only a couple kilometers out from the barely distinguishable encampment Renholder felt the compulsion to turn around and check it out. She signaled the leader that she’d be going back, and someone volunteered to go with her. She touched her spiked bat, and they nodded. She went back alone.

It couldn’t be Charlie, not for real. Could it?

Dust follows her into the town. Not a town, just another eerily familiar place eroded by war and sand. All these places are the same now; dead and crawling with the human kind of vermin. She’s cautious, despite her motorcycle not allowing her to move invisibly. She’s alert, and there’s no motion around her.

She stops in the middle of town, straddling her bike, and pulls of her helmet. Her hair is longer now, her face is scarred and older, but her brawny build and bike are the same.

She calls out to the encampment. “Come out, oh, come out wherever you are!”

[steampunkvehicles]

[norseminuteman]

Desert Tech MDR .308

[bolt-carrier-assembly]

With integrated OSS suppressor

[yousadclownofaman]

Oh mama

[renholder-walker]

The warehouse is vast. The warehouse is dark. The warehouse is full of vehicles. Tanks; Abrams, a couple Leopards, even a Sherman. Lighter vehicles; LRVs and rovers and jeeps. Civilian cars and trucks. Semi-tractors, a matched pair in identical but badly marred livery. Donor vehicles. Farm machinery.

Renholder’s been assigned duty inside tanks. She’s tall, and hated it. So, not a tank, nothing enclosed. She clambers about on some of the smaller vehicles, and on what was once a Supacat LRV 400. The previous owner had welded teeth in place of the grill, and caged the back in.

“Major! This one, sir.”

[gunfever]

Kalashnikov beamed at his newly-minted imperator. “Nice choice. Very nice.“

With an almost awkward demeanor thanks to his unbridled excitement, he hurried off to fetch the vehichle’s steering wheel. He seemed to skip a little as he ran, or perhaps his rickety old knee may have given out for a moment. But even if just for a moment, there seemed to be a little more (stilted, old man) bounce in his step.

Upon return, he proudly presented the wheel to Renholder.

“Wanna take ’er for a spin, Imperator?“

[renholder-walker]

“Yessir!”

“Thank you, sir.” She takes the wheel and steps up into the LRV to fit it to the stump of the steering column. “Any place in particular, or just a spin?”

Sometimes the Farmer has plans within plans, and sometimes he doesn’t. He grins his bullet toothed grin, and gestures in the direction of the gates.

She does a brief inspection of the gauges and such before they take off, and since it all seems to be in order, off they go!

[renholder-walker]

@gunfever

“Sir, I been hearin’ some rumors. Sayin’ that you’re gonna promote somebody. Saying that you’re gonna promote me. You got someone running their mouth.”

[gunfever]

“You heard right, Imperator.“ He said with a brassy grin. “But it looks like Mamochka can’t keep a secret.“

He strode alongside her, drifting towards a certain oft-locked warehouse. “But before anything’s formalized, there’s one last thing for you to do.“

He unlocked the door and threw it open. As the light filtered in, a formidable silhouette came into view. A massive relic from days past.

The major smiled again. “Choose your tank.“

[renholder-walker]

The warehouse is vast. The warehouse is dark. The warehouse is full of vehicles. Tanks; Abrams, a couple Leopards, even a Sherman. Lighter vehicles; LRVs and rovers and jeeps. Civilian cars and trucks. Semi-tractors, a matched pair in identical but badly marred livery. Donor vehicles. Farm machinery.

Renholder’s been assigned duty inside tanks. She’s tall, and hated it. So, not a tank, nothing enclosed. She clambers about on some of the smaller vehicles, and on what was once a Supacat LRV 400. The previous owner had welded teeth in place of the grill, and caged the back in.

“Major! This one, sir.”

[madmaxrpers]

reblog this if you role play a character in mad max ( the first movie )

gender bent and ocs accepted

reblog your movie here

[renholder-walker]

@gunfever

“Sir, I been hearin’ some rumors. Sayin’ that you’re gonna promote somebody. Saying that you’re gonna promote me. You got someone running their mouth.”