#cantsquishthis

[allamericanmustache]

shepherd: they are the most elite warriors on the planet!!!!!!!!!!!

roach: [opens his mouth]

shepherd: no not that one

[hissingthroughmyteeth-blog]

@cantsquishthis

There are no words to describe the sheer disbelief on the shopkeeper’s face. The mercenary lay out pipe gun after pipe gun, almost comically stacking them upon the counter. Raiders were becoming cruder the further out she explored, gracing her with far too much steel and copper, enough that the Russian might have enough to run her for the next decade. 

Shoving the pile forward once done, she tried to wordlessly prompt the keeper out of his stupor. Her time is not her own anymore, not since she felt eyes upon her. Awaiting the man to pay her for her trade, she watched as he nervously counted out a small fortune in caps,drumming her long, worn fingers upon the  counter. Drawing the caps close once offered, she shoved them into a satchel around her waist, buttoning up her coat anew before turning towards the familiar gaze on the street.

“You’re not subtle.”.

[hissingthroughmyteeth-blog]

[Roach discovering Julia’s hair is very long when it is loose. Roach discovering Julia could/can do her hair in Leia buns. Julia having to put her hair in Leia buns to appease the bug.]

[enduredxdefiance]

[Everyone who first meets War is like, 'You're a kid' 'You shouldn't be here' 'Who are you?' and Roach is just like 'I bet you've never seen the Titanic before.' xD]

[hissingthroughmyteeth-blog]

cantsquishthis​ is getting more bro and cinnamon roll interaction.

He was still asleep.

The couch is not really comfy, not unless you had someone to sleep on like she and Mama did sometimes. She thinks Daddy doesn’t ever nap, which was really sad. Naps were the best.

All the other kids were outside, but they were lots bigger than her. She could have played with Julia and Charlie and Elsa, they were all closer to her age, but she didn’t want to. Julia was bossy, Charlie didn’t really play, and Elsa kept tattling on her brothers. She didn’t want any of that, except maybe to read with Charlie and talk about her new doggy. 

She smiles to herself when Roach doesn’t answer her poke to his face. The chubby little girl reached down and strained, trying to achieve her goals. After a few moments of struggling, she finally managed to lift the squirming object and place it ever so gently on Roach’s chest. She smiled, panting, and wiped her plump hands on her dress.

Kotenok loved making new friends.

What he loved even more was kissing them.

[whatthehellkindofnameissoap]

[i also really like the rp thing that the 141 main dudes were all the underdogs that are now very skilled top of the top saving the world. Price being a sickly little kid who caught a lot of shit for having Northern Irish blood. Soap as a non-white behemoth so spat upon that he received a racial slur as his first callsign. Ghost as a working-class Manchester kid from a truly terrible background who still catches shit for his Northern roots.  Roach as this easily targeted nerd that had intimate knowledge of the inside of a locker and social stigmatization from a young age.

Look where they are now...]

[hissingthroughmyteeth-blog]

Julia collects her mother’s artwork. She has a little box full of various sketches and small pieces that have gone up for auction over the years. Dominika made plenty of little things, always working when not attending to her daughter even if she wasn’t making some major painting, and Julia is finding them all piece by piece.

It’s not like Julia just happens to go to auctions, finds these things by happenstance. She has to be looking them up. Julia staying up late into the night, googling her mother’s name, finding all sorts of things. A Russian museum hosting her works, and she can take a 3D tour of the exhibit. A paper about late Soviet era artwork that namedrops Доминика Резнова.

Then sometimes, it’s a sale. A little thing. Sometimes it’s the larger pieces, ones that for all of Julia’s savings she cannot splurge on. But if it is small enough, small enough for her little box, then she will bid until she wins. This is the closest she can be to someone that she barely remembers. It’s the only thing she can cling to, the only mementos of when her life was fair that she can actually touch. She stays up late at night keeping the memories of her father at bay with the thought of her mother, sometimes.

She’s been doing this for years. God only knows how often she looks up her mother’s name, maybe for comfort, maybe as part of her obsessions, but she does it all the same. She’s done it long enough that she can count 15 separate pieces of artwork, portraits and doodles alike. Each one is more precious to her than gold.

Then one day, purely by accident, she is a mother herself. This dark eyed boy smiles at her sheepishly and offers burnt hands or an empty stomach and trusts her to know what to do. He’s a grown man, but she can see the boy inside of him. He thanks her in so many ways, but then he turns and gives her artwork.

Her son’s work gets its own box, just as her mother’s work does. They are equally as important to her.

[hissingthroughmyteeth-blog]

[guys.

the bug can sing. theshelbydraven]