seen from China
seen from Singapore
seen from Jordan
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from Spain
seen from United Kingdom
seen from India
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Czechia
seen from Czechia
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
@grauerfuchs (cont. from ask)
The instructor let out a sigh, experimentally applying pressure to Grey Fox’s knee. Had a feeling the kid might’ve been fucked when he heard that popping noise when he went down, but judging by the accelerated swelling and warmth to the touch, this might not be a “rest up a day or two then get back on it” kind of deal.
“Think you sprained a ligament. You remember how to field dress a sprain? Making a splint?” Because anything can be a teaching moment.
@grauerfuchs hey frank look up. we’re standing under... missile-toe.
@grauerfuchs
“Did the prototype work out alright for you? I need to know if we need to do more work on it before making an official part of everyone’s equipment.”
It wasn’t a live or die type of tool, but having binoculars that could do more than the regular pair could be beneficial for scouting long range. They had been working with tracking and motion sensors, and they had worked well enough in testing but it was always a different story out there.
@grauerfuchs
“I’d kill him for real food. If you have somethin’ better than the slop they give us at dinner--I’ll do whatever you want.”
❛ Tell you what, Snake. For OLD times’ sake... ❜
@grauerfuchs .
call him obsessive, if you want, but if anything ocelot is only THOROUGH. every link! every crumb on the trail! he keeps an eye on all of them, and on the occasion that the connection is fascinating enough, he’ll approach it. the san hieronymo incident had been a breeding ground of intersecting points, of flaws in a system and outliers in equations ──── himself included in the registration list. there’s much to take from it, and even more that still has to be gathered up. there’s beauty in chance, and beauty in the results that chance brings ; the philosophers don’t like him anymore, of course. there’s a blackglare and quivering lip look about the CIA now, but that comes with stealing the legacy back, doesn’t it? the new relations are worth it, though. he’s relaxing in his new position, lustful of new philosophy and chance, of the idea of the patriots and the fact that snake joins them. and between it all he still gets to stroll around, pretty, a charming and well-to-do young man. he still looks twenty, not twenty-six (though his youth would catch up to him all at once soon ; his hair already looked more white than blond ). and although there is red staining his already soaked gloves, he looks entirely approachable.
frank jaeger was, needless to say, a freakshow of a backstory. there’s sympathy in his chest, a quietvoiced mumble that nodded in humble respect of what little of a background he could scrap up, a fascination with the KINDNESS big boss had displayed. intel on cryptids is scarce! but ocelot does well. after all, zero always was a man of many connections and much knowledge, slyly mumbling implications until he managed to get adam demanding for the direct details.
null’s existence to a singular place. a location. a hospital. a name. condition awful ( trauma was an unholy thing! it bit, and it bit and bit and bit ) but open for conversation. it feels awkward, to be standing here now. the sharp features of his face are drawn into a thousand different thin lines, eyes harsh and mouth even harsher. the lighting of the room is shitty. a too-bright fluorescent. ocelot has to lift his hand up to his face to get used to it. his hands are folded neatly behind his back, his posture a thing naturally reminiscent, despite the forced americanism of his clothes, to russian military poise. and when adam speaks, it’s like he’s talking to a person, rather than an object he’s taken a special interest for the sake of a future project. that friendliness would probably go cold quick, however he already refuses to make eye contact. there’s something solemn and sacred in that disassociative gaze ( a quiet reminder that a past does not go away! it simmers, and sits, and simmers, in a hospital bed ) that he doesn’t need to know about, and doesn’t need to care about. and although ocelot approaches timidly, voice gentle and face softening, hands gesturing in claws that looked more dainty than coarse in their coldness, he is not a member of a pity party.
❛ the frankness of a hunter, ❜ he smiles to himself. that voice of his is somehow an ominous foretelling of a future wrong. there’s a natural deceit that lies in his throat, but ocelot is too smart to think that it exists. he’s the same cocky boy in the major’s uniform. a junglecat grin. an electric blue light in his eyes! his palm echoes above a chair he could probably sit down in, but wouldn’t. with his other hand, ocelot points. it’s almost an accusation. but instead it presents itself as an agreement to. ❛ that’s what i hear you’ve got ──── you don’t know me. we’ve never met. but we know the same people. ❜
Reads like a fun holiday book for children but the real wild ones know,,,,,they know. It fuckin works. He gets sued by parents at least twice.
@grauerfuchs
Every soldier in FOXHOUND liked Christmas a lot, but Snake, who had just joined that year, did not. He had regarded the holiday activities going on around the base with a sort of skeptical exhaustion, until the commander ( who evidently cared quite a bit about Christmas ) told him to cut it out. From that point forwards, to please Big Boss, Snake had put himself to work, setting up decorations and retreating to the kitchen to cook with Master Miller when it became too much for him. To be sure, he was still miserable, but he was at least trying not to look it. “Fox, can you spot me while I put up these lights?” It had taken him a while to get comfortable addressing his senior, but he was starting to relax, just a bit.
