#sankcfa

[bushmannsrules]

🍯 - Food && 💩 - Ridiculous, for the Headcanon meme!

talk about your muses!

🍯 for a food headcanon; He’s never had much of a sweet tooth in adulthood, but he’ll indulge in a Caramello Koala on the odd occasion when he’s feeling nostalgic. Apart from that, the only sweet thing he’ll have is chocolate, and he likes the stuff that’s like 80% cocoa.  -- 💩 for a ridiculous headcanon; Sniper has an almost Disney Princess-esque way with animals. If there’s, say, a bat trapped in the rafters of the base, or maybe some rats got in, or even something more dangerous like snakes, he has the ability to keep them calm and safely escort them out. Literally, any little critter or even insects sometimes, the rest of the team asks Sniper to handle it. He’s read up on a LOT of animal information coz it’s his special interest.

[tcxastough]

@sankcfa for RED spy

        “Th’ engine’s fine, but th’ car itself is too low t’ th’ ground,” she told the spy as she wiped the soot off her face. “These fancy sports cars weren’t built with this rocky desert environment in mind. Even if y’ only drive it strictly on th’ road, there’s still lots a debris and sand on th’ pavement, and it’s bound t’ git kicked up and knocked under yer car eventually. You were lucky this time, but next time that lil’ dent could be a hole.”

[isetheby]

@sankcfa  ||  starter for BLU Spy

The dull rattle of washing machines thumped on in the background, steadily mundane. It’s rather domestic, this, almost comfortingly so. He remembers his years on the road, how much more convenient it was when laundromats became common in America. Spending time waiting for clothes to be washed was more relaxing than waiting for the right person to come along to shoot.

He’s staring off into nothing when the Spy arrives. Offering only a brief moment of eye contact as his standard abysmal greeting, his eye catches on the Frenchman’s load of clothes. He can still see the tags dangling off the collars of suits, and they give him pause.

Even his eyesight isn’t sharp enough to read prices from this distance, but surely expensive stores didn’t use the same flimsy tags (complete with neon sale stickers) as department stores.

[flockfell]

It looks like Slate has a new friend-- an orange bird flutters close before landing on their horns, tweeting happily from their new perch. [Congrats Slate, Pepe already loves you]

    The sheep seemed more than happy to allow the visitor upon their CROWN OF BRANCHES // even moving a hand up (FROM WHICH A COLLECTION OF SEEDS WOULD GROW IN PALM).     “&– - Beautiful song, little one.”  

[flockfell]

Your Caprinae Spirit Assignment // @sankcfa​

“&– - The golden guernsey. A goat of a great rarity and beauty, an affectionate creature but with the means to defend itself and those around them.” 

[bushmannsrules]

brush [from RED!]

Send “brush” to accidentally touch one of my muse’s scars.

“Careful.” Mick muttered, closing an eye out of reflex as Spy’s gloved fingers gently moved over his cheekbone. There was a scar there, an old wound from a lost fight with an enemy BLU.  

“You got the worst’a it?” He then asked, in reference to the smudge of dirt that the Spook had been brushing off in the first place.

[killerjawline]

CONT’D FROM HERE W/ @sankcfa​

The gigantic grin on Handsome Jack’s face could barely contain the laugh that came barreling out after he saw the look Tim was giving him. ❝ Wh-what did you think I was gonna throw at you, huh? HAhAhahaha-- a friggin’ GUN? Talk about PARANOID! ❞  His posture spoke for his state: CRITICAL boredom. Feet kicked up on the desk, lounged back in his cushy kitten-soft executive chair, fiddling with everything within reach until there was nothing left to mess with... The only next logical solution was harassing his employees. Slow days within Hyperion weren’t common-place for the big man himself, but it wasn’t as if they were entirely out of the question either. Sometimes he honestly theorized upper management would come up with shit to keep him busy so he didn’t start terrorizing workers. But that was just that: a theory. Besides, everyone on Helios loved him! They couldn’t get enough of him! His doppelganger was just another prime example of this, wasn’t he? After calming down from his laughing fit, Jack sat there reclined for another few seconds before arching a brow and sitting up. ❝ Heh, uh, you wanna go get that for me, pumpkin? ❞ His stern tone made it clear that he wasn’t asking a question so much as he was issuing a command.

[isetheby]

@sankcfa:

         ❝ well, merde, that makes me a rather incompetent spy, non ? ❞

    there was a crackle of static as the spy’s cloak dropped from a push of a button. the man in question was revealed from head to toe, his form being donned by his usual blu uniform && mask. there was a smirk playing on his lips once his body finally shimmered back to existence, gloved hands already drawing out his cigarette box && its accompanying lighter from their respective homes within one of the ludicrously many pockets that had been stitched into the man’s blazer. he didn’t look remotely surprised that the other sniper had spotted him before he had even managed to step well within his nest– they were professionals, after all.

         ❝ was it my footsteps ? did you see my cloak at the bottom of the stairs ? or did you smell my cologne and got confused as to why you were smelling something other than piss for once, hm ?❞

    he was well aware why the sniper had spotted him, he had made a show of making sure that his shadow was visible just before he had turned the corner, giving the sniper a perfect opportunity to spot him long before he was even near him. better to be safe than sorry && far better to be spotted than be a victim of friendly fire.

This had been one of the more paranoid weeks. It felt like someone would visit every hour no matter where he moved, and every time they would have to go through the process of “are you actually my teammate trying to talk tactics or another goddamn Spy.” Intersperse those with the more frequent straightforward silent backstab attempts, and the whole arrangement had Cecil on a hair-trigger.

It was a testament to the ever-present burning stubborn patience that kept him from just extrapolating the Spy’s position and shooting him. The RED wasn’t usually so obvious. It could still be a trick of course, but if a teammate had actually made an attempt at warning him of their approach shooting them isn’t positive reinforcement. 

Or the Spy could just be stupid. He didn’t know him well enough to know yet.

“Shadow,” he mutters, tracking the other with an intensity that projected distrust. He nearly ignores the jab at the jarate. Nearly.

“You get used to it.” Maintaining unblinking eye contact, he reaches over and picks up a jar, demeanor almost casual. The threat of a non-lethal Spy check a tease, sparking the barest hint of amusement behind dark aviators.