#ungunned

[atrophite]

bitch

we  found  you  in  the  trash  when  you  were  a  baby  

[atrophite]

@ungunned  /  :) ?

“  YOU  LOOK  LIKE  YOU’VE  SEEN  A  GHOST  . ”

[deadlockled]

[ braid ]

reactions to softness || accepting[ braid ] for your muse to braid mines hair. @ungunned

      SHE’S BUSYING HERSELF WITH SOMETHING – much too into cleaning her gun than she is in the world going on around her – casual in pace && dress as she’s set her hat to her side along with her vest. it’s a small moment of comfort but she doesn’t expect it to end in the sensation of hands in her hair.

      despite the feeling being a nice one – one she isn’t so accustomed to – she squints red eyes, head turning slightly ( as much as it can with his hands holding her hair ) as though he’s doing he strangest thing a person could ever do in their life.

       ❝ what’re ya doin’, jesse? ❞

      her words are sharp – suspicious – but she doesn’t end up fighting it as her head turns to reset gaze on her gun, fingers working again as she exhales a small, soft sigh. it isn’t a noise of annoyance – it could be mistaken – but for those that knew her they may see it for what it was: content.

      ❝ go on, then. ❞

      – as if it were her idea all along.

[herguile-m]

​❝ don’t you dare touch me. ❞

                 (  ♞  )                                 Actions are sharp in the quickness at which she  r e c o i l s  back at the snap of his drawl that  w h i p s  across her pallour, heart stilled and  p a l i n g  beneath her breast as fingers curl inward before tangling together in a forced reconcile of her posture, eyes  w i d e n i n g  at the sound of firm rejection before the tilt of her chin falls into the same rhythm as the  r o l l  of her shoulders so she may  s h a k e  away the surprise that  f l i c k e r e d  across her countenance ; she had only wished to help, differing arguments against the topic of their continued employment, of the survival of what family had been stitched together, now obviously  c u t t i n g  deeper than she had hoped. She bottles the hurt that pools beneath her skin keep herself from drowning beneath the  r i s i n g  waves that steal air from her lungs and leave her  g a s p i n g, hope  d w i n d l i n g  with every passing moment stewed in this repugnant aura which was a  p e r n i c i o u s  poison that feasted upon what she had hoped to take with her in her departure, she would have to cling to the happier moments after she stepped through the  t h r e s h  and found herself once more civilian instead of agent but her heart  s a n k  at the scene ; it was not so unlike the days when her very name brought judgement, a feeling that years among Blackwatch she had nearly forgotten.

                ❝   Then I guess this is farewell, Mister McCree ; may you fare well in all your future  e n d e a v o u r s——  ❞

( senses . // @ungunned​ )

[herguile-m]

boops her nose

                (  ♞  )                                 Touch sparks  f l u t t e r i n g  laughter from the ripe shade of a mused grin that grows  b o u n t i f u l  across her countenance, gaze a sea of trees vivid beneath the artificial light hanging over head as playful air is  w o v e n  upon her tongue and  s p i l l s  within the flow of her chortle as the only response that comes to mind is, ❝    B o o p—— !   ❞

( @ungunned )

[atrophite]

ungunned replied to your post “bitch”

THAT AINT TRUE!

ask  your  mother

[viperstruck-blog]

“ALMOST MAKES ME WANNA TAKE THINGS SERIOUSLY ALL THE TIME, BUT THEN I’M LIKE, ‘BOOBS, FARTS, BOOBS, WHATEVER.’”

( nine-nine / accepting / @ungunned )

she practically snorts with laughter, raising a hand to smack his shoulder playfully. ❝ you dog, ❞ she teases, cherry lips spread into a grin. he’s such a disaster, but that’s never stopped her from adoring him – after all, she is quite the same. ❝ that does sound like you. that’s more fun than takin’ things seriously all the time, anyway. ❞

[sclfcombat-blog]

“you’re my friend, of course i fucking care.”

“    you’re not a friend to me. ” it’s venomous, the way he says it; all bark, all bite. despite the blood dripping down the edges of the metal at his chest, despite the wound that threatens the loss of another arm, he spits fire. “ nor are you my keeper. how many did you just abandon to come check on me? focus on the fucking mission. ”

– @ungunned || hurt | accepting