#warrpig

[bulletfarming]

Kalashnikov enters Joe’s throne room unanounced, wearing only is bullet headdress and strategically wrapped linens, hands behind his back. "Well, Daddy, you wanted to know just why I had to go to Barter Town a few months ago and wouldn't explain why? Well...turns out a few places still have cows. And bottles of condiments and Special Sauce. Swap a few favors with one of your milk mothers to get some bread, save a few onions and cucumbers from my rations, add them to some Barter Town brine, and..." He holds out three McDonald's bags and shakes them. 

“Twenty homemade big macs. The third bag is fries. Cooked in Gas Town, don’t worry. I know how you feel about anything I cook on the Farm.”

It had meant some dirt-eating for His Royal Nipples, but well...that’s what you do sometimes when you want to get someone a thoughtful gift. Put yourself out a little.

“There’s shakes for later. They’re just staying cool down in the waterworks for now.”

Kalashnikov takes a step into the room.

“Guess who’s gonna feed ‘em to ya?”

[bulletfarming]

Can I call you Daddo?

[bulletfarming]

Be still

Two hours in the hot sun ain’t what it used to be. Even five years ago, Kalashnikov was able to make the drive pretty easily. Now, despite his best efforts at staying limber, his legs feel kinked up, and he just feels...well, tired all over. Some piriformis stretches go a logn way with the un-kinking, but hell if he’s gonna be able to drive the Peacemaker all the way back to the Farm while watching for Buzzards and shit when his eyelids are fluttering.

He’s  just going to catch a quick nap up here in the war room. He doesn’t tend to sleep long at a clip, so it won’t be a problem. Everything can be kept on schedule...he’s not really due back until tomorrow morning, anyway, all things considered...just wanted to beat the sunset back. Hm.

He’s having one of those deep, thick dreams where you know you’re dreaming, but it feels just too good to fully wake up. Where you just want to go down deeper and deeper into the layers. Where images crash past in some kind of sense that you know you’ll lose the plot of if you do open your eyes.

And a nice, steady stroke up his inner thigh, which still feels a bit cranky from the drive out, really. Thick, broad fingers. Sure and warm. An equally sure palm.

If he wakes up, it won’t be Moore touching him. He’ll be alone in the war room, or his bed, or wherever, either with his hand mashed up under him or his dick at full salute like he was twenty again and waking up in stained sheets for no god damn reason but a stiff breeze.

He knows all this without thinking it, in that total-knowing way of half-dreams, so he just lies there, lets that palm caress him.

“Yeah,” he thinks he tells Moore. “That’s good. More of it.”

[bulletfarming]

Ⓐ(IF U DIDNT GET A JOE YET OTHERWISE DISREGARD)

repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words

Personality:

grating || irritating || frustrating || boring || confusing at best || awkward || unreasonable || psychotic || disturbing || interesting || engaging || affectionate || aggressive || ambitious || anxious || artistic || bad tempered || bossy || charismatic || appealing || unappealing || creative || courageous || dependable || unreliable || unpredictable || predictable || devious || dim || extroverted || introverted ||  egotistical || gregarious || fabulous || impulsive || intelligent || sympathetic || talkative || up beat || peaceful || calming || badass || flexible

How likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way || not likely || not sure || indifferent || I’m asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex

Level of Friendship:

never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends ||good friends || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies || practically the same person || would die for them || true friends || my only friend ||

First impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

Current impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

How good of a kisser:

worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan || excellent || exciting || oh god they’re good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we haven’t kissed

[lookingforuluru-blog]

Witch:If could have the power to cast any kind of spell, what kind of spell would you cast?

WITCH: Hazard would happily take the ability to cast protective spells, something that could provide safety to her and her loved ones. From starvation, warring groups, dust storms, and dehydration, just little blessings of good luck to keep them safe.

[bulletfarming]

Immortan Joe’s a lying arse who ignores people that put their work on hold to have a nice dinner with him just so he can yell at his War Boys. Or beat up on the Wretched. Or whatever the hell it is he does over at the Citadel. I’m morsing this out for everyone to see because it’s time you all knew.

[thexcapabilityxofxkindness-blog]

sigh

Your character has had a rough day and lays their head on my character’s shoulder/lap. Send me a 'sigh' and I'll reply with my character's reaction.

@warrpig

Today she had been chosen, pulled into the Immortan’s rooms against her will. Her mouth was kept pressed in a thin line, irritation written ll over her slight form, though she did try to hide it. The softer she tried to be towards him, the less harsh attention he would pay her. 

He’d bid her to sit and she had obeyed, the alternative not something she was keen on, currently. Once she’d settled herself, she’d found Joe’s head rested in her lap, as if some how he belonged, as if he was someone she ought to cherish. Revulsion flushed into her face, but it merely colored her cheeks an embarrassed red. She kept her hands to herself, her voice still silenced as her captor, her tormentor, laid in her lap. 

[bulletfarming]

Welp, Moore. My calendar says it’s apparently October, not that we can tell anymore. But I guess that means it’s time to talk about our costumes. I’m not going as Cinderella this year, so that’s right out. In fact, so’s everything with lace, silk, bows, and dresses. Nothing wrong with ‘em, but no one in the world wants to see me in one, including you and me.