( picture prompt meme )

[socketeer]

the picture prompt meme I — Comment with your character. II — Others will leave a picture (or two, or three...) III — Reply to them with a setting based on the picture. IV — Link to any pictures that are NSFW, please. V — Be aware that this meme will be image-heavy. Link to an image: <a href=IMAGEURL>TEXT</a> Embed image in your reply: <img src=IMAGEURL> Image width and height: <img src=IMAGEURL width=500> OR <img src=IMAGEURL height=INSERT>

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[orcsurfing]

[ The ribbing was perfectly well received, with a quirk of the mouth and a playfully indignant huff of air, though Legolas did not look over this time. Not just yet. He kept his eyes focused on the targets before him. As much as this was just a game, and he wouldn't mind to lose, he still wanted to give it his very best. Venom deserved nothing less, after all.

If said very best was also picking the most difficult of targets, as a jab right back at Venom, well... so be it!

One magazine, another, then the third. At their feet, a rain of emptied shells. It was those two seconds longer than it could have been, had he gone for the most obvious targets, but he was done while Venom was still shooting his last targets to build up to the count of 150 points. Slower than Legolas himself, true enough, but no less impressive. Few could compete with an elf, after all, even fewer would not fail to an embarrassing degree. Venom was among those of the latter group, and once all shooting ceased, Legolas was smiling with warmth, looking between their targets, so many of them shredded, and Venom himself. ]

You are a worthy opponent, regardless of your loss today. [ No mocking, he did mean it. ] You could impress many an elf, perhaps even beat some in such a competition.

EMERGES FROM THE NO INTERNET ABYSS

[alterplex]

[ Venom knows how to take his losses with grace: little does he know that that's the entire principle of his existence. He steps back and regards his work with a critical eye, taking note of where he could improve while acknowledging that he didn't do half as badly as he could have.

It's only once he comes to his own conclusions that he moves to accept Legolas's compliment, taking it with a grain of salt (there are things about elves— namely, their abilities— that he fancies he'll never quite grasp) while conceding with a palm to his companion's shoulder. ]

I'll stick to spotting for you instead.

[ As if Legolas needs a spotter, either (he doesn't). Competition is fine, but they're also a waste of bullets, and one knows all too well how the aviators-clad XO of Mother Base feels about leeching GMP.

He breathes a short laugh, and gestures for the members of R&D to start cleaning up. ]

Looks like you don't need too much practice with your new gun. I'll have Ocelot pencil you into the next mission.

webee!

[orcsurfing]

[ Needless to say, Legolas was glad for the admission, for the confirmation that the next mission would be his. Or rather, theirs. It tickled him pink every time his abilities were appreciated, no matter how unshakeable was his confidence. And this was the boastful sort of enjoyment, but the humble kind, a duck of a head, a smile. All the thanks that he knew was necessary.

The weight of Venom's hand on his shoulder, a welcome one. ]

Or trusting me to watch over you...

[ It wasn't even a question, but a statement with a hopeful edge to it. His gaze lingered, lips parted with half a smile, before he turned to make space for the R&D to start on their task. The rifle was his, now, he knew well enough. He knew he could take it, and that he had to care for it. So tonight he would spend learning it, to take it apart and to put it back together, to clean it and prepare it for the upcoming mission. ]

So you may do your work in peace and safety.

[ That was rather the point, wasn't it, of taking him or DD along. To make sure the missions were a lot easier, for everyone involved. ]

[alterplex]

[ He looks over his shoulder from where he'd already strayed close to the outskirts of R&D, lit from the front by the sun that's starting to set beyond the expanse of Seychelles sea. The light bathes him in orange-red, not quite ominous but reminiscent of the state he always comes back to Mother Base in: bloodied, dust-torn.

Regardless, his softened expression lingers. ]

Neither of those are on the battlefield.

[ He'd had 'peace' and 'quiet' by him on occasion, but the latter is gone and the former is drowned in 15 cups of coffee by now, lost in ledgers (Venom worries about him, about that backwards peace).

But the sentiment is understood, and he turns fully now, his expression obscured by the strong backlight. A false Messiah. ]

But I trust you to watch my back. [ Unwavering; he has faith in spades. ] Always have.

[orcsurfing]

Here, lmk if it works!