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#mockinghunter
lokigodofaces · 3 years
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Michelle, Marvel, & Pride 6
Link to questions.
What are your favorite ships with at least one queer or headcanoned queer character? Not necessarily a “homosexual” relationship because bi/pan/omni/ply/ace/aro/abro/trans people can be in a straight passing relationship but they are still queer, and I want to be inclusive of those ships.
Hmm...I don't do too much shipping, so let's see what I've got here.
Since we're counting "straight" ships, I have to put Wanda/Vision here since I headcanon Wanda as abrosexual. Also, didn't think about this until now, but I can totally see Vision as non-binary. I'm thinking more on the masc side, so like demiboy or something, but I can see it. I don't have enough knowledge on this to label it though.
Similarly, if Fitz is heteromantic bisexual and Jemma is biromantic heterosexual, FitzSimmons fits this.
Infinoki is mega queer! If Loki is greypanromantic asexual and genderfluid, and I headcanon all the stones as non-binary, this is mega queer.
Um, I ship Peter/MJ, and I think they're bisexual and omnisexual respectively.
Mockinghunter! I see Hunter as bisexual!
And, wow, that's all of my ships. All but one is canon. Apparently it's a common thing amongst arospec people to not ship that much, or to ship mainly canon ships.
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marvelousbirthdays · 5 years
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Happy Birthday, backwardsandinhighheels!
MockingHunter for @backwardsandinhighheels, written by @ozhawkauthor
He was trapped. Again.
“Why is it always the bloody boot?” Hunter groused to himself, feeling desperately around for the safety catch. Those bastards had fucking removed it, he finally realised. He had no way out until they pulled him out, no way to get to Bob, to help her. Agonised, he shut his eyes, squeezing them for a minute.
It had seemed like such a simple job. Hunter had liked Pete Wisdom the moment the fella introduced himself; he’d seemed straight-up and the intel he’d given them had certainly been good. Wisdom had been a little vague on exactly why his own MI-13 people couldn’t infiltrate the neo-Nazi cell themselves, but he was offering bloody good money and both Hunter and Bobbi fit the bill physically. Bobbi, with her height and her blonde, blue-eyed beauty, was the absolute ideal that the extremists were looking for.
He hadn’t realised until too late that their leader really wasn’t impressed that Bobbi already had a husband. By then they were well and truly embedded in the cell, and the smooth bastard was doing his level best to get into Bobbi’s knickers.
Hunter knocked his head on the floor of the boot. It was his own fucking jealousy that had got him in this situation, he freely acknowledged. Bobbi had no intention of sleeping with the Shithead (as Hunter was now calling him) but she did plan to flirt, to use the attraction to get close, to find out more about the cell’s plans.
Hunter hadn’t been able to take it. Seeing Bobbi on the Shithead’s arm, his fat pink hand stroking her slender thigh, had snapped something inside him. He’d jumped the gun and decided to search the command bunker.
Well, he’d found the plans, all right, but he’d been caught, and Bobbi was ‘convicted’ right along with him of being a spy. And now they were both being taken to locations unknown, for purposes undoubtedly nefarious. He only hoped that Bobbi was being taken to the same place. Together they might just possibly have a chance of kicking enough neo-Nazi arse that one of them might get away to warn Wisdom of the very real and serious threat to the country.
Lance Hunter had already tried to give his life more than half a dozen times to protect Bobbi. He’d somehow never managed it. This time, though, this was something bigger. This time he had to succeed, because it wasn’t just Bobbi he was protecting. It was the land of his birth, the home of his people.
Mother England.
“This is an unexpected surprise,” a voice said, and Hunter’s eyes snapped open; how had he not felt the car stop?
How was he no longer in the car???
He was still lying down, curled in the foetal position with wrists and ankles secured together with zip ties, but he now appeared to be in some sort of cave. He couldn’t see any visible light source, but the walls were glowing faintly golden - and there was an old geezer sitting at a table a few feet away, just now turning to look at him.
“I’m feeling kind of surprised too,” Hunter said, “don’t suppose you can cut me loose?”
“Certainly,” the old geezer said, getting up, and bringing with him, not a pair of scissors or a penknife, no, an absolutely bloody massive sword.
“Fuck me, what?” Hunter tried to scramble backwards.
“The only sharp tool I have on hand, I’m afraid,” Old Geezer said apologetically, and with surprising delicacy flicked just the very tip of the sword at the cable ties.
The archaic weapon had to be bloody sharp, Hunter acknowledged, as the plastic parted like butter. Old Geezer stepped back, set the sword down on the table again and sat down, as though suddenly exhausted.
A little unsure of just what the hell was going on, Hunter sat up slowly, got to his feet. “Excuse me if I seem rude,” he said, “but where the bloody hell am I, and who the fuck are you?”
Old Geezer actually smiled, as though amused, gestured to a chair opposite him. “Please, sit down.”
Hunter didn’t see that he had much choice. The cave had no visible exit. Slowly, he sat down, looking at the table. The sword was the only thing on it, apart from a flat wooden box a little bigger than his hand.
“My name is Merlyn, and you are in the Heart of Avalon,” Old Geezer said conversationally. “And your name?”
“Lance Hunter,” he said, almost by instinct, and then “Wait. Merlyn? Avalon?”
“Yes, that Merlyn and that Avalon, Lancelot. It has been many centuries since you walked this earth.”
“Lance, not Lancelot,” Hunter said hurriedly.
Merlyn gave him a secretive little smile.
“Okay, I’m hallucinating, right? Overcome by engine fumes.”
“I’m afraid not.”
Merlyn’s eyes were like polished black pebbles, peering out from beneath bushy grey eyebrows. Hunter couldn’t look into them for long.
“So, what?” he said finally.
“You have a mission you must complete. For Britain. Your need was great enough to bring you here, where few have ever come before. I see in you strength enough, and so I am empowered to offer you a choice. You may take up the Sword of Might, or the Amulet of Right.” Reaching out, Merlyn opened the wooden box, revealing a golden pendant with a deep red stone set in it, hanging from a heavy cord.
“And the catch is…?” Hunter asked suspiciously.
Merlyn smiled. “The Sword is the path of violence, the Amulet the path of reason.”
Hunter looked from the sword, gleaming silver and he already knew brutally sharp, to the softly glowing red stone in the amulet.
“Not so long ago, I’d have grabbed the sword and legged it,” he said slowly, “but one thing Coulson taught me is that you really have to use your head. So… I’m gonna ask why I can’t take both.”
Merlyn looked completely and utterly startled. “Nobody has ever asked that before!”
“Maybe I’m just a greedy ambitious arsehole, then, but I don’t think I like being tied down to one option like that. Violence has its place, but so does reason. Violence without reason is what the cocksuckers I’m trying to stop resort to; reason without violence is something they don’t respect. So again, is there some reason why you need to hoard one of them like a dragon sitting on its gold? I won’t keep them both, if that’s what you’re worried about. Bob always was better at being the voice of reason than me. She can have the amulet.” The sword called to him; he could almost hear it in the back of his mind.
“I am afraid that won’t be possible,” Merlyn said. “Give me your hand, please, Lancelot.”
“Please stop callin’ me that, you’re makin’ me really bloody nervous.” Hunter held his hand out, and Merlyn took it between his aged, withered ones, peering at his palm. “Did Lancelot get this choice?” he suddenly thought to ask.
“No. The sword was already held by another. Britannia needed two champions at the time, so I elected to give you - Lancelot - the Amulet anyway, hoping to balance violence with reason.”
“Why do I have the feeling that didn’t turn out so well for you?”
“Do you need to ask? They were never meant to be held at the same time by two different people.” Merlyn let go of his hand, stared at him again. Hunter had the uneasy feeling that the ancient being was staring directly into his soul.
“Love was their downfall,” Merlyn said, “that they both loved the same woman, yet not enough to be able to share her. You hold in you a greater love yet; the willingness to do whatever you must to see the woman you love happy, even if it means letting her go.”
“Already did that once,” Hunter said steadily, feeling somehow more able to hold Merlyn’s gaze now.
“Perhaps my downfall was not enough faith,” Merlyn murmured, as though to himself. “Very well. Britannia needs her champions, now more than ever, yet I will not risk dividing her against herself again.” He sighed, took the amulet from the box. “Nobody will ever be able to take this from you,” he told Hunter, “not even I. Should you die, it will return here to the Heart of Avalon, as will Excalibur.”
“Wait,” Hunter’s brain finally caught up. “Wait, that’s Excalibur? I thought it had to be given by the Lady of the Lake, or pulled out of a stone!”
“Roma is not here right now, and merely lifting it from the table will be proof enough of your worth,” Merlyn said with an amused smile.
“Does this mean I have to be King of England? Being filthy rich’d be nice and all, but I don’t think I’d be good at all the pomp and circumstance shit. I swear too much.”
Merlyn chuckled, standing up and moving around the table. “No, a king-champion is not what Britannia needs in this day and age.”
“I don’t think I’m really what she needs either,” Hunter said, “but since I’m still ninety-nine percent sure that this is a petrol-fume hallucination, go for it, me old son.”
The amulet felt very cold as it settled around his neck. He didn’t feel any wiser, but then, he supposed, it was a dream, so he wouldn’t, would he?
“Take up the sword,” Merlyn said quietly, and Hunter reached out.
The worn leather-wrapped hilt felt utterly natural in his hand, and though he’d expected the blade to be heavy - Merlyn had apparently struggled to lift it - it actually felt incredibly light, like a broom handle. Standing, Hunter swished the blade experimentally a few times.
Behind him, Merlyn started chanting something, in a language was sure he’d never heard spoken before but somehow found distantly familiar, like an ache at the back of his brain. Whirling, Hunter gaped to see the magician no longer ancient, but standing tall, his hair and beard still white but his face appearing no older than middle-aged.
“Wait a fucking min…”
************
He startled awake with a yell, jerked up and smacked his head on the roof of the boot.
“Fucking ouch!”
He put a hand to the lump on his head, cursing under his breath again. “Should’ve known it was just a fuckin’ dream, no way Merlyn would give me Excalibur…”
His hands were free. How the hell had he managed that? They’d been bound tightly with cable ties, more hooked around his ankles and linked to the ones on his wrists to disable him completely. The tight plastic was gone, though.
With a sudden feeling of unreality, Hunter felt at his neck. Inside his shirt was a cool lump of metal that definitely wasn’t there normally.
“So I’m still dreaming…” and now I’m dreaming myself locked in the boot of a fuckin’ car. Why can’t I get good dreams, like me and Bob on a beach in Ibiza, her wearing that little tiny teal-blue bikini… Twisting over, his hand brushed something cold.
Hunter froze before very carefully feeling along whatever he’d touched. If he was dreaming that sword in here, it was really, really sharp…
… it was the sword. His hand closed around the warm, leather-wrapped hilt.
Hunter swallowed.
“On the off-chance that this is actually not a dream,” he said aloud, “thanks, Merlyn.”
He thought he heard the ghost of a chuckle somewhere in the back of his brain, just before he wrapped his fingers more tightly around the hilt and stabbed the sword hard through the back of the seat in front of him.
************
 There were some thumps and thuds when the car stopped. Bobbi wasn’t quite sure what she expected to see when the trunk lid popped open, but she really hadn’t expected to see her husband, smiling cheerfully down at her.
“Hey, darlin’. You all right?”
Cramped and stiff, she blinked in the bright sunlight beaming down on her, unable to believe her eyes for a moment. “How…” There wasn’t even a mark on him. Lance had rescued her before, but she couldn’t think of a time when he’d done it without picking up at least a few contusions.
“Do you think you’re dreaming?” he asked, puzzling her immensely.
“It’s possible,” Bobbi allowed, “since I wasn’t really expecting you to escape. Farley took great pleasure in telling me all the horrible things he was planning to do with you.” The bastard had laughed at her screams of rage and fury before ordering her bound and chucked into the trunk of the car. Her last sight of Lance had been him being beaten to the ground by half a dozen of Farley’s men. Since she couldn’t see any sign of the bruises he had to have picked up in that beating, maybe she was dreaming.
“If it is a dream, I’m glad you’re here.”
He grinned, that old, rakish smirk that made her heart turn over in her chest. “Don’t freak out, but I’ve only got one knife to cut you loose with.”
She nearly screamed as he held up the sword. It had to be over four feet long. “Jesus Christ, Hunter, where did you get that?”
“That in and of itself is quite a story.” Cutting the cable ties that bound her carefully, Hunter reached in to help her up. She took his hand, climbed out of the boot, and looked up at him.
“Okay, so this is definitely a dream,” they both said simultaneously. Hunter looked at his feet to check that he wasn’t standing on a ledge or something, but no, his boots were on a level with Bobbi’s.
They were also dark blue, which they hadn’t been that morning.
“That’s an… interesting outfit,” Bobbi said slowly. “This is quite some dream.”
“I’ve never been taller than you even in my dreams,” Hunter said, puzzled. The boots didn’t look or feel like platforms, and he was looking down at Bobbi from about a six-inch height difference. Which should mean he was on stilts. He stamped experimentally.
“You look - bigger. Not just taller.” She touched his arm, measured the breadth of his shoulders with her hands. “You didn’t get given any super-soldier serum or anything, did you?”
“Maybe that fish oil pill finally activated or something,” Hunter shrugged off the shock, though he couldn’t quite explain the outfit. It looked like a British version of Cap’s dark blue battle suit, with deep red and thin white crosses overlaid on his chest. “Or maybe Merlyn threw the suit in along with the rest.”
“Who?”
“You know what, let’s talk about this later. I’m having a really weird day, but the fact remains that I think this is a public road and we’re surrounded by dead neo-Nazis.”
He wasn’t wrong, Bobbi realised, looking around. She was in the rear of two cars pulled up at the roadside, and there were quite literally bodies spilling out of the front doors, blood pooling in sticky piles on the road from the multiple stab wounds each of them were pierced with. One of them didn’t have a head. She looked back at the sword in Lance’s hand.
“It doesn’t seem to need cleaning,” he said, correctly reading her glance. “The blood sheets right off.”
She said nothing, just took a few steps forward and peered into the back of the other car. Most of the back seat had been literally cut to pieces, bits of plastic and upholstery mingling with the blood and body parts.
“I’ve seen some crazy shit in my time,” Bobbi said slowly, “even aliens, but this is right up there, Hunter.”
“I know.” For a long moment they looked at each other, and then Hunter said, “On the very small possibility that we’re not dreaming, luv, I really think we’d better get a move on. Farley isn’t here, which means he’s somewhere else, and we need to let Wisdom know what I found in that bunker.”
He was right, and Bobbi drew on all her training, pushed aside the impossibility of what Hunter had done and the evidence of her own eyes. “Phone,” she said.
“One of them must have one,” Hunter looked around at the dead men. “And then I think we’d better get the hell out of here before anyone shows up and starts asking really awkward questions. Excalibur isn’t very easily hideable.”
“Exca- no, you know what, I’m not ready to deal with that right now.” She’d rather search the bodies. The first’s phone had been neatly sliced in half. The second had a locked iPhone, which she could bypass with a bit of time - which they didn’t have.
The third man’s pockets turned up a wallet full of cash and a cheap, generic-brand, unlocked burner phone. Bobbi held them both up to Hunter, who nodded.
“Good job, luv!” He’d been busying himself pulling bodies out of the less messy car, the one she’d been travelling in. “Let’s go!”
She had to stare as he laid the sword down on the backseat before getting into the driver’s seat. “Shouldn’t you hide that in the trunk?”
“If we happen to run into any more of Farley’s thugs, I’m leaving it where I can get my hands on it, thanks very much,” Hunter said.
“Let me drive, then…”
“Luv, we’re in England. You know I love you, but on this side of the pond? I drive.”
“On this stupid side of the road, you mean,” she grumbled, getting into the passenger seat. There’d been blood all over it, but Hunter had done a fair job of cleaning it off with one of the dead men’s jackets. They’d have to ditch the car as soon as possible anyway and find another; finding her some clean clothes at the same time shouldn’t be too hard. She slid another sideways glance at Hunter.
On the other hand, her husband and partner had now suddenly become a whole lot more noticeable than he had ever been before.
She pushed the thought away as he started the car. Deal with what you can, right now. The longer things went on, the more convinced she became that she wasn’t in a dream.
Which means that seriously weird shit is going down.
Bobbi dialled Pete Wisdom’s phone number. 
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agentsofsunnydale · 7 years
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Tagged by @stargazerdaisy​
Rules: Choose any three fandoms (in random order) and answer the questions.
I choose:
Agents of SHIELD
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Leverage
The first character you loved:
Jemma Simmons (and Skye/Daisy, but Jemma first)
Buffy Summers
Parker
The character you never expected to love so much:
Leo Fitz
Joyce Summers (in season 5)
Alec Hardison
The character you relate to the most:
Mack (so done with everything; also engineer)
Jenny Calendar (so done with everything)
Eliot Spencer (so done with everything)
The character you’d slap:
General Talbot. And Roz. I was not a fan. (#Philinda!)
Xander. A lot of people, but definitely Xander.
Tara. Just nope. Go away and bring back Sophie.
Three favorite characters:
Grant Ward, Daisy Johnson, Jemma Simmons
Spike, Buffy, Tara Maclay (and Fred on Angel)
Parker, Eliot, Hardison
A character you liked at first but not so much anymore
Aida (she was cool at first, even though I knew she would become a killer robot, but she tried to break up FitzSimmons and that is not okay!!!)
Willow Rosenberg (idk she has her ups and downs)
Nate (idk, he also has his ups and downs)
A character you did not like at first, but they’re grown on you:
Lance Hunter (at first I didn’t like him, but he totally wormed his way into my affections. Same with Jeffery Mace.)
Tara Maclay! (at first she seemed super shy and kinda stereotyped, but then she became one of my very favorites.)
Sophie
3 OTPs
Skyeward, FitzSimmons, Mockinghunter, (and MackElena!)
Spuffy (my first big time OTP), Willow/Tara, Jenny/Giles
Parker/Hardison, Parker/Hardison/Eliot (OT3), Nate x Sophie
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ozhawkauthor · 5 years
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Bobbi gets to ask some of the Tough Questions.
Like, What the Actual Fuck???
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werecursed · 8 years
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“Blonde and Brit”
Ok who came up with those nicknames?
JK, it was obviously Mack.
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richietozsier · 9 years
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bobbi and lance broke my heart. damn you, agents of shield.
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thedepartedfairy · 9 years
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I still really wish that instead of Huntingbird, the ship was called Mockinghunter. It’s WAY MORE accurate.
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unashamedradiance · 9 years
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"...and propels the team towards their destiny."
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theatersea · 9 years
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Mi sembra chiaro che fin ora ci hanno solo preparato...pronti per quello che sta per arrivare?
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So Lance and Bobbi are basically the divorced "Mr. & Mrs. Smith" of SHIELD, right?
Ya’ll saw that simultaneous shot they took at the dude, without barely even looking? C'mon.
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pjetromaximoff · 10 years
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daenerysisonfire > cityofbanes
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reignnews · 10 years
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Hey, would you promo my sideblog marysreigns? I would be happy to promote you as well xx
Absolutely! Everyone go follow this wonderful reign blog, MARYSREIGNS :)
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werecursed · 9 years
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but seriously if we are calling them MockingHunter now I'm taking all the credit for the name
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simonsfangs-blog · 10 years
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Voted!
thank youuu!
url: 8.5/10icon: 9/10theme: 9/10posts: 10/10overall: 9.5/10following?: yess :)
want this?
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crestadeen · 11 years
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Hey lovely, why do they send you hate? You're amazing!
Oh, it wasn’t hate, just a honest anon, thats alright. Thank you
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the-manila-institute · 11 years
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could you check out my blog please? :)x
sure :D
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