#get him out of the washine machine

[nobodycanknowihavethisapp]

GET HIM OUT 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬 NOOO NO NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO AAAAAGHHHHHHHH

[weirdoldstans]

Stan awoke to the sound of the ancient washer being run…again. He huffed, rolling over in his bed to cover his ears. How was this machine so loud that it always woke him up even with his hearing aid out?

Every night it seemed for the past two weeks someone ran the washer and dryer at ungodly hours of the night. The niblings said it wasn't them, and Stan believed them for the most part but that would mean the person running it was Ford.

Sure, Ford could be a complete jerk sometimes but he wasn't inconsiderate. While he was fine with pushing his limits, he knew the others in the house needed actual sleep. But if it wasn't Dipper or Mabel, it had to be his twin.

With a growl Stan rolled from bed, taking a moment to crack his back then left his bedroom to find just who the mystery washer was.

If it was Dipper or Mabel, he wouldn't be too upset, most likely someone wet their bed. They're kids, it happens, even at thirteen but he could see why the young teens would be embarrassed and lie about it.

Up in the attic, Stan pushed open the door and both kids were sound asleep, sheets still tucked tight on their beds, Dipper curled in a tiny ball and Mabel nearly hanging off the edge with Waddles taking up residence on her pillow.

Okay, there's no way they could start the washer then be back in bed and be sound asleep by the time he got up here.

That meant.

Ugh, of course, his brother. Probably running some stupid experiment. Stan could picture it. Let's see how quickly I can get my twin to deck me from lack of sleep! Conclusion: two weeks and a sore jaw.

Headed down to the laundry room he peeked in and saw Ford standing at the washer, a nervous look on his face.

“Alright, what's with the late night washin’?” Ford jumped nearly a foot in the air at Stan's sudden entrance. 

“Stanley!” Ford blushed, adjusting his glasses nervously. “Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I, uhh, just needed to do some laundry. Keep forgetting to do some.” He grinned and rubbed the back of his head. “You can head back to bed, I've got it handled.”

Stan lifted an eyebrow. “Ford, I love ya, I really do, but yer a terrible liar.” 

Ford pouted. “I'm not lying.” Crossing his arms he looked away, fighting off a blush. “I really did need to do a load of laundry.”

“Every night though? Do ya only got one set of clothes?”

“No…I…”He hesitated. The washer stopped and Stan lifted the lid. Inside was only pants, like all of Ford's pants.

“What? Why only yer pants? Do ya piss yerself constantly?” Ford didn't reply, he only squirmed in one spot, refusing to meet Stan's eye. “Oh my God.” Stan chuckled. “You do!”

“Shut up!” Ford spluttered, red faced. “I just get caught up in my research and forget to go pee every now and again!” Stan shook his head mirthfully before moving to switch the laundry over.

“Ah, it's okay Stanford. Yer gettin’ old like me, things happen. Look, I got some adult diapers you can use.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah. Ain't nothing fancy, but they get the job done.” Stan stopped for a moment to lift his shirt slightly to show off what sat just under his boxers. 

Ford bent and looked closer. “Stanley, those have ducks on them.”

“Mhmm.” Stan replied, letting his shirt drop and setting the dryer. “Yep, these are more geared towards adult babies, but they get the job done and feel way better than anything actually meant for adults. I'll help set ya up, come on to my room.”

And that is what started Stan on his current mission. Ford, of course had been embarrassed, hated them at first and actually protested wearing them, but after a solid week of not pissing himself constantly he accepted the diapers, and Stan's help with changing them.

Which led to Stan delivering several solid blows to Ford’s exposed nude backside when he saw his brother wasn't coming to him for a change when needed, leading to a wicked rash. After Stan insisted on spreading cream on every available spot possible each time he changed his twin. 

Ford only laid there, embarrassment burning his cheeks, as tears from the spanking leaked out from the corners of his eyes. 

They quickly dried though when Stan kissed the front of his new dry diaper when they were done.

Alright, one issue handled. On to the next. Each time Stan saw his brother with a bad habit, he got him something better to replace it. Several pacifiers to replace his pen chewing habit, sippies and bottles to handle his disorganized and clumsy nature to keep another electrical fire from happening when he spilled his coffee. 

Honestly, Stan didn't mind. He liked helping his bro out. He liked feeling like his big brother needed him.

And boy, did he need him. Badly. 

One evening, after not seeing Ford for a few hours Stan made his way down to the basement, Ford still hard at work with some kind of science-y nerd stuff.

Stan grumbled as he grabbed at Ford's crotch, feeling how soaked he was. “Ford, darlin’, ya need to start paying attention to when this gets too full. I don't wanna have to spank you again for not comin’ to me for a change.”

Ford stood frozen, staring down at his lab work, eyes glazed over and a furious blush creeping up his neck.

“Ford?” Stan asked. His brother popped his pacifier out and looked over. That blush now dotting his cheeks a beautiful crimson.

“I…I just realized…I've been standing here, in a diaper covered in lions, sucking on a pacifier with Daddy's boy decorated on the front, and drinking pitt cola from a sippy cup with Elmo on it.”

“Actually that's the cookie monster.” Stan replied. Ford slammed said sippy down on the desk, lip quivering.

“How has it taken me this long to realize you've slowly been turning me into a baby Stanley?!”

Ah. So that was the problem. Stan shrugged, leaning against the desk. “It's not a problem sixer, you've been busy with her experiments and whatnot. I've just been helping you out.”

“By babying me?!” Ford failed, tears tracking down his red face. He gestured to his clothes, his pacifier hung at his chest by a clip, his usual turtleneck was now one of Mabel's sweaters she made for him featuring a cartoon dog and he'd just been working in his diaper and some fuzzy socks.

“Well, I'm replacin’ yer nasty habits for better ones.” Stan purred, moving to cup his brother again. “Ya won't listen to yer body when ya need to pee, so diaper. Ya chew on yer pens so much ya make the ink reservoir burst into your mouth, so pacifier. You complained that ya spill yer drinks often, so sippy.”

Ford's blush grew almost radioactive as Stan pressed their bodies together. “Nothin’ wrong with needin’ a bit of help baby.” He looked down and smirked. “There's also nothing wrong with likin’ too.” Ford's hard on strained against his hand, and even as he squirmed and wiggled in Stan's grasp he never made the move to pull away.

“Stan-Stanley.” Ford whimpered, hips stuttering as he pressed his wet diaper into the heat of Stan’s palm.

“Dontcha worry baby boy, Daddy's got ya. Come on, let's get you changed into a clean one, and I'll help ya out with this while I do it.”

Ford bit his lip, apprehension swirling in his chocolate eyes until finally. “Y-yes, daddy.”

Stan smirked. And to think, he had complained about waking up to that damn washer when it had led to such fun.

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

ANON I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. I NEED TO GO TO WORK BUT ALL I WANNA DO IS SIT HERE AND TELL YOU HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS

FORDDD MY CUTE BABY…

[themrswallace]

Okay here's a random idea being thrown at ya So heads up!

So you've talked about Gromit being turned into a human, but what if we flip the script and have it where Wallace gets turned into a dog! Or you could even take it a step further and have it to whear Gromit is the Human and Wallace is gromit's weird pet dog.

Now as to what kind of dog breed Wallace would be, I don't know it's up to you

The two start off the day with a massive argument regarding how much work the other has to do, Wallace groaning on and on about tinkering in the workshop the previous night on something that left a huge mess for Gromit to see to in the morning despite him requesting any Wallace related incidents be cleared BEFORE going to sleep, predominantly by the maker of the mess (Cough WALLACE, cough cough HACK). Wallace does his whole "I'm an inventor, Lad! I can't waste time doin' the washin' up and clearing after me'self! I'm too brilliant for that", you know, Gromit is rightfully angry and like the old married couple they are, they row about it until someone says something hurtful and the other storms off, upset. Wallace spends a while angry inventing, his lack of thinking causes whatever he's working on to start making horrific noises to the point Gromit runs down to see what it is, just in time for it to explode or backfire and take the two with it, knocking them out cold for the next few hours just to wake up and realize somethings gone wrong and neither of them have escaped unscathed! Gromit checks himself for injury, noticing a distinct difference in the texture of his fur, or lack thereof, his face is shorter, and his nose is oddly shaped, someone opens the hatch to release the dust and finally, he can see himself! HE'S NAKED! AND HUMAN! Hair in weird places, hands instead of paws, a visible mouth! a shard of broken glass reveals his new face...'Squidward voice' OH NO HE'S HAWT! (I picture Joseph Quinn from ST to play a human Gromit). He's slim with short brownish-golden hair (Like his fur), toned veiny arms (Yum) with legs for days, he's a handsome man...and then there's Wallace. Now let it be known that I'm not saying it because I have pugs, this is a completely unbiased assumption of what dog Wallace would be...because I can see him being a pug, intelligent, always hungry, has weight problems, smells awful, is affectionate and reserved, sleeps most of the day after a brief zoom about the kitchen, and will dive down the bin for their favourite snack...and looks like they've been told off numerous times. Wallace is this classic little fat fawn-coloured pug, with an absolutely precious face, quite feminine ironically, stubby legs, tubby round the middle which makes him look pregnant (I'm snickering, I'm sorry), as he tries to talk all that comes out is this little dry old man sounding BORK!! Every time he does this his front tootsies leave the ground! Gromit takes one look at him and falls over laughing to the point he can't breathe because, of course, this is Wallace! how could it not be??! After a minute to recover from the shock and general being thrown around by the machine exploding, Gromit sorts out getting used to his body and reverse whats happened to them while teaching Wallace how to communicate as a dog. Which isn't easy for him, it seems. Wallace is slower to learn, ruled by his belly and all the rubs it gets from their friends as they come over to check on them since the accident takes off most of the roof and the smoke can be seen from ways away. Gromit busy rebuilding the machine that swapped them as Wallace is sat on Lady T's lap getting belly scratches and fed expensive chicken

[aquietwritingcorner]

Bloody Clothes

Title: Bloody Clothes Day: Febuwhump 2023 Day 24: Bloody Clothes Fandom: TMNT 2003 Word Count: 945   Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating:   T Characters: April O’Neil, Casey Jones Warning: Summary: At the farmhouse, April soaks the clothes she wore when everything happened—the ones with Leo’s blood on them—and reflects.     Notes: Takes places sometime in between or during “The Shredder Strikes Back Part 2,” and “Tales of Leo” or before “The Monster Hunter.” ff.net || AO3

___________________________________

Bloody Clothes

April stared at her clothes as they floated in the metal wash tub. Casey and Don were making sure that all of the plumbing was still sound in the old farm house, but Casey had still managed to get her a tub of water to soak her clothes in.

“Ya really oughta take care of those,” he had said. “I mean… well… there’s a thrift store in town we can go to for ya, and I think one of the local churches does somethin’ but at the moment, ya ain’t got a lot of options.” He had paused awkwardly. “’M sorry, April.”

He had been right, and she knew it. All she had now was the clothes on her back, the coat and few clothes that Casey had stopped “at a place” he knew and gotten her, and her family. She didn’t even have any ID on her or a way to access her money or anything. It was all gone. Everything was gone.

And her family…

Leo…

April swallowed as she thought about Leo and stared at her clothes in the wash tub. She remembered how it felt to try to support him, his beaten and bloody form hanging off of her, still managing, somehow, to try to fight. She remembered curling around him, trying to protect him from Hun. His shallow breathing, the pained catching in it, his cold and bloody skin, the bones she could feel that were broken as they tried to move—her hands curled around the edge of the metal tub as she stared down in it.

As she stared down at her bloody clothes, clothes that she was trying to soak the blood out of.

Leo’s blood.

April closed her eyes tightly, her hand curling more around the edge. It wasn’t fair! They were just kids! Teenagers! Leo had done nothing to deserve getting beaten nearly to death! None of them had! They were only kids caught up in something much bigger than they were. She was only in her twenties, but even she deserved something like that more than they did, especially with unwittingly aiding Dr. Stockman. But what had they done? Stopped some gangsters, then gotten caught up in a decades or maybe even centuries long ninja war that they knew nothing about, and then refused to side with the Shredder? Why was that enough to keep them caught in it? Why was that enough for them to keep having to face off against the Foot? Why was that enough for Leo—

--for Leo to be beaten nearly to death.

April took in a shaky breath. She wasn’t crying, not yet, but she could tell that she was close. Leo was so injured. Even though Splinter thought he had made a change for the positive, that didn’t mean that he’d live. It didn’t mean that he’d heal. It didn’t mean that he’d be whole. April shook, her breath coming faster now, tears welling in her eyes. What if—what if he died? What if the only thing she had left of him was her clothes that were stained with his blood? What if—

“Hey, April, Donnie ‘n I think we’ve got the washin’ machine—Aw, April…”

April whipped her head over to look at Casey, glaring at him, although she was pretty sure that it was ineffectual with tears in her eyes. “What, Casey?” she bit out in a watery voice.

He didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, Casey stepped forward and gently folded her in his arms. For just a second, April stayed stiff. But he was here and offering her comfort and she couldn’t help herself. She leaned into him and cried. She cried for Leo, she cried for her boys, she cried for Splinter, she cried for her own loss, she cried for how overwhelming everything was. She shuddered and cried against Casey, and all he did was hold her gently and occasionally murmur something comforting.

When she felt she had cried herself out, she pulled back from Casey, and he let her.

“You good?” he asked her.

April glanced at her bloody clothes still floating in the tub. “No,” she said. “But I don’t think I will be for a while.”

Casey nodded. “Yeah, I get that,” he said, and there was something truly understanding in his look. “Sometimes the past clings like old bloodstains, and sometimes ya get some peroxide that’ll take ‘em out. But ya always know what was there, and it’s a part of ya for good and bad. It’s up to you if ya wanna wear ‘em again or not and keep the reminder.”

April blinked at him. “That was… oddly profound, Casey.”

He shrugged. “Ma used to say that sometimes I’d hit a good one.” He put his arm around her shoulders, and she didn’t shove it off. “Look, those have gotta soak anyway, and Don’s takin’ a break. I think Mikey said somethin’ about making somethin’ to eat, and Raph and Splinter ain’t left Leo’s side. Let’s leave yer clothes here for now and just go sit with them. Maybe later you and me can go into town. We’ll getcha some new clothes and pick up some food and getcha some peroxide.”

April glanced at her soaking, bloody clothes again, and then turned her back on them. She didn’t know if she’d want to wear those clothes again, to “keep the reminder” of what happened. But she could make that decision later. Right now, she had family to go sit with.

She nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good, Casey.”

After all, this was her family—and April would gladly bloody more clothes for their sakes.

[emmyrosee]

Ushijima does nothing halfway. Especially when it comes to his daughter.

It’s very adorable to see, there’s nothing quite like her asking him for anything and everything, and him doing it.

For her third birthday, she wanted a pony. When he couldn’t find one, he and Romero dressed up in a pony costume.

When she asks for candy, he gets her two of whatever she likes- one when she eats all her dinner, and one because ‘mommy doesn’t need to know.’

When she comes barreling into your bedroom while you two snuggle, wailing and desperately trying to dry her eyes while you both scramble from the bed to calm her down. He’s quick to reach for the baseball bat next to his bed to ward off any “monsters.”

“What’s wrong, baby?” You soothe, opening your arms for her to leap into. She does, and you hoist her up and onto your hip, her face burying into your neck.

“Jock’s gone!” She sobs, and immediately, you and Wakatoshi tense up.

Jacques, the handmade giraffe Uncle Satori had sent all the way from Paris for Reina’s second birthday had immediately made its presence known in everyday life. Everywhere Reina went, Jacques was close behind or enclosed in her tiny hand: play dates, dinners out or at the table, sitting on the toilet at bath time…

In her arms every time she was going to sleep.

“Oh sweetheart,” you croon. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

“I…I…” she lets out a sniffle and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “I forgot to…”

“We’ll find him,” Wakatoshi assures, and Reina’s eyes light up at her favorite hero.

You gnaw at your lip before looking at the time, “baby, don’t you think we should maybe just try tomorrow?”

“She needs it tonight,” he says simply, planting a kiss to your head before stalking out of the room. “He’s got to be in the house somewhere. Probably just playing hide and seek.”

What a damned game he was playing.

Surely enough, everywhere Jacques would be, or was suspected to be was exactly where he wasn’t; he wasn’t in the bathroom, or in the chair next to hers at the dinner table. He wasn’t in the playroom, nor under her bed, everywhere that Jacques could be, he certainly was not.

“Doya think he ran ‘way, daddy?” Reina wails, fingers clasping onto your pajama pants. A soothing hand cards through her locks, and despite Wakatoshi having the patience of a Saint, you could see it in his eyes it was slowly slipping away.

“It would make more sense than him just not being here,” he mumbles, and you offer him a sympathetic look for his efforts. “Okay, Reina,” he sighs, crouching down to be eye level with her; exhaustion paints his face and his hair sticks up wildly with his anxious carding, “when was the last time you had Jacques?”

She sniffles and wipes her nose on your sweat pants, “I told him to stay and watch the washin’ machine, ‘n come get mommy when it was done, and he never did!”

Wakatoshi blanches and his jaw slacks. You cover your mouth to hide the laughter that desperately wants to bubble out. Reina’s bottom lip wobbles as she unknowingly just took three years off of her fathers life.

“…the last time you had him was in the laundry room?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So… he’s in the laundry room?”

She nods again. Big brown eyes flick up to you, and he sinks his teeth into his lip to stop himself from laughing in a similar vain as you. “Okay,” he says, standing up and scrubbing his face with his large hands. “In hindsight, that should’ve been my first question.”

“Huh?” Reina asks, eyes flying up to you when you finally let a few cackles out, watching as your mammoth of a husband shuffles down the hallway to the laundry room. The light flicks on, then off, and when he emerges, there’s Jacques, dangling from his beefy hand.

“Found him,” he says blankly. Reina gasps and quickly runs over to her father, eagerly clutching the giraffe to her chest.

“You didn’t run ‘way!” She squeals, rocking the plush back and forth before planting a kiss to its head, chirping a sweet little “thank you, daddy!” before shuffling back off to bed, like the last three hours of struggle didn’t just happen.

Wakatoshi looks at you with exhausted eyes, but the minute they lock with yours, he’s unable to fight the wide smile that starts to spread over his face, causing the both of you to break out in loud laughter and snickers. You quickly make your way back into his arms, your head thunking against his chest while it rumbles with his laughter.

“I cannot believe that little snot just outplayed us so hard.”

“You’d think this is our first day,” you snort. Your head turns up to look at him, and you give him a kiss on the base of his jaw as a reward. “You’re so good to her.”

“I almost have to be,” he sighs sleepily. His olive eyes glaze over your face, “there is no way you’d be able to handle her antics on your own.”

“Hey. Just because she likes you more than me does not mean I can’t handle her on my own.”

He offers you a small snort and reaches up to gently stroke the corners of your smiling eyes, “I do suppose so; her ability to give me grey hairs certainly does come from you.”

“Exactly,” you chuckle. Lovingly, despite his slander, you nose at his jawline for him to lean down for a kiss which he happily complies in, his hands gentle on your cheek in the middle of the hallway. You giggle against his lips and nuzzle your nose against his, “I want another one…”

“A kiss?”

“No, a baby.”

Immediately he pulls back, face dropped in a deadpanned expression to contrast your excited one. “Clearly we need to get you to sleep, you’re talking nonsense.”

“Toshi!”

“Come on,” he grunts, hoisting you up and over his shoulder, ignoring your laughter and the banging of your fists against his back. “Bed time. Before the both of you give me an aneurysm.”

[germvity]

RISES THE MOON

leon s kennedy x reader // 6 // thorny heart

soon enough the two of you are talking again, and leon almost forgets the rejection until you doze off. "as long as you're okay..." he whispers to himself as he brushes fallen hair from your face. "i couldn't care less about my own feelings." he smiles, tears stinging his eyes as he pulls you into his chest.

genre: fluff with a spicy(ish) surprise- enjoy :))

tags: deciding to have leons pov for some of this one <3, you broke leons heart atm but he recovers, not gonna spoil <3 this is just relationship development tbh

warnings: my awful slow burn development </3

tag list <3

@trinswhimsys , @hex-touchstarved <3

---

leon's stomach felt like a washin machine. he couldn't sleep, and he didn't want to disturb you. tears dried on his cheeks long ago and he held you close for his own comfort. "fuck." he mumbles, eyes fluttering closed again as he cradles you close. "god dammit i'm so stupid." he continues and you shuffle. "leon?" you mumble sleepily, breathing in a yawn. "it's okay, i'm sorry, go back to sleep." the man tries to soothe you back to sleep like he normally did, but this time it didn't work. "hmm... what's wrong? you're not normally still awake." you reply, peeling your eyes open to look at him. "nothing's wrong. just go back to sleep." he tries again, hoping it was too dark to see his tear stains. "you've been crying." you frown, cupping his face as you wipe the trails away.

"i'm fine." he whispers, but you shake your head. "leon, i'm sorry.. i just don't want to lose you, or get hurt with the slim chance you're not being honest.." you explain, and he nods. "i know." he sighs, letting you nuzzle your nose against his as you hold him. "i'm sorry..." you whisper, and leon cracks a small smile. "it's alright. i don't mind." he lies, and luckily you believe him. "if you're sure... we're in this together now, right?" leon replies with a solid "right." you smile, "then you can tell me your troubles as well as listen and take care of mine. no matter how small, how big. i wanna help you just as much as you help me." you say, gently stroking his cheek.

"fuck." leon whispers, pressing his forehead against yours more firmly. "for what it's worth. i like you too, i'm just too scared to do anything in case it goes bad.." you admit, and leon feels tears building up again. "i know.. i'll always be here for you." he smiles at you, and you wipe his tears away. "i'm sorry.." you say again, and he chuckles. "stop apologising." he says, taking your hands in his as he pulls you into a hug. "sorry.." you say before giggling. leon rolls his eyes as your hands find his back, tracing soft patterns with your fingers. "that feels nice." leon admits, and you smile at him. "yeah?" your voice is so soft and it makes leon's hurt heart thump. "yeah.." leon responds quietly. you keep going, massaging his shoulders as he hums happily.

"god why are you so good at this?" leon laughs, and you smile, "i'm good with my hands." you tease, and leon flushes a deep shade of red. "after repairing so many generators, of course." you grin at his expression. "r-right! of course." he agrees, embarrassed at his dirty mind. "relax, i'm just teasing." you smile, and he does in fact relax. "you're so mean." he pokes your forehead and you laugh. "i'm sowwy." you giggle, nuzzling you head under his chin as you continue rubbing his shoulder blades. leon wraps his arms around you, rubbing your own back as he closes his arms. "mmm, leon?" you murmur, and he hums in response. "you're too good for this place, y'know? you're way too good for anything like this." you sigh, and leon huffs too. "it's alright, my normal job wasn't too different to this. well it was but y'know.. i dealt with nemesis before but not for long term." leon rambles a bit, and you roll your own eyes as you listen. "that sounds tough..." you mumble, slowly dozing off. "i'm used to it." he smiles, knowing that you're falling asleep. "leon...?" you yawn, "y/n." he responds, and you mumble something. "sorry, i didn't catch that." leon says softly, "i don't deserve you." you mumble, "don't say that." the blonde shoots back immediately, but you've already fallen asleep. "i love you." leon whispers, but you didn't hear it. the blonde can't help but cry again, eventually falling asleep.

leon wakes up to you moving around. concerned that you're having another nightmare, he pulls you close and rests his head on your own. "leon..? i didn't mean to wake you." you say softly, and he hums. "no, it's fine. are you okay?" leon lets out a tired breath, as you cup his face to nuzzle your nose against his. "yeah, i'm okay." you whisper, settling on top of him as he holds you. "are you okay?" you shoot back, wiping his cheeks for him. "yeah, i'm alright." he finally opens his eyes, looking at you fondly. "hi." you smile at him. "hi..." leon responds, watching you sit up as his hands find your outer thighs subconsciously. your hands combed through his hair as he hums softly, you're practically pampering him as he slowly wakes up. "is there coffee in this place?" he asks you as he rubs circles on your thighs. "not that i know of, sorry." you smile, letting him run his hands up and down. "that's alright." he smiles up at you and you place your hands either side his head.

leon's fond gaze turns curious as he watches you lean down, your forehead meeting his as you give him an eskimo kiss. leon adapts quickly, letting you show him affection, his heart soaring. you glance at his lips, and leon's chest tightens. "fuck it..." you whisper, you lips finally meeting his. leon melts into your kiss, hand cupping the back of your head as he pulls you closer as his left hand stayed on your thigh. you hum softly into the kiss, lips moving smoothly against his. when you pull away, leon chases your lips slightly, giving you another soft peck before letting you pull away fully.

"fuck... your lips feel really good." leon blushes, desperate for more but not wanting to push you. "yeah? want more?" you tease, grabbing his chin with your forefinger and thumb to make him look at you and angle his head at the same time. "yeah..." he whispers, sitting up so he could pull you closer. you smile, letting him kiss you again. your lips mould with his perfectly as he kisses you with more confidence. "fuck... leon.." you whisper against his lips, and he fights back a smile as he continues to kiss you. you tilt your head to deepen the endearing gesture, wrapping your arms around his neck. the two of you break away from each other to catch lost breath, and leon presses his forehead against you as he rubs your back.

"that felt really good..." you whisper, and he agrees. "i've been waiting to do that.." he admits with a small laugh. you giggle too, giving him another eskimo kiss as you coddle him close. "trials might start soon..." you say, glancing out the cracked window at the brightened (yet still dark) sky. "nah, we still have a while." leon grins, leaning in to give you a loving smooch. you hum happily, cupping his face as his tongue gently brushes against your bottom lip. "we have at least an hour.." leon trails off, and you catch his meaning immediately. "yeah, we do." you smile.

[deepdarkdelights]

Predator Universe Jin's idea of using MC would probably bite his neck and ass back. The rest of the detrimental, obsessed boys in their little coven kept their MC's alive and would probably do anything to keep them from being killed or dead just for to satisfy their obsession. There could be a catalyst in bringing out that yandere side of him, an presence that is a threat on being indulged by MC, kinda like how Namjoon interfered Purgatory MC's death and now Yoongi's dealing with the aftermath of her being a vampire.

Ignore my idea. Writer's block is a bitch and I am kinda hesitant in saying this lil prompt of mine, the writer's block will pass by and you'll get your inspiration to write again. I want to be thrown into the head twisting washine machine of your immaculate writing because I love your Predator Universe series! When I'm in the mood for Yandere your works are always my go-to!

No, no, I definitely see what you mean. There does need to be a catalyst to bring about his behavior because it would be so out of the ordinary for him.

I really do hope this passes because this is the worst bout of it I have ever had. I think my general depression is also playing a part, it has been very difficult for me to be motivated to do anything at all - even the things that I enjoy doing.

I hope I can push through and write something that you will enjoy reading and I am so happy to hear that my works are your go-to. If I really can't bring myself to write Jin's fic I might just write a short for Halloween - something that can get me back into the groove but be a much lower-stress project.

[saintorhypocrite]

how do you even display socks

after weeks of contemplation i’ve finally decided on a suitable spot to display sherlock socks

naturally i placed him w the other oki stuff tht i have on my bookshelf. a bit confused how to prop him up but i’ve finally got it

yeahhhh sherlock shrine <3 he looks right at home (at the cost of my kome mangas being covered by him but Oh Well)

now i j need to figure out where to place albert lmao

right now he’s been hanging (haha literally) at kita’s shrine but i fear that if he’s placed there for too long it might affect this year’s crops negatively

i Can hang him on my earrings but even he gets heavy after a while :/

sorry beti i think ur j gna b homeless for a while

now you might be thinking saint . saint why dont you just wear them???? i DID buy it w the intention of wearing them

when i first saw the socks on twt i thought oh my god oki socks oki socks i have to buy it!!!! if i did then i could step on him HAHAHHAHHAA >:D

(albert was kinda Just There bc no one on mercari sold sherlock’s socks individually so it was either i buy all four for ¥1200 or buy oki and beti for ¥650)

shipping took ab a month tho so by the time the socks arrived my feelings towards him has softened (blegh) and now i Dont feel as violent that i want to step on him (i still want to kick him at times tho) not to mention w handling fee and shipping 2 my country these socks r overpriced as Fuck

if any of them gets lost in the washin machine i will actually cry for seven days straight so now im like what the Fuck do i do w themand we are here now

[acklest]

Philosophical debates with potential world-ending implications are fun and everything, but every now and then, I’d like to see Sam and Dean have petty, bitchy, well-worn arguments about everyday shit, solely for sport or to combat boredom.

Sam: *staring pointedly at the beer in Dean’s hand* 

Sam: Dean, it’s three o’clock in the morning.

Dean: Yeah? What’s the current temperature?

Sam: ...what?

Dean: I thought you might have other shit I don’t care about to tell me.

Sam:

Dean: Atmospheric pressure?

Sam:

Dean: Pollen count?

Sam:

Dean: Is it gonna rain tomorrow? ‘Cause I was thinkin’ of washin’ the car.

⭐⭐⭐

Sam: How do we keep running out of shampoo so fast?

*brief montage of Dean using extra shampoo to style elaborate punk hairstyles in the shower*

Dean: Don’t look at me, hippie.

⭐⭐⭐

Sam: Are you even watching this?

Dean: *pretends he wasn’t asleep* Hmm?

Sam: You were asleep? Dude, I’ve been watching this crap for 45 minutes because it was your turn to pick the movie! And you’ve been asleep practically the whole time!

Dean: *rubs eyes* You musta liked it fine, ‘cause I didn’t hear any whining.

Sam: Because you were asleep.

⭐⭐⭐

Sam: Who put bacon pieces on these donuts?

Dean: *mouth ridiculously full* A visionary.

Sam: *knows perfectly well what Dean said* A missionary?

⭐⭐⭐

Sam volunteers to go in and pay for the gas because he says he needs to pee but it’s so he can preemptively buy their next set of snacks. Once they’re back on the road, Dean looks in the bag, then glares at Sam.

Sam: *voice slightly muffled by a mouthful of raw, unsalted cashews* Watch the road.

⭐⭐⭐

Dean: *fussily picks long brown hair off of jacket sleeve, staring at Sam*

Dean: Fourth one today. I’m tellin’ you --

Sam: You know I shed more hair this time of year. You shed the same amount of hair, yours is just short so you don’t notice it.

Dean: This ain’t your usual summer molt. And who pulls your Tribbles outta the shower drain, huh? You or me?

Sam: I clean it, too! I cleaned it last -- wait, I think it was --

Dean: *dramatically holding the offending hair away from him before letting it fall to the ground* Oh, you’d remember, dude. That shit’s gross.

⭐⭐⭐

Dean: If you don’t want a whole beer, don’t open a whole beer!

Sam: I drank as much as I wanted. Just finish it like you always do.

Dean: I’m not finishin’ this, it’s from a couple of hours ago.

Sam: *rolls eyes and leaves kitchen*

Dean feels the bottle to gauge temperature, shrugs, and finishes the beer. It’s horrible and he can’t even complain about how horrible it is because then he would have to admit that he finished a beer he said he wasn’t going to drink.

⭐⭐⭐

It’s not that Sam doesn’t iron his own shirts, it’s that he doesn’t iron them within what Dean considers an acceptable time frame. So Dean will iron his and Sam’s shirts without saying anything, and when Sam goes to do his ironing, he notices that all his shirts are already neatly pressed, every button buttoned, even the stupid top buttons that are always a pain to undo. Leave it to Dean to find a passive-aggressive way to button a dress shirt. It’s as if he can feel you’re welcome, by the way radiating off of them.

⭐⭐⭐

Bitching over which highway they should’ve taken to get to the hunt. Short answer: Not the one they took.

⭐⭐⭐

Sam: Are you wearing the shirt I wore yesterday?

Dean: Smelled clean enough to wear, so probably not.

⭐⭐⭐

The (often-times inappropriate) joke or quote that Dean will apply to a situation will occur to Sam mere seconds before Dean says it. A warning air horn sounds in Sam’s head but it’s usually too late.

Sam: *thinking of the joke later*

Sam: *checks that Dean isn’t anywhere nearby*

Sam: *chuckles to himself* That was pretty good. Completely mortifying at the time, but pretty good.

⭐⭐⭐

Sam using the laptop after Dean has been using it:

I won’t look at the recent search history.

I will not look at the recent search history.

*looks at the recent search history in morbid fascination*

Sam: Gross.

There’s a folder in the bookmarks bar of the browser that wasn’t there earlier.

Sam: *eyes it warily before clicking on it*

⭐⭐⭐

Dean: Clean your plate.

Sam: I’m not hungry anymore.

Dean: That’s like five bites of mashed potatoes. You can’t manage that?

Sam: I’m full!

Dean: *finishes Sam’s mashed potatoes as if under protest*

⭐⭐⭐

Dean: You can’t put the towels in with the clothes! All my shirts are — *picks towel fuzz off of t-shirt* ...schmutzy.

Sam: Schmutzy?

Dean: It’s a word!

Sam: Hey, that shirt was basically covered with wraith entrails before I threw it in the washer.

Dean: Wait, what? Like big pieces? Like... chunks?

Sam: What?

Dean: We have a septic system, Sam! Before you throw stuff in the machine, you have to scrape off all the big, chunky pieces.

Sam: *grimaces and pushes away remaining lunch*

⭐⭐⭐

In the car:

*frowns*

*cautiously sniffs the air*

*soft gagging sound, usually exaggerated for dramatic effect*

*pointedly cranks window down while glaring at the other*

⭐⭐⭐

If Sam falls asleep in the car, then asks where they are after he wakes up, Dean will sometimes tell him they’re much farther away from where they actually are so that Sam thinks he slept for a really long time. 

Sam: *stretching as much as he can* How long did I sleep?

Dean: *deliberately in a different shirt than the one Sam last saw him wearing* It’s Wednesday.

⭐⭐⭐

Sam: *recognizes that the names of the two creatures they’re dealing with lend themselves to an unfortunate “hybrid” portmanteau that Dean will seize upon right away*

Sam: Ugh.

Sam: *searches for an alternate name to use for one of them*

⭐⭐⭐

Sam: *from another room* Hey, have you seen my --? Huh.

Dean: Your what?

Sam: Wait, I think I left it in the library.

Dean: Left what?

Sam: Never mind, found it!

Dean: Found what?!

⭐⭐⭐

Dean: *shuffles grumpily past Sam into kitchen*

Sam: Morning.

Dean: *annoyed growl from inside kitchen*

Dean: *angrily dumps yesterday’s coffee grounds before putting in a new filter and fresh coffee, slamming things around*

Dean: *starts coffee pot*

Dean: *walks out of kitchen, focuses on Sam’s large Starbucks drink, and glares at him in betrayal*

Sam: What? What’d I do?

⭐⭐⭐

After a successful hunt: 

Dean: Good thing I got that shot in when I did.

Sam: What, the kill shot? No, I had the kill shot.

Dean: *kicks the dead thing’s body so that the kill shot is facing out* See that? That’s obviously one of mine.

Sam: How do you figure?

Dean: *kicks it again* 'Cause it’s actually dead.

Sam: My aim is just as good as yours.

Dean: I mean, your aim��s okay. Serviceable.

Sam: Serviceable?!

Dean: See those inconsequential shots to the left arm and shoulder? Those are all you.

Brochester Hijinks Masterlist

[love-the-purple-cat]

Oh don't you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me - Chapter 1 Part 11

“Hey, Ichigo,”

The bluenette looks up from his homework. They had agreed to do their work at the Cherī's place with the possibility of him staying for dinner.

“Yeah?”

“Are ya free da period startin' from da last week of July ‘till da first two-three weeks of August?” She asks after a moment of hesitation.

Ichigo leans back and thinks. As far as he knew, he was free. Those weeks were during summer vacation so there wasn’t any school. And if he wasn’t mistaken, Karin didn’t have any soccer matches for him to cheer and watch (did she even attend soccer practice anymore?).

“Yeah, I think so. Why?”

She hesitates again and his gaze sharpens. What did she need? Was she trouble?

“Ya see,” She starts, then stops and starts again. “Before ya answer, Ah want ya ta' know that ma and pa have no problem with ya joining me, so don’t start worryin’ an' thinkin’ Ah'm doin’ this behind their backs.”

“Cherī-“

“What Ah mean,” She continues, “Ma’ parents an' me always go ta' da beach fer 3 weeks, but since pa just got transferred ‘ere, we won’t be able ta' go there an’ that’d be a real shame ‘cuz we already paid fer the house. So Ah told ma an' pa that Ah could go there, an’ then Ah thought ‘bout ya an' asked them if ya can come an' they said ‘yes'.” She inhales deeply after saying all of that in one breath. “What Ah'm askin' is: Do ya want ta' come ta' da beach with me fer three weeks?”

Ichigo blinks. “You’re asking me... now? There's still time until then.”

The girl huffs, “Ah’m askin' ya now so that ya can have enough time ta' think ‘bout it, make up yer mind, change yer mind, think ‘bout it again and change yer mind again. Three weeks is a long time, Ichigo. Ya need ta' be sure ‘bout yer decision. Ah mean, not that Ah wouldn’t drive ya back if ya change yer mind, but still, Ah don’t want ya ta' feel bad if ya change yer decision.”

“Huh. And how long do I have to make up my mind?”

“Literally ‘till da day Ah leave. Which iiiissss,” She checks her phone's calendar. “28th July.”

“That’s the day you leave?”

“Yeah, Ah'm thinkin’ ‘round 6-ish?”

The teen falls silent, thinking about the offer. He didn’t really have anything to do during that time anyway, so what was the harm?

What about Yuzu and Karin?

They are old enough to care for themselves and each other. It's not like this will be the first time he had left them alone. True, he did leave them with Kon in his body, but it’s not like it will be any different. So why not? Why not indulge in this trip. It’s not like anyone will miss him.

It’s not like anyone will miss him.

“What should I bring?”

It takes her a moment to answer, intent on finishing the math equation first. “Clothes, obviously. Just so ya know, there’s a washin’ machine an' a drier there so don’t think ‘bout bringin’ yer entire closet, unless ya wanna, Ah mean. ID. Oh!” She jumps back, “Ah know a guy that makes fake IDs. We can get ya one.”

He should feel surprised that she knows someone in that sort of business, and he is, but not entirely. He blames it on her looks.

“Why would I need a fake ID?”

“Well, there are a lot of clubs there. We can go ta' one if ya want.” She smiles. “An’ ya never know when ya will need one.”

Ichigo frowns, but doesn’t disagree. He's lived long enough to know that such a thing could be useful.

-There are bodies underneath the soil and concrete-

“And this person. Are they trustworthy?” He asks because one can never be too sure.

Cherī gives him a smile. It's one part amusement, another part sharpness and final part the smile she had given Inoue. Her eyes, ice blue, hold a certain kind of cruelty that he has seen before at least four times. Mayuri, Nnoitra, Aizen, and...

He shakes his head.

The past was in the past and should remain buried underneath soil and concrete.

“Don’t worry,” Her voice brings him back from the memories that are trying to dig themselves out. “They’re trustworthy enough.”

He nods once and turns his attention back to his half-finished homework.

[busta20-blog-blog]

“We was fuckin’ fuckin’…I mean I was ridin’ his dick like a witch ridin’ a broom…his dick fit so tight against my pussy walls & actually stretched them…his balls slapped my ass hard & my pussy sucked his dick wit every stroke…I put dat washin’ machine twist on nat dick & he had to gi me dat nutt…he pushed my ass off O him & rolled over on my face…jerked his dick til hot nutt spewed on & in my mouth…this fucker covered my mouth wit his nutt…I saw his legs tremblin’ wit every shot O nutt that came out his meaty dick…he fell over onto the bed & I immediately rolled over & deep kissed him wit all his nut inside my mouth…he kissed me back…that shyt turned me on…I jumped up & strattled his mouth wit my pussy & face fucked him til I nutted creamy coating in his mouth…I lifted off of his face to see him licking around his mouth to get everything…my legs continued to tremble a little after that but we both relaxed into a cuddle & some sleep!”  

Please where is this women at need her in my life

[dylanradio]

Now Playing on DylanRadio.com: I Shall Be Free No. 10 by Bob Dylan from As Good As It Gets

I'm just average, common too I'm just like him an' the same as you I'm everybody's brother an' son I ain't different from anyone It ain't no use a-talkin' to me It's just the same as talkin' to you. I was shadow boxin' early in the day I figured i was ready for Cassius Clay I said "Fee, fie, fo, fum Cassius Clay here i come" 26, 27, 28, 29, Gonna make your face look just like mine 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Cassius Clay you better run 99, 100, 101, 102, Your ma won't even recognize you 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, Gonna knock him clean right out of his spleen. Well, i dont know but i been told The streets of heaven are lined with gold I ask you how things can get much worse If the russians happen to get up there first Wowee, pretty scary. Now, i'm a liberal but to a degree I want everybody to be free But if you think i'll let Barry Goldwater Move in next door an' marry my daughter You must think i'm crazy I wouldn't let him do it for all the farms in Cuba! Well, i set my monkey on the log An' ordered him to do the dog He wagged his tail an' shook his head An' he went an' did the cat instead He's a weird monkey, very funky. I sat with my high-heeled sneakers on Waitin' to play tennis in the noonday sun I had my white shorts rolled up past my waist An' my wig-hat was fallin in my face But they wouldn't let me on the tennis court. I got a woman she's so mean She sticks my boots in the washin' machine Sticks me with buckshot when i'm nude Puts bubblegum in my food She's funny, wants my money, calls me honey. Now i've got a friend who spends his life Stabbin' my picture with a Bowie knife He dreams of stranglin' me with a scarf When my name comes up he pretends to barf I've got a million friends! Now they asked me to read a poem At the sorority sister's home I got knocked down an' my head was swimmin' I wound up with the dean of women Yippee i'm a poet an' i know it Hope i don't blow it! I'm gonna grow my hair down to my feet so strange So i look like a walkin moutain range And i'm gonna ride into Omaha on a horse Out to the country club an the golf course Carry the New York Times Shoot a few holes, blow their minds. Now you're probably wonderin' by now Just what this song is all about What's probably got you baffled more Is what this thing here is for It's nothin' It's somethin' i learned over in England.

[lady-vixen-17]

All I Want - Simon (PL600) x Female!Reader

Masterlist

Part 7

Novemver 1, 2036

There was an uneasy feeling in the room, one caused by Y/n, the teen was tense, taking a seat as far from Austin and his friend. Mason Tanner, age 35. He was a questionable looking man to the teen, she didn’t trust him one bit, her actions of avoidance hadn’t gone unnoticed by the android. “Hey”

Simon initially ignored the voice, instead staying focused on the teen, the sudden spike in her stress levels concerning the blonde. “Plastic asshole!” Simons LED flashed yellow, his eyes hesitantly finding the dark brown eyes of Mason. “Go get the drinks I brought from the fridge.” When Simon made no attempt to move Mason clenched his jaw, eyes burning into the defiant androids components.

“Get it yourself” attention was turned to Y/n, a scowl making itself present. She pushed herself up, her feet bringing her to Simons side, hand grabbing his. “We’re going to my room” she turned without waiting for an answer. “It’s alright Y/n” Simon slipped his hand from Y/n’s his feet bringing him to a stop outside of the girls room. “I’m an android, this was what I was made-“

“Shut up!” E/c eyes found Simons, frustration pooling in her eyes and painting her features. “You are more than an android, when will you accept that!” The question caused Simon to avoid the girls gaze, his eyes wondering as he thought of a reply. “I’m not letting anyone hurt you, I know by your actions. Every fucking day. You aren’t...” the girl paused she hands clenching in frustration as she thought of the right words to say. “You aren’t a machine... you’re Simon.... and I-“ she cut herself off, a silent sigh falling from her lips dejectedly.

“I’ll get you a drink” Simons words were quiet, reverting to the tone he spoke in two years ago. “Do what ever you want...” the blondes LED flashed red, his brows furrowing in confusion, head tilting at the sudden change of Y/n’s attitude. The android sighed quietly to himself, turning and walking to the kitchen. The movement from the living room not bothering enough to capture his attention.

The blonde opened the fridge door, eyes scanning for only a moment before he reached for something, closing the doors a second after. In Simons hands was a bottle, filled with juice Y/n had made the previous night. He turned to make the walk back to girls room, his LED flashing between red and yellow as he processed a person walking into her room. The door closing silently behind them.

Simons gaze shifted to the living room, quickly noticing the absence of a certain male. Simon took quick quiet steps to Y/n’s room. Blue eyes settling on the handle, ears strained to hear the slightest of movements within the closed off room. “Just hold still” his hand had moved, gripping the handle, before he pushed to door opened. Masons gaze shifted from the girl he held to the wall, to the android who had opened the bedroom door. The males attention shifted to the door in panic before he let out a growl of annoyance.

“Get out of here” Masons attention turned back to Y/n, her struggling having stopped, eyes pleading towards Simon. “I should teach you a lesson...” the males hand had only wondered to the bottom of the e/c eyed girls shirt before he was roughly pulled back. “Don’t. Touch her.” Simons LED flashed to a solid red as he stared the brown eyed male before him. “MOM!” Simons attention shifted, head turning to the teen before a fist collided with his jaw.

“DON’T HURT HIM!” Hands tightened around his neck, with strength that caused the synthetic skin to break, melting away to reveal the white plastic beneath. “LET HIM GO!” Y/n had started moving towards the two males, her intentions to remove Mason from the blonde android. Her movements halted how ever when Simon lifted his hand, motioning her to stop. Simons LED solidified its self on red, his eyes trained on Mason. “Fucking androids....”

“Tell him to let Simon go!”

Warnings flared in Simons vision, his focus however was on Y/n, relief washing over his body as he saw her run from her spot a few feet from the two, to the arms of her mother, who stood in shock by the door. “You listen to us, obey what we fucking say” Mason pulled the android forwards his body before he pushed Simon back towards the wall. The force Mason had used causing a crack to paint its way along the wall.

“Simon!” The blondes eyes found Y/n’s, her e/c eyes filling with desperation and panic. Looking back to the male before him, Simon clenched his jaw, LED flickering a furious red, his hand grabbing the wrist of Mason as he attempted to swing his fist at the android. The shock that filled the eyes of the male before the android spread to Y/n and her mother. “What the hell-“ Masons words were cut off as his back hit the carpeted floor with a thump, the wind being knocked from his lungs.

Silence filled the room, the male below the android providing the only noise as he grunted and thrashed about to free himself from the androids iron grip. “Get your fucking android off me!” The yell had startled M/n, her arms instinctively pulled her daughter closer to her, putting herself between Mason and Y/n. Austin stood, momentarily shocked before he moved, his hands pulling the android up and off of his friend.

[btwrites-overwatch]

junkrat and roadhog manage to capture mccree but while hog is out of the room, mccree charms junkrat into releasing him by taking him out on a date to see fireworks as his "last request." hoggie comes back and both the dorks are gone.

McCree leaned his head against a dirt-smeared hand, crossing one leg over the other as he sat back in his lawn chair. “Mighty nice of ya to lemme have this,” he began, “but do I really gotta be chained to the chair?” He rattled the chains for emphasis, clacking raucously against his prosthetic hand and the chair legs.

Jamie snickered, burying the concussion mine up under the “fireworks.” “Can’t have ya runnin’ away durin’ the show, can I?” he returned, adjusting one of the bombs. “Ain’t even given your mates time to even think about payin’ the ransom.” He hoped the chemicals he dumped in at the last minute would make the explosions colorful – and, er, not deadly. That would really ruin the last couple hours of the cowboy’s life.

“Guess you got a point.” McCree’s voice was begrudging, his face twisted in a stony scowl. It took all he had not to erupt on Jamie, and the junker knew that – hell, he’d be fighting like a cat stuck in a bag in his position. There was something respectable about his composure, and something a bit endearing about how furious he was.

His fury was different from Mako’s. His was one that would gladly kill Jamie if given the chance, despite his flirting and gusto, and would do so with a grin on his face. His was one that knew what it wanted and how it wanted it done. Such an organized hatred, meant just for him – it left Jamie feeling jittery, full of goosebumps and a morbid curiosity that made him want to let the Overwatch agent free, just to see exactly what he’d do.

What could he say? He liked dangerous men.

He bounced up and loped back over to McCree, his pretty little display ready to be set off. He slapped himself down into his seat beside the American’s, holding the detonator of the singular concussion mine with a giddy expression. “Ready for this?” he asked, leaning close and squeezing the other man’s arm. “Might wanna cover your ears, dear.”

McCree allowed himself to smirk ever so slightly, turning his attention to the display set up a safe enough distance away that it wouldn’t burn them to crisps. Jamie didn’t let go of his arm, hardly realizing his hand was lingering, and waited for him to plug his ears with his fingers.

And then…boom. The best sound in the world, so good he didn’t bother to cover his own ears.

Pinks and greens and purples burnt up the twilit sky with splendor Jamie didn’t think possible. The heat hit them moments after the colors, the multiple explosions leaving his head ringing in a way he could only describe as euphoric. Funny, he’d heard of the Omnic monks in Nepal trying to reach nirvana on the physical plane – if only those buckets of scrap could figure out it was right in front of them, just a matchstick away!

He squeezed Jesse’s arm harder, giggling as the bright embers started floating back down to the sand. Beside him – muffled, dampened by the popping of his eardrums – Jesse chuckled too, leaning closer so their shoulders were touching.

“That was ace!” Jamie screamed, loud enough so he could hear himself. “I made those! And I did ‘em right! Y'know, I’ve always wanted to make fireworks – never had a show!” He turned to look at Jesse, skin boiling with excitement and thinking the display didn’t last nearly as long as it should’ve. He opened his mouth to keep talking, only to find a scratchy beard and lightly chapped lips against his cheek before he could make a sound.

Fresh flames rushed through his blood, all of which shot to his head. Dizziness hit him like a bus; he felt like he was about to physically combust and splatter Jesse with brain matter, mere seconds after he made his night. He didn’t have a chance to ask why, his jaw refusing to work with his tongue and his tongue refusing to work with his brain. For once, he was dumbstruck.

Jesse stayed there for a moment, smiling against the side of his face with lowered eyelids. Then, quietly, he admitted, “You’re awful sweet, sugar bomb. Too bad for you I don’t much like desserts.”

Jamie glanced over, confused, just to feel the cold barrel of a revolver pressed to his temple. Sharp fear made his heart freeze, realizing a few seconds too late that the display was a distraction – one he made for his own damn self, keeping him entranced like a particularly dense toddler.

“I-I didn’t know ya could pick locks!” he exclaimed loudly, dismayed. “You slimy bastard!”

Jesse slowly got up, keeping the pistol to Jamie’s head. He dusted himself off, his denims having gotten dirty in the dust kicked up by the bombs. “That’s why ya look into people before kidnappin’ ‘em, hun. But, for future reference – I can pick locks, shoot a can outta the air from 200 feet away, and prefer coffee over tea.”

Jamie stared at the ground. How devious. How smarmy.

He couldn’t have done it better himself.

He should’ve been livid. He should’ve been trying to kick the cowboy’s feet out from under him, he should’ve been screaming bloody murder and committing bloody murder. But he was proud. Disappointed, but proud. Christ, he should’ve known better!

Right where the bombs had been, a sleek ship landed from seemingly nowhere. Chrome outlines, hovering on blue fire that threw the charred sand in a circle around itself, made for a beautiful UFO Jamie would have given his remaining limbs to inspect closer. Jesse grinned, a lopsided thing that rivaled the nuttiness of Junkrat’s own. “Looks like the landin’ strip worked pretty well,” he exclaimed, turning to bolt for the opening door. “It’s been fun, ¡querido! Take me to dinner next time, will ya?”

Jamie watched him run, his serape a victory flag flapping out behind him, before he hopped into the ship, as seamless as if being kidnapped and held for ransom was his idea from the start. The ship wasted no time in heaving itself off the ground, having gotten what it came for, before shooting into the sky.

Jamie watched the dust settle. When all was clear, he sighed, threw his head back, and covered his face with his hands.

Butterflies ate away at his innards, making themselves at home in his gut. He was blushing like mad, feeling as though he’d been in the sun for six hours too long. The feeling was addicting, something he got hooked on right there and then – and knew he had to see that too-smart-for-his-own-good, charming-beyond-reason asshole of a cowboy again. He needed revenge, if not something more.

When he moved his hands, he looked up into the black lenses of Roadhog’s mask. “He got away,” the big man muttered, not sounding surprised at all.

He wasn’t asking, but Jamie nodded anyway. “He’s a better thief than either of us are, Hog. I gotta get back at 'im.”

Roadhog said nothing. Junkrat stood up, bouncing to his feet as excitement made his muscles shriek for movement. His bones fizzled with newfound purpose; his internal furnace burned the butterflies to twitching ashes as he began gimping back to the trailer. “I’m never washin’ this face again!” he told no one in particular, not intending to give an explanation to whoever was listening. He had a million thoughts hitting him at once, ways he could find the agents of Overwatch, how he could join them, how he could steal Jesse’s heart the way he stole his. Explanations could be given later.

Mako watched after him, narrowing his eyes behind the mask. Joining Overwatch was the last thing he’d expected Jamison to want to do, but who was to stop him? He was hellbent on revenge. Mako wouldn’t stand in the way of that.

He hoped the Overwatch agents had room for a motorcycle on that dinky ship of theirs. And maybe a Pachimari machine or two.

[workingmanwayne]

Wayne seemed to catch something in her expression that told him she hadn’t fully understood, passing her a sheepish look. “Industry terms, force’a habit. Adjustin’ is changin’ the temperature of the molten steel, castin’ is when yuh pour it out into a basic shape, and formin’ is when yuh take that shape an’ turn it into somethin’ can be sold t’ a factory fur makin’ cars ur fridges ur washin’ machines.”

His face flushed with pride at her comments, the smile he gave her brighter and more open than his usual small one. “That’s mighty nice of yuh t’ say, Miss Chrissy.” He seemed to get even more pleased when she accepted one of the cookies, setting the rest of them down in front of her so she could take her time with them. “Don’t yew go worrying ‘bout that. Like I said, y’aint a bother at all.”

workingmanwayne·:

Wayne nodded, reaching up into one of the cabinets for the big tub of bargain brand coffee they kept on hand. “It’s a steel processin’ plant. We take th’ raw ore that’s shipped over from th’ mines an’ make it intuh th’ right materials fur factories t’ use. I mainly do th’ castin’ personally, but I’ve helped out with th’ adjustin’ now an’ then and I’ve formed it, too.” 

Flicking the switch on the coffee maker, he moved to another part of the tiny kitchen and routing around for something way in the back. After nearly a minute of searching, he turned back around with a small tin brought it over to the table, opening it up to reveal some shortbread. “Sorry I don’t have anythin’ more tuh offer yuh, Eddie an’ his friends tend t’ eat all the snacks as soon as we get ‘em in. These should taste good with th’ coffee though.”

☾⋆ ‒‒‒‒‒  Whatever Wayne had just said went right over Chrissy’s head. She wasn’t stupid by any stretch, her GPA was actually pretty damn good, especially considering she was a cheerleader and most of them skimmed by with passable grades with the skin of their teeth. However, it did sound super interesting and a a lot of hard work. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen real raw ore before? But that’s actually really neat, processing it so that it can become something else.” She hoped she sounded interested, the last thing she wanted was to make the man feel awkward.

With the tin now placed in front of her she couldn’t help but to smile. It was kind of funny and sweet that he had a secret stash from Eddie and she could absolutely believe that the snacks were soon gone once they were brought into the trailer. “Oh no, this is fine, thanks.” Normally Chrissy would politely decline because she’d be stressing about the calories, but, she figured taking one wouldn’t hurt and she could stress about it later; she didn’t want Wayne to think she was a snob or anything. “I really do hope I’m not being a bother to you, Mr. Munson?”

[funkymeihem-fiction]

Hot Headed, Cold Hearted- Chapter 4

“And you didn’t have any clue this was happenin’, eh? Noooo idea that your bot friend was acting suspicious? Seems a bit strange, that does.” Junkrat sat with the seat cranked back, arms folded behind his head and his feet propped up. Despite his slouched posture, he looked the farthest thing from relaxed. “Just poppin’ off to Canada, Junkrat. No reason to worry, Junkrat. I’ll just be on a mystery expedition with this bot that I’m insistin’ real hard is innocent and not at all weird-acting from the start! Tch. You’re real lucky Roadie and I are the sorts of loyal gents that we are, coming along like this. That’s worth at least ten points.” “I told you I don’t rank you by points!” Mei’s jaw tightened further, her hands white-knuckled around the steering grip of the little ship. “And get your peg leg off the dashboard!” He scowled at her but pulled his feet away and back onto the floor, even as he hissed back, “How about I put my peg wherever I like it, and you tell me what this mission of yours is actually about? You can’t pretend to be Little Miss Honesty and then not tell us important mission info, that’s puttin’ everything in jeopardy. What’s with the bot, Mei? I’ve seen how you’ve been acting, you know what’s really up?” “I said I don’t know! Sorry, sorry, I’m not trying to yell, but you’re making it very hard to focus. And I keep telling you, I don’t know why it’s singing that song or anything about what it might have been pointing at. And I already told you the mission parameters, we’re just going to the marked location and taking a look around in person. It just…It just wants us to go there, all right? We’re just checking it out, just in case.” “So this whole ‘scouting mission’ is just because that whacked-out bot wanted to go walkabout! And you let it!” Mei took several deep breaths. The snows had stopped but the winds had picked up, and their airship was making slow but steady progress against the face of the gale. They had left Tentpeg to start the long flight northward, into the faceless mass of the Canadian wilderness. The sea of green below was broken only by rocky mountains and lakes and there wasn’t even anything she could try to point out and distract him with. Junkrat had always been high-strung, but he was nigh uncontrollable about omnics, and even she had to admit that none of her attempts at assuaging his doubts seemed very convincing. “It’s not like that! Bastion is our friend and it clearly wants us to find something here, so we’re going to take a look. That’s all. Listen, it’s really not a big deal, so let’s just calm down. We can still do this together.” “And you can’t tell us why or if it might be leadin’ us right into an omnic trap!” Junkrat twisted in his seat to narrow his eyes at Bastion. “I say we scrap it, for our own sakes.” “Jamison, no! You promised me you would be nice! Both of you promised you wouldn’t cause trouble about this, and I’m still keeping you to that promise. Bastion is our teammate and…you don’t have to be friends, but you do have to be nice. You. Promised.”

The junker sputtered around his scarf, turning his glare back to her. “Well! Well that’s before I had all the facts, which apparently, you don’t have the facts either. That’s a promise made on shaky pretenses, love. Now me, I’m just trying to keep you safe because I’m a decent bloke, even if you’re putting up a muss and a fuss about it.” “You’re not trying to keep me safe, you’re just looking for excuses to be mean because you hate omnics!” Her voice rose even though she tried to keep it steady. “And you still promised me, no matter what. You have to keep your promises, you just have to.” “Arright, Mei! Two can play at your game; look at me and promise me that your bot friend isn’t gonna go haywire. Promise me, Mei, that you can tell me with one-hundred-percent certainty, that your overgrown washin’ machine isn’t leading us into danger. It’s just taking us to the pot of gold at the end of the fuckin’ rainbow and when we open it up, ducklings and kittens are gonna come spilling out and we’re all going to do a dance together because we’re all friends now juuuuust like you wanted.” “Would you stop being ridiculous? Do you want me to be ridiculous too? Fine! Minus ten points! Minus twenty points!” “You said we weren’t doing points! Well, aren’t you just Ms. Takesies-Backsies today? You just don’t want to face the music about your robo-pal having interior motives, is that it? Oh, that’s RICH! You know what-” Bastion all but cowered in the back of the ship’s cargo as the two in the front seat starting shouting again, its head darting between the two as the arguing continued. Snowball sat in its charging station, beeping occasionally when Mei spoke and flashing rude Mandarin phrases across its screen whenever Junkrat answered her. Ganymede seemed unwilling to face their constant bickering, staying unseen under Bastion’s winter hat. Bastion didn’t seem sure of what to do with itself, well aware that it was the subject of the tempest up front. It nervously clicked its fingertips against its gun arm, glancing up when there was a dangerous warning rumble from across the cargo hold. Roadhog, looming so large that he had to bend over inside the ship even when he was sitting down, was still staring at it through the lenses of his pig mask. Glancing from the huge man to its gun arm, Bastion quickly lowered it and held it behind its back before looking back to him. Roadhog did not respond, favorably or otherwise. Bastion’s eyelight darted from side to side again, then it held out its hand as if to shake. Roadhog did not take it. “Hmmm,” he rumbled once more, before turning his gaze back to the argument that was growing louder in volume by the minute. “…Mei.” “-And third of all, you can’t break promises just because you feel- WHAT?!” She stopped mid-argue and whirled back to look at him, then quailed at her own voice and quickly lowered it. “I’m sorry! Sorry. Mr. Roadhog. What is it?” “Are we getting close?” “Oh!” She seemed almost startled, like she had forgotten that she had been driving in the first place. Blinking, she looked down at the onboard map. “GPS gets a little spotty this far out. Less than fifty miles now. It’s taking a little longer than I would like with this wind and all. We’re flying against it, unfortunately, but there’s nothing for it. Weather system is moving in but we should be in and out before the snows hit.” She turned and looked at Junkrat expectantly. He sat with his arms folded petulantly and had been staring out the window, lifting a brow back at her. “What?” “I said, we should be in and out before the snows hit.” “Yeah?” “I said. We should be. In and out.” She stared at him before muttering in an almost hopeful way, waiting for the lewd remark that was sure to come. “In and out?” He didn’t even seem to notice her, glaring daggers at the omnic in the back. Mei rubbed her forehead before returning her attentions back to the GPS monitor. “…I got it,” Hog offered, lifting a hand from the backseat. She sighed loudly. “Thanks, Mr. Roadhog. Let’s just get there and get this over with. This isn’t really how I’d hoped this would go, but then…things never seem to go well, anyway. We’ll try to find a clearing for a landing, take Bastion to the site and see what’s there, and then we can all head back to a real town and maybe this time get a decent hotel. You two can have your own room and Bastion and Snowball and I can go over our findings so nobody has to be bothered anymore.” She steered the ship against another incoming gale, the whole vehicle shuddering from the force of it as it whistled outside the windows. “Let’s just do our jobs.” “Bee-weep-beep,” Bastion agreed, then quickly shrunk down into a more box-like structure once more when Roadhog looked at it again. Turning back towards the front, Roadhog glanced between the Mei and Junkrat, who were still trying very hard not to look at one another, but said nothing as he shrugged and sat back once more. With a last grumble, he folded his hands over his massive gut and lowered his head for yet another nap. ***

Hog snorted awake abruptly some minutes later when a loud beeping noise went off. Everyone jumped in their seats at the same time, and Mei adjusted her glasses quickly, squinting down at the GPS. “Oh! Is that a weather alert?” Three small dots, blinking rapidly, were coming up behind them on the map. For a moment, it simply didn’t register to Mei what it meant. They were in the absolute middle of nowhere. It would have been hard to get any more in the middle of nowhere. But there they were, no longer alone, as the three blinking dots started to close in behind them, almost like- Snowball’s shrill alarm call went off and recognition hit her like a thunderbolt. She gripped onto the little ship’s controls with both hands, roaring a “Everyone hold on!” before abruptly jerking it to one side. The little cargo ship was not meant for evasive maneuvers, but she jammed onto the brakes and pulled up with all her might as it tilted until it was almost horizontal. All the equipment inside that wasn’t strapped down went flying, boxes and debris and Bastion’s heavy metal chassis slamming into the unlucky Roadhog. Junkrat found himself assaulted with trash and food wrappers as he took a water bottle to the face, but he barely noticed, clinging onto the seatbelt that Mei had insisted he wear as several oblong blurs went flying past them outside the window. “Are those missiles? Are those fuckin’ missiles?!” His gaze widened as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, staring after the vapor trails that had started to curve as they turned back around for another go. “Who the hell!” “I don’t know! I don’t know!” Mei was still struggling at the helm, righting the vehicle after a moment as she stared in rapt horror down at the blinking red alerts. The little ship was barely above a civilian affair, something that Winston had gotten as little more than a cargo van to hold all her equipment, not anything to be sent into battle. It wasn’t equipped with shields, it wasn’t equipped with missiles, or even a single defensive countermeasure. And it certainly wouldn’t stand up to multiple explosions if they were being attacked. “We’re sitting ducks in this thing!” Junkrat was already struggling out of his seatbelt, diving into the mess in the back and coming up with his pack. Opening it up, he pulled out several mines, leaping over where Bastion was still trying to right itself. Flinging open one of the back doors and ignoring Mei’s demands for an explanation, his keen gaze followed one of the trails at it headed back towards them. Sticking out his tongue as he often did, concentrating, he narrowed his eyes as he watched its trajectory before rearing back and tossing the mine like a frisbee. It spun on its axis, whirling out into the wind before a quick press of the button detonated the device in an explosion of black and yellow against the gray clouds. The missile sensed the surge of heat nearby and turned right into the fireball, detonating on top of it as a second and far more powerful explosion went off behind them. “Got one!” He crowed, clinging onto the open door handle as he looked back to Mei for a quick bout of praise. She was still struggling to maintain control of the ship against the wind, her glasses askew and her expression intense as she aimed their path for the nearby mountains. The other two missiles were still being tracked on her screen, closing in behind them as she heard a series of clanks and whirs. Bastion had finally gotten itself upright, and had quickly shifted into its turret mode as Ganymede was sent fleeing to take shelter behind Snowball’s charger. With a “Doot-de-dooooot!”, it opened fire, the other back door shot off in a hail of bullets and sailing off into the sky as the omnic locked its sights on the targets headed towards them. Its bullet chains began cranking in rapid machine-gun fire as another cavalcade of ammo was sent spraying towards the incoming missiles. The gunfire caught one, another explosion sending a shockwave through the air that made Junkrat’s grin widen and his bones hum, though he narrowed his gaze at the bot and muttered a hateful little, “Showoff…” Bastion took aim once more, but the van hit another errant wind gale and shook violently as its shots went wild. The last missile rapidly closed in, spiraling through the air towards them, and one of the bot’s shots finally managed to hit its target. It detonated with another air-rippling boom, but this one had caught their tail end as the van pitched violently once more. Junkrat didn’t even have time to make up a one-liner or an insult, clinging to the remaining door…until it was ripped off its hinges, and both door and junker were wrenched into the open air. He was sucked out into the void, clawing at air as both he and his bag went spinning into the nothingness with an almost comical squeal. “YAAAWHOOOOOIEEEE!”

***

Roadhog was on his feet before Mei could even finish her horrified scream. The huge junker filled the open back of the van, his arm flinging outward as there was a creaking rustle of chain, his hook spinning out after his airborne partner. It snagged the bottom of his coat, narrowly missing impaling his skinny belly as Junkrat dangled and dragged from the van like a hooked fish; face down, ass skyward, and wide-eyed at the rushing blur of green trees beneath him. “Pull me up! Pull me up, ya drongo!” The shrieking of the wind drowned out any more words he might have said, flailing his skinny limbs as Roadhog started pulling the chain to reel him in. Hand over hand, he started lifting the younger man back towards safety. Inside, Mei allowed herself a relieved sigh… Right up until the screen started beeping and flashing red again. The engine of the left rear hover was on fire, and there were two more dots now closing in on them from the north. She recognized the shape almost at once, and the symbols on the hull only confirmed it; these were no doubt the source of the missile barrage, and they belonged to Talon. There would be no outrunning them this time, and though she yelled a warning and started to try and turn the van around, it was only moments before the Talon ships were in range. The first barrage was thrown off by the wind and Mei’s desperate attempts to barrel roll. It hit the front engines as more alarms went off and smoke began billowing from the hood. The whole vehicle dropped abruptly and started to tilt, and Roadhog was nearly pitched out the back, struggling to keep hold of the chain where Junkrat was still dangling. The ship was starting to limp downward, and Junkrat’s nose was dangerously close to brushing the tops of the trees as he heard the telltale popping of threads where he was precariously hooked by his winter coat. And when the rear engine died completely, that side of the ship dropped out from under Hog’s boots. He fell, the slack in the chain rippling along its length until Junkrat was jerked to and fro in the air, and then dropped into the treeline as the branches swallowed him up. There was a ripping noise and a cut-off scream, and then the hook was left spinning merrily in the air, empty of its charge, and Junkrat was gone entirely. “JAMIE! JAMIE, NO!” Mei’s wail cut through even the shrieking of the wind and the pops of the burning engines, slamming on the brakes to try and turn back around. Roadhog managed to right himself, shoving Bastion out of his way as he lunged back towards the front, his gigantic hand closing around both of Mei’s hand and the control grip beneath. Wheezing a breath, he snarled a low, “Keep going!” “No! Jamison, he-” “Keep going forward! No help if we’re dead!” Roadhog’s grip was like iron around her as he kept the ship straight. He was right. Military training and common sense bade them keep moving forward and staying on the defense until they could safely go back for help. But no amount of training in Lena’s VR Air Battle simulators could prepare for something like this. Their ship was barely moving forward on two and a half engines, trailing smoke and flames. Their only hope was to find a place on the mountainside that was clear enough to bail onto, but as they limped on their way, the Talon fighters were already upon them like lightning. Bastion was still perched in the back cargo, its turret gun swiveling desperately in hopes that the ships would pass by. Instead, another round of pulse bullets slammed into the side of their burning ship. It sheared through the metal like melted butter, nearly cutting the structure in two as sparks flew and the whole back end screeched and started to come apart. Bastion looked down as the floor gave way and sagged, and its turret form was already whirring and struggling to change back before it simply slid backwards and then dropped out of sight without a sound. With a panicked storm of tweeting and a flash of yellow feathers, Ganymede dove after it. Roadhog and Mei, and Snowball were the only ones left inside the rapidly disintegrating vehicle. Cracks had started to appear in the windshield and the GPS abruptly flickered off and went dead as the ‘check engine’ light lit up helpfully. Worse yet, the steering controls weren’t responding properly anymore, and she was sure she could smell burning behind the main control panel. “Mr. Roadhog, brace yourself!” she cried aloud, turning the ship downward. “I’m going to try to land it!” Roadhog buckled his seatbelt. The ship dropped again as the Talon fighters suddenly hung back, watching the van as it careened for the mountainside. The emergency lights were still flashing uselessly, blinking amongst the smoke and flames as it hit the treetops and bounced several times before it hit the stony slope. It went spinning like a toy, shedding science equipments and a flurry of papers, screeching across the rocks in a storm of sparks before slowly skidding to a stop against a massive boulder. It lay there, electric blue sparks still popping around it and fire starting to spread across the twisted hull. With their target firmly incapacitated, the Talon ships dove down after them.

***

Inside the wreckage, Roadhog had braced himself. The front of the van had dented inward and he was pretty sure that his leg had dented in with it, judging by the immense pain radiating up his femur, but he was alive and conscious. Well, semi-conscious. And being only semi-conscious and very much in pain was hardly ideal for their situation. Groping in his winter pack by his belly, he pulled out the familiar yellow canister, clicking it into place with one smooth well-practiced motion. The tab was pulled and the hogdrogen flooded his mask, his nose, and then his lungs in succession. The pain faded to a manageable level for now, and the fuzzy redness around his vision slowly came into focus. Mei was laying unmoving next to him, her arms hanging limply and her face buried in the airbag, and red was trickling down from where she rested against the rough white fabric. Hesitating slightly, Hog reached out one huge gloved hand and gently peeled her up and away from it. Her glasses were shattered, and it looked like her nose had been shattered with it, along with a deep open cut across her forehead. She flopped almost bonelessly in his grip, out cold. But she moaned a little when he moved her, and she was alive. The relief that flooded through him was almost better than the hogdrogen. “Tango down, two survivors, two fatalities.” Hog turned his head very slowly at the sound of a garbled voice outside, followed by the answering static of a radio. The Talon agents were advancing on what remained of their ship, weapons drawn, as they made their way through the debris. He heard one of them pause. “Papers have the Overwatch symbol on them. Sending visual…Confirmed…” The soldier waited for a moment, holding up one hand to signal the pause of his cohorts, before nodding. “Preparing for transport of the two captives for questioning…Roger that. Right, let’s take a look at who they sent. Move in, pacify any-” The hook and chain hurtled out of the black smoke, snagging one of the oncoming Talon troops and yanking them back out of sight before they could even react. Inside, there was a very brief yell, followed by the sound of a gun firing and the clatter of scrap metal…and then a sort of wet splattering noise. The other troops lifted their weapons as an immense shape lifted up out of the smoke and vapor, the massive junker rearing up to his full height, the swine mask’s blank glass lenses glinting like a dead thing’s, and the adorable pom-pom on Ana’s winter pig hat bobbling to and fro. Mei’s unconscious form had been unceremoniously draped over one shoulder in a fireman’s carry, her face smearing fresh blood into his coat. It was a precarious perch, but he needed both arms free, reaching into the debris of the ship and slamming a fistful of loose scrap and bolts into the feeder of his gun. When the first Talon agent opened fire, bullets ripping through his brand new parka and into the scarred meat of his thick hide, he answered in kind. A spray of razor-edged metal and rusted nails had always served him as well as any other ammo, and the screams that came after (if they had time to scream, anyway) were always like music to his ears. He descended upon the Talon troops like a thunderstorm. And if Mei had been awake, she could have testified that Australian storms were like no others in the world. The old junker had been nigh-legendary in his homeland, a one-man apocalyptic force responsible for the massacre of any errant omnic, junker, or fool that dared cross him. And that was what Talon faced now. The scrap gun clanked and shot, clanked and shot again, his other hand whirling the heavy metal hook around on its chain to drag in those who were stupid enough to think themselves out of his range. He dispatched two of them in very short order, and his heavy spiked boot brutally stomped one down into the snow when he saw them struggling to get back up again. Snowball finally managed to struggle its way out of the wreck of the van, blaring a cute beeping warcry as its emoticon eyes flashed into its ‘anger’ face. The little bot hadn’t been outfitted with any of its cryo-packets for a battle, but upon seeing Mei injured and under attack, it hurtled towards one of the Talon trooper’s faces, backing up and slamming into them again and again. After attacking Junkrat so many times, it had gotten adept at dodging limbs and fists, and threw itself at the offending soldier with all its might. Roadhog focused on the remaining agents. More bullets tore into his back, and when he turned to punish the man who had thought that would work against someone like him, he felt something spear through his coat, pinpricking into his skin with little metal prongs. The wires running from were attached to a little black box one of the other agents was holding. Heh. They thought a taser would work? What sort of idiot thought a taser would- The sheer power of the electrical volts that shot through him a moment later was certainly surprising. His limbs spasmed and stiffened, and he could feel Mei slipping out of his grasp. Powering through the pain, he managed to grasp blindly for the wires attached to the electrical prongs, ripping them free. Grabbing the unconscious girl in the crook of one arm, he felt more of the little prongs hit the massive expanse of his back, and then another by his shoulder. “Boss wants them alive!” He heard one of them say, just as more electrical convulsions ripped through him. He groaned, spasming once more despite his best efforts, as Mei was flung out of his grip and onto the snow, the huge junker collapsing to one knee a moment later. One of the troopers moved towards the girl, and was met with the spiked metal knuckles of Roadhog’s fist as they were punched hard enough to send them flying. With steam rising from the burnt areas of his skin surrounding the electric spikes, he tried to gather her back up again, crouching over her downed form in the blood-spattered snow. Snowball beeped in alarm and rushed towards them, and was hit with another set of the flying prongs. Yanked back by the wire suddenly attached to its underside, it flashed a series of exclamation marks and tried to pull away. A bolt of white arced from the black device, over the wire, and buzzed through its circuits, overloading them with a series of loud pops and crackling noises. With its screen flashing random symbols and emotes, it wavered from side to side before it went black and dead, dropping to the ground with a muffled thud. The thud when Roadhog hit the ground was much, much louder. The combined voltage from the Talon’s weaponry had finally downed even the mightiest of them, as the massive junker sprawled out in the snow with his heavy arm flung over the girl next to him. He lay unmoving as the remaining troopers swarmed over them both, arguing with one another as they tried to figure out how to attach their cuffs to fit over Hog’s thick wrists, and who would be stuck trying to move him into one of the ships. Mei was far easier to handle. Her limbs were quickly bound together before being lifted up and hauled away. One of the agents paused only to aim his visual device at her face, and was promptly answered by a low, gravely voice with an echoing undertone, sounding in the commlink in his ear. “…Agent Mei-Ling Zhou, one of the original organization’s members. Hm. Admittedly, that’s a…surprise. Bring her in. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, and I’m sure she can’t wait to catch up with her old friends…”

***

Sometime later, the Talon ships were gone and the fire had finally died down in the wreckage of the van, smoldering with little bits of black ash flying away into the screaming winds. The snow had been stomped down around it, spattered with red, and all bodies and prisoners removed. Of its original occupants, nothing remained but the burnt-out husk of Snowball, half-buried and lifeless, and a pair of twisted, broken glasses abandoned on the cold ground.