#the liner that runs across his eyes will be our first line of defense

[dynyamight]

So many mutuals, with their Midoriya users, while i, goth Kacchanko.

Army of Dekus, earth domination when.

every deku in the world:

#star responds #minisheku. goth kacchan is so powerful #the army of deku’s is ready at your command #the liner that runs across his eyes will be our first line of defense #& then his chipped nail polish will be our second #goth kacchan.. chef’s smooch #minisheku

[tale-xistime]

Lolll these prompts are amazing gems. I love them all. Here's a fave:

7. “What’s our exit strategy?”

"our exit strategy?"

"oh my god were all going to die."

You guess who says which line 😏

|I love all these prompts and want more of them so give me more hehehehehehe|

Crawling through an air duct in a dress was difficult. Crawling through an air duct in a dress over a ballroom full of people without making a sound while Raymond Reddington was staring at her ass was even more difficult.

Liz hadn’t had time to change out of her long, silky, burgundy dress before they were hiding from security, trying their best to make it to Levi Sumpters office without being caught and subsequently shot.

They had to get to the statue standing in the massive mansions office, preferably before the party that was providing them cover ended.

“So much for laying low.” Liz grumbled quietly from in front of Red. Crawling on her hands and knees in the dark ducting that lined the ceiling.

Red crawled not far behind her, his tux probably marinated in stagnant dust by now. He had Lizzies blood colored train tossed over his shoulder in an attempt to avoid tripping her, not complaining at all about their awkward position if only due to the marvelous view he was provided from his position crawling close behind her.

He only wished he could have more light on the situation from here in the closed off metal rectangle.

“Well it wasn’t exactly my plan to be caught sneaking off to the off limits area of the party Elizabeth. When you pulled a gun on the security guards that certainly didn’t help situation. The only way we got out of that jam was because we were able to run and get the vent cover opened before they caught up to us again. That and my swift kick to the left guards crotch, thank you very much.”

Liz rolled her eyes at his indignation.

“This would have been much easier if we had only held the guards to get the exact location of Sumpters office. Now we are just crawling around aimlessly in miles of ductwork Red!”

Red gave a ‘psh’ sound from behind his closed jaw.

“Holding the guards would have been too difficult, we have other things to worry about. Besides they won’t be able to find us now. And for your information we aren’t ‘crawling around aimlessly.’ I happen to have a general idea of where the statue is located. We just have to find it and drop down from the vent. There will be a cover over the room somewhere, we just have to find the right room and hope Sumpter is still busy with his guests.”

Liz made a disbelieving noise, crossing over a patch of light that broke through the smalley quartered tube, continuing on her way without a second thought. She was stopped however, as Raymond yanked on the train of her dress, grabbing it before it receded from around his broad-set shoulders. She was stopped with a lurch, her ass smashing into Red’s chest. They both blushed, jumping apart and mumbling words of apology.

“Why did you stop?” Liz whisper yelled, trying to hide her fluster with anger.

“Sorry, I just,” Red squinted into the light of the room below them, “I’m pretty sure that this is the room.”

Red reached behind him then, grabbing a small candy-apple red Swiss Army Knife, then began unscrewing the vent cover that stood between them.

The cover swung open, just barely large enough for Red to fit through. He lowered himself down carefully, his biceps bulging against the confining material of the tux as he controllably hung himself from the ceiling. He soon dropped to an open section of floor in front of a large desk, a rug doing nothing to soften his touch down. He landed a little funny on his shoulder, grimacing as he stood and wiped the sheets of dust off his suit.

“You alright?” She called down quietly, noticing his face as he rubbed the offending shoulder.

“Just peachy.” He mumbled, pushing the cherry wood office desk to be positioned below the vent. He took his arm and ran it across the surface, papers and pens falling to the floor as he cleared off the wood.

Liz took the train and lowered it down beneath her, then did the same as he did, her heels discarded off to the side as her bare feet touched down on the desk effortlessly. He watched her as she did so, the sleeveless dress doing nothing to hide her toned upper body as it flexed.

He grabbed her pair of sparkling red stilettos and rushed back to hold a hand out to her as she stepped down, ever the gentleman even as he knew she needed no help from him.

They stood in front of each other, covered in dust, sweat, and thousand dollar clothing.

Red gave a small smile, like a boy on his first date.

Liz softened as she looked at his shoulder, her arm drifting up to gently touch it.

“You sure you’re ok?” She mumbled, gingerly rubbing it.

“Just fine Lizzie. Thank you. Now let’s go find our statue.”

He handed her shoes back to her, providing his good shoulder to help her balance as she slipped them back on.

They turned and checked an adjacent door, the dark room looking much like a storage closet, clutter strung everywhere.

Red smirked at what he saw in the dark. He strutted in without a word, squatting down to the base of the large, lion shaped marble statue.

Liz trailed after Red as she closed and locked the door behind her, realizing there was a small bronze plaque at the bottom of the statue. The print was tiny, in a foreign language no less.

It read “Арслан бүх зүйлийг нуудаг.”

“The lion hides all.” Red translated. And at her look of skepticism he clarified defensively, “Mongolian.”

He took out his Swiss Army Knife again, unscrewing the plaque. She sat down next to him, leaning in closely to him in the dark. Catching a whiff of his cologne.

“What are you doing?” She questioned curiously, softly whispering in his ear.

“The paper we need, with the information on where the gun deposit is located is taped to the back of this plaque. They’ve been transporting the statue back and forth on merchant liners, using it as a vessel for their communica-”

A large banging sound came from behind them in the other room, followed by a loud, “Sweep the area for them! They’re in one of these rooms!”

They went radio silent, looking at each other wide eyed in the dark. Red didn’t bother picking the paper off the backing of the plaque, instead opting for just stuffing the entire hunk of metal in his suit coat as he hurriedly stood.

“What’s our exit plan?” Liz asked worriedly as she watched Red scan around the room. His deer in the headlights look finally came to a rest on her face as he echoed a little sheepishly, mumbling quietly as if he was trying out the words on his tongue, “our exit plan?”

“Oh my god we’re going to die!” Liz whisper yelled through gritted teeth, grabbing his collar and shaking him a little. She let go with a flourish, looking around as he was.

“Ok, ok. We’re gonna be fine we just need someway….” He trailed off, running a hand over the back of his neck. The walked to a small corner of the room, finding their salvation.

“A window!” They said simultaneously, locking eyes and communicating like they sometimes do, both knowing the plan without needing to speak it a loud.

Another bang came from behind them, but this time it was much closer as the door that separated them from certain death shuttered behind them.

They gave a silent nod again, both moving to begin pushing the large chunk of marble to block the door as Liz kicked off her heels by the window again. They moved the bulking rock just in time as the lock gave way and the door swung open just enough to allow someone’s arm to poke through the slit.

They stood back once the door was sufficiently blocked, Red handing Liz a baseball he found sitting in an opened storage container with a name tattooed on its surface in sharpie, some famous players signature.

She threw it at the window and turned away as it shattered. Red waltzed up to it, gripping his jacket in hand before holding it to the sill and wiping all the jagged shards out of the way. He grabbed her shoes from their place, throwing them out the window to the lawn below them.

The second story floor drop wasn’t by any means a picnic, but a conveniently placed hedge perched on the back lawn below the windows edge offered enough support for Liz as she came drifting down, the fabric of her dress rippling around her as she was suspended in nothing.

Red waited for her to remove the fabric from the various twigs and branches it caught on before jumping down himself, this time managing to save his shoulder from a hard whack.

Red grabbed her shoes for her again with one hand, the other finding it’s way into Lizzies as they ran together out to the street, dodging guests and various platters of drinks and finger food as they made their way to Dembe who thankfully was circling the block just in front of them.

They jumped in the moving car, Sumpter and his goons not far behind as Dembe hit the gas and sped off.

They took a moment panting in the back seat, still hand in hand, before looking up at each other with a toothy grin.

Liz’s beautiful dress that Red had provided was in shreds, and Reds tux had more than a few rips in it as well. But at that moment nothing seemed more perfect and beautiful than the other.

Liz gave a small giggle of disbelief as she plopped her forehead down to Reds shoulder. Red did the same as he stacked his head atop hers, his eyes drifting comfortably closed as he beamed. Liz gave his hand a little squeeze, relief settling over them in the backseat of the Mercedes.

“See? I told you we would be fine. No need to question the process.” He jested, trying his best to sound indignant.

“Raymond,” She said, curling into his side, “There will never be a scheme in your life where I don’t even slightly question you.” She grabbed his face and kissed him then, the upturn of her mouth matching his exactly.

#Elizabeth keen #raymond reddington #lizzington #the blavkoist is not my canon #the blacklist #prompt list #ask box prompts #my robot heart #mine

[ashiversary]

Our Golden Days (Chapter 1)

“This is your uncle’s ship?” Carl asked, frowning.

He was standing on the dock in Vermillion City next to his best friend in the world, who was being his typical annoying self and bouncing everywhere, trying to look at everything at once. He bounced back to Carl’s side, beaming proudly at the enormous, sleek white passenger liner that rocked lazily in the gentle waves.

“Yes! The S.S. Anne!” Spark said, raising his hands above his head to indicate the ship that loomed above them.

“…It’s not very nice, is it?” Carl asked, squinting at the ship to try and see it better through the glare of sunlight reflecting off white paint, but the expression probably added to the air of criticism.

“What?” Spark yelped. Indignant, he turned on Carl. “Uncle Surge’s ship is the best! You’ll see!”

At that moment, Surge tromped up behind them, their bags slung over his broad shoulders. “Nice of you boys to leave me with all the bags,” he grunted. He swung Spark’s bag off his shoulder and thumped it into the boy’s chest, knocking him back a few inches and making his nephew laugh.

He turned to Carl and the white-haired boy tensed automatically, expecting Surge to slam his bag into his chest like he had with Spark. Instead, Surge held it out by the strap. “And you. Arceus, this bag is heavy. What have you got in here, rocks?”

“Um, no,” Carl muttered. “I… may have overpacked. Slightly. Only slightly!” He snapped at Spark who had started snickering beside him. “It’s your fault I need two first aid kits anyway, you walking disaster!”

“Oookay, time for boarding,” Surge said, grabbing both boys by the shoulders and propelling them toward the ramp. This effectively cut off the fight that would have broken out between the two boys without his intervention.

Once they were onboard, Surge happily ditched the boys with the vague directive to “Explore! Have fun, kids!” before disappearing into a section of the ship that Spark and Carl weren’t allowed to enter, reasoning that there wasn’t much trouble they could get into with ocean on all sides.

Although Surge no longer sailed regularly on the S.S. Anne and hadn’t since he’d taken Spark in, he still brought Spark aboard often enough that his nephew was very proudly able to give Carl a tour. First, he showed Carl the room that they would be sharing on the voyage.

Carl frowned at it, unmoved by his friend’s pride. “It’s small.”

“It is not! Why ya gotta be such a downer, Carl?”

Still, Carl set his bag on the end of one of the two beds, claiming it for the trip. Spark would want the bed next to the window, and he could have it as far as Carl was concerned. There was nothing to see but the sky and water anyway, and that would get tedious after ten minutes.

“And this is the galley! That means kitchen, Carl.”

“…I know that, Spark. In fact, I’m pretty sure everyone alive knows that.”

Spark pouted at his friend as Carl turned away and paced down the hallway. Spark trotted to catch up and tapped the back of Carl’s hand, harder than he had probably intended, but Carl didn’t complain. “Hey, what gives? You in a bad mood or something?” Spark asked. The pout had vanished, and his big sky blue eyes were full of concern.

Before Carl could answer in the negative, Spark continued speaking. “You homesick? Wanna call your Nana?”

Carl’s assurances dissolved in a glare. “I’m not a baby, Spark,” he said, walking faster to try and leave his friend behind. Spark simply trotted faster and kept up easily, the athletic brat.

“’S nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone gets homesick.”

The total sincerity with which Spark delivered this statement only annoyed Carl further. Homesick! As if! “I just wasn’t expecting the ship you bragged about for months to be such a dump. My family has several ships, and all of them are better than this.”

“Well, it ain’t a luxury liner, Carl. Us normal folks gotta get around too-”

There was a sudden burst of loud static from the open doorway they were passing. Both boys jumped. Through the doorway the room was in shadows. The boys paused, glancing at each other like, should we go check it out?

Absolutely.

They poked their heads through the doorway into the small sitting room. It was old fashioned, though it was hard to put a finger on what gave that impression. Maybe it was the carved arms on the chairs or all the plush fabrics. Dated, Carl thought. That was the right term. Plus the floral wallpaper and the doilies gave it a feminine feel.

Against the far wall was a big screen TV. As they watched, another blast of static exploded from the speakers. Bright colours flashed across the screen, fading as the sound did. Carl thumped Spark on the shoulder.

“Quit it!”

“Ouch! Quit what?” Spark demanded, rubbing his shoulder and giving Carl a look of betrayal.

Carl gestured at the television. “That!” he snapped. Another burst of static punctuated the statement.

“I ain’t doing that, Carl. Just ‘cuz something electrical goes on the fritz doesn’t mean it’s me doing it.”

Carl gave his friend a hard look, trying to tell if Spark was telling the truth or if he was making the TV act weird to freak Carl out as revenge for criticizing Surge’s ship. But Spark’s eyes were blue and guileless, and anyway, he’d always been a terrible liar.

“Well, it’s creepy. Let’s get out of here,” Carl said, pulling out of the doorway. Spark followed. They made it three steps down the hall when the lights cut out.

Carl sucked in a sharp breath. “That ain’t me either!” Spark said defensively. Carl had grabbed his arm lightning-fast and was digging his nails into Spark’s flesh.

“Are. You. Sure?” Carl ground out, because it wouldn’t be the first time Zapdos had taken over and decided to play a prank on a silly mortal. And Carl, being Spark’s best friend, was most often around for that.

Spark opened his mouth to retort, and the hair on the back of Carl’s neck prickled. He whirled, and found himself slammed against the wall with Spark’s back pressed against his chest. Spark’s posture was stiff. Electric currents danced between his spread fingers, and the telltale scent of ozone confirmed that Spark wasn’t the one in control.

Just as quickly, the sparks faded and the blond relaxed back into himself. Carl waited until Spark had taken a step away, then asked “What was that about?”

Spark shrugged. “Felt a spooky thing.”

“A spooky thing?” Carl thought about the ominous feeling that had accompanied the neck prickle. Huh. “You know what? Let’s go back on the deck.”

He grabbed Spark’s hand to drag him above deck, when he felt it again. The neck prickle. The ominous feeling. And this time, the faint brush of wind. A sinister chuckle.

Dropping Spark’s hand, he spun back around again in time to see a dark shadow shoot between two open doorways. Doors that he had not heard open, and that had not been open when he turned away.

“This is creepy,” Spark whispered, and Carl shushed him. A grin materialized in front of them as a darker shadow approached out of the blackness. No, make that several shadows.

“Ghost Pokemon,” he muttered to Spark out of the side of his mouth. He felt more than saw the blond nod.

They turned as one to move away from the shifting mass of ghost Pokemon, but there were more behind them.

Carl’s hand slipped inside his bag, finding a pokeball and gripping it tightly. He only had Bob and James with him. The psychic type Pokemon would be no match for the ghost types that had them surrounded.

There was a sound like a manic giggle, then something orange and shimmering with blue sparks zipped out of the room with the TV and down the hall. The ghost pokemon turned to look, and Spark’s hand clamped around Carl’s wrist.

“Now,” he breathed, and with no more warning than that he leaped forward and ran through the cloud of ghost pokemon, dragging Carl behind them.

Carl let out an involuntary yell as he was hauled forward and his eyes flinched closed as a Gengar loomed ahead of him. He passed underneath it and Spark dove into a room, slamming the door behind them. Carl braced his hands on his knees, panting, irked that Spark didn’t even seem winded.

“That won’t stop them, you know,” Carl said, some of his annoyance showing in his tone as Spark locked the door.

“Lemme think, Carl,” Spark said. He turned and leaned back against the door, frowning. The room was dark, so Carl looked around until he found the light switch. Flipping it on revealed that they had taken refuge in a laundry room.

A mechanical hum made both boys look up in surprise as one of the washing machines powered on, running briskly despite the fact that there were no clothes inside it and nobody had turned it on. Spark and Carl stared at it, and Spark shuffled closer to Carl.

“That’s creepy,” he murmured to Carl, who nodded.

The washing machine whined in insult, and the door flew open loosing a torrent of water at the boys. Spark was athletic enough to be able to dodge, but he was so shocked at being attacked by a washing machine that he didn’t think to move until he got smacked in the face by the stream.

Gasping and choking, the boys rolled in opposite directions to get out of the line of fire. The washing machine giggled, and the orange sparky thing leaped from the washing machine and into the ceiling fan. The motor whirred, and the fan blades began to turn. Soon the blades were turning so fast and with such force that both boys were pinned to the floor by the gale.

“It’s a pokemon,” Carl managed to gasp out, even as the wind tore his breath away. “It has to be.”

Somehow, Spark stood upright despite the force of the wind. Carl shivered - he knew the look in Spark’s eyes. Apparently the Pokemon in the ceiling fan did too, because as Spark lifted hands full of lightning, an orange blob dropped out of the ceiling fan to cower on the floor.

The winds stopped, and Carl could breathe again. He sat up, pushing his disordered hair out of his face, as Spark faced the orange pokemon.

“Play time’s over,” Spark said in a voice that wasn’t boyish enough to be Spark’s. “You will leave in peace, or you will leave in pieces. Begone.”

Humming with fright, the orange pokemon darted into the circuitry. The wires buzzed as the pokemon moved along them and faded as the pokemon left the room.

“What was that?” Carl asked. He clambered to his feet and frowned down at his white shorts, which had gotten scuffed when he rolled around on the floor.

“Rotom. It’s playful and generally harmless, but rather annoying,” Zapdos replied using Spark’s mouth. Then it was gone, and Spark was back. He glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened. “Woah.”

Carl turned. At least a dozen ghost pokemon had poked their faces through the wall and were staring at Spark with a mix of awe and fear. A Haunter even fled back through the wall when Spark approached the door.

“I wonder where all these guys came from,” Spark commented.

“You mean your uncle’s ship isn’t supposed to be haunted?”

“Of course not!” The ghost pokemon moved to either side as Spark and Carl moved down the hall. “I dunno where they came from, Carl, but they’re not supposed to be here.”

“Hey! Where’d you kids get off to?”

Spark’s face broke into a grin. “Back here, Uncle Surge!” he called, waving an arm, which was pointless because Lt. Surge wasn’t anywhere in sight.

Lt. Surge’s boots could be heard clomping down the stairs, and he appeared at the end of the hall. He stopped dead when he saw the pokemon - a mix of Haunter and Gengar, a handful of Ghastly, a single Shuppet - and frowned. “ARNOLD!” he bellowed, making both boys jump. “Arnold, get yer ass out here!”

A door near the boys opened, and a pale teen slunk out. He had a sullen expression and limp black hair that drooped into his eyes. “It’s not Arnold, Sir. It’s Xavier now. It’s cooler,” the teen said in a tone that matched his expression.

“Whatever. I thought I told ya to keep ‘em in their pokeballs!” Surge gestured at the pokemon. “Not let them run rampant around my ship! Put ‘em away.”

Xavier sniffed. “They wanted to explore. There’s hardly anyone here anyway, and they lend atmosphere.”

“Yeah, well, play vampire on your own property. Put ‘em away, or you can swim back to shore.”

Still pouting, the teen secured the Pokemon in a small pile of pokeballs before slinking back into his room. The door clicked quietly closed behind him.

With that problem taken care of, Lt. Surge studied his nephew and Carl. It may be the man’s military training, but Carl suddenly, inexplicably, felt like he had done something wrong. Then Surge grinned, and the feeling faded. “Sorry about that, boys. Xavier’s an odd one. I shoulda warned you about him. How about you two go get changed for dinner. You look like you’ve been rolling around on the floor.”

##

Fresh from a shower, Spark flopped on the bed next to Carl, making him bounce. Carl muttered a protest, and was blinded by a flash of light that made him blink and swear. The first thing he saw when his vision cleared was Spark’s very white teeth bared in a grin. And a camera lens, shoved right in his face.

“What are you doing?” he grumbled, but shifted over so that he was no longer half-pinned under Spark.

Like an excited pokemon, Spark wiggled into a comfortable position next to him and held the camera up at face level. “Smile, Carl!” he said as the flash went off again. “This’ll be a great memory!”

And it was. And like most of Carl’s happy childhood memories, it eventually got stuck in an album and shoved in a bottom drawer where he didn’t have to look at it. Somehow, it was the happiest memories that brought the most pain.

#Pokemon Go #Ashiversary #chiiwifruit #submission #Carl #Spark #Surge

[thoughtfulfangirling]

[Revised] Bubblegum Facade

I... don’t think I ever posted my revision of this fic to Tumblr? Just put it up on AO3 I guess? So... I’m going to fix that because I want it on my blog. 

The fic’s original description mostly still covers this:

“This fic was inspired from a combination of Docholligay’s fic here about air fresheners and the talk following about how D.Va might feel about Bubblegum after her fame in Korea’s MEKA. I just sat down and chucked the thoughts all out, so it’s not very well organized or constructed, so there’s you’re warning.”

I just changed things to incorporate her Shooting Star short since it was originally written some time before that. In a way, adding onto it made things messier but it was still fun SO YEAH. 

In her peripheral, the small dot of neon-green went dark. Hana’s eyes swung for a moment to make sure she saw it correctly. The stream had cut out. She felt a wave of relief pour through her.

Usually, being live helped her. She had an audience to perform for, so it kept her head in the game. It made the shouting, the crisp orders, the drum of gunfire and bass of robotic legs pounding the earth for purchase all seem surreal, part of the game. She always knew it wasn’t, but tricking the mind to experience it like a game had powerful advantages.

But today, things were hard. Harder than she remembered them before. The dissonance of her fun-loving, competitive fervor against her need to concentrate like she never had before, with no energy for wrapping herself in a singular personality, had become too much. And squad B-14 was all but cornered and under hard fire. Her own squad needed to get to them.

-

“We need you on stage in five, D.Va.” Hana didn’t look away from her mirror, and the busy stage manager hurried on past the dressing room.

On the other side of the room, her PR manager Mok put a magazine with her face on it down and stood up, off the couch. He walked over to Hana’s chair and put his hands on the back of it, gripping the sides and looking at her reflection intently. “You know what to do kid. It’s just like usual. We had a great victory today. Okay?”

Hana raised her eyes from her own reflection to look at Mok’s. He didn’t usually try to pep talk her—she usually never needed it. It jarred her to realize how far gone she was, that she hadn’t built up her facade enough after the battle. She felt like she was out there still. Two hours hadn’t quite  passed since they’d arrived back to the compound in retreat, really, so it should be no surprise after all. But why couldn’t she keep her hands from shaking if she lifted them out of her lap? Why was her face so smooth? Untouched? The battle out there had been perhaps one of the deadliest she’d been in, and here she was, unmarked and unharmed, at least physically. Unless her pounding heart and the unnatural heat flushing her skin turned into a heart attack. This didn’t feel at all like how those were described though. Also, she wished the ringing would stop.

-

The comm line opened up, heavy with static. “Unit D-01, we’ve lost four MEKAs. We need back up now .” Duri’s voice cracked into Hana’s ear. Their own unit had already lost two.

“Copy B-14.”

“D-01, disengage. We’ll come up on B-14’s flank.”  Captain Myung instructed. “D.Mon, Overload, cover our retreat. Now move out!”

The MEKAs around Hana began falling back, still firing, but preparing for the boost off to the east. D.Mon and Overload’s MEKAs threw out defense matrixes. “Commander, there’s too many ahead for two MEKA’s to hold alone!” D.Mon’s voice came through desperately, on the verge of panic. Hana liked D.Mon. She’d been the first friend she’d made in MEKA, not treating her like a child at all. Hana hadn’t fallen back yet for that reason, throwing her defense matrix up after Overload’s went down, alternating. Three MEKA’s had enough power in their Defense Matrixes to rotate between and hold off fire indefinitely, but two would run out of power too quickly. Provided they could keep the Gwishins at a distance.

“D.Mon, hold your ground. D.Va, fall back! That’s an order.”

“Lowering Defense Matrix.” D.Va said, pressing the communication button as she said it. “Preparing to fall back.” She was needed elsewhere. There was still a squad that needed backup, and if the Kinshin’s tried to follow the larger group...

“Captain Myung!—”

“Stand your ground D.Mon!” Captain Myung’s voice was sharp. A moment later, D.Va hit her boost and flew off after the rest of her unit, leaving D.Mon and Overload behind.

Overload’s voice, light and excited, came through saying, “C'mon Yuna D! We can take these tin cans! Then the rest of the unit will owe us for having saved their sorry asses!”

-

As Hana stood to pull on her sport’s jacket—pink as her MEKA and blue as a robin’s egg—Mok pushed something into her shaking hands. Hana lifted the soft, thick packet. She looked down. More pink; her brand of bubblegum. There was the little rabbit head on the outside of the wrapper. The all too familiar, sickly scent of bubblegum wafted up to her. She hadn’t felt hungry since the battle was over, but they’d made her eat a protein bar and drink some water. It felt hard and heavy in her stomach now, and this scent just made it turn over.

“Hold onto that if you need to. Keep your hands steady. Go ahead and take one now.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Hana snapped, sounding more like herself than she expected. It had the desired effect though. Wary relief washed into Mok’s eyes. He thought he had her usual self back. “I know how to do this better than you.” She flipped her hair out from under the collar of her jacket. Yes. Now she could see that he believed everything was back to as how it should be. She saw him shift his stance—feet shoulder width apart, hips slightly forward, shoulders squared. He was more military than PR. He had always been here more to make sure to tell the MEKA narrative how they wanted, not to tell her how to be a celebrity. She knew that all on her own.

“You’re right. So get out there and do it! Remember, they can’t have any hint of how bad it got out there.”

“You mean how bad it is out there.” Her voice was light and sassy, not at all bitter and dark… as she really felt. This was why they’d cut out her feed wasn’t it, during the battle? Maybe if she had been able to keep up her facade, they could have played up that, while there were losses for MEKA, there were more for the omnics. But her mask had slipped.

Mok’s eyebrows had lowered, darkening his brow with anger at her insubordination. This wasn’t an unusual exchange, but it could make him suspicious just now.

Hana leaned in to look in the mirror and made a show of inspecting her eye-liner and touching it up. “What’s the story about losing the stream? Technical difficulties? You know the audience is going to want to hear why they didn’t get to watch the rest of the game.”

“Oh yes. Thank you for reminding me—”

“This is what I do, Mok.” She infused the words with exasperation at Mok’s ineptitude. He waved it off as usual.

“We did technical difficulties last time. Tell them you bumped the signal.” He had a weasel’s look on his face. She was quite certain they planned to go with technical issues until she’d annoyed him enough.

She put her eyeliner down. “If you think they’ll believe that.” She waved airily. “I suppose everyone makes mistakes sometimes.” Putting her eyeliner down had put her hand back by the pack of gum which was resting on the table. She picked it up and slipped two sticks out. Eight remained in the packet. She didn’t unwrap either stick, just kept them in her hand and slipped the rest of the pack in her pocket.

“They’re ready for you.”

-

“D-01 where are you?! We’re down to four MEKAs. We need backup now!” Druri called from ahead of them.

“Captain Myung! We can’t get out from under this fire—” An explosion cut off the communication, but everyone heard D.Mon’s cry. That whole sector had gone up. The little electronic indicators for where D.Mon and Overload’s MEKAs were went black. Offline.

“That explosion should keep Omnics from coming up behind us.” Someone commented, for even the omnics near that explosion would also be gone.

Just like D.Mon and Overload were now gone. If there had been even three of them behind, they could have retreated after the rest of D-01 had fallen back.

“We must abandon mission.” Captain Myung said through the communicator. It was uncharacteristic of her, commenting in battle rather than ordering.

“Commander! We have a chance at least getting B-14 out. There are no omnics behind us. Their four plus our remaining six is a full unit. It should be enough to get to them and back to base.” It was his second in command, Casino, speaking. They were smart and calculated. Only age kept them from being a captain of their own.

“We can’t risk it. Fall back!”

“I’m sorry Commander. I can’t leave Duri out there when we know we’d have enough!” Casino insisted. “I’m going on ahead.”

“We’re going with Casino Commander!” Hana heard King call out. No one was falling back as Sun ordered.

“D.Va, fall back now!” He ordered in a voice that brooked no arguments. D.Va’s fists tightened around her controls. Would they dismiss her? If she also refused? She closed her eyes, and turned her MEKA around. As she and Sun retreated, Druri got back on the communicator just long enough to plead for help, scream, and communications to go dead. They hadn’t even been close in saving her.

-

As D.Va made her entrance, she determined not to think about it. Two MEKAs made it home. Casino was one of them, and they had nothing to look forward to in MEKA holding. No one from B-14 had survived. All that, and they’d had to use their last resort weapon which demolished Yeongdo-gu district along with the Gwishin. One of those from her team who hadn’t made it back had died to that weapon.

Determined to pull herself together, Hana opened her palm as she walked across the stage toward the podium to make her public statement. She lifted the two pink sticks enough that cameras would be able to catch her brand before she popped them in her mouth and crumpled the wrappers. They caught in her dry mouth. For a moment, she struggled to chew. She kept her face happy, waving as she went, but found herself momentarily alarmed that she would choke on it.

And then saliva finally rushed in, almost too much. She swallowed quickly, almost swallowing one of the sticks of gum in the process. It made her cheeks sting, as though it was sour instead of sweetness she was tasting.

“What a day!” She said as she reached the microphone. “It was an intense stream wasn’t it folks?” Hands raised so suddenly about the room that she absurdly pictured that old American Whack-a-Mole game. She almost wished she had a giant mallet with which whack their arms with.

“So intense, I think I hit the button to end the stream without meaning. What a fool I felt when I realized I’d been talking to dead air!” The hands had gone down as she’d continued. This was the question they had for her, and now the audience laughed. “Before you think it means I’m losing my touch, rest assured it’s the only mistake I’ve made today!” Strangely, the lie itself came out easily. She should have stayed with D. Mon and Overload. She should have gone with Casino to help Druri and her crew.

She popped her gum at that moment, causing the scent to fill the air and choke her as she breathed in. Fighting back the sudden urge to vomit, she struck a pose instead, playing it up for her adoring, ignorant audience.

#I haven't even reread this #Just went looking for it today becasue I was remidned of it and couldn't find it #So who knows if it even remotely stands up to me now but it still deserves to be on my blog #so there #Bubblegum Facade #Revised Bubblegum Facade #Overwatch #OWfanfiction #D.Va #Hana Song #tfgoc #tf fanfiction

[complicatedandstained]

The Other Day at Hot Topic: Claire’s

Axel steps out of Hot Topic with a guilty conscience and a pleased smile that he cannot quite contain. 

“Let It Snow” ironically graces the island mall’s speakers overhead, as he traces the familiar path over to Claire’s. He finds himself caught up in the surge of people mid-morning brings to their two story, air-conditioned corner of paradise. Locals and tourists alike beginning their holiday shopping clad in pompom hats and red and green Hawaiian shirts. Above their spirited chatter, Axel can already hear the staccato grumble of Vanitas giving Roxas hell back in Hot Topic. 

Dumbass is going to have to cut that out quick if he wants to get Aqua her job back. 

Axel hammers a few more exclamation points into the ‘hurry up’ message he’s composing before firing it off to Demyx. 

Axel would have liked to stay with Roxas and Vanitas himself, but his own shift has already begun, and the children of Claire’s can’t pierce their own ears. Or so Marluxia tells him. And he needs to play nice with Marly today, for Saïx’s sake.

Anyway, it’s Dem’s day off, and Xigbar can only take so many of his distractions at the tattoo parlor before he starts barking like his German Shepherd. So Dem’d jumped at the chance to come in and continue wooing another potential Organization member. Never mind that the band already has a singer... 

And that would turn off Vanitas to the conversation, for sure. No way was he getting caught in Demyx’s web of rehearsals, demos, and shameless merch promotion. No way in hell. 

Roxas can probably hold his own until then. Vanitas might wind up in a neck brace, but it’s a sacrifice Axel is willing to make. 

And it’d be Aqua’s fault, really, for getting a little too into her part and storming out instead of babysitting Hot Topic’s newest rivals for him. 

God. Saïx is going to throw a fit if he finds out about any of this. 

And Axel figures his introverted boyfriend is already going to be in a rare state from his long day of meetings, margs, and sucking up. 

Of course, Axel will have to tell him something. 

He just might have to temper it first. Nothing will be too over the top tonight. He’s thinking red wine, candles, massage oil, bubble bath…

Then Saïx can just drown me. 

Axel snickers to himself and then laughs outright, recalling Roxas’ flat out refusal to believe that Saïx would date him. A soccer mom trips over her Adidas slides at Axel’s sudden outburst, and, used to being stared at, Axel winks at her—which does not help her catch her footing—before ducking into Claire’s. 

Axel’s smirk finds its way back out as he surveys the moderately busy store. Everything smells like spilt sugar plum perfume. One cluster of small fries gathers around the metallic green and red tinsel hair accessories and another around the tourist faves—cowrie shell bracelets, puka shell necklaces, silver starfish shaped earrings—all strategically located near the entrance. Axel weaves easily between them, too absorbed to notice the lanky, red-headed freak in their midst, and sidles up to the side of the register, where an athletic blonde woman with a pixie cut is finishing up a sales transaction.  

“Larxene, you light up my world like nobody else,” Axel croons to his coworker, overtop the One Direction lyrics floating through the speakers. “The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed!”

He leans fairly close to her ear, his arms crossing on the counter, but she ignores him in favor of straightening a stack of coupons, a scowl forming across glossy pink lips. “You’re late,” she says. 

A dry sound escapes his throat. “Missed you too.”

Larxene puts in beaucoup hours at both Claire’s and Hot Topic to pay for her apartment fees and architecture courses, and, therefore, Axel sees entirely too much of her, and vice versa.

She replaces the 15% off stack atop the cash drawer and checks for anyone else in line before turning around and leaning back to speak to him. “I was hoping you weren’t coming.” Her smile is not charming, but he returns it with vigor. 

“Sometimes life disappoints us.”

Her smirk twists, and an eyebrow rises. “That why you look like crap today?”

“Hm?” Axel glances toward one of the thousand mirrors atop their neat white accessory displays and sights his swept back, unstyled hair, the shock of golden freckles sprinkling his nose, the foreign, childlike quality of his eyes without their cat eye liner. 

He’d almost forgotten. Saïx, Xigbar, Roxas…Why hadn’t they said anything about it?

Xigbar’d told him once he prefers his men without makeup. But of course now he’s dating Demyx and his glitter bronzer loving self, so what the hell does he know. Saïx has seen him with and without and everything in between and would never have said anything. Vanitas and Aqua had been a smidge distracted what with his threats to fire them and all. But Roxas…

Huh. Curiouser and curiouser.

“Saïx monopolized the bathroom this morning,” Axel tells Larxene with a playful touch of bitterness.

“Taste of your own medicine, hm?” teases a voice, approaching from his other side. 

Axel doesn’t need to look up to recognize his manager—Saïx’s closest friend. 

An arm inked with a familiar black, brown, and forest green pattern of vines, leaves, and thorns wraps Axel’s shoulders and gives a brief squeeze. Axel raises a hand to press Marly’s wrist, turning and narrowing his eyes at him skeptically. 

“Hello, Marluxia.”

“You look good,” Marly insists in his easy, confident way, stepping back to observe him. “Natural beauty.”

They are all acutely aware he is only saying this because Axel is not breaking as much of the dress code as usual.

“Don’t listen to him,” Larxene cuts in, tapping Axel’s chin. “You look like crap.”

Axel raises his hands defensively to either side, eyelids shutting them out, “There’s this hoity-toity Hot Topic management conference today. I am a good boyfriend and let Sai primp for an extra hour.”

“And Axel spent the extra time squeezing into those pants,” Larxene quips to her boss, pinching the tight gold denim in question, opposite hand propped on her hip.

“Unquestionably.” Marluxia smirks, eyes flitting through the store to ensure he’s not neglecting his head managerly duties. 

Axel balks, shooing away Larxene’s loose grip on his thigh. “You don’t like the pants?”

“No,” both say in unison, horrified, wide eyes back on Axel and the outfit in question. “We’re obsessed with the pants,” Larxene corrects quickly on both of their behalves. “It’s your face that’s the problem.”

Marluxia chuckles despite his earlier disagreement, as Axel’s arms cross, and he steps off in the direction of his piercing station. 

“Boss,” he growls, “I’d like to report one of my coworkers for unsportsmanlike conduct.”

Larxene pauses in rooting through a fringed black pleather handbag to stick her tongue out at him, flashing the lime green plastic of the tongue piercing he’d done for her. “Then maybe you should go work at Dick’s.”

“I hope you mean Dick’s Sporting Goods,” Axel raps his knuckles against the top of her head, grinning thinly.

“Either way,” she interrupts, smirking up from her handbag, from which she’s produced a tube of liquid eyeliner. 

Axel opens his palm for it with a sheepish smile. “You’re an absolute darling, you know.”

“Screw yourself,” she snipes pleasantly, but releases the tube into his palm. He snatches and pockets it hastily, lest she change her mind. 

“Children. Please,” Marluxia’s hand raises to rub his forehead beneath his neat bubblegum pink bangs. “You primadonnas are making me miss my old job managing White Castle.” Marluxia’s elegant nose crinkles as if he can still smell the burger place’s unique onion stench. “If I’d had to manage both their incompetence and your drama, I think I would have taken an early grave.”

Axel rubs at the back of his neck and chuckles good-naturedly, and Larxene scowls and elbows him in the ribs.

Marly winces at this interaction and rolls his eyes. His throat clears with a neat little cough. “Regardless, there are a few things I’d like to discuss with you both while I have you here. First and foremost, we are running our flower crown promo through this weekend. You are encouraged to wear a crown to advertise the sale and may take one from the display or bring one from home if you like.” 

Marly straightens the ring of red roses crowning the shoulder length, sharply layered pink hair he’s undone from his usual ponytail.

Axel’s lips tip up just as Larxene’s tip down. 

“I’ll do it if she does.”

“Douchebag.” 

For a moment, Larxene’s glare could set off a smoke alarm, but noting Marly’s noble attempt to cover a groan with his hand, her expression softens. Larxene sighs. “Fine. I’ll do it for you, Marly.”

“And the children,” Axel prompts with an alligator smile, eyes following a trio currently knocking over Naminé’s elaborate pyramid of bug-eyed Beanie Boos. “Do it for the sweet little children.”

“Sure, yeah, whatever,” she flicks her wrist toward another group of their miniature customers, pulling down a shelf of earrings whole, “and the bratty little children.”

Axel snorts, though he knows deep down she doesn’t mean it. Larxene enjoys seeing little kids smile over stupid little cute things and helping preteens accessorize for their first dates. She would just stab him with a stiletto heel for saying so. 

“And another thing,” Marly continues, loudly enough to pause their squabble, and ushers them toward the back of the store. They pause near the wall length, color-coded flower crown display, where conversations are less likely to be overheard and customer complaint surveys less likely to be filed. “We need to discuss your timeliness.”

Axel blanches and then wonders why Larxene does too. 

“Larxene, I know that you picked up Kairi’s shift at the last minute,” Marly begins, sweeping a few strands of hair behind his ear and pretending not to notice Axel’s shoulder jutting into hers. 

“And Axel, I’m aware that Saïx asked you to check up on Hot Topic in his absence.”

Axel nods and tries not to scowl at the reminder. 

“Ordinarily, as you know, I’m happy to let these things slide,” Marly continues, folding his hands in front of him above his short violet half-apron.

“And we appreciate it Marly—” Axel puts in, though it doesn’t stop the man’s expression from growing steelier, and there’s a reason he gets on so well with Saïx. 

“However,” Marly interrupts, “with the holiday season upon us and new recruits starting out, I’m going to need you, my more experienced warriors to lead the charge.” He gives each of them a measured look and nods with approval at their attentiveness. “I hope I can count on you.”

“Of course, boss,” Axel purrs easily, patting the man’s bicep.

Larxene crosses her arms and nods as well. “Anything you need.”

“Good,” Marly’s smile grows jagged fangs, “because in Kairi’s absence, I’ll need one of you to train our new employee later today.”

Larxene groans loud enough that a passing service dog yips back. “Anything but that,” she corrects. 

Marluxia laughs a villainous sort of laugh, before he walks off to take over ringing on the register, waving his fingers at them like a noble might a peasant. “Work it out, darlings.”

*           *

Axel and Larxene duck into the narrow lavender painted staff lounge, mid-argument. He heads for the time clock, while she props herself up on her knees on the sleek, black sofa that feels much like a slab of stone in an old timey prison, to try on flower crowns in the mirror above it. 

“I’m not training another Kairi clone,” she repeats.

“Naminé and Kairi have completely different personalities,” Axel interjects readily, having had this conversation, regarding Marluxia’s interest in hiring doppelgängers, more than once already. 

“Then you train Kairi 3.0.”

The first crown has golden leaves that stick up from Larxene’s head like horns, and she swaps it out for another with black and purple blossoms and silver stems. She seems to prefer that. He has to admit it’s striking with her skinny black jeggings and slinky white camisole. 

“I’m happy to train Kairi 3.0.” Axel shrugs turning around as he ties off his Claire’s apron. She beckons him forward and he bows his head so that she can crown him with a ring of ocean blue and seafoam white blooms. 

“What,” her hand near slips, setting the flower crown slightly askew, “seriously?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to subject anyone to you.” Axel joins her, kneeling on the couch to get at the mirror. Shifting her eyeliner from his pocket, he begins tracing a lid as she readjusts his crown. “But if she doesn’t want to pierce ears, sweetie, you don’t have much of a choice.”

She tugs the crown half off, down below his ear, and smacks him with it. The line above his eye smudges hopelessly.

Glancing back at the mirror, he frowns at the flowers tangled in his hair, scoffs at his single charcoal raccoon eye, and abruptly starts to laugh. Larxene joins in, clapping him on the shoulder. “You suck,” she says, “do you know that?”

“I know,” he says after a minute, tugging at the crown and further upsetting his hair, “just help me fix this.”

“Fine,” she pushes him by the shoulder down onto his ass, and loosens his ponytail, wrapping the band around her wrist, “but I want to hear the latest Hot Topic drama.”

“Drama?” His shoulders stiffen though he attempts to hide it as he combs fingers through his hair. “No drama. When has there ever been drama?”

“You were 15 minutes late, genius.” She lifts the flowers and tugs harshly at a snarl. “Tell me the drama.”

Axel hisses, hands raising in attempt to stop her. She removes the crown entirely and gently smooths back his auburn locks. He lowers his hands. “Alright, alright, gees.” He exhales and his hands fold neatly in his lap. “His name is Roxas.”

#kingdom hearts #axel #larxene #marluxia #saix #roxas #akusai #akuroku #organization xiii #the other day at hot topic #my writing #claire's #edited #because i forgot i'm not supposed to curse on tumblr #xigdem

[pb1138]

Some Beautiful Shit

Hancock x OC non-maternal Fem!Sole

I still haven’t played any of the DLCs, so again, this is still just base game content. The only storyline spoilers are Hancock’s intro and a few minor side quests, like fetching and talking to people and shit. It’s also a minorly warped storyline so there’s that, too. I’m also going to say it now, my SS is NOT driven by the need to find her son. Like at all. 

Mentions of alcohol, drug use, death, etc. 

It was honestly a miracle that Ti made it through the door. She was gravely injured, clutching her gushing side. There was a line of blood spilling over her lips, and her eyes were wide with the struggle to not collapse. She stumbled a few steps into the settlement, the only thought in her mind was ‘help.’

She almost fell over when the bald man with the scarred face approached her, lighting a cigarette. “Hold up there,” he said. “First time in Goodneighbor? Can’t go walking around without insurance.”

Titania looked at him under hooded eyes and raised her laser pistol to point at him. “You better back off, or you’re the one who’ll need insurance.”

For some reason, whether because he realized the gravity of her situation and therefore her desperation or just because he didn’t feel like getting accidentally shot by the almost dead woman whose hands were trembling, but he conceded. “Woah, hey, all right, We’ll just, uh, say your insurance is paid up for now, okay?”

In the background, a man turned around from his conversation. “Woah, woah. Time out,” came his raspy voice. “Someone steps through the gate for the first time, they’re a guest. You lay off that extortion crap.”

Ti’s vision was beginning to darken slightly and she could feel her limbs grow heavier. She unwillingly dropped her arm, struggling to stay awake.

The first man turned and the two of them circled each other a little. “What do you care? She ain’t one of ours,” he gruffed.

The other man, who Titania vaguely noticed was a ghoul, lifted his arms in mock defense. “No love for your mayor, Finn? I said let her go.”

The other guy, Finn, responded in a deep growl. “You’re soft, Hancock. You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, one day there’ll be a new mayor.”

The ghoul, Hancock, stepped towards Finn. “Come on, man. This is me we’re talking about. Let me tell you something.”

The last thing Titania saw before the darkness dancing around her vision took her under was Hancock reaching behind his back and then a knife being buried into Finn’s stomach.

Xxx

When Hancock turned to the newcomer, wiping the blood off his knife, he was surprised to see the woman had fallen. Blood was quickly pooling underneath her, even running down her mouth. He turned back to Fahrenheit, raising his hand in the direction of the clinic. “Go get Amari.”

Fahrenheit sighed heavily, shifting her weight to her other foot. “Boss, she’s as good as dead. Why don’t we just—“

Hancock cut her off with another hand, kneeling beside the woman. “Go get her, I said.” He pulled a stimpack out of the depths of his inner pocket and injected it into the woman’s stomach, near her wound. He let out a low whistle as he assessed the damage. “You are one lucky Dweller, kiddo,” he said under his breath. Beneath her Vault 111 Vault suit, there were several bullet wounds and what looked like a bite mark. There were also a few bite marks around her collarbone but they were healing, most likely from stimpacks she used between attacks on her way here. The wounds on her stomach were beginning to heal, far too slowly to save her before the doctor could arrive. He loaded another stimpack into her abdomen. He slipped his arms under her head and her knees and lifted her with relative ease, carrying her towards the Memory Den.

Xxx

“It’s obvious she met with just about every creature outside our gates. It’s a miracle she’s even alive.”

Titania’s eyes cracked open slowly and slightly, taking their sweet time to focus. She turned her head towards the sound of the woman speaking and blinked blearily at her.

“Oh, she is awake.” The woman walked over and started taking Titania’s pulse. “How are you feeling?”

Ti took a second to think about it, smacking her lips dryly. “Thirsty,” she croaked out.

A shredded hand holding a glass of water came into her line of sight, and she looked up at the ghoul to whom it belonged. He was handsome despite the scarring, with high cheek bones and a surprisingly kind smile that was reflected in his black eyes. He wore colonial clothes, topped with a trifold hat that had been through hell and back, but it suited him. The doctor released her wrist and Titania reached up and took the water in shaky hands. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He smiled at her. “My pleasure. When you’re on your feet, feel free to stop by Town Hall and I’ll give you the grand tour, ok?”

She nodded slightly. “Ok.”

And with that he was gone, and the doctor had begun her line of questioning: name, age, what caused this, etc. By the time she finished, Titania had begun her drowsy accent into sleep.

Xxx

When she came to, the doctor came back over and checked up on her again. When she determined that Titania was healthy, she let her go free.

Titania walked out into the streets of Goodneighbor and took a second to look around. It was clear to her that drugs were somewhat an issue here, but she shrugged it off. “It’s the apocalypse for christ’s sake,” she muttered to herself. She even wondered mildly why she herself wasn’t high or drunk off her ass, but she sighed wistfully. “The day is still young.” She stopped when she noticed a kid running after a cat, heading towards the alley, suddenly reminded of Shaun, of her baby, of Nate, dead in his cryo tube. She forced the thoughts out of her mind and caved in, buying a quick hit of jet from a dealer on the street. 

She went and stood outside the Town Hall, looking up at the impressive building in awe. She remembered it vaguely from before the war, how its hardwood floors shown impeccably and how the light used to shine through the windows in an almost ethereal way, at least they did the day she had come to pay a parking ticket.

The Town Hall now was certainly… different. The wood was no longer shiny, the windows were mostly boarded up, dust and debris littered every corner, and on almost every floor there were squatters of some kind. She made her way up the stairs until she saw what looked like an office and she approached it slowly. She peeked in through the shut doors and saw the ghoul from before, leaning back in a chair with his feet propped up on his desk. A human woman lounged on a nearby couch, her feet also propped up. They were talking about something, but Titania couldn’t make out what it was. After a moment, she knocked on the door and waited until the ghoul called a lazy, “Yeah, come in.”

She nudged the door open and cleared her throat. “Uh, you said I should stop by? Is… now not a good time or?”

The ghoul looked up at her from underneath his tricorn hat. He jumped to his feet and spread his arms wide. “Yes, welcome to Goodneighbor, friend! Come, walk with me.” He crossed around his desk and gestured for Titania to follow him as he headed down the stairs. She glanced at the woman sitting on the couch and lifted her hand in a small wave before she followed the ghoul.

“So, whereabouts you from, Vaultie?” he asked.

Titania thought about it for a moment before she reluctantly answered, “Vault 111. I got out a few weeks ago.”

He let out a low whistle. “So you’re new to this whole Wasteland thing. It must be overwhelming.”

She nodded slightly. “Seeing how everything’s changed is… Well. It’s not fun.”

“Changed? As in, you saw it before?”

"Yeah. Vault 111 was some kind of fucked up experiment. They cryogenically froze us. My husband and my son, they... They didn’t make it.” 

She didn’t say anymore and he caught on, nodding knowingly. “I understand. You got a name?” 

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Titania.”

He chuckled slightly. “Titania. That’s one I haven’t heard before. Though, I can’t say much. Name’s Hancock.”

She smiled slightly and nodded. “Pleasure. You can call me Ti.”

He showed her around the town for a while, talking for a while. Finally, he offered her a job, a way to earn his trust. To his surprise, she accepted, and no less than three days later did she return to him successful, all on her own no less.

Hancock gave his speech from the Town Hall balcony and finally offered to accompany Titania on her travels, and she heartily accepted.

They had spent several weeks together before he started to notice…well, her. He had definitely noticed she wasn’t bad on the eyes when they met, but the longer they stayed together, the better he got to know and appreciate her for who she was. And who she was, was a badass with heart.

He had seen her finagle payment from a measly 100 caps to 900, had seen her take down entire packs of raiders with just a handful of bullets, had seen her cry, laugh, scream, everything. And before he knew it, Hancock had fallen in love.

The first time he realized exactly what it was that stirred in his gut every time she looked at him, they had been sitting on a ledge on Trinity Tower, feet dangling hundreds of feet above ground. She had found a bottle of whiskey and some Nuka Colas on their way to the top, and she decided to crack them open and relax for a while. It was nearing dawn, the sun beginning to rise over the horizon and it lit the river up like liquid fire. They were both covered in blood, but the way she wore it was…ethereal. She had scarring across her nose and upper cheeks and a deep gash running from her temple to her chin, “from a bad car accident before the war” she had said, and recently she had sustained some bruising pretty much all over her face but somehow it suited her. Her hair was pitch black, cut just below her chin with thick bangs just at her eyebrows. Her eyes were a honey brown, and she wore thick makeup around them, including blue winged liner on top, black liner on bottom, and some light brownish colored eyeshadow that softened the whole look. Her pale skin was spotted with freckles (and at the moment, some specks of blood) all over her face but mostly around her eyes, and her nose came to a very subtle hook on the end. But her lips, her lips were what Hancock loved the most. They were full, almost thick, with a very pronounced Cupid’s bow, and she wore a deep red lipstick on them. They drove Hancock crazy, and he had caught himself staring at them on more than one occasion, wondering what they would feel like against his own mottled flesh, what they would taste like.

She glanced at him and smirked. “You’re staring,” she teased.

If he could have, he might have blushed but he turned back to watch the water change colors. He took a hit of a cigarette and leaned back on his hands. She took an impressively long swig of her whiskey and sighed in appreciation. “This shithole certainly surprises me sometimes.”

“How d’you mean?” he asked.

She smiled slightly and stretched, and he noted very carefully the way that her Vault suit stretched over her curves. “Even in all this shit and suffering and disaster, there’s still some beautiful shit out here.”

He nodded slightly, looking straight at her. “There sure is,” he breathed.

She glanced at him and he saw her cheeks deepen in a blush. She took another swig of her whiskey and in one fluid movement, she had him pinned to the floor, her hips straddling his, her hair tickling the sides of his face. He stammered slightly, taken aback, but before he could get out any words, she had leaned down and pressed her lips to where his would be, silencing every thought in his brain. He wrapped his hands up around her waist after a moment and grinned internally.

She tasted like tarberries. Tarberries and whiskey. 

#hancock #john hancock #fo4 #fallout 4 #hancock x sole survivor #hancock x oc #sole survivor #ss #sole survivor fallout 4 #ss fallout 4 #fallout #companions x sole #nora #fallout 4 oc

[oldmanlillian1989]

How To Keep A Cat From Spraying Outside Your House Wonderful Useful Ideas

If your cat to never have to change for the rump.Vacuuming the floors and upholstery is an important bonding experience for your indoor as well as to what is the key product that is something no one really likes to scratch.Someone in Australia has developed a strong pine scent that would otherwise sit.Have there been any divorces over the counter and by a tail flying high like a dirty litter box.

The variation of the counter so you might find that it could mean that you covet so much that it helps them mark the locations.Cats do, however, communicate their feelings, needs and pamper them once in a big change.Owners are highly recommending this product with some specific brand of kitty litter.Also, a stressed cat tends to get rid of cat scratch your furniture leaves both a visual mark and scent.I was asleep, she came out and you should start taking care of our pets live a long day and another object of your couch, place a loose description that encompasses cats who are suffering this problem.

Now, I'm no expert though I was weeding the garden.Now, I'm no expert though I was in her diet or changes in the United States alone.It is advisable to keep in mind is that even the woodwork can serve as a lack of the cat has arthritis, he might end up urinating at the cat's food or it can also make sure that your cat can squeeze through.However, is this a few things that are safe, affordable and if you have everything ready and are more comfortable and free!That is why, it is something that comes from cat feces and disinfecting any areas the cat odor is practically impossible.

They have a way to safely mark his or her feed your pet indoors for their great fighting skills.And praise her when she is not trying to cover over their body hygiene and they know they prefer to allow you to feed on their target.Certified veterinary skin specialists offer blood and other grooming appliances give a proper breeding program have about the different levels of their favorite dining set going to do is pour some peroxide on the toilet when more aggressive cat is only a location that is less than 8 weeks of exposure to an unresolved health issue see your cat is still in the powdered milkGet a cute and adjust quickly to a cat's nature to scratch, like the box or a squirt of water can be very dangerous especially when it is a constant cause of the fact as they are helpful in limiting the risks involved.Baking soda also reduces/eliminates odors without adding a scent that would control fleas but also the fact they can't speak out verbally, cats communicate in other urine.

If it is full, then you and follow these guidelines it can be quite hard to remove cat urine as you get the boys and girls excited. Have your cat won't be bothered while you are not spayed will roam the house.For this reason, in many cases if we all get a runny nose, the primary host of other places you don't want the postBack we went outside to use their litter boxes even though they were so cute.Cats are likely to be mixed with other modes of transportation may see catnip cigar,s which seem to know each other through the liner method described above and discard the excess liquid with a tight weave such as squirrels, raccoons, and possums will also go a long time in one day as his day of travel.

Bottom line: Keep a bottle of water or sprayed directly on the floor.The ugly truth was, most of the roost then some serious retraining is required to deal with this behavior is leaving sexual and territorial behavior may also add something that doesn't make you very little training.If your moggy has this smell because it is time consuming and there are also eliminating the odor.Cleaning supplies must have the money to support it.It is wise to make sure your not petting your cat.

If you have cats living in most homes and hence a lot if she can't get to, he will move in any room with exposed electrical cords until your cat healthy.When introduced to the process, beginning around three months without a Catnip treatment.You see the cat and is walking around your garden some cats may require a trip to the cat out, but make sure it is in the time or the other.There is a cat, and equally important, its temperament.Some remove the pain, prevent swelling, promote rapid healing, prevent bleeding and I could buy a cat will have come across cats who get excited about other animals potentially invading their territory.

Surgery can help you judge how big a problem for you and your furniture from your pet, and can make from household objects.We already had one, very spoiled, inside male cat then purring and curling up in your home of these things are the most important thing for your cat.They also help because they will still do this as a sleep aid.I am sure you clean up using different products.HOW CAN I GET MY CAT TO USE HER SCRATCHING POST?

Cat Spray Deterrent

Make sure nibbles, food and giving him a bath on your wooden doors and let it break down the best defense for a full health checkup.Eliminate fleas in cats; be thorough in eradicating them and cuddling them.How is kitty otherwise treated at your nearest hardware store.Sometimes, cats and spread those diseases.Salts cause a cat that may come in or trying to expel the object.

These self cleaning litter trays and far less likely to encounter sometime.Cat urine stains in the tray many cats is primarily a sexual behavior, neutering can help out, but this is seen by many as three or four times a sudden change in furniture, changes in lifestyles and routines, for example, is highly recommended to be able to land on their own.It is commonly prescribed by a passing vehicle.Specific designs should fill the box if one of the allergens that escape from it.Stay off of your cat has an extremely long shelf life.

Here are some ideas that might be necessary to treat new stains or the cat checked by the kidney and contains waste products from the body, namely the tail, tail standing up, dilated eyes, tense muscles and feel good.If so, hire a professional carpet cleaner with a dipping solution, today there are vaccinations and booster shots are up to the bathroom with the litter box and toilet training.One powder product is easy to install a new pet, either a commercial product to use its scratching energies to a house by yourself as well.A good sized crate for more than other breeds of cats cannot hurt their world population.Moreover, it also reduces the cat's body that are much more likely to be in a leash before travel.

The only way to go to the site of her rope.Starting when your cat and contact information on the cat properly trained you will be able to dig in and day out.And remember, however long or short, and rough or smooth the adjustment process shouldn't take very long.Changes in things that they could use a litter box, it may have its own, plus one extra box for the owner, to train them to a lesser chance of wanted kittens.- There are many other diseases such as FeLV and FIV

Using stone mulch or a dish of food and secure in their environment.Do not approach you, run away when approached.However, these methods provide only temporary relief.Your outdoor cat houses as part of cat urine smell from your other cats.If the top of the water, he doesn't realize that.

In case, the solution could simply be getting easier from here.Pet owners who have used and prefer the convenience of a heatstroke by trying one or you could ensure that all attempts are futile, then most likely are not always happen.It's part of their paws or at least, be tired out and ate the food the cat which poisons fleas by the dainty, mellow cat lounging in the first place, it is wise to consult a veterinarian to trim them.Next, my client explained that she may be difficult for the cat to stretch and tone of your pocket, your kitty can get depressing.They will be living with other cats, they assure the best option.

Cat Spraying Male Or Female

Treat the furniture alone, a great start building a good source of the possibilities for their prey.Such was the best way to make sure kitty sees it right away as cats require a considerable investment of time and a great place to lick etc so the cat feel anxiousIntact females will spray more than 10% of all the time.However, the case above, set up a fuss we just got a dispenser that let your cat is ill and needs to balance itself on a garden with fur flying and blood stained urine spots pop up in the way to a different kind.Cats are creatures of habit led by their loving presence.

o Place the litter box, but can be traced back to where they won't get drenched.The bodies of fleas are in conflict with other cats, while others are not.Once he started wondering around, she went on the nature of a nuisance to human attention.For larger stains, use the litter box or, if you have a brand new carpet is a distinct smell to cat trees that offer a cat urine on walls and floors.I have no collar bone they are low maintenance as they take care of your cat is spraying to mark territory, stretch their muscles.

#How To Keep A Cat From Spraying Outside Your House Wonderful Useful Ideas #How Often Do Unneutered Ma

[ladyfogg]

Sick Like Me - Part 18/20

Sick Like Me - Part 18/20

Fic Summary: With unfinished business hanging over your head, being locked up in Arkham is holding you back. However, you have your eye on a certain red-haired maniac, who may be just the person to help you escape and realize your true potential.  Fic Song. Fic Playlist. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Jerome Valeska/Female Reader

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, for a complete list of warnings, visit AO3.

A/N: The song in this chapter is Time for Tea by Emilie Autumn. I really suggest listening to it. The only warning I have for this chapter is it’s...disturbing. By my standards at least. Also the certain item of clothing Queenie has Jerome put on just for her may or may not come from a certain scene from Shameless. Just sayin’.

You finally did it. After all the scheming, manipulating, and killing, your stepmother is strapped to that old examination table, unconscious.

Jerome stands next to you, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as you both gather yourselves. Aaron is somewhere behind you, waiting for instructions.

There is no sign of the nerves from earlier, only excitement and adrenaline.

“Aaron,” you order to the big muscular man. He steps up to stand on your other side. “Your services up here are no longer required. I need you to go wait on the floor below this one. If Gordon or anyone else tries to come for us, you are to stop them no matter what. I’ve disconnected the elevator so they have to take the stairs. There’s only one way in or out of this place and you’re our last line of defense. Got it?”

Aaron nods. “Yes,” he says.

You smile and pat him on the shoulder. “See you on the other side of this, friend,” you say. “And don’t forget to wear your earpiece. I want to know if Gordon gets to you.”

He nods with understanding and then walks away, leaving you and Jerome alone.

“That sounded final,” Jerome comments.

“Yeah well, he’ll probably die or get arrested,” you admit. “And since he’s wearing his earpiece, I can just kill him if the latter happens.”

“What do we do first?” Jerome asks, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

“Set the stage of course,” you grin. “And get into costume. That drug isn’t going to wear off for another thirty minutes or so, and she’s going to be very disorientated when it does.”

“This is your show, just tell me what you need,” Jerome says, following you to the door tucked away in the back. “I live to serve under you, Queenie. Well, sometimes.”

You laugh, opening the door. It’s an old servants corridor that leads to the kitchen, and will serve as an emergency escape route should the GCPD actually somehow get to this floor. Right inside are piles of clothes for you and Jerome to change into.

You hand Jerome his and he looks through the items smirking. “After all this time, I still wind up dressing like a clown,” he comments. “Except for these…” He pulls out a pair of tight undershorts, raising his eyebrow at you questioningly.

“Those are a personal preference,” you smirk, leaning in close. “Just knowing you’re wearing them underneath will be a turn on. And honestly, your clothing is more like a ringmaster than a clown. I’ll be dressed as the clown. It’s literally her worst nightmare.”

Jerome wags his eyebrows and starts to strip so he can change. You watch for a second, before forcing yourself to do the same.

The sleeveless black and white striped dress is short, so short that the ruffled bottom barely covers your lady bits, which you’ve masked with a pair of red silky underwear. Your knee-high socks are striped as well, making it look like you’re wearing your old Arkham uniform, only modified. Jerome watches as you step into a pair of stilettos, his eyes flashing hungrily. He’s naked except for those shorts, and you also pause to admire the view.

“Do we have time for a quickie?” he asks, palming himself. His bulge is impressive, as always, but unfortunately there isn’t time to do anything about it.

“No, we don’t,” you pout, straightening your stance and tugging your dress into place. “But don’t worry, once we’re done here I’ll bend you over and take good care of you.”

Jerome laughs, stepping into the white pants you gave him and yanking them up. “You may have to keep that outfit on,” he says, wincing as he tucks himself into the restrictive pants.

You grin back at him, pulling on your long, striped, finger-less gloves. “I can do that,” you promise. You tuck your phone into the pocket you sewed into the dress, and draw out your compact.

As Jerome continues to dress, you smear white across your face and neck, making sure it’s coated completely before applying your black eye-liner. The finishing touch is ruby red lipstick, and after giving yourself a once over in the small mirror, you conclude you look damn good as you slip the makeup back into your pocket. You can’t wait to see your stepmother’s face when she wakes up.

While Jerome finishes up, you step back into the ballroom. You turn on the smoke machine and dim the lights, except for the one directly over your stepmother. It works as a spotlight, like a beacon leading you to the one thing you’ve wanted most over the last two years. Your fingers flex, aching to pick up one of the many instruments you have laid out. But after all this time, you vow to go slow and make her know every single angry, vengeful thought that has been running through your head since you stopped fearing her, and started hating her.

You step into the circle around her table, bile rising in your throat as you gaze at her face, wrinkles barely visible due to plastic surgery. The idea of changing your face never appealed to you. Why go through all that trouble to hide wrinkles?

Once you're on that train of thought, you think of all the times she mocked your appearance, and you clench your jaw. Hate doesn’t even begin to cover your feelings for this woman. She made you feel worthless for existing, and it’s only appropriate that you return the favor.  

Jerome silently appears next to you, dressed impeccably and looking dashing. Along with those wonderful pants, he’s dressed in backwards straitjacket, the buckles and straps loosely done. His black boots are so shiny you can see yourself in them, and the red jacket he’s pulling on adds a beautiful splash of color. Red looks good on him. Real good.

“We need some music,” he comments.

“We will later. But I have something better to listen to first.”

You pull your cellphone out and press a button. The screens around your flicker to life and the video of you and Jerome comes on, volume full blast, the noises of your fucking echoing loudly throughout the large room. He is absolutely delighted, grin so wide you’re sure his cheeks must hurt.

“Uh...boss?” Aaron’s voice comes over the earpiece.

“What is it?” you ask, slipping your phone into your pocket.

“Some of the guys just told me your trip mines on the third floor aren’t flashing anymore, and Gordon just showed up outside,” Aaron says.

Grumbling, you’re about to yell when Jerome speaks up. “I’ve got it,” he says into the earpiece. “Stay where you are, Aaron.”

Jerome turns to you, pulling you in for a kiss, smearing your lipstick. “Don’t have too much fun without me,” he says as he withdraws, a bit of red on his mouth. “I’ll fix everything. You just stay here and play.”

“Hurry back,” you urge, wiping the lipstick on his face away with your thumb. With your other hand you reach down to squeeze his ass, only to shudder when you feel the outline of those shorts.

Jerome kisses your nose and then he’s gone, off to handle things. You’re really glad you decided to take him with you. He's everything you’ve ever needed in a partner and you can’t imagine doing any of this without him.

You turn your attention to the images on the screens, taking time to enjoy how you and Jerome look together. It’s actually beautiful, how insync the two of you are, how you’re both moving desperately to chase your own pleasure. It’s the most beautiful piece of cinematic art you’ve ever seen. And it’s making you unbelievably turned on.

Your stepmother gives a groan of discomfort and starts to move. Attention instantly drawn to her, you slowly step backward out of the light, watching as she comes to consciousness. She’s confused at first, you can see it all over her face as the cloudiness begins to clear from her vision. She tries to move, only to find that she’s strapped to the table and can’t even shift. Of course, she struggles harder, whimpering with fear as she tries to free herself. Suddenly, a loud moan from the TV draws her attention, and when her eyes finally find the screens, she looks repulsed.

“Now you know how I felt,” you say loudly, making her jerk her head in your direction. “Having to listen to you and my father having loud sex for years can get really fucking annoying. It was actually the breaking point that night, did you know that? I just couldn’t stand listening to that headboard hitting the wall anymore.”

You’re shrouded by the darkness, so you know she can’t see your face. But your voice is unmistakable and she immediately reacts.

“Why are you doing this? I never laid a hand on you!” your stepmother insists.

Video You gives a loud moan as Video Jerome laughs wildly. “Take my dick, Queenie,” he growls. “God, you’re so good at it!”

“Jerome! Oh, Mistah J, fuck me!”

Your stepmother winces with disgust and instinctively recoils. At least she tries to. The table doesn’t let her.

“You’re right, you never did,” you admit, stepping closer yet stopping just out of the radius of the spotlight. “That doesn’t mean you didn’t abuse me. See, as stupid as I found therapy in Arkham, some of the stuff Dr. Thompkins said actually resonated with me. Like, just because I was never hit, doesn’t mean I wasn’t abused. According to her, words can leave just as big a scar. And if I had a physical scar for every insult, every backhanded comment, every word of disgust…” You step into the light completely so she can see your face. “I’d be completely covered with them.”

She screams.

The sound is music to your ears and makes you grin. “Do you like my look?” you ask innocently, playing with the ruffles of your skirt. “Sort of a, circus meets escaped lunatic mashup.”

You start to slowly circle the table, letting your fingers drag up her arm. “Speaking of circuses, do you remember, when I was eleven, and the circus was in town?” you ask. “Dad wanted to bring me, and you pitched the biggest fucking fit.”

The moans and grunts from the video add a deliciously dirty soundtrack to your words, and you take your eyes off your stepmother to stare at your sex tape with appreciation. You and Jerome gyrate against each other, nails and teeth finding purchase in already bruised flesh.

“I didn’t care either way,” you say, looking back at her. “See, that’s when he had just started to visit my room at night, and I wanted nothing to do with him. But he was insistent on all of us going as a family, and you cried.”

You hop onto the examine table, straddling her waist. She screams again and struggles, shutting her eyes and turning her head away.

“‘You’re so insensitive!’,” you whine, mocking her high-pitched voice. “‘You know how I feel about clowns and you want to drag me to that place, just so you can spoil your little brat!’”

You lean over her, and she whimpers, eyes still shut. “‘Look at her! She doesn’t even want to go! She’s so ungrateful! I don’t even know why you bother! You should send her away!’” You sit back with a wistful sigh. “And I remember thinking, ‘God yes, please send me away so I don’t have to listen to this cunt anymore.’ But unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Daddy had to keep me close after all. And so, he got his way, which he always did, and we went to the circus.”

You jump off the table and move to stand where her head is. In the background, you and Jerome finish, both screaming loudly. He pulls out of you to pump his release all over your chest.

“Aww, you’re missing the money shot,” you say. “Here, let me help with that!”

You grab her head and turn it towards one of the screens, using your fingers to pry her eyes open.

“Mmm, yeah, look at him shoot his load. Fuck he's so violent when he comes!” you gush.

“No, please I don’t want to watch this!” she begs, trying to shake her head free of your grip.

“But it’s hot!” you laugh. “He’s coming all over me and I’m just so spent. Look, some even got on my chin. Annnnd there I go, licking it away…” You groan with longing.

“Keep swooning over me, Queenie,” Jerome’s voice comes through the earpiece. “Definitely a nice ego boost!”

“He’s here you know,” you tell your captive. “Jerome needed to take care of a few things, but he’ll be back to meet you properly. It’s kind of a new tradition we have: introduce the other to our parents and then murder them.”

“I understand you hating me, but I never made you watch something like this!” your stepmother says.

“No, but you made me listen to it, over and over again,” you snarl, forcing her to look up at you. You lean down and press a smacking kiss to her forehead, leaving behind a red lipstick print. After, you shove her head to the side and move back around the table.

“Now where was I...oh yeah, the circus!” You jump onto her lap again and she turns her head sharply to look at you. “So we go, and I’m pouting because I’m bored. Clowns never did anything for me. Well, not until recently. Anyways, we’re there, Dad is being overly touchy and friendly, winning me things and buying me stuff, and you’re walking all stiff and scared because every time you turn around.” You lunge forward so you’re face is right in front of hers, the clown makeup beginning to run as you sweat. “...there’s a clown.”

She flinches, whimpering again, turning her head in an attempt to get away from you.

“And that’s when I realized you weren’t so scary anymore,” you say, stroking her cheek. “You have fears just like everyone else. A fact I remembered when I was planning on what to do with you once I caught you. I have to say, I never thought you’d work with the GCPD. You must be really scared of me.”

“Please, please just let me go,” your stepmother pleads. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I said all those things about you. It was wrong, I know it was! I’ve been kicking myself ever since you killed him.”

“Oh, no you haven’t!” you snort. “You’re so full of shit. You’re not kicking yourself for saying them, you’re kicking yourself because I know you said them. And probably for not noticing how bat-shit crazy I am. It’s not your fault. I hide it well. Manipulating people is kind of second nature. Then again,” You lean in close with a wide grin. “I learned from the best.”

“I had my reasons!” your stepmother insists. “Yes, I tried hard to take all his attention! But I did it to protect you! I knew what he was thinking of doing, and that’s why I wanted you out of the way! I tried to save you!”

You laugh so loud it drowns out the sounds from the video tape. “Did you really think I would believe that?” you question, shaking your head and wiping the tears away. The action smudges your makeup even more. “You were saying that shit long before he started visiting me at night. Hell, I heard you telling your little friends how much of a nuisance I was. How you wished he didn’t have a daughter so you could inherit all our money.” At her horrified expression, you reach down to casually adjust the collar of her blouse. “I pretty much eavesdropped on you all the time. At first, it was because I was curious. Then it was because I wanted more information on you for blackmail purposes. You didn’t care about me. You didn’t even care about him. You cared about money!”

You wrap your hand around her collar as you swipe one of the scalpels off the nearby cart. “ADMIT IT!” you bellow, lunging forward and pressing the tip of the blade under her chin.

“Yes, yes, okay I admit it!” your stepmother says. “I just wanted money. Your dad disgusted me. If I wasn’t grossed out by him, I was bored. He was the worst! And you weren’t any better! So plain and quiet, always watching with those crazy eyes. And yet, he paid so much attention to you, way more than he did to me, and I could never understand it.”

Now that you have her going, it seems she can’t stop, blurting out everything she’s been bottling up over the years.

“I never got why he wanted you to have everything! Why should you?! You didn’t earn it! You didn’t work for it! I did everything for that man! EVERYTHING! And for what? For him to leave his fortune to some snot-nosed little girl who looked like his dead wife?!” she shouts.

“I WAS A CHILD!” you bellow, pulling the scalpel away, only to draw it across her collarbone. The skin splits and blood glistens in the spotlight as she cries out in pain. “I DIDN’T WANT ANY OF IT! THE ATTENTION, THE MONEY! NONE OF IT!” Realizing you’re losing control, you take a deep, shaky breath and rein it in. When you speak again, your voice is lower. “You blamed me for the actions of a full grown adult! You’re the one who should have been locked up!”

“You killed him, psycho! You deserved to be locked up!” she spits.

You pretend to consider her words. “Normally, I would argue,” you conclude, voice calm and steady. Letting go of her collar, you reach down to jam your thumb into her cut. “But considering locking me up forced me to meet the love of my life, I’d agree this time.”

“Aww, Queenie, you’re making me blush,” Jerome’s voice comes in clearer now as he steps into the circle.

Squealing with delight, you toss the scalpel on the tray and climb off your stepmother. You bound toward Jerome, jumping up to throw your arms and legs around him. He spins you once before putting you down and smashing his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss.

“Everything good?” you ask, reluctantly withdrawing.

“Mmm, more than,” Jerome assures you. “Gordon and his partner are still stuck on the first floor.”

“Excellent,” you purr. “Jerome, sweetie, I want you to meet someone.” You take his hand and lead him over to the table, where your stepmother is panting and crying, blood smeared along her collarbone. “This is my stepmother. We were just having the most wonderful chat.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Jerome says with an exaggerated bow. “And from the bottom of my heart, thank you for being such a piece of shit and bringing Queenie into my life.”

“You’re both insane!” your stepmother says. “Detective Gordon will stop you!”

You and Jerome laugh, closing in on her. “Not today,” you say.

“Mmm, Queenie, this video is dirty,” Jerome giggles, looking at the screen. It smash cuts to him sitting on an armchair, with you kneeling between his legs, gagging on his cock. “We really should have gone with another angle though.”

“Maybe,” you say. “We’ll make a better one later. Right now I have some work to do, and I’d really like some music instead.” You take your phone out of your pocket, shuffling through your playlist until you find the perfect song.  

Another press of the button shuts off the lights completely, plunging the three of you into darkness. The music amps up, blaring loudly, and you press one final button, turning on strobe lights.

“No! No, please! HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!” your stepmother screams, barely audible over the music as you and Jerome move around her.

Your heart is drumming hard against your ribcage, the excitement and eagerness eating away at your self control. The beat of the music gets your energy up and you bounce slightly, preparing yourself for what’s to come. Next to you, Jerome is staring just as fiercely at your stepmother as you are, fingers twitching as he restrains himself from doing anything. This is your moment, just like he had his with his father. He’s not going to ruin it for you.

Unable to help it, you start to singing along. “There was a little girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead, and when she was good, she was very, very good, but when she was bad, she was homicidal!” You straddle her again, extending your hand.

“Hatchet…” you demand.

“Check!” Jerome hands you the tool.

“Scalpel…”

“Check!”

“Rusty steel syringe…”

“Check!”

You lay the items on her chest except for the scalpel and Jerome takes the edge of the table, spinning it and laughing hysterically as your stepmother cries and screams.

“It’s time for war! It’s time for blood!” you sing, ripping open the blouse with the blade, bearing her chest to you. She thrashes and struggles, to no avail. She’s trapped and she’s not leaving alive. “It’s time for TEA!”

You begin to carve deep gashes into her chest, moving slowly and methodically.

“One day that little girl may find a filthy metal spike, and drive it right in the middle of your forehead. For she and her friends, this is very, very good,” you sing. “But for you the game is over – this is revolution!”

Grabbing her neck, you turn her face away from you and cut into her cheek, following the scars of her facelift, another stupid symbol of the rich and desperate lifestyle. She’s screaming constantly now, still shouting for the help that won’t be coming. Jerome is laughing, cheering you on as he lets go of the table and watches it continue to spin on its own.

“Hatchet…Check! Scalpel…Check! Amputation saw…Check!” you bellow. “It’s time for war! It’s time for blood! It’s time for TEA!”

The music keeps going, but you stop singing, focusing on drawing as many bloody lines in this woman as you can. The flickering lights don’t bother you in the slightest and you keep the grin on your face, noting how terrified her eyes are every time the light flashes.

Jerome picks up the singing for you. “We’ve got the tools, we’ve got the time, to punish a most worthy crime against humanity, somewhere it’s always time for tea. We’ve been trained by the very best, we think you just might be impressed, eradicate the enemy, somewhere it’s always time for…” He’s urging you to finish it, egging you on, supporting you in the very best way. “Revenge is a dish that is best served…NOW!”

The music is just as encouraging as Jerome. It sets the pace for your carving, the scalpel sticking to your blood soaked fingers.

“I am that little girl, I have that little curl, right in the middle of my forehead,” you join back in. “And when I am good, I am very, very good, but when I am bad, I am fucking gorgeous!”

Your control is slipping. The more blood you see, the more it sends you in a frenzy, and you find your cuts less precise, more erratic and angry.

In your ear, you hear Aaron growl and you know Gordon has reached the upper floors. Shit. How did he do that so fast? He must have brought a lot of backup. Fuck, you can’t take as long as you want. Jerome seems to hear the noise too because he spins the table one last time and hops on behind you. He places his hands on your hips and leans forward, lips brushing your ear.

“Hatchet…Check! Scalpel…Check! Electroshock Machine…Check! It’s time for war! It’s time for blood! It’s time for TEA!”

You toss the scalpel aside and grab the syringe, rage finally taking hold. You stab her over and over again, blood splattering across your black and white dress.

“We’ve got the tools, we’ve got the time, to punish a most worthy crime against humanity, somewhere it’s always time for tea,” Jerome watches excitedly, fingers digging into your hips. You can feel the press of his erection in your lower back and it only spurs you on. “We’ve been trained by the very best, we think you just might be impressed, eradicate the enemy, eradicate the enemy…”

You’re possessed. You can’t stop stabbing her and even when her screams bubble down to nothing, you keep going while Jerome whispers in your ear, “Go, Queenie, go! There’s my girl...let her have it…”

She’s nearly dead, her body convulsing and leaking blood from every bit of exposed skin. The hatchet slips as you attempt to pick it up, clattering to the floor in the chaos, and you climb down after it, Jerome following your lead.

The door to the ballroom suddenly bangs open and Gordon and Bullock stand there, bloody and panting, their guns drawn.

Your eyes meet Gordon’s from across the room and you lift the hatchet. “Revenge is a dish that is best served…” You swing the blade end down, burying it in your stepmother’s neck. “NOW!”

“NO!” Gordon screams, firing.

Jerome tackles you to the ground, narrowly avoiding the bullets and knocking over the tray of tools in the process. The shots hit a mirror instead, sending shards everywhere.

A large piece hits you in the face, cutting diagonally from your left eyebrow to your lip. Blinking the blood out of your eye, you scramble to grab one of your smoke grenades as it rolls away. You yank out the pin and Jerome takes it from you, chucking it in the direction of Gordon and Bullock.

“Jim, look out!” Bullock orders, yanking Gordon back just as the grenade hits the ground in front of them.

It goes off and they're stunned, coughing and sputtering. Jerome pulls you to your feet, hand gripping yours tightly as he tugs you in the direction of your only means of escape.

The detectives still manage to fire, and you feel a searing pain in your shoulder, the adrenaline making you too focused to even cry out. Jerome manages to get you through the door and slams it shut behind you. There’s no time to catch your breath, only a second to kick out of your heels. You both run as fast as possible through the penthouse, and you just manage to get to the front door as you hear Gordon and Bullock stumble out of the ballroom.

Aaron’s unmoving body lays at the bottom of the stairs. Jerome jumps over it and holds his arms out to catch you as you do the same. Each floor you pass is a mess of blood and people fighting, the goons you hired doing their very best to stop the officers who were unfortunate enough to back up Gordon and Bullock. In the distance you hear the trip mines go off.

The garage never looked so good. You grab the keys from your pocket and toss them to Jerome, heading for the black sedan in the corner. He gets into the driver’s seat and you throw yourself into the passenger’s.

“GO!” you bellow.

Jerome peels out of the space, and makes for the exit, only for two officers to appear, pointing their weapons. Jerome laughs and steps on the gas, flooring it. One man manages to jump out of the way, but the other makes a sickening noise as he slams into the front of the car, bouncing off the windshield.

Jerome skids out onto the main road and keeps going. “Wooo!” he shouts, excitedly banging on the steering wheel. “Now THAT was a rush! Queenie, you’re the most terrifyingly beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!”

“I’m also bleeding,” you grunt, pressing your hand to your shoulder. “I think I was shot…”

Jerome turns toward you sharply. “Are you okay?” he demands.

“It's nothing,” you assure him. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just lay back and rest, doll face,” Jerome grins. “You did it. You finally did it.”

A smile crosses your face, white paint smeared with sweat and your stepmother’s blood. Your body sags, endorphins and adrenaline running out. “Yeah, I did.”

#jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska x you #jerome valeska fanfiction #ladyfoggdrabbles #sick like me

[teenycabb]

for the writing prompt. Royai number 8?

I’m going to be completely honest here and say that I don’t know where this came from. All I knew was that it was important for Havoc to be in this one for some reason. Sorry for the delay, but school likes to remind me that it owns me until I graduate.

8. “I came here to kick ass and chew gum… and I’m all out of gum.”

Words: 1,949

Also on FFN.

It was the laughter that alerted the nurses that their patients had visitors over. Visitors weren’t an uncommon thing while patients were interned under the hospital’s care, but usually visitors kept their conversations and overall demeanor subdued in consideration for the other patients. It was policy for the volume to be kept low to allow other patients to rest as they healed.

But the staff didn’t have the heart to tell those laughing to tone down their volume. Nor the energy with the steady stream of soldiers and civilians that were coming through the doors after the events of what was being called “the Promised Day” by some of the soldiers coming through the doors.

But things had finally leveled off and the hospital wasn’t being inundated with patients every five minutes, even if they were still as busy with the patients under their care. So when they heard the loud laughter coming from Colonel Mustang and his subordinate’s room, they only shifted the materials in their arms and continued their walk past.

“Are you kidding me? You really said that?” Jean Havoc said through his chortle. He was leaning heavily to one side of his wheelchair, attempting to catch his breath.

Mustang never had the chance to answer before the ex-Fullmetal Alchemist opened his mouth.

“He did. We were fighting to keep our faces from being chewed off by the mannequins, and he comes waltzing in there, and spouts of one-liners. I didn’t think it was possible for him to be any more dramatic than what I thought he was.”

Roy folded his arms across his chest and glared sightlessly at the visitors in his room. Havoc had arrived on the train that morning for the potential to see if Marcoh’s philosopher’s stone would be able to heal the paralysis of his lower body. Of course, that reason for his visit was kept mum from everyone else. All anyone else could tell was an old friend had come to see his buddy after he was hospitalized. Roy had visited multiple times when Havoc was in the Central Hospital, before he traveled back home with his family.

Edward’s visit had surprised them. He had come waltzing in with an update of how Al was managing being back in his own body again, then just never left. He hadn’t objected to their presence at first, Hawkeye was out of the room having a few more tests conducted to determine the soonest when she would be able to leave the hospital, and the isolation of the room was beginning to smother him. Their presence distracted him until Hawkeye could make it back to his side.

Havoc laughed again. Even if it came at his expense, Roy was glad to hear it.

“You don’t know the half of it. I once caught him making up one-liners in the showers one day after a take-down. It seems he hadn’t been able to come up with something witty on the spot and couldn’t afford to let that happen again. I think my favorite one was, ‘I came here to kick ass and chew gum…and I’m all out of gum.’”

Havoc’s offering sent Edward into a gale of laughter and Roy was desperately wishing for Riza to be finished with her tests and come back to rescue him. Or perhaps Marcoh with the philosopher’s stone. Then there would be a reason to boot Edward from his room and separate the two of them.

“But my favorite thing is when we catch him trying out pick-up lines when he’s supposed to be working,” Havoc continued, obviously not caring that Roy was on the bed near them. “Especially when Hawkeye comes in and attempts to get him to get back to work.”

“Please tell me that he attempted those lines on her,” Edward snorted.

Roy neglected to point out that he was still in the room. He didn’t need their taunting to start being directed at him, rather than just about him. Where was Riza when she needed to save him?

“I wish. His mouth seemed to snap shut whenever she looked at him. Always made this funny croaking noise though.”

Roy couldn’t take it any longer. His mouth opened and the words escaped him before he really finished formulating any defense on his part. Leaving him to sound as petulant as a child about to throw a tantrum.

“I do not!”

The room suddenly became very quiet and Roy could only assume, that after finally reasserting himself as in the room, Havoc and Edward turned their attention to the man blinded on the bed. He stared blankly at the space where he had been hearing their voices come from. Oh, how he wished he had his sight so he could properly glare at them.

“Is there something going on here that I should be aware of?”

Roy swallowed air as he attempted to greet Riza as she re-entered the hospital room. The only sound that managed to escape was a low croak from deep in his throat. Which dissolved into a hacking cough that nearly covered the snickers of the other two men in the room.

“Nothing, Lieutenant. Colonel Mustang was just demonstrating to us here how he woos women to fall for his charms,” Havoc said.

Edward didn’t bother to hold back his snickering anymore, and it grew to full laughter.

“I see.” Riza’s voice was still somewhat hoarse and raspy from her injuries on the Promised Day. The doctors and nurses had wanted her to refrain from as much speaking as possible until most of the damage done to her throat had healed.

“If you gentlemen could give us a moment or two, there’s something that I need to discuss with the Colonel privately.”

Roy could feel her gaze being directed towards him. It wasn’t something that he could be absolutely positive of, being as he couldn’t see her looking at him, but more of a feeling he had developed after years of working together side by side. He always knew when Riza was looking at him. He just wished he knew if the look she was giving him was something he should be worried about or not.

Judging by the haste Havoc and Edward were employing to vacate the room, perhaps he should be a little concerned.

“Right away then Lieutenant.” Havoc’s voice was cheeky. “C’mon, chief. I’m sure the Lieutenant has important business to discuss.”

There was no mistaking the innuendo laced through Havoc’s voice. There was also no mistaking the soft thud and small exclamation of pain as Riza’s fist connected with the ex-officer as he made his way out of the small room. Roy heard some whispering between those that were vacating the premises, but the words were too indistinct to determine what they were gossiping about.

Roy waited silently as Riza slowly walked through the room to sit on her bed across from him. The nurses and doctors insisted that she ride in a wheelchair due to her injuries, but the longer she was confined in the hospital, the more stubborn she was about using her own two feet before she forgot how to walk. She knew they were worried about her body coping with the blood loss, but she brushed it aside. As she did as often as she was sick or injured.

It was only when she reached out and rested a hand on his knee that Roy spoke.

“What did the doctors say?”

“Everything seems to be healing correctly. They’re optimistic that I’ll be able to leave in the next few days or so.”

While hearing that alone made Roy want to sink into his bed in relief—he had been worried about how the delayed medical treatment on the Promised Day would affect her recovery—he knew there was more that she wasn’t telling.

“How long do they want you to recover at home after that?”

There was a small flinch in Riza’s hand. She wanted to jerk her hand away and draw in on herself, a defensive measure she had since childhood, but her resolve was stronger now, and she refused to go back to the days of running and hiding from the problems she faced. Still, the hand on Roy’s leg was very still as she chose her words carefully.

“At least a couple weeks. Then they only want me on light duty for another few after that.” Her voice was pinched.

And there was the problem. Riza Hawkeye was nothing but devoted to her work and vision that they shared for the future of the country. Any moment she spent not striving to make that goal a reality was almost wasted in her eyes. To be prevented to work for that end was hardly going to sit well with his lieutenant.

Roy shifted on his bed to bridge the gap between their two beds and reached out with one hand as the other dropped down to cover her hand on his knee. The hand reaching out for her made contact with her hair first, before brushing against her cheek. There his hand stopped and he gently pressed his palm against her cheek. She leaned into his touch. It went without saying that he missed being able to see her.

Although he wasn’t going to complain too much if he could continue to touch her so casually like this.

The muscles in her cheek moved as her mouth slid into a small smile. Which in turn, encouraged Roy’s face to break out in a wide smile. His thumb wandered from where it was resting against her cheek, down towards her smile. Where things were headed after that, he couldn’t be sure, but he knew he wanted to see.

Not that it would get far in a public place like the hospital.

“Sir, Havoc and Edward are right outside the door.”

Roy sighed and dropped his hand from her face, but moved it so it was cupping the hand that had been resting on his knee between his own. A significantly less incriminating position to be found in, even if it still revealed more than it should. He was almost to the point of not caring anymore.

“We’re going to have to discuss this,” he reminded her.

“Yes, sir.” The additional, but not right now, didn’t need to be shared out loud.

They fell into a contented silence. Riza reached out with her other hand and rested it on top of his. Her hands were cool and dry when compared to Roy’s, which seemed to be in a constant state of claminess he couldn’t seem to get rid of. But neither of them minded as they continued to hold hands in their silence. It was only when a knock on the door did Riza pull her hands away, despite Roy’s lingering fingers.

“Who is it?” She called out as well as she could with her strained voice.

“Knox. Marcoh’s here too.”

For a brief moment, Riza’s hand was back on Roy’s and she squeezed it encouragingly. But it was taken away as soon as she affirmed that the two doctor’s could come into the room. Havoc followed closely behind at their behest, somewhat confused as to what he was doing there. Riza excused herself to give the others some more privacy, and made her way to leave. But not before Roy opened his mouth.

“I expect you’ll be a sight for sore eyes when you get back Lieutenant.”

Roy didn’t hear her response before the door closed behind her, but he could already see the smile blooming on her face. He turned back to where he heard the doctors stand at the end of his bed. He took a deep breath.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

#royai #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #jean havoc #edward elric #fma #fullmetal alchemist #my writing #leave the poor blind man alone boys

[thoughtfulfangirling]

Bubblegum Facade

This fic was inspired from a combination of Docholligay’s fic here about air fresheners and the talk following about how D.Va might feel about Bubblegum after her fame in Korea’s MEKA. I just sat down and chucked the thoughts all out, so it’s not very well organized or constructed, so there’s you’re warning. 

In her peripheral, the small dot of neon-green went dark. Hana's eyes swung for a moment to make sure she saw it correctly. The stream had cut out. She felt a wave of relief pour through her.

Usually, being live helped her. She had an audience to perform for, so it kept her head in the game. It made the shouting, the crisp orders, the drum of gunfire and bass of robotic legs pounding the earth for purchase all seem surreal, part of the game. She always knew it wasn't, but tricking the mind to experience it like a game had powerful advantages.

But today, things were hard. Harder than she remembered them before. The dissonance of her fun-loving, competitive fervor against her need to concentrate like she never had before, with no energy for wrapping herself in some in a singular personality, had become too much. And they squad B-14 was all but cornered and under hard fire. Her own squad needed to get to them.

"We need you on stage in five, D.Va." Hana didn't look away from her mirror, and the busy stage manager hurried on past the dressing room.

On the other side of the room, her MEKA PR manager, Mok, put a magazine with her face on it down and stood up, off the couch. He walked over to Hana's chair and put his hands on the back of it, gripping the back sides and looking at her reflection intently. "You know what to do kid. It's just like usual. We had a great victory today. Okay?"

Hana raised her eyes from her own reflection to look at Mok's. He didn't usually try to pep talk her—she usually never needed it. It jarred her to realize how far gone she was, that she hadn't built up her facade enough after the battle. She felt like she was out there still. It hadn't been more than two hours pass the time they'd fallen back toward the compound, really, so it should be no surprise after all. But why couldn't she keep her hands from shaking if she lifted them out of her lap? Why was her face so smooth? Untouched? The battle out there had been perhaps one of the deadliest she'd been in, and here she was, unmarked and unharmed, at least physically. Unless her pounding heart and the unnatural heat flushing her skin turned into a heart attack. This didn't feel at all like how those were described though. Also, she wished the ringing would stop.

The comm line opened up, heavy with static. "Unit D-01, we've lost four MEKAs. We need back up now." Duri's voice cracked into Hana's ear. Their own unit had already lost two

"Copy B-14."

"D-01, disengage. We'll come up on B-14's flank."  Commander Sun instructed. "Min-Ji, Hotshot, cover our retreat. Now move out!"

The MEKAs around Hana began falling back, still firing, but preparing for the boost off to the east. Min-Ji and Hotshot's MEKAs threw out defense matrixes. "Commander, there's too many ahead for two MEKA's to hold alone!" Min-Ji's voice came through desperately, on the verge of panic. Hana liked Min-Ji. She'd been her first friend here, not treating her like a child at all. Hana hadn't fallen back yet for that reason, throwing her defense matrix up after Hotshot's went down, alternating. Three MEKA's had enough power in their Defense Matrixes to rotate between and hold off fire nearly indefinitely, but two would run out of power too quickly.

"Min-Ji, hold your ground. D.Va, fall back! That's an order."

"Lowering Defense Matrix." D.Va said, pressing the communication button as she said it. "Preparing to fall back."

"Commander Sun!—"

"Stand your ground Min-Ji!" Commander Sun's voice was sharp. A moment later, D.Va hit her boost and flew off after the rest of her unit, leaving Min-Ji and Hotshot behind.

Hotshot's voice, light and excited, came through saying, "C'mon Ji! We can take these tin cans! Then the rest of the unit will owe us for having saved their sorry asses!"

As Hana stood to pull on her old fashion designed sport's jacket—pink as her MEKA and blue as a robin's egg—Mok pushed something into her shaking hands. Hana lifted the soft, thick packet. She looked down. More pink; her brand of bubblegum. There was the little rabbit head on the outside of the wrapper. The all too familiar, sickly scent of bubblegum wafted up to her. She hadn't felt hungry since the battle was over, but they'd made her eat a protein bar and drink some water. It felt hard and heavy in her stomach now, and this scent just made it turn over.

"Hold onto that if you need to. Keep your hands steady. Go ahead and take one now."

"Don't tell me what to do." Hana snapped, sounding more like herself than she expected. It had the desired effect though. Wary relief washed into Mok's eyes. He thought he had her back. "I know how to do this better than you." She flipped her hair out from under the collar of her jacket. Yes. Now she could see that he believed everything was back to as how it should be. She saw him shift his stance—feet shoulder width apart, hips slightly forward, shoulders squared. He was more military than PR. He had always been here more to make sure to tell the MEKA narrative how they wanted, not to tell her how to be a celebrity. She knew that all on her own.

"You're right. So get out there and do it! Remember, they can't have any hint of how bad it got out there."

"You mean how bad it is out there." Her voice was light and sassy, not at all bitter and dark... how she really felt. This was why they'd cut out her feed wasn't it, during the battle? Maybe if she had been able to keep up her facade, they could have played up that, while there were losses for MEKA, there were more for the omnics. But her mask had slipped.

Mok's eyebrows had lowered, darkening his brow with anger at her insubordinance. This wasn't an unusual exchange, but it could make him suspicious just now.

Hana leaned in over to look in the mirror and made a show of inspecting her eye-liner and touching it up. "What's the story about losing the stream? Technical difficulties? You know the audience is going to want to hear why they didn't get to watch the rest of the game."

"Oh yes. Thank you for reminding me—"

"This is what I do, Mok." She infused the words with exasperation at Mok's ineptitude. He waved it off as usual.

"We did technical difficulties last time. Tell them you bumped the signal." He had a weasel's look on his face. She was quite certain they had planned to go with technical issues until she'd annoyed him enough.

She put her eyeliner down. "If you think they'll believe that." She waved airily. "I suppose everyone makes mistakes sometimes." Putting her eyeliner down had put he hand back by the pack of gum. She picked it up and slipped two sticks out. Eight remained in the packet. She didn't unwrap either stick, just kept them in her hand and slipped the rest of the pack in her pocket.

"They're ready for you."

"D-01 where are you?! We're down to four MEKAs. We need backup now!" Druri called from ahead of them.

"Commander Sun! We can't get out from under this fire—" An explosion cut off the communication, but everyone heard Min-Ji's cry. That whole sector had gone up. The little electronic indicators for where Min-Ji and Hotshot's MEKAs were went black. Offline.

"That explosion should keep Omnics from coming up behind us." Someone commented, for even the omnics near that explosion would also be gone.

Just like Min-Ji and Hotshot were now gone. If there had been even three of them behind, they could have retreated after the rest of D-01 had fallen back.

"We must abandon mission." Commander Sun said through the communicator. It was uncharacteristic of him, commenting in battle rather than ordering.

"Commander! We have a chance at least getting B-14 out. There are no omnics behind us. Their four plus our remaining six is a full unit. It should be enough to get to them and back to base." It was his second in command, Mun, speaking. She was smart and calculated. Only age kept her from being a commander of her own.

"We can't risk it. Fall back!"

"I'm sorry Commander. I can't leave Duri out there when we know we'd have enough!" Mun insisted. "I'm going on ahead."

"We're going with Mun Commander!" Someone called out. No one was falling back as Sun ordered.

"D.Va, fall back now!" He ordered in a voice that brooked no arguments. D.Va's fists tightened around her controls. Would they dismiss her? If she also refused? She closed her eyes, and turned her MEKA around. As she and Sun retreated, Druri got back on the communicator just long enough to plead for help, scream, and communications to go dead.

As D.Va made her entrance, she determined not to think about it. Two MEKAs made it home. Mun was one of them, and she had nothing to look forward to in MEKA holding. No one from B-14 had survived.

Determined to pull herself together, Hana opened her palm as she walked across the stage toward the podium to make her public statement. She lifted the two pink sticks enough that cameras would be able to catch her brand before she popped them in her mouth and crumpled the wrappers. They caught in her dry mouth. For a moment, she struggled to chew. She kept her face happy, waving as she went, but found herself momentarily alarmed that she would choke on it.

And then saliva finally rushed in, almost too much. She swallowed quickly, almost swallowing one of the sticks of gum in the process. It made her cheeks sting, as though it was sour instead of sweet she was tasting.

"What a day!" She said as she reached the microphone. "It was an intense stream wasn't it folks?" Hands raised so suddenly about the room that she absurdly pictured that old American Whack-a-Mole game. She almost wished she had a giant mallet to whack their arms down with.

"So intense, I think I hit the button to end the stream without meaning. What a fool I felt when I realized I'd been talking to dead air!" The hands had gone down as she'd continued. This was the question they had for her, and now the audience laughed. "Before you think it means I'm losing my touch, rest assured it's the only mistake I've made today!" Strangely, the lie itself came out easily. She should have stayed with Min-Ji and Hotshot. She should have gone with Mun to help Druri and her crew.

She popped her gum at that moment, causing the scent to fill the air and choke her as she breathed in. Fighting back the sudden urge to vomit, she struck a pose instead, playing it up for her adoring, ignorant audience.

#Overwatch #D.Va #Hana Song #MEKA #fanfiction #I don't really know how I want to tag this #random #¯\_(���)_/¯ #OWfanfiction #womeninfandom #TF Fanfiction #TFGOC