#winston my beloved why do you encourage them

[silver-embersss]

these men are so silly goofy they have stolen my whole heart...

#they just dont make cartoons like this anymore 😔 #ember.txt #the real ghostbusters #egon spengler #peter venkman #ray stantz #winston zeddemore #winston my beloved why do you encourage them

[cynic-spirit]

The Poem Series (12) I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day– John Wick

All parts Here

The following day, Diana woke up fresh, and joyous. She remembered last night. After their heated session near the tree, which still brought redness to her face, they had walked some more. John had her had shared an ice cream. John had been quieter than his usual quiet, but Dian shrugged it off thinking that they both have had a tough week somehow. She wore a simple cream outfit for her classes today. As she parks her car, she is greeted by her friend.

“Hey D!”

“Hi! Good morning”

“Oh my God! What happened to you”

“What!!”

“Honey! You are practically glowing.”

Diana giggles and looks down at her feet as they walk.

“Yeah, I met John yesterday. We talked”

“Why are you wearing a scarf?”

“it just goes with the ensemble” Diana says little flustered, avoiding Skylar’s eyes, but its Skylar, she rips off the scarf from Diana’s neck playfully making her yelp a little.

“Dear god!!! Are those hickeys??? And yes, HICKEYS, PLURAL”

Diana snatches the scarf back and wraps it around her neck, embarrassed.

“For God’s sake Skylar!!”

Skylar laughs. “Your neck looks like a speckled bandana, D, What did he do? Have dinner off your neck??!!. Someone wants to make sure that people know you are taken.” Sky laughs

“Well. That someone is coming today.”

“To college?”

“Yeah, lunch time. I’ll introduce you. Now give me that scarf back.”

Diana snatches the scarf back leaving a laughing and giggling Skylar behind. With that both Skylar and Diana go off to their respective classes. Like each day, she taught with dedication and focus. After the class there were a few students that waited to ask her some questions. As Diana answered, she saw a few girls looking at something behind her and giggling. Diana turns to see John with two small brown paper bags smiling at her. She looks at the girls who seem to not get enough of John. Of Course, they would stare at him, look at him. He is gorgeous.

“Don’t you girls have another class?” Diana chides the students who quickly go off to their classes. Diana checks the time. John was right on time. She slowly walks towards him. As she reaches him, John leans down to kiss her, but she puts her fingers on his lips, pushing him away gently, leaving a very confused expression on John’s face.

“This is college John, I am a teacher here”

“Maybe the students can learn something too”

“As tempting as that sounds, PDA is forbidden here”

“Forbidden, that’s just making it more tempting for me, love”

“Don’t make me scold you, in front of all these students, John”

John narrows his eyes and smirks. “Maybe I do need a stern hand on me, Professor Swan”

Diana gasps, John had been a gentleman with her, but his little suggestive comment made her nearly wet. She swore her face was burgundy now.

“I think we should eat now, John”. She says with a smile.

“Oh, I do want to eat, Schatje. I so want to eat”

“John, stop, we are at my college” and we that she pulls him towards one table at a canteen. Suddenly, she cannot meet his eye. John looked at his much missed woman. He had just seen her last night but it seemed like and eternity. The weather was fine and sunny. The bronze glow of the sun bounced off her skin. Her long, brunette hair was wavy, a little wild and wind blown. John’s eyes lingered a little more on her body that he had touched and felt before it moved to her face. He finally says, “I’ve missed you Diana”.

Her name from his lips electrified Diana’s entire body awakening the passionate part of her she experienced last night. “I’ve missed you too John”.

Diana looks at the paper bags on the table.

“What did you get?”

“I got us some sandwiches and a café misto for you, a dark roast for myself.”

“You remembered.”

“how could I forget?”

“thank you John”

“don’t thank me love. I am not doing this for you. I would do anything and everything for you”

“For a man full of mystery, you are a cheesy lover”

“I’d love to show you what kind of a love I am, Schatje” John winks at her.

“John!” Diana whisper yells. “what has gotten into you this morning?” She knew exactly what he was doing. He was dirty talking to her. He was at his truest and the most uninhibited form right now. He was riling her up, like he had felt yesterday night.

“Its not just today morning Diana”

Diana was about to say something equally sexy and witty back when they are interrupted by her friend Skylar.

“I knew I saw a hot couple from the balcony. Hey you!”

“John, this is my friend, Skylar, Skylar, this is…John”

Without any hesitation, Sky turns towards Diana, and nodding her head towards John says, “Well done! D”, earning a smile from John

“Sky!”

“looks like your friend approves of me”

“Don’t encourage her John”

The rest of the lunch time passes quickly. John, Diana and Sky, share a few laughs. The presence of John does not refrain Sky from teasing Diana, who was growing redder by the moment. John felt at ease, he felt comfortable. He loved this life.

“Well, lunch time’s over. It was nice to meet you John. We’ll catch up later”

“Lovely to meet you too Sky”

“I have another class too, thanks for the lunch John”

“Anytime”

“Will we meet again”

“Yes I’ll call you.”

“Take care, My sweet John” She quickly gives him a peck on his cheek. “Say hi to Dog from me” and leaves for class. He watches her go and starts going back.

From across the campus, John frowns again. Something was not right. His attention went to someone in the periphery of the campus. He squints nonchalantly and starts moving towards it. He was now sure, he was being followed, or worse, was his beloved being followed? Realizing that John was now aware of his presence, the suspicious man turns and starts walking briskly in one direction. John follows, but the man in question vanishes in a crowded street. John was now sure. It was either him or Diana being watched. John had to do something. He will not let anything happen to his Diana.  He had to make some calls urgently. John rushes home.

It is evening and Diana’s classes have ended. She has updated her teachers log. Today she had taught Hopkins. She is about to head home when an orderly comes to her cabin and asks her to come to the Dean’s office. The university dean, Mr. Cornway is a good person. He has established a good management at the university that focuses on the complete development of the students. It is one of the reasons that Diana enjoys working here.

“May I come in sir?”

“Sure, Professor. Swan Please come in”

“You called for me?”

“Yes, I have some urgent work for you and I know the classes are over right now but these reports need to be submitted by tomorrow, or some students will lose their scholarship. I was planning to them myself, but my son needs to be taken to a dentist. Can you please do them?”

“Of course sir. Don’t worry about it. Please take care of your son.”

“Thank you. You are one of our good teachers”.

“Thank you sir.”

With that Diana takes the folder from his hands and goes back to her cabin. There are about 12 reports to be completed. Its not a heavy task but the details and accuracy will take a couple of hours. She sighs, looks at the file and murmurs “I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day. What hours, O what black hours we have spent”  and chuckles to herself. Perfect work for a possibly sleepless night she thinks and starts working. Diana gets to work without a second thought. Minutes changes to hours, apart from a few janitors, it is only her at the college now.

Diana is still doing the task. She checks the time and realizes that its 11:30 at night already. Oh god! Has she been working so long? Suddenly her phone rings. She sees that it is a private number. She picks up.

“Hello”

“Hello love. In bed yet?” Diana smiles upon hearing John’s voice.

“No, unfortunately I am still at college”

“What are you doing there so late?” John sounds a little worried.

“The dean gave me an urgent task that could not wait. It took a couple of my hours.”

“Its already 11:30, how long you will be there?” John sounds concerned.

“I think I will done in another hour John. Don’t worry, I have my car”

“Do you want me to come?”

“John, I’ll be fine”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, love, I am sure.”

“Tell me when you leave”

“Yes. I will John, Bye now”

Diana cuts the phone but something does not feel right for John. How could he be all right. This city is unsafe. That man was following them. John could not find anything upon calling Winston or Marcus. He was in the dark about what was happening and his instincts told him that something was not right. He decided to go to Diana at her college anyway.

Diana finishes the work around 12:30. She starts to pack her things. After keeping the file securely in her drawer, she locks her office. She then goes down to the parking lot. Its empty and its only her car and she in the lot. Diana’s feels a little restless. She needs to go home.

Diana is about to take out her car keys from her bag when suddenly, she is pushed hard on her car. And her hand is tied behind her. Before she could scream her mouth is tied with a cloth and she is forced to turn. There are muffled noises coming out of her. In the dark she sees two men, with bandanas. One of whom had tackled her and tied her. The other was getting the car. She was slowly being dragged somewhere. Diana resists and struggles. The man holding her slaps her on the face and she falls hard on the concrete parking lot. “That will teach you a lesson. No John Wick now to save ya, bitch!!” The man yells. He grabs her by her hair and just when he is about to hit her the second time, there is a surprising blur of motion and the man lets out a painful cry. He falls down with his face crimson with blood, Diana closed her eyes tightly but she could hear an arm being snapped and then the man who had hit her was left screaming before he was completely silent. At a distance, the man in the car tried to escape but then he was too slow. The person who had come to save Diana’s life was death himself. After being hit and hitting her head on the parking ground Diana’s head was a little fuzzy. She swore she could hear a bullet firing and then everything went silent. Her eyes were closing.

“I am here, I am here”

“John?“ She asks in a meek voice.

“Stay with me love, I am here, nothing can hurt you now”

The last thing she see is John untying her, picking her up before losing her consciousness.

@ficsnroses​ @overheardatthecontinental​ @trin303​ @meetmeinthematinee​ 

#john #john wick #john wick fanfic #john wick x ofc #john wick x original character #john wick x original female character #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x oc #john wick fan #john wick fanfiction #keanu #keanu reeves #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x y/n #the continental #continental #baba yaga #boogeyman #the boogeyman

[love-and-anarchy-au]

Love & Anarchy: Chapter 16

happy wednesday, loves! i’m officially on holidays yeeeyyy! now i’ll have much more time for writing so you shall expect three chapters a week, ocasionally ;) having said that, i have nothing else to say xd im having such weird feelings bout everything, so im not able to explain anything bout this chapter lol. hope you enjoy this small chapter <3

REMEMBER THIS AU HAPPENS IN THE SAME UNIVERSE THAT THIS ONE

Find out what this AU is about here

Masterlist

Tag list: @healing-winston-pratt @dawniebb @obsidianfr3sk @nodrianbcyes @everyone-has-a-nightmare @magykaldealings @nobellrenaissance @cerenoya @cassin-the-assasin @cindersnightmare

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Words

12,064

Part 2: A teen named Ace Artino

16 years old Alec

    “Ready?”

    “Always.”

    They interlocked their elbows and walked through the streets,without knowing where they were going, as humanity itself.

    The streets of Gatlon City were narrow, at least the ones that were secondary. The avenues, however, weren't very wide either. They were wet concrete roads, populated by metallic and noisy animals, like the city itself. Gatlon City was a living being from which columns of smoke and putrid smells rose every day. The buildings were modern, as they had been built on top of old buildings; public transport was rampant and the bases of the constructions, ninety percent of the time, were small bars. Alexandra and Alec loved bars hidden in alleys or, better, underground bars. Alexandra was one of the few people who knew where those bars were, thanks to her spiders.

    Alexandra was anarchic. She drank beer, vodka, even whiskey, despite being only fifteen years old (she said that the rate of alcoholism in minors was much higher in Latin America and that she was no point of comparison). At the time, she was wearing a pair of leather shoes and a black cotton suit, which was huge because, like most of her clothes, it had belonged to one of her mother's clients before it belonged to her. Her eyes were perfectly eyelined and her lips were covered in a blood-red gloss. Her bull-like nose piercing was a signature touch of hers, along with her cherry lollipops, honey eyes, close-cropped hair, and out-of-control laugh.

    Alexandra was gorgeous.

    Almost opposite to Julieta.

    But identical to her.

    They  both were brave like nobody else.

    And that was what Alec admired the most.

    Still, Alexandra dressed the way she dressed to provoke people. She liked to blow things up, people included. She dressed extremely formal for PE or wore her low-cut dresses when they went to school, which had a strict dress code (that's why Alexandra lived in detention). Regardless, her style always embraced punk and grunge, which she loved the most in the world.

     “Where are we going?” Alec asked, though he was aware that not even Alexandra was sure of the answer.

     “To the unknown,” she replied. “To the future.”

     Alexandra squeezed Alec's elbow tightly and began to run, like she never ran in PE classes. People looked at them, judged them as they passed; they were just another couple of drunk teenagers in love. However, Alec didn't drink and Alexandra wasn’t drunk yet, so part of the people's judgment was wrong.

   As always.

   Alec laughed heartily, for no other reason than the fact he was happy to be alive, to be together with  a human being like that, to be able to love someone with such intensity and to be loved too. He was wanted , he was loved, he was, he was, he was. He could love, he could wish, he could be himself with others, especially with the girl who ran beside him because he knew  she would never lie to him and that she knew him and he knew her and she was...

    “You are pure light, Alessandra Onitraze,” Alec whispered in Alexandra's ear, when they pulled into an alley to refill for their laughter.

    Alexandra drew a semi-suppressed smile, her lips were posing strangely, making them look like a pout, although Alec knew that was her most genuine smile.

    “Ti amo anch'io, Alec Artino,” Alexandra replied, also in a powerful whisper. Alexandra wrapped her arms around Alec's neck, placed her hands under his skull (to support it) and kissed the boy's lips without warning, passionately. Alec didn't move, didn't say anything; they had never kissed in their entire relationship, because Alec wasn't ready, and even though he thought he was ready at the time, it was a lie. His lips rejected Alexandra's as positives rejected positives, and negatives rejected negatives. However, he let Alexandra kiss his lips, without pain nor glory.

    Alexandra pulled her lips away from Alec's.

    “I’m-I’m...sorry,” Alexandra apologized, her chin up, her eyes ashamed.

    “It’s okay, but please don’t do it again” Alec said, a bit embarrassed because he felt like he shouldn’t feel like that and there he was, asking for his girlfriend not to kiss him. Alexandra’s smile disappeared slowly, and her expression became uncomfortable, guilty.

    “Come on,” she said, when she walked away from Alec and the alley. “I know a good place to drink and chat properly.”

    Alec nodded and followed his beloved's path through the streets of Gatlon City. That weird feeling of putting boundaries went away when they arrived at the place Alexandra had guided them. The night was alive, alive, alive. They were alive, alive, alive. Alec couldn't believe that he existed, that he was loved, that he could love.

     It seemed like a dream, one that Alec didn't want to end.

     But it would have to end, eventually.

                                                                -

    “Where have you been?”

    David blushed.

    It was past  two in the morning. Alec was sitting, his white shirt unbuttoned and a cup of cold coffee in his hand (he had made it when he got to the apartment and had not even taken a sip from it). Alec was sitting in the starkest gloom, fraying and analyzing the memories of that night (all the drinks Alexandra drank, all the times Alexandra apologized, all the repulsion that being kissed generated in him, the family-size pizza they ate, the lump in his throat that prevented him from eating most of dinner, the awkward silences between them, Alexandra’s visible guilt among them). Just when Alec was mesmerized, fiddling with his hair and stirring the coffee automatically with a spoon, the boy heard the sound of tin keys hitting the lock, and the door opened to make way for his older brother, David.

    David was dressed very smartly, and not in his usual dusty or beige colors. He had even combed his hair to the side. Alec arched an eyebrow, dismissive but disinterested. He took a sip of the iced coffee and suppressed a grimace at how disgusting the coffee was as his gaze swept his brother's unusual appearance.

    Since they had moved to Gatlon, they had drifted apart on astronomical levels, with the occasional approach consisting of a 'hello', 'good night' or 'good morning'. David had his friends, his job, his life. Alec had his friends, who were his life, and nothing else. Although David had tried to get close to Alec  again, and vice versa, they were never ever there for each other when they needed it the most.

    Never.

    And that generated very deep marks, the kind that are indelible and are marked with fire and ink in the depths of the soul, the kind that eat away at you until you eat all your love for the other person and leave only memories impregnated with resentment.

    They did not have a good relationship, after everything that had happened.

    Anyways...

    “I met someone,” David replied, hanging his jacket (his father's, actually) on the coat rack near the door, which had been pulled from a trash can. Alec remembered once delusionally asking his father for that same jacket and earning himself a beating. Those kinds of memories were as sweet as his coffee.

    He also wanted to dump them down the drain.

    “Who?” Alec insisted, bordering on impatience. Alec wasn't sure why he was so irritated. Maybe because he felt bad about not wanting to kiss his girlfriend. Perhaps because he loved her too much and was afraid of letting her down. Maybe because his brother was a selfish jerk. Maybe he was just angry because he wanted to be. Maybe his powers needed to explode and were manifesting in him that way.

    He wanted to grunt.

    He wanted to scream.

    He wanted to explode.

    Why had his damn brother had to come back?

    “Her name’s Tala Bulan,” David said, flatly. His voice sounded like a syrup jar about to overflow. A smile never used in front of Alec, spread across his older brother's face.

    Disgusting.

    Alec sighed, exasperated. One voice in his head was asking him to calm down, the other was encouraging him to explode. Alec came to a halt, his heart pounding like a bomb. He went into the kitchen, which was two steps from the grimy chair, and leaned against the wooden counter next to the sink, with his back to his brother.

    “That’s all that you have to say? Will you ever give details, David?” Alec complained, following the advice of that harsh and insistent voice; but then he listened to the soft and loving voice to reconsider and affirm: “Whatever, I don't care and it's not my business.”

    “Are you dating someone, brother?” David asked, genuine confusion dripping from his voice. He was more lost than humanity itself.

    Alec snorted and responded with tons of sarcasm. If he was already run out of patience for no apparent reason, his brother had exhausted the reserves he didn't know he had.

    His coffee cup smashed on the metal of the sink, just because of his mind and his fury. How could a person be so self-centered, so distracted, so…?

    Agh!

    “Of course not, I just like to go out late at night on my own and dressed in my best clothes. Of course I'm not seeing anyone!” Alec replied, spitting out the words, throwing them like knives. He left the mug there, not bothering to clean the ceramic pieces and headed for his room, a time bomb on his chest.

     David nodded. He was as capable of recognizing that he was an idiot as he was of recognizing sarcasm when he heard it. In other words, he was completely incapable.

     Alec huffed, pissed off, and stomped the floor, a highly unseemly act of him. In the sink, Alec sensed the remains of the cup and smashed it further, making sure to produce an awful noise. David didn't even flinch, just looked for another cup in the cupboard. Alec growled audibly, he was furious and didn't know why, he was furious and he needed to break something else.

     What is wrong with me? Is it because of Alexandra? he asked himself.

     I don't know.

     Alec screamed, frustrated by the answer he had been given, and fell to his knees to the ground, frantically tugging at his wavy hair. He pulled out a couple of hairs and his vision clouded with a smoldering darkness like embers, spreading like black ink, threatening to reach his mind and corrupt it. That danger caused by Alec himself, added to the fury that was already splitting his soul, ignited the trigger of the boy's powers.

     Once again, the building at Drain Way and Southwest 435, shook, as it has shaken since the Artinos moved there. The floor tilted to one side and the other, the walls moved as if they were made of jelly, the chair bounced as if the floor were a trampoline and the only thing that was still inside the shaking, was Alec himself, who kept his eyes closed.

     “Alec!” exclaimed David, now alarmed and (moderately) aware of what was happening to his brother. He approached him  with difficulty and knelt to rest one of his hands on his shoulder, trying to help him. It was helpful, as it brought him back to reality, stopping the shaking and leaving the hammering of his heart as the only noise.

     Calm down, calm down, calm down.

     Alec took one, two, three, ten deep breaths until he was mostly calm. He opened his eyes, plunged into his brother's, and tried not to drown. He swallowed hard, looked away, and said nothing. He squatted uncomfortably, clasped his palms close to his face and closed his eyes again, searching for wisdom.

      What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?

      The answer was not visible in his mind, so perhaps it was not the right question. He felt how David gave him space, left him alone, and went back to his business. The visible problem (the shaking) was already solved and that was what mattered to his brother, not if Alec had already found what he was looking for. The boy rephrased the question, made it more demanding.

      What must I do?

      The answer showed itself before Alec's consciousness, as if drawn by his telekinesis.

      He shall speak to Alexandra.

#love & anarchy au #love & anarchy #ace anarchy's backstory #a teen named ace artino #alec artino #ace anarchy #alexandra onitraze #david artino #renegades #before renegades #renegades trilogy #renegades au #renegades fandom #marissa meyer #my au #au #fic #writer #writer on tumblr #read

[love-of-fandoms]

Cherry Blossoms (Hanzo Shimada + OC) Interlude II

Between Chapters 12 and 13 of Cherry Blossoms (Master List)

Pairing: Alpha Hanzo + Omega OC

Word Count: 1482 words

It was much later in the night when Lucio shut down his little DJ booth and Lena had Winston set up a small projector. They had gotten to Danny’s least favorite part of Halloween: Horror Movies.

“So… what’re we watching?” she hesitantly asked Lena, who grinned.

“A classic! The Ring!” she cheered, and Danny gave her a weak smile back.

“Yay,” she murmured, shoulders slumping. Lena was too busy pulling up the movie to notice, however. Danny walked back over to Jesse, Genji, and Hanzo, who were all giving her quizzical looks.

“What’s the matter, sweatpea?” Jesse asked, and Danny shrugged.

“It’s no biggie,” she waved them off, but all three of them stayed staring at her. Hanzo rose his eyebrows to prompt her to just answer the question, and after a moment of shifting her weight from foot to foot awkwardly, Danny caved with a sigh. “Fine,” she groaned. “I hate horror movies!” she whispered, and Genji chuckled.

“Awe, are they scary?” he teased, and Danny pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes, they are,” she muttered, and Genji’s chuckles turned into full out laughter. Jesse gave a small chuckle of his own.

“Well, you got us to protect ya!” he grinned, throwing an arm around Danny, who huffed.

“Shut up, jerk,” she groaned, shrugging his arm off and backing away from him, only to step right into Hanzo’s chest. She stumbled, and froze as his hands went to her hips to steady her. She felt his hair brush her cheek as he leaned down to speak in her ear.

“Do you not want to watch the movie?” he asked, and Danny sighed, turning to face Hanzo, who lifted his hands momentarily, only to return them to her hips when she was fully facing him. Her cheeks heated.

“I mean…” she pouted, her eyes widening into what she hoped were good enough puppy dog eyes. “Not really,” she murmured, and Hanzo smiled softly at her.

“We don’t have to,” he told her, voice soft. “We can watch our own movie,” he suggested, and Danny grinned up at him hopefully.

“You’re okay with that?” she asked, and he nodded.

“Of course,” he confirmed, and her grin widened as she turned to Jesse and Genji, who were giving each other sly looks. Jesse sighed, as if watching a different movie would really put him out.

“I’d love to, sweetpea, but the Ring is one of my favorites…” he trailed off, and Genji quickly piped up.

“Mine as well!” he said, and Danny’s face scrunched in disbelief.

“Really?” she asked, and they both nodded. “Oh, um…” she trailed off, looking around nervously, and Genji waved her off.

“You two can go watch another movie, though!” he encouraged, moving his hands in a ‘shoo’ motion, and Jesse nodded along.

“Um…” Danny bit her lip, looking up at Hanzo, who was already staring intently at her. “If you’re still okay with it?” she asked shyly, and Hanzo nodded, a soft smile still on his face as his eyes flickered over her face, lingering for a moment too long on her lips before moving on.

“Of course,” he said again, and Danny smiled widely, wrapping her arms around his waist in a tight hug.

“Thank you!” she squeaked into his chest, and Hanzo smiled fondly down at her, pointedly ignoring the obnoxious thumbs up he was getting from Jesse and his brother.

“You two better git, then!” Jesse prompted, looking at the title screen where Lena was pressing play. Danny looked up, following his gaze and squeaking worriedly.

“Let’s go!” she squeaked, a hand dropping to grab Hanzo’s and practically drag him out of the common area. She paused when she got to a hallway near where the greenhouse was, however, looking back and forth. One way would lead to her and Jesse’s hallway, while the other would lead to Hanzo’s. “Um…” she started, and Hanzo chuckled before tugging her hand in the direction of his room.

“Come,” he said simply, a fond smile on his face, and Danny said nothing, just following him with slightly pink cheeks, not that he could see with the dimmed lights (she hoped).

It wasn’t until they had actually reached the hallway with Hanzo’s room that Danny realized she had never actually been in his room before. He gave her a small smile as he brought his hand to the doorknob, opening the door with a soft audible click and stepping in, pulling her in after him. He closed the door after her and guided her to sit on his bed. For a moment Danny was so overwhelmed by the wonderful scent of flowers and green tea that she forgot she was in a new place, it was as if her eyes didn’t work for a moment. She realized why when they flickered open, and her cheeks immediately heated in embarrassment. She looked to Hanzo, who luckily was fiddling with the holoscreen instead of looking at her. He hadn’t seen her take a big whiff of his room like a dork. 

It was dark, the only thing illuminating the room being the stars and moon, and Danny was able to make out the sparse decoration in his room as Hanzo shrugged out of his overcoat and deposited his hat on a dresser. She took the moment to toe off her boots.

His beloved storm bow lay propped up in one corner, the quiver holding his arrows next to it, and beside that was a dresser. On top of the dresser Danny could make out two picture frames, however it was too dark to really see the contents. Hanzo’s bed was tucked against one corner, with the headrest facing the windows, and heavy curtains lay on either side of said windows. A holoscreen was on the wall next to the door, conveniently right across from his bed.

“What would you like to watch?” Hanzo asked, grabbing a remote and going to sit on the bed next to Danny. She grinned, biting her lip lightly as she turned to face him, taking off her hat as she did so and setting it to the side.

“Have you seen Corpse Bride?” she asked, and Hanzo’s brows pinched together. He shook his head.

“That sounds like it would be a horror movie,” he said with raised brows, and Danny shook her head.

“It-it’s actually a children’s movie,” she told him, the blush on her cheeks so vibrant that it was visible at this point, and Hanzo grinned reassuringly at her.

“We can watch it, if you’d like,” he said, and Danny nodded shyly.

“Please,” she murmured, and Hanzo quickly keyed in the title, looking to Danny questioningly when the title screen popped up. She nodded to say it was the right movie, and Hanzo hit play.

He deposited the remote on his bedside table and scooted back, rearranging the pillows on his bed so he could be comfortable sitting against the headrest. Once he was comfortable, his hands went to Danny’s hips, and she squeaked in surprise as he half-lifted half-tugged her over and onto his lap. The tension only lasted for a moment, however, and Danny almost immediately relaxed back into his chest. Danny took the goggles from around her neck and tossed them onto the floor, sinking into the strong alpha behind her. Her inner omega purred, feeling so safe and secure surrounded by her alph-by Hanzo’s scent. It wasn’t until Akarui and Sanda peaked their heads out of Hanzo’s shoulder and peered at her curiously that Danny realized she was actually purring. She blushed, the low rumble that had been emitting from her chest immediately stopping, and Hanzo made a noise of confusion. Sanda and Akarui let out mirroring chirps, the two glowing cat-sized dragons nuzzling into Danny’s chest as if they were searching for the content noise that had been emanating from it.

“S-sorry,” Danny muttered, cheeks flaming. “I-I’ve never done that before,” she said, and Hanzo smiled softly down at her, not that she could see him, instead her eyes were fixed on the opening scene of the movie. One of his large hands rose to gently stroke through her hair, and Danny tensed briefly before relaxing again. Hanzo let his face fall against the top of her head, burying his nose in her hair and allowing himself an indulgent sniff of her scent.

“It is alright, little one,” again the affectionate name slipped out, Hanzo’s lips brushing the crown of her head as he spoke. “It means you’re content, omega,” his body tensed for a moment. “I mean- you are a content omega,” his squeezed his eyes shut, cursing himself for the slip up, but Danny seemed either not to notice or not to care, instead sinking further into him and allowing herself to purr again. Hanzo grinned, raising his eyes to actually watch the movie with her.

#flufff #cherry blossoms overwatch #overwatch fanfiction #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o overwatch #A/B/O verse #alpha hanzo shimada #Hanzo Shimada #jesse mccree #Halloween #Movies

[yaachtynoboat711]

Fonder 6

A/N: Yes, I’m back like I never left! I’ve been hella busy this summer and I’m just happy to be checking back in. It’s been a little over a year since I began writing and I must say, I’m happy to still be doing this. I love y’all and the encouragement, support, and creative guidance some of you all have given me for the past year!

Word Count: ~3.2K

Warning(s): Fluff, Language, a dash of angst

Thursday, March 19, 2015, 6:19 p.m., Philadelphia

Today was the day: Michael and Khalida were meeting each other’s parents. Due to the filming of his upcoming film Creed , Michael temporarily relocated to Philadelphia. With him three hours away, Yaa was able to visit him as much as her schedule would allow her to. Now, here they were in his car headed to dinner. Both were visibly nervous and reasonably so. Michael paid special attention to the road as he drove his anxiety away. Yaa was deep in her phone checking and responding to work-related emails. In any event of distress, her first choice of relief was work—a drug of choice. As much as she tried to keep her composure, the constant shaking of her foot was the dead giveaway. In an attempt to console his nervous girlfriend, Michael gripped part of Yaa’s thick thigh.

“Hey...it’s ok to be nervous, sugar bear. Not to make you any more nervous than you already are, but my parents can at times be...a lot to handle. Buuut, I’m more than confident that you can be able to handle them. I’ve seen you go against lawyers that’ve practiced law longer than you’ve been alive and you don’t even flinch. So if you can deal with them, then Donna and Michael A. are the least of your concerns.”, Michael comforted as he kept his eyes on the road.

Yaa finally sent her last e-mail for the weekend and locked her phone. “Yeah, but the biggest difference between those old ass lawyers and your parents is that I haven’t slept with any lawyer’s son. Even further, you haven’t met my parents; they take bougie to a whole new dimension. I just don’t know how our parents are going to mix, y’know?” Michael drove in silence, contemplating on what Yaa had just said. “I’m sorry, Kari, that was a lot. I’m just...nervous.” Yaa lowered her head as she realized that she may have spoken too much, at least in her head.

Looking out of the car window, Yaa got lost in the Spotify playlist playing throughout the car. Without a word, Michael took Yaa’s hand into his and kissed the top of her knuckles gently. Her straight face quickly turned into a slight grin. “I love you, Peanut.”, she muttered.

Michael rolled his eyes, “I love you too, sugar bear.”

Forno Rosso, 5:36 p.m.

By the time Yaa and Michael arrived at the restaurant, their parents were already seated and well into conversation. The circular table was located towards the back in a corner, which according to the restaurant’s owner, was the best spot for an intimate dinner despite the sounds of people conversing and plates clacking. The couple walked to the back hand in hand to find the other only Black people in the restaurant--their parents.

“Well, speak of the Devil, there go our babies!”, Khadijah announced as she got up. After the seemingly never-ending round of hugs ended, the couple began introducing each other to parents.

“Mom, Pops, this is my girlfriend, Dr. Khalida Abdullah. Baby, these are my parents, Donna and Michael A. Jordan.”, Michael announced as he observed his parents’ reaction to hearing their son’s girlfriend’s name be prefaced with Doctor.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sweetheart. Michael hasn’t shut up about you since New Years, and I must say, now it makes sense to see why you were the only thing he talked about. Isn’t she a pretty girl, baby?”, Ms. Donna greeted as she shook Yaa’s hand. With her husband’s affirming headshake, the handshake turned into yet another hug for Mr. and Mrs. Jordan.

“He talks about you two all the time also and thank you so much!”, Yaa replied. “Now, Kari, these are my parents, Drs. Khadijah and Mustapha Abdullah. Baba, Umi, this is Michael B. Jordan, my boyfriend.”

“Well, praise the Lord! Dreams do come true. My ibby has been dating you in her head for about 12 years. Finally a pleasure to meet you, son.”, Mustapha greeted, making sure to embarrass his daughter. Mission accomplished. “How are you treating my baby? Sublime, I hope?”

Michael looked to Yaa, who was in a side conversation with Khadijah. “Of course, Dr. Abdullah. There’s no reason for her to be treated any less or different.”

He was definitely keeping that Gatsby energy up—he sent her a dozen sunflowers every other Thursday and treated the office to lunch every now and again.For Valentine’s, the two went to Paris, where he officially asked her out. Apart from the lavish showering of affection and bomb sex, the two had a friendship and a connection that couldn’t be denied. Unlike Winston, Michael supported her career and her work ethic. In times she had to leave or cancel dates because she was called to emergency meetings? He didn’t want to, but he encouraged her to go on. The countless nights she was knee-deep in research? He definitely understood. Spending the night at the office? You bet your last dollar Michael was up with her. In those instances, he’d be sure to have food delivered to her. He even came to some of the trials she had to serve in. Though he didn’t want to admit it, seeing her in her zone turned him on. He respected her craft and her passion and vice versa. Their budding romance had actualized significantly slower than hers with Winston—she preferred that. Apart from the sugar daddy shit, she was finally in a “normal” relationship.

*****

The group’s dinner was running smoothly. The parents got along surprisingly well. Being that they were around the same age, the four related to each other. As for Michael and Yaa, they got along with each other’s parents really well. Hell, they were the lost son and daughter their parents secretly wanted.

Everyone took turns telling general stories about current life happenings and the parents even took the time to tell embarrassing stories about their children. The more they told stories, the further Michael and Yaa slumped in their chairs in shame. Yaa definitely didn’t want to re-visit her first day of high school, which if you were coming into high school at 11, a nightmare was destined to happen on the first day. Mustapha still found it especially funny after almost 14 years. Thankfully, Khadijah found a way to keep her first-born from dying at the dinner table.

“Enough about Khali’s first day at St. Dominic’s, honey. Ibby’s still a bit traumatized. But since we’re on the subject of first experiences,the question of the hour has yet to be asked or answered: how’d you two lovebirds meet?”

Silence. Because neither wanted to explain to their parents that they’d spent the wee hours of 2015 fucking each other senseless, Yaa especially preferred her father tell more embarassing stories about her awkward middle school-esque experiences at St. Dominic’s Girls Prep. But instead of conveying their anxiety with their facial expressions, the two stared at each other until Michael finally spoke up. “Well, Dr. Khadijah... I had the privilege of meeting your daughter at a Great Gatsby-themed New Year’s party that I hosted. Tanisha told me about her and I would’ve been stupid not to invite her...so I did. We...talked all night and up until the…next morning. We haven’t stopped talking to each other since. ” Michael looked to Yaa from across the table whenever he paused, attempting to make his “story” appear more credible than it was.

“Well...son, I’m happy you’ve finally found someone who makes you happy as Khalida does. Moreover, I’m happy to have met two new friends in Khadijah and Mustapha. Here’s to new beginnings and relationships!”, Donna saluted as she raised her glass of water. The table toasted and continued on with the night.

*************

Even after their children pleaded for them to come, the Jordan’s and Abdullah’s decided to opt out of going to the 76ers-Pelicans game following dinner. Though a blow, Michael and Yaa continued on with their date night. As the two sat in game night traffic, Michael couldn’t help but to take in his girlfriend’s beautiful profile. Her thick, oversized tortoise-shell glasses rested perfectly on the tip of her wide button nose. Her full lips were painted with the brightest red lipstick she could get her hands on. Her simple white turtleneck and jeans outfit was so simple, yet so...Khalida. Since the 76ers were playing Yaa’s New Orleans Pelicans, it was important for her to bring her Big Easy pride to the City of Brotherly Love. Though she wasn’t much for flashy jewelry, she made it a point to wear both her gold fleur-de-lis necklace and her Super Bowl ring. Such a flex.

Wells Fargo Arena, 9:17 p.m.

“YOOOOOO! THAT WAS A FOUL, REF, ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!?!?!”, Yaa shouted out as she shot up from her courtside seat. Michael was being entertained by the antics of his passionate date. She basically coached the game while sitting down, one hand interlocked with Michael’s and the other hand occasionally used to give direction to her beloved Pelicans, and nursing her second glass of moscato. Michael found himself laughing at her sincerity, gassing her up every now and then to reaffirm her sideline gripe.

“That’s right, baby!” “Y’all heard the lady!”

The two really looked like a couple. Not saying that their chemistry indicated otherwise; but this was their first public outing. The Paparazzi seemed to take notice of the two—cameras from all around the arena were tuning in to see Michael B. Jordan and his non-model date be boo’d up with one another. It was obvious that the two were being photographed. They could’ve given half a collective fuck what social media said about their relationship. If anything, they kinda absorbed the sudden attention.

It was Kiss Cam time. Couples throughout the arena were caught off-guard and gave their significant others quick, yet meaningful kisses.

“Well, damn, I guess niggas on the front row ain’t in love?”, Michael joked as he watched the other couples display their affection.

Yaa downed the rest of her wine, her eyes fixed on her sulking boyfriend.“I know you fuckin’ lyin. I just know you are, Kari.”,Yaa quickly responded as she started laughing.

“Naw, I ain’t. But I’m saying, if you had a date that looked good enough to eat, you’d want for them to be seen, too. That’s all I’m saying, baby.”

Yaa rolled her eyes at his antics, “You’re pathetic, you know that, right?”

Just as it seemed as the segment was over, the cameraman saved the best for last. The camera pointed at Yaa and Michael mid-laugh. Without hesitation, Michael gripped her chin and allowed his lips to taste the wine left on her lips. Damn, he’s a good kisser. Yaa pulled back first, her face more red than an Alabama home game.

“Oh, so you frontin’ for the cameras, I see.”, he whispered in her ear. A genuine cackle escaped her lips. “You gon’ stop, Kari!”

11:36 p.m.

Even though the game was in overtime, Yaa and Michael decided to leave early, in the interest of beating traffic and grabbing some late-night munchies. Clear and confident with their decision, the two made a quick beeline towards the tunnel. Unfortunately, with their decision came a flock of paparazzi behind them. The closer they got to the exit, the more cameras seemed to appear. Fuck. Whatever you do, don’t let go of his hand! Their brisk walk quickly turned into a jog. “Michael! Who’s the lucky lady?” “What’s your name?!” “I thought you only dated models, Mike? She doesn’t look like a model.” That last comment got the best of Yaa. “Aye, ya mammy doesn’t either, yet here we are!”, she scolded. As they made the last left turn to the exit, a group of maybe 10 camera people began their flashing light dance. This time, they weren’t moving out of the way. Michael stopped to assess a strategy.

“The hell you stop for?!”, a clearly shaken Yaa demanded.

“I need a plan. They don’t look like they’re going to move out of the way.”, Michael replied as he stared off in the exit’s direction. Yaa’s chest rose and fell as quickly as her heart was beating. Suddenly, her hand trembled in his and a slight sweat appeared on her forehead. Her fear-driven adrenaline was going into overdrive as the paparazzi came closer.

“Fuck, Winston, they’re everywhere!”, Yaa commented loud enough for only the two of them to hear. But before Michael could get pissed, he snatched her hand and made his way through the thick media jungle. Shuttering cameras, seizure-inducing flashing lights, and loud overlapping questions further added to the circus they walked through.

“Michael!” “Michael!” “ Mr. Jordan!” “Who is she? “How long are you in Philly? “Can you tell us about the movie?” “Michael, who’s your friend?” “How’s Cre—”. The clearly rambunctious questions being asked became muffled as the car doors closed. The two sat in somewhat silence as they tried to catch their breath. “Remind me...to never go anywhere else with you. Because that...that... was... bullshit.”, Yaa remarked in between breaths.

“I’ve never had the paps out on me like that. You ok? That was jus—did you really call me Winston back there?!”, Michael answered.

“I did? Oh shit, I’m so sorry!”

SOMEWHERE IN LOS ANGELES, 8:40 p.m.

“Aye, bro? Your ex, Klarissa, the real thick one, got dreads, right?”, Winston’s college friend Jamar asked as his furrowed brows remained glued to his phone.

“Klari-...you mean Khalida? Yeah. Why you ask?”, Winston asked as he handed Jamar another water.

“Looks like she’s on a date with...hold on…”, he took his glasses off to clean them and put them back on, “...Michael B. Jordan? She all up on this nigga, Duke.”

A date? Winston snatched the phone out of Jamar’s hand, “Gimme that and stop messing around, bro.” Sure enough, Jamar was right.

DEVELOPING: ACTOR MICHAEL B. JORDAN AND CINDERELLA DATE SPOTTED AT BASKETBALL GAME IN PHILADELPHIA

As he read the brief article, he began shaking his head involuntarily. He went numb with every paparazzi picture he saw of his Yaa and Michael holding hands. But when he saw the kiss cam picture and another picture of them exchanging smiles, that’s all his heart could stand to bear.

His chest felt numb and totally void of any sensation or urge of movement. She looks...happy. It’s one thing to lose a loved one in death, but to lose the one you truly love to someone else and to see them happier with them is a different kind of hurt. His heart had been dropped onto a cactus; pricked and pained, but not yet bleeding. In that very moment, Winston wanted to ball up into the fetal position and isolate himself from the rest of the world. Career, family, life in general be damned. Duke...yo, Duke!

“DUKE!”, Jamar snapped Winston out of his moment of despair.

“Yeah?”, Winston replied dryly.

“Aye, bruh, you good?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” He didn’t realize his face and the top of his tank were wet from the excessive crying he’d did. Hell, he didn’t even know he was crying.

“Well, your ex is off dating movie stars and you’re funeral sobbing. She ain’t dead: she’s just moved on. You gotta allow her to move on and be happy. Besides, she ain’t say shit when you were with that crazy ass chick.”

“You know...I’m uh...gonna go to bed? Yeah, I’m going to bed. Lock the door when you leave . Goodnight.”

Before Jamar could get another word in, Winston walked briskly to his bedroom, slammed the door, and began to pace the floor. His chest began to heave as his sobbing intensified with every step. I fucked up, I fucked up, shit, I fucked up. No,no,no, no, no. She’s really moved on? All the women in the world, and he chose Khalida?! MY Khalida?!?! Fuck.

At some point, he was in denial that he saw Khalida in those pictures, because she surely wouldn’t have been kissing Michael B. Jordan. As much as he didn’t want to, he forced himself to go back to The Shade Room’s website to look at the article. Maybe, it could’ve been another thick woman with now ash blonde locs that shared similar tastes in optical wear. Maybe it was another beautiful Black woman that rocked bright red lipstick and wore black nail polish. Maybe, just maybe, the pretty lady in question’s embellished “K” brooch stood for something else, like, Kenya,Kenzie, or Kayla. Yeah, that was it: mistaken identity. Jamar knew how his best friend felt about Khalida and wanted to play around. Yup—case closed. But, when he looked at a new picture, his already confirmed suspicions were confirmed once more. As the two walked out of the arena and into the pool of flashing lights and voices fighting each other to be heard, Yaa naturally shielded her face with her right hand—the hand her Super Bowl ring always inhabited. Damn.

“FUUUCK!” ,he yelled at the top of his lungs.

He took deep breaths to calm down, certain that he’d startled his neighbors with his tantrum. “Why are you doing this to me, Yaa?”

Back in Philly, 12:30 a.m.

The maddening silence in the car made the 25 minute ride feel like a 12 hour ride. For Yaa, the obvious feeling of shame veiled over her. How could she call Michael “Winston” of all people at a time as that? Now, bitch, you knew better than that. You knew not to call that man no damn Winston. Try to fix it now. Her quick glances over to the driver side were calculated in the hopes that he wouldn’t see the shame over her face.

For Michael, it was much different. He knew that he obviously couldn’t be pissed , but he wasn’t necessarily fond of being called an ex of Yaa’s. He took the sound of silence to figure out what he needed to feel. Slight disappointment. Yeah, that was it: upon close self-deliberation, he had determined that he was just disappointed. Yet, the wave of his current emotion wouldn’t overtake him, as he knew that she wouldn’t be a repeat offender. A simple mistake made in the heat of the moment. Besides, he needed to meet that Winston fellow anyways.

Yaa finally broke the silence, “Baby, I’m sorry that I—” Her eyes crossed to take note of the index finger Michael had placed over her mouth. She looked over to see a silent Michael nodding his head subtly.

“You don’t need to apologize, love. I get it: in the heat of emotions and the moment, you reverted to calling a familiar name. You haven’t found yourself to be in a difficult situation with me, so now I understand.”, Michael explained as he finally removed his finger from over her lips,

“If anyone should be apologizing, it should definitely be me. I brought this attention to us. But, I can’t promise that that’ll be the last encounter with those nosy ass niggas.”

“Sooo...you’re not mad?”, a confused Yaa inquired for clarification.

He nodded, “Nah, in that moment, my ego was hurt, but since I’ve been driving, that fake anger was reduced to understanding. You’re good, mamas. Believe that.”

The two exchanged a glance and a laugh. Finally, the tense air had been cleared to play music. Yaa opened up her Spotify driving playlist and pressed shuffle. Ironically, “Say My Name” began playing, prompting a duet of a “Yoooooo!” to play background to the song.

“This shuffle ain’t shit!”, Yaa moaned with disgust.

THE HOT GIRL TAG LIST:

@muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @eriknutinthispoosy @whoramilaje @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals @forgottenthoughtsandmemories @eclecticblkgirl @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @bartierbakarimobisson @wakandan-flowerz @blackpantherreblogs @ljstraightnochaser @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @washyourlinens @turn-thy-paige @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @oceanscorazon @oshasimone @destinio1 @sonofnjobu @teheeboo @sarahboseman @thememoireeofme @iamrheaspeaks @chaneajoyyy @lovelynervouschaos @cay-cah @coonflix @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @great-neckpectations @jellybean531 @yofavcocoa @storibambino @maya-leche @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @texasbama @certifiednatural @abeautifulmindexposed

#thefonderseries #winston x yaa #dukeandthedoctor #destinedtobeduke #winston duke x reader #winston duke x oc #winston duke imagine

[solarbird]

The Armourer and the Living Weapon, Chapter 17: morning, midday, afternoon, night

I have changed the tags on AO3.

Previously, this story had the "hurt no comfort" tag attached, but that was always a bit of a caution, because I didn't want anyone going in without warnings that this is in many ways not a happy story. But having written the ending, and the coda, I have been told: while it is not a happy story, there is too much comfort - important comfort - in amongst the hurt, and so, I have removed the tag.

This chapter is worksafe. It is also long, so I'm putting it under a cut - but that's the only reason I'm doing so. [AO3 link]

Oilliphéist rolled over in her bed, alone. She could sleep, if she really pushed herself into it, and it would be adequate sleep - but that's all it would be, and she wanted better.

She missed Widowmaker's presence. She missed her counterpart, her companion, her other self, and having been apart for so long, to have to split time like this... she didn't like it.

She wasn't even mad at Tracer. Who wouldn't want to be next to her? How could anyone not want that? Lena just had the good sense to go for it, that's all. Emily smiled a little as she thought about that, and rolled over again.

She's already become everything I'd hoped she'd be, the assassin mused, the boat dual a few nights before flashing across her mind, and well on her way to who she could be, without even any real remaking. She took a long breath. I can't wait 'till we really all get to fight together properly, it makes me want to...

She shivered and then laughed to herself, softly, thinking of the night after São Paulo, when she and Lena both decided to entertain their common lover, suddenly falling on each other as well, ravenously, not love, just need, just lust, but none the less so satisfying for it...

I know what I want, she realised. I didn't mind... so... maybe she won't, either.

All but silently she rose out of bed, crossed the hall, and entered Tracer's bedroom in the temporary apartment that already felt so very much like home. Lena had left the door open, as she was wont to do, and Emily knew already that somehow, none of them set of each other's defences, not as long as they were calm and quiet, and she was rewarded with the view of her spider holding her pet, big spoon and little spoon, calm, at peace - a small hold of serenity in the middle of a mad world.

Ever so carefully, she stepped over and onto the bed, under the covers, nuzzling against the back of Widowmaker's neck, and her lover rolled, still mostly asleep, onto her back, nuzzling into Oilliphéist's hair, breathing in reflexively, and stilled again, at peace.

And Emily slept deep, and well.

Some hours later, Lena woke, slowly, eyes still mostly closed, sun not yet risen, but the first hints of morning light just peeking their way past the blinds. She opened her eyes the slightest bit more, then blinked, seeing Emily across from her, on Danielle's right, asleep.

Her eyebrows furrowed for a second as she wordlessly took the sight in, unalarmed but briefly wondering if maybe this is why she was awake before either of the others, for once. She bit her lower lip and nodded, just the tiniest bit, an unvoiced assent, a silent yes, before closing her eyes again and going back to sleep.

An hour later, Lena woke again, the room a little brighter, Emily stirring, her eyelashes fluttering open, as Lena's eyes opened as well, copper meeting silver, halfway.

"Hiya," Lena said, softly - not a challenge, not even a question, just a greeting, with a a small but genuine smile.

"Hey," whispered Emily, smiling in return. "G'morning."

"G'morning." Lena reached over, gently and without active thought, and ran her hand through Oilliphéist's hair. Emily's eyes closed again and she breathed out, a long, slow exhalation of pleasure. She nuzzled gently into Tracer's hand, the cool touch of her lips soothing against the teleporter's palm, and together, they waited for their beloved to awaken, before - again, together - they would face the day.

-----

Hana Song frowned across visual comms, having read Tracer's mission report overnight. "This is not 'protecting Widowmaker,' Lena. This isn't being 'backup.'"

"I seem t'recall sayin' from the start it wouldn't be just that," Lena retorted, irritation in her voice.

Morrison nodded his agreement with the MEKA pilot. "You weren't supposed to take the lead."

Song scowled, encouraged to hold her ground. "You're supposed to be an observer and maybe support, not DPS."

"I think it sounds pretty durn good," McCree interjected. "Nice improvisation, good use of the landscape..."

"Thanks, luv," Tracer said, with a little grin and salute.

"That's exactly what I don't like about it," Morrison snapped, as Lena leaned back, frowning, across the table, with one of her two counterparts, the other, outside, in the next room, waiting. "You seem awfully happy about having killed this man."

"Kinda the point, wannit? I'm RAF. You see a way to complete a mission safely, with no risk to civilian life - you take it."

"Yeah. You do. But..."

"I didn't hear you complaining about those Omnic troopers."

"Hardly the same thing."

"Exactly the same thing."

"They were in violation of treaty - and they attacked you," Song pointed out.

Lena's mouth twisted a little bit between sadness and defiance. "Just as dead either way."

Jack nodded, "That's the first hint of regret I've seen out of you for any of this."

"Don't regret it, luv. None of it. Unless Mei's data's changed..."

The climate scientist looked up. "It has not," she said, wishing very much that it had.

Lena nodded, gratefully. "...then we don't have much choice, do we?"

"Lena, I'm..." Soldier: 76 rubbed the bridge of his nose, high, between his eyes, "I'm not angry. I'm worried about you."

"Worried I don't know what I'm doin'? Worried I'm too good at it? Worried I'm taking that Blackwatch patch too serious?"

Morrison put his hands together, and his elbows on the conference table, and leaned forward, eyes closed. "I've killed a lot of people, Lena. A whole lot of people. Too many."

Tracer paused, and frowned a little, but not angrily.

"I've been glad I did it. I've been convinced it was the right thing - the necessary thing - and for the most part, my conscience is pretty clear." He leaned back, eyes open again, looking at Tracer's copper eyes. "But I've never enjoyed doing it. It's never been... fun."

Oxton nodded, chewing for a moment on her upper lip, as Danielle smirked dismissively beside her. Your emotions make you vulnerable, echoed the remnants of her conditioning, as she mentally batted it aside.

"Don't cross that line, Lena. Reyes did. Ogundimu did. I came... closer than I want to admit."

"I remind you," said the Widowmaker, "that I am the one who took that particular shot."

"And enjoyed it, I bet," Hana said.

"It was exquisite," replied the assassin, her voice warm. "Perfect."

The small smile Lena flashed her lover made Winston flinch just a little, and he reached across the table and took Tracer's hand. "I... Lena... don't lose yourself, okay? That's all we're talking about. We are working with some..." she hesitated a moment, looking at the Widowmaker, who arched an eyebrow amusedly, "...pretty frightening people, and doing some pretty questionable things. Just don't forget who you really are."

Widowmaker chortled at the softened word choice, but Tracer smiled. "Aw, luv - you know better than that." She squeezed Winston's hand, a wistful expression on her face. "There'll be time to sort all that out soon. Get this stashed away, then afterwards... anybody know a good therapist?" she joked.

"Yes," nodded the Ecopoint survivor. "I do."

Ouch, Lena thought. "Sorry, Mei, didn't think about that..."

"Oh, it's okay. I'm sure she will accept you as a referral. And she follows very strict medical privacy rules."

Tracer snorted a short laugh. "Also didn't mean it literally, luv, but - if it'll make you feel better, I'll give her a call once all's said and done."

"You could even do it before that. I will call her today, to let her know," she replied.

Winston nodded. "I think that would be a very good idea."

Lena rolled her eyes. "Really?"

"Yes," said Winston, firmly.

Lena smirked a little. "All right, big guy. Fine. I'll give her a ring tomorrow. Happy?"

"Not really," he said, "But it's a start. Thank you."

"When's the next mission?" Morrison asked, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

"A few days. Don't know the details yet. But now we've reached the board, everything's gonna move quickly."

"Good," nodded the former Strike Commander.

"Yeah," echoed Hana Song. "This sooner this is over, the better."

[An hour later]

"I know they mean well, but cor blimey, that was grating," Tracer complained, over lunch - curry on chips, of course, courtesy the only English takeaway in the city, picked up and taken home. She leaned back, into the sunbeam shining through the western window.

"They didn't appreciate your work?" Oilliphéist said, poking at a reasonably convincing Cornish pasty, from the same location. "Philistines. I thought it was bloody marvellous. You looked brilliant out there."

"Aw." She smiled, a little, sipping from her water. "Thanks."

"So - y'gonna do it?"

"Do wot?"

"Call that therapist," Emily reminded.

"Right, that." Lena shrugged. "I suppose. No harm in it, yeh?"

"Not the most fun people in the world, therapists," Emily replied. "But it's up to you."

"I wasn't going to bring this up," the Widowmaker added, amused, spreading cheese across another piece of baguette. "But I must say, their reactions... I still enjoy being - how should I put it... I enjoy being..." she waved her knife around, a pointless motion, "...a little bit feared? Perhaps you should consider the value in it."

Tracer laughed, despite herself. "Mei did jump a bit every time you said something, didn't she? Kinda funny. But... you're gonna have t'let that go, love, leastways within Overwatch. S'bad for teamwork." She picked up another chip, and threw it into her mouth.

"But not in public!" Oilliphéist insisted, with a grin. "You're a legend, sweet - you've got a reputation to maintain! And, of course, scared people don't aim so well."

"I know," the spider replied, smiling wickedly. "Believe me - I know."

-----

Angela Ziegler rubbed her eyes, or, at least, around them - being a doctor, she knew better than to rub them directly. This is brilliant work. But so complex.

She cycled through sets of responses, tracking Lena's enhanced nerves through her body. So much interconnection, and yet, still so fast. I can't imagine how much faster it'd be if all this wasn't...

She blinked - Oh! - as the pieces fell together, the realisation tingling down her spine. Oh, this is brilliant, why do you have to be on the wrong side of everything, Moira? This is... it makes a self-stabilising cycle! Of course! And every perturbation is felt almost instantly across the whole system, because each one upsets the entire cycle, so reflex actions and analysis are also distributed, shared...

"Ahhhhh," she breathed, leaning back in her chair. "Moira... you are a genius."

"You found something?" asked Dr. Ngcobo, her lab's peripheral nervous system specialist.

Ziegler nodded. "I've figured out the basic operating structure. It's... oh, it is very good. This is... so clever. It is breathtaking."

Knowing, now, how it worked, she could filter data to show the system in action, and did, both in physicality and abstraction. "Do you see, do you see, the stimulus response? How it's shared, spread across the entire structure?"

"That is astounding," he replied, in all seriousness. "There's... not even really a periphery anymore, it's so integrated - at least, on this level. All of this is unlike anything I've ever studied."

"Well," she said, cheerfully, smiling. "I think I know where to start, then - right here."

"Good a place as any."

Angela leaned over in her chair, pulling up the armrest, watching the abstracted system move in time with the physical system, replaying the session from the beginning, through the new view, seeing reactions spread, so quickly, so cleanly, cycles building upon cycles, forming curves, settling back down, stabilising themselves.

It's beautiful, she thought, as they watched the cycles form and dissipate. Genuinely, just... beautiful.

"May I add another layer of abstraction?" Dr. Ngcobo asked. "There's a differentiation function that's useful, sometimes, when studying self-stabilising feedback systems like this. It was developed for studying vertigo problems, but I think it might..."

"Please - do!" replied Dr. Ziegler, and he did, on the station next to hers, and they brought the three displays together. The third display formed a ring that rotated in three dimensions as Lena's nervous system reacted to stimulus. She started the replay over, watching the ring vibrate, shimmer, moving slowly around its axes.

"It's memorising," she said, aloud, as they watched the abstractions play out.

Huh, she thought, as the ring reacted sharply to one particular stimulus, throwing itself sharply along one axis, before drifting back, and a little past, where it had been before. "...I don't know this particular filter... what was that?"

Dr. Ngcobo leaned in, confused, and replayed that segment of data, watching more closely. It only showed up in the second abstraction layer - at least, as an obvious phenomenon. He stood up, and scratched the back of his head. "That is very strange. My first guess would be that the filter was not designed for this sort of application, and it is just noise. But if it is not that... then..." He put his left hand to his mouth, playing with his lower lip, "...I have absolutely no idea. What's the stimulus?"

"Already bringing it up." She played the short audio track - a snippet of traditional song in Irish Gaelic - in synchronisation with the collected data, watching the ring react when the singer hit her low notes, and she frowned.

"I'm not getting it," said the specialist. "It's just singing. What is that language?"

"Gaelic. And I'm not sure I get it either," replied the head research scientist, "but I have some ideas that I do not like. Not one little bit."

-----

"The police have ruled Korpal's death an accident, and Deshmukh's, a murder. They're looking for a mugger, but..."

"You've got to be kidding me," Reyes growled in his deepest hiss.

"I'm just relaying the police reports," the Talon field operative replied. "Don't kill the messenger."

"They don't know who was piloting the Brazilian boat and there's no second body and they're still calling it an accident?"

Across comms, the agent shrugged. "Everybody knows Sanjay had a lot of enemies in São Paulo, but nobody wants an assassination on record at the Grand Prix, so..."

"So everyone involved has reasons to keep this quiet. I just didn't expect they'd be so blatant about it." He covered his eyes with his right hand, and rubbing his temples for a moment, before speaking again.

"Get me every piece of video and every still image with a face that you can find from that party. Particularly of the boat launch, but cover the whole area. Also, throw in whatever you can find from outside, nearby, starting about an hour before."

"Yes, sir."

"And get me anything and everything you can from inside the Paddock Club the previous two days. Whoever did this probably cased them in advance, and we'll start there."

"Sir. I'll forward material to the facial recognition database as I get it."

"Copies also to me directly."

"Acknowledged."

"Reaper out," he said, cutting the channel.

Photographs began arriving in under a minute, and the former head of Blackwatch sat down in his chair and began flipping through them, one at a time, sorting the known from the unknown in his head, looking for faces, for body shapes, or any part of anyone he might possibly know.

You're in here somewhere, pilot, he thought, leaning back as pictures flickered by. And I will find you.

#widowtracer #talon!emily #emily overwatch #gingerspider #overwatch #angela ziegler #emily oilliphéist gardner #oilliphéist #tracer #mercy #widowmaker #danielle guillard #mccree #hana song #jack morrison #jesse mccree #winston #also on ao3 #michael ngcobo (oc) #mei-ling zhou #concept-art mercy

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Dead in the Water- Part 1

Pairing: Eventual Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3,692

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, angst, language, minor character death, blood, you know the usual

Summary: Still searching for the father that raised you, this time, a hunt takes you to Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. You investigate mysterious drownings and hope to prevent any more drownings. 

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Please, if you want to be tagged for this series, let me know and I’ll add you! If you want to be tagged for my other fics, I’ll add you! I want to hear what you guys think about this.

Read the backstory for this episode here. You don’t have to read it first but it is highly encouraged.

Feedback is always appreciated

Tags at the bottom

With how hunts were going, you hoped that the hunt Dean found was going to be a lot easier than the last one. You still couldn’t believe Dean would just throw himself in the line of fire like he did. You wanted to go with him to defend him and be with him but no, he had to do that alone.

You were just glad he was alright. You were ready to kick some serious ass if he didn’t make it out of the cave. You really shouldn’t be thinking this hard about it because at the end of the day, he was just doing his job.

But what Sam said about you liking Dean, now that was true but you would never admit it. The beautiful man was a ladies’ man and he liked to hook up. You, not so much. You wanted a relationship and Dean didn’t want that. So, keeping your distance would be best for you.

However, Dean was staring at the paper in front of him with a blank look, ignoring you a bit.

“Dean, are we going to discuss this or not?” You looked at the eldest Winchester with a frown. Sam was in the bathroom and you were getting irritated.

A waitress, by the name of Wendy, passed by your table, stopping in front of Dean. She was super skinny, blonde hair, and flirty eyes that won’t quit.

“Can I get you anything else?” She leaned down, showing off a bit of cleavage. You rolled your eyes at this. It was like she chose to ignore you and only pay attention to Dean. You mean, could you blame her? Dean was attractive as hell. Dean looked up at the foreign voice and smirked, the pen he was using, still in his mouth.

“No, thank you, just the check, please.” You rolled your eyes.

“Okay.” She gave you a side glare as she walked away, putting a little sway in her hips.

“You know, Y/N, we are allowed to have fun once in a while and that,” he pointed to the descending Wendy. “Is fun.”

“Really? With her? She seemed kind of like a slut.” You bit your lip and looked away, wishing Sam would come back.

“Ooo, is someone jealous?” Dean chuckled, noticing your tone.

“Me? Jealous of her? I don’t think so. I bet she hops on any kind of dick she sees; no offense,” You let out a breath of relief when you saw Sam walk over to your table. “We got a case.”

Dean looked at you and he was thinking all sorts of things. He looked at his brother and nodded.

“Yeah, listen to this: A woman named Sophie Carlton walks into Lake Manitoc in Wisconsin but doesn’t walk back out. Authorities searched everywhere but they didn’t find anything. Sophie is the third person to drown in this lake this year alone. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral for her two days ago.” Dean explained.

“A funeral?” Sam asked, confused, sitting at the table.

“Yeah, it’s weird, they buried and empty coffin for, uh, closure or some shit.” Dean shook his head.

“Closure? What closure? People don't just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them.” Sam looked at you quickly but looked back to Dean. The conversation you had with Sam on the last hunt was ringing in your ears. He was just upset that Jessica was gone and you couldn’t blame him but that gave him no reason to take it out on you or his brother.

“Something you want to say to me?” Dean asked, raising and eyebrow.

“The trail for Dad, it’s getting colder every day.” Sam sighed.

“Exactly, so what are we supposed to do?” Dean started getting fed up.

“I don’t know, anything, something.” Sam shrugged.

“You know what? I'm sick of this attitude. You don't think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?” Dean glared at his brother.

“Yeah, I know you do,” Sam started to say.

“Y/N and I are the ones that's been with him every single day for the past two years, while you've been off to college going to pep rallies. We will find Dad, but until then, we're going to kill everything bad between here and there. Okay?” Dean scoffed. Wendy walked by again and Dean lost focus for a minute, looking at her ass as she passed.

“Hey,” you swatted Dean’s shoulder to get him to look at you. “You got an address or something?” You looked at him. He nodded and you stood up, placing some money on the table.

“Good, let’s go.” Sam said, doing the exact same thing. Dean got up and led you and Sam to the door but caught Wendy’s eye. He smirked and winked at her before you pushed him closer to the door.

“Keep it in your pants.” You rolled your eyes.

“Buzzkill.” Dean copied your action. He got to his beloved car and got in, along with you and Sam and in no time, you were speeding down the road to Sophie’s family’s house.

“Here, Dean.” You handed him a badge and Sam a badge from the box in the backseat. It was a badge for the US Wildlife Service. You got out of the car, looking at the small cabin. It looked homey if someone didn’t just die. You walked to the front door, knocking on it. A man, presumably Sophie’s brother, opened the door.

“Will Carlton?” Dean asked, standing next to you.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Will nodded.

“I’m Agent Ford, this is Agent Hamill and that’s Agent Winston. We’re with the US Wildlife Service.” Dean held up a badge, pointing to you and Sam respectively. You showed your badge with a tight smile. You really needed to make this more official looking but technology didn’t want to cooperate with you.

Will nodded and he grabbed his jacket, pulling it on, walking outside.

“Come with me, my dad is out there.” He led you, Sam and Dean to the dock where you saw Bill Carlton, sitting on the bench there.

“Why don’t you tell us what happened to your sister.” Dean asked, looking around.

“She was about a hundred yards out. That’s where she got dragged down.” Wil stated.

“You’re sure she just didn’t drown?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, she was a varsity swimmer. She practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as in her own bathtub.” Will shoved his hands in his pockets.

“So no splashing or signs of distress?” Sam asked.

“No, that’s what I’m telling you.” Will was starting to get a bit aggravated and you could tell. You nodded and looked at him.

“I believe you, Will, we all do. Just tell me, did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape breach the surface?” You asked gently.

“No, again she was really far out there.”

“You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?” Dean wondered.

“No, never, why? What do you think’s out there?” Will was curious and sometimes, that was a bad thing.

“We’ll let you know as soon as we do,” You smiled. You watched as Dean headed back to his car but you needed to know something. “What about your dad? Can we talk to him?”

“Look, if you don't mind, I mean... he didn't see anything and he's kind of been through a lot.” Will looked uncomfortable but you understood.

“Of course, I understand.” You touched his shoulder as to comfort him and walked away with Sam.

“I think we should try the Sheriff’s station. They would have records of it there.” Sam suggested, getting into the car.

“Worth a shot.” You shrugged, getting in behind him. Dean started the car and made a U-turn, leaving the property of Bill Carlton and going over to the local police station. When you got there, it was dead inside and outside and you were grateful of that. You liked it when there was less people. It lessened the risk of eavesdropping.

You walked inside and looked around, not seeing a person by the front desk to help you.

“Sheriff?” You called out. You bit your lip, something you also did when you were nervous.

“Yeah?” An older looking gentleman came out of an office and looked at you, Sam and Dean.

“We’re with the US Wildlife Service and we have a few questions about Sophie Carlton’s drowning.” You held up your badge and smiled. You’ve been doing this a long time to lie well.

“I'm sorry, but why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?” Sheriff Jake Devins opened the mini door to let you through, assuming he was going to go back to his office.

“You sure it’s accidental? Will Carlton saw something grab his sister.” Sam said.

“Like what?” Devins asked, confused. He walked back into his office and pointed to the chairs by his desk. “Here, sit, please. There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake. There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person, unless it was the Loch Ness Monster.” Dean snickered at that and you nudged his shoulder, shaking your head at him. Laughing was not appropriate right now.

“Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still,” Devins sat behind his desk and sighed. “We searched that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there.”

“That’s strange, honestly. That’s the third missing body this year.” You said.

“You think I don’t know that? These people are from my town; people I care about. Anyway, all this, won’t be a problem much longer.”

“Why’s that?” Sam asked, leaning a bit closer.

“Well the dam, of course. It's falling apart, and the feds won't give us the grant to repair it, so they've opened the spillway. In another six months, there won't be much of a lake. There won't be much of a town, either. But as Federal Wildlife, you already knew that.” Jake was about to say more when a woman knocked on the door, silencing him.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” This woman was really young, black hair, brown eyes and really skinny. She was beautiful but of course, you knew Dean would immediately jump at the chance to “get to know her” and you couldn’t let that happen. “I can come back later.”

“Gentleman, ma’am, this is my daughter.” You walked in front of Dean before he had a chance to do anything and shook her hand.

“Andrea Barr, nice to meet you.” You smiled politely, letting go of her hand. You looked down when you saw a boy with a full head of dirty blonde hair.

“Who’s this?” You looked at the boy but he didn’t say a word. The little boy looked fearful; eyes wide and biting his lip. You frowned, tilting your head. The boy walked away, out of the sheriff’s office.

“That’s Lucas, my grandson.” Jake said from behind you. Andrea followed her son, giving him some crayons and pieces of paper to doodle on while she was going to talk to Sam and Dean.

“He’s been through a lot, we all have.” Andrea sighed, looking at him draw. You walked away from the group and got down on your knees, to his height.

“Hi, Lucas, my name is Y/N.” You said, not expecting an answer out of him. You didn’t get one and you sighed, standing up. You knew he was special but you couldn’t place your finger on it. You looked at what he was drawing but didn’t know what it was.

“Well, if there is anything I can do for you, please, let me know.” Andrea said to Dean.

“Thanks. You know, now that you mentioned it, could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel?” Dean asked.

“Lakefront Motel. Go around the corner and it's about two blocks south.” Andrea said before her dad could answer.

“Two—would you mind showing us?” Dean asked, acting confused.

“Oh, give me a break,” You muttered to yourself. Apparently, Sam heard because he smiled, letting out a soft chuckle.

“You want me to walk you two blocks?” Andrea tilted her head to the side.

“No, it’s fine, I got it. Thank you, Andrea.” You put your hands on Dean’s wide shoulders and pushed him to the door.

“Thank you for your time.” Sam said, following you and Dean out.

“Why do you have to do this to me?” Dean complained, walking in the direction that Andrea said. You walked besides Dean and shook your head.

“You know we have a case to do and all you can think about is getting into someone’s pants. First the waitress and now her? Dean, she’s been through a lot and I don’t think hitting on her is going to help.” You walked ahead of the boys, biting your already nubby nail.

“What’s her problem?” Dean looked at his brother. Sam obviously knew what was wrong but he shrugged, pretending like he didn’t. You ended up getting one motel room because it was cheaper and it wasn’t like you were staying there long. You would take the couch and Dean and Sam could have the beds.

No way were you going to share a bed with Sam. He was way too big and snored very loudly. There was no way you would sleep with Dean because you wouldn’t be sleeping, knowing that Dean was right next to you.

Right when you walked into the room, Sam sat down at the table and fumbled with his laptop, looking further into the case. You sat down at one of the beds, shedding your jacket off. It was silent in the room for 5 minutes when Sam spoke.

“So there’s the three drownings this year…” Sam thought out loud.

“Yeah? Any more before that?” Dean asked, going through his duffel bag.

“Uh, yeah, actually. Six more spread out over the past thirty-five years. Those bodies were never recovered either. If there is something out there, it's picking up its pace.” Sam put a hand on his jaw and stared at the computer screen intently.

“So, what, we got a lake monster on a binge?” Dean commented.

“This whole lake monster theory, it, it just bugs me.” Sam shook his head, sounding a bit uneasy.

“Why? What’s in that big brain of yours?” You got up, going over to Sam and looking at the screen.

“Loch Ness, uh, Lake Champlain, there are literally hundreds of eyewitness accounts, but here, almost nothing. Whatever it is out there, no one's living to talk about it.” Sam said, frustrated. You would be frustrated as well if you knew something was going on but you couldn’t place your finger on it. Sam was scrolling through the article online when a name caught your attention.

“Wait, Barr, Christopher Barr. Isn’t that the last name of Andrea and Lucas?” You scrunched your eyebrows together.

“Yeah, Christopher Barr was the victim in May,” Sam scrolled down even further and his mouth dropped to a little ‘o’ shape. “Oh, Christopher Barr was Andrea's husband, Lucas's father. Apparently, he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Chris drowned two hours before the kid got rescued.”

“Maybe there is an eye witness after all,” Dean said. “No wonder that kid was so freaked out. Watching one of your parents die isn't something you just get over.” You frowned at Dean’s words, flashes of your childhood coming back to you.

“No, you don’t.” You whispered. You frowned and sat on the bed, looking at the carpet.

“Oh, Y/N, I’m sorry. I should have thought before I spoke.” Dean apologized.

“No, it’s okay, it was a long time ago. I barely remember it.” You lied, a little distracted. You had to stop being such a baby. You had a job to do and being distracted was a risk; a risk you couldn’t afford.

“Y/N?” Sam cautiously said.

“We should go find Andrea and Lucas. I think I overheard them saying they would be going to the playground at her dad’s office.” You got up, grabbing your jacket and heading outside. You couldn’t think about your mom right now. Not long after, Dean and Sam were behind you, ready to follow your instructions.

You got to the park not long after that and your eyes fell on Andrea who was sitting on one of the benches. You looked at the boys and walked to her.

“Mind if we join you?” Sam asked, startling her. She looked back and smiled when she saw it was only you and the brothers.

“I’m with my son.” She scooted over to make room for Dean and Sam. You, on the other hand wanted to speak with Lucas. You could relate more to him than Dean or Sam ever could.

“Mind if I say hi?” When she gave you her approval, you headed over to Lucas and sat at the table he was sitting. You looked at the drawings that he was making and two caught your attention. One was a black swirl and the other was of a red bicycle. Why would a little boy draw those? You smiled when you saw green toy soldiers and that reminded you of the time when you and Sam secretly shoved toy soldiers in the Impala.

“Hey, these are pretty good. You mind if I sit and draw with you for a while?” you asked Lucas gently. He didn’t look up and didn’t say a word but you picked up a crayon anyways and started to draw on a blank sheet of paper.

“You know, I'm thinking you can hear me, you just don't want to talk. I don't know exactly what happened to your dad, but I know it was something real bad. I think I know how you feel. When I was about your age, I saw something.

“Anyway, maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or, uh, believe you. I want you to know that I will. You don't even have to say anything. You could draw me a picture about what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake.” You sighed when he didn’t say a word.

“Alright, well nice talking to you, Lucas.” You got up, dusting off yourself and rejoining the boys and Andrea.

“Lucas hasn't said a word, not even to me. Not since his dad's accident.” You heard Andrea say when you got to her.

“I tried but I got nothing.” Your shoulder sagged a bit.

“What are the doctors saying?” Sam looked at Andrea.

“That’s it’s a kind of post-traumatic stress. We moved in with my dad. He helps a lot. It's just... when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw...” Andrea trailed off.

“Kids are strong. You'd be surprised what they can deal with.” You looked at Dean and Sam who caught your eyes. You’ve been through hell and you know that Dean and Sam have too. Granted, Sam was just a baby when his mom died but the things he went through with his dad. It wasn’t easy.

“You know, he used to have such life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men,” Andrea stopped talking when she saw her son walk over to them. “Hey, sweetie.” He walked right up to you and handed you a picture. You smiled and looked at it, noticing Lucas walked off again.

“Thank, Lucas!” You said after him. No response came from him. This was something you could work with. You knew you were getting somewhere with him.

“You doing okay?” Dean asked you, the next day, in the motel room.

“Yeah, why?” You looked over at him, seeing him fumble with his fingers.

“It’s just what happened with your mom…” He trailed off.

“Dean, I said I’m fine. I don’t remember it.” You lied.

“Do you remember what you told me, growing up? When I would get angry or sad about my mom?” Dean asked you, scooting closer to you.

“Don’t bottle it up.” You whispered. It was true, it was unhealthy to do that to yourself. All that pent-up energy must go somewhere and if you’re not getting it out, it’ll build and build until you can’t take it anymore. Just like water boiling in a kettle.

“Exactly. Just remember that, okay?” You two were interrupted by Sam walking inside the room.

“So, I think it's safe to say we can rule out Nessie.”

“What do you mean?” Dean moved away from you but you missed his warmth. That man was like a space heater.

“I just drove past the Carlton house and there was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead.” Your mouth opened a bit and you let out a sigh. This hunt was getting more confusing by the minute.

“He drowned?” Dean assumed.

“Yeah, in the sink.”

“What the hell? So, you're right, this isn't a creature. We're dealing with something else.” Dean confirmed everyone’s thoughts.

“Yeah, but what? Where do we ever start looking?” You asked.

“I don't know. Water wraith, maybe? Demon? I mean, something that controls water,” Dean’s head perked up as if he figured the problem out. “Water that comes from the same source.”

“The lake.” You and Sam said at the same time.

“Which would explain why it's upping the body count. The lake is draining; it'll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it's running out of time.”

“If it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone, almost anywhere.” Dean added.

“This has to do with Bill Carlton since it took both of his children,” You bit your lip. “Wait, I remember reading something in that article the other day. Lucas’ dad, Chris, is Bill Carlton’s godson.” You looked at Dean who stood up and grabbed his keys.

“Let’s pay Mr. Carlton a visit.”

Masterlist // Series Rewrite Masterlist

Series Rewrite tags:

@helllonearth @amyisabellal @deanwnchstr @caseykitten6 @roxalya19

Forever tags:

@shorter-than-sammy @maddieburcham1 @ginamsmith @mogaruke

Dean tags:

@akshi8278 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester

Other tags:

@jensen-jarpad @jpadjackles @notnaturalanahi @mysteriouslyme81 @deathtonormalcy56 @27bmm

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester angst #series rewrite #series rewrite masterlist #season 1 episode 3 #s1e3 #s1e3 spoilers #dead in the water #dean x reader insert #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean x reader inserts #sam winchester #sammy #sam #john winchester #jon #winchester

[rdlogo]

I would rather like to see the #BritishGovernment encourage the #BritishPeople who democratically elected them in for the British People, by the British People, to the British People ... ...to encourage and incentivise British People to have more children. With the crying voice of the Audacious #Brexit, the Stupid-Braindead British #AltRight and the controversial #BritainFirst - it is evident that there is a growing concern by the British People that the British Government is not doing enough to put the minority-indigenous British Welfare/ flourishing. Would you call this "racist"? Or would you call this a rational reaction against #WhiteGuilt, #WhiteHate and call this #Nationalism. - Nelson Mandela was a nationalist - Winston Churchill was a nationalist - Hitler was a nationalist - Polish People are nationalists - Japanese People are nationalists - Donald Trump is a nationalist Does "mere nationalism" make you a racist? No. It is "other moral badness" added to nationalism that makes you a evil or a racist. Can you blame Brexit on the increasing crime rate in the U.K., on the increasing fundamental multicultural and fundamental diverse societies that we have, on the failure of assimilation that produce zero mutual benefits on our economy by the failure of immigrants to work, work hard, earn the "value" of their standard of living etc. Diversity is not evil, it is fundamental diversity and fundamental multiculturalism I am against ... and I am sure we all too are against this - we just don't think about it. Think of it, in some cultures, the love their dead families and eat them, in other culture, they feel the same love for their dead families and bury them ... which culture do you want? Do you see your racism now? Or will you be willing to say that some cultures are more moral and superior than the other. Now if you're a moral-relativist, stop reading this and go to bed... your nihilism is not needed here. But if you have faith that abstract justice exists in the absolute sense, continue reading. Sadly, we're even doing #IdentityPolitics in the UK and accepting #ShariahLaw in Shariah Courts; why? Because we don't wanna bother with the in-house civil war or fighting dealt against us from the soft plus hard realm against us. "Soft" realm being snowflake, crybaby leftism and "hard" realm being physical attacks, riots and vandalism. This is the British Government loosing touch with the discipline of its own amazing culture - stepping on the blood of their ancestors with paid, tooth, nail, blood and reputation to make British Culture the best that it is. This powerless attitude of the British people in their own country is pathetic in my opinion. Fundamental Multiculturalism or Fundamental Diversity is not an attempt to "learn" to "understand" your neighbour's culture. It is to find ways to allow and accommodate them even if they are morally inferior Culture. I repeat, does that make me a racist for stating that certain cultures are superior? Does that make me a #CultureSupremacist? 😂 ... look, there used to be a time in the Nigerian culture where #HumanSacrifice was the norm. And there are cults - up till this day - that are uncovered in Nigeria that still perform human sacrifice to the gods. Are you a racist or cultural supremacist for STOPPING My beloved culture of human sacrifice? No ... Nigerians secretly thank the colonialists for helping open our eyes with Christianity even though we never mention it. Jesus really changed our hearts. Thank you. Personally, I do not see Married British People complaining to be taxed to incentivise Single British People to get married. And any immigrant that cries that it does. It now to incentivise British Single People to get married and stay married, they can simply BugOff! #BritishCulture has taken too many blows, insults and abuses and it has allowed this ... because it curses itself for being the best, most loving and most caring culture in the world. Try the nonsense accepted in the UK or General West in Saudi Arabia, in Nigeria, in Personally I think so too and I think it's time for #British Culture needs to start being proud again to be British, to be indigenously white. And if the government does not recognise this, that only in the Fundamental Boundaries of the Supreme Historically Based Judeo-Christian British Culture, can we rationally loving (opening our borders to immigrants and other cultures) ... and discipline with justice (opening our boarders to immigrant and other cultures ONLY within the boundaries of our supreme culture). I hate that I see the ageing demographic population of British people. I hate that I see our "kindness" and "loving attitude" being desecrated and disrespected. I hate that I see the real concerns of British people being ignored. I hate that I see the pretence of relationally socially intelligent by avoiding race based discussions and attributions such as looking at a Muslim in the boldly in the eyes and respectfully saying "the #ideological death penalty of Islam is EVIL!" I love the British People and I want the see the British People prosper and to go back to being the respected and revered culture that they always are. Just ranting my own thoughts and opinions. #WhatDoYouThink? #RestHard – View on Path.

[cover2covermom]

 Hello bookworms!

That’s right, I’m finally back from vacation.  We had a fantastic time in Florida and Disney World, but it is time to get back to reality.  Please bear with me while I get back into the swing of things in the blogosphere.

Enough about me, it is time again for another edition of Buy, Borrow, or Pass here on Cover2CoverMom!

Books included in this post: Flora and the Peacock, Ida, Always, A Child of Books, We Found a Hat & Are We There Yet? 

*Buy, Borrow, or Pass is a monthly feature within my Kids’ Corner division of my blog.  I write mini reviews for children’s picture books and at the end of my review, I state if I think it is worth it to buy the book, if you should borrow the book from the library, or pass on the book all together.  I would like to mention that if I suggest to borrow the book from the library versus purchasing the book, this is not negative.  I only suggest purchasing a book when I think it is a timeless book that can grow with your child, or that will appeal to multiple ages.  I also offer “sneak peaks” into the books, which gives you a taste of the illustrations these books offer.

*Book titles link to Goodreads & author/illustrator names link to their websites

**I am not affiliated with Amazon or The Book Depository

» Flora and the Peacocks by Molly Idle

Published: May 3, 2016

My daughter absolutely adored this book.  I had never picked up a Molly Idle book before this one, so I was not prepared for there not to be any words in this book.  Typically, I am not one for wordless picture books, but it is nice to expose children to different types of picture books, especially ones that encourage them to use their imaginations.  Because there are no words, the reader must interpret the story by the illustrations alone.  While “reading” this book, I noticed that my daughter was taking cues from body language and facial expressions.  “Mommy, she is sad!” or “Mommy, the peacocks are being mean.” etc. etc.

Another unique feature of this book were the flaps throughout the book.  This is a “lift the flap” book for children who have learned to take a little more care with their books.  This is NOT a board book, so this book could easily be destroyed in the hands of babies and younger toddlers.  My 3-year-old did fine being gentle with it, but I wouldn’t have given this book to her to look at as a 2-year-old.

Obviously this book would not work for story time, however a teacher could still use this in a classroom setting.  You could have the students look through this book, then write their own stories based off the illustrations.

Verdict: Borrow

*You can purchase this book on Amazon or The Book Depository

» Ida, Always by Caron Levis (Illustrated by Charles Santoso)

Published: February 23, 2016

Themes: Friendship; Illness; Death; Grieving

Looking for a good ugly cry?  Then look no further!  I knew how this book was going to end based off the synopsis, but I still couldn’t keep myself from tearing up at this beautiful book.

What a beautiful story of friendship.  Gus and Ida were the best of friends that did everything together, that is until Ida gets sick… This book is based off a true story about a pair of polar bears that lived in the Central Park Zoo in New York City.  The real Ida became ill in 2011, and died within the same year.  Gus lived a few more years and then followed his friend in death.

This book could be used as a tool to help children deal with death and grieving.  The ending message is a positive one about our loved ones always with us in our hearts even after they are gone.  I am not sure I would suggest this book for a story time setting, but rather this book would be best experienced one on one at home.

Verdict: Borrow

*You can purchase this book on Amazon and The Book Depository

» A Child of Books by Oliver Jeffers and Sam Winston

Published:  September 6, 2016

Themes: Books; Imagination

I must admit, I am not a fan of this cover.  There is just something about the blue girl on a red background that puts me off.   I think they should have made her black and white like she starts off in the book, or maybe gone with a different background color… Cover aside, please do not judge this book by its cover!  This book is an absolute treasure inside, and I will definitely be making my list of favorite picture books I read this year.

A Child of Books is what I like to call a “bookworm’s delight,” meaning that it centers around the love for books and reading.  This book captured the essence of the magic of getting lost between the pages of a book.

Illustration wise, this book is so visually interesting.  The illustrators chose to use words as parts of the illustrations.  For example, the little girl comes in on a boat across a sea, and the sea is made up of words and sentences. Not only that, but these sentences are from beloved classics.  I also love how the illustrations progress from predominantly black and white, to having more and more color.

Aside from the cover, my other criticism of this book would be the font that the story is in.  It is a mix of print and cursive, written like a child may write.  While I understand WHY this font was chosen, I can’t help but think it could be hard for young readers to read this font.  It wasn’t an issue for me, an adult reading this to her child, but could be an issue for young independent readers.

Despite my two issues with this book, I absolutely adored it!

Verdict: Buy

*You can purchase this book on Amazon and The Book Depository

» We Found A Hat by Jon Klassen

Published: October 11, 2016

Theme:  Friendship; Sharing

“We found a hat. We found it together. But there is only one hat. And there are two of us.”

Two turtles, one hat.  Who will win in a fight to the death in this turtle version of The Hunger Games?

*Just kidding*

In all seriousness, I did think that was how this book was going to go after reading the first sentence and seeing all the shifty eyes, but I guess we can not have fights to the death in a children’s picture book…

I guess this is the final installment in a trilogy?  I went into this book not having read the previous books in the hat trilogy, but from what I understand, they are not particularly connected?  Anyone have any insight on this?

Honestly this book didn’t do much for me.  Maybe Klassen is an acquired taste?  Maybe I need to go back and read the first two books in order to appreciate this one?  Regardless this book just didn’t have any type of spark for me.  I thought the story was “meh” and not particularly memorable.  While I did like the understated illustrations, I think the lackluster story paired with the black, grey, and white toned illustrations did not work well together, making this book feel lifeless.

Verdict: Pass

*You can purchase this book on Amazon and The Book Depository

» Are We There Yet? by Dan Santat

Published: April 12, 2016

Theme: imagination

What a unique little book!  I always appreciate when authors get creative with format.  Every page in this book is so cleverly done, starting with the copyright page that looks like a birthday invitation.  The author really uses every page as part of the book as something visually interesting.  I wont spoil anything for you all, but lets just say this book is full of twists and turns!  Ah how I love a good pun :)

With comic style illustrations, I feel this book will appeal to a wide range of readers, even reluctant ones.  Have a tech savvy kid?  Are We There Yet? also included a robot whose thoughts showed up in barcode form.  If you have a barcode scanner on your smart phone (you can download an app for free) and scan the barcode, it will “translate” what the robot it saying.  I really appreciated how the author made this book so fun to read.  In my opinion, these are the types of things we need to be doing to get kids interested in reading again.

I did feel like the story in Are We There Yet? was lacking a little bit.  With such a creative format and uniqueness, the story needs to be able to stand out so that the illustrations do not overpower the story.  Unfortunately, I think the visuals did overshadow the story a tad.  This isn’t to say this book is boring, just that I was expecting a little more from the story.

Because there are so many small details, I wouldn’t recommend this book for story time, but rather feel it would be better enjoyed reading one-on-one or independently.

Verdict: Borrow

*You can purchase this book on Amazon and The Book Depository

Have you read any of these books to your little bookworms?

    Buy, Borrow, or Pass - mini reviews for #PictureBooks. #ChildrensBooks #KidLit #BookBlogger  Hello bookworms! That's right, I'm finally back from vacation.  We had a fantastic time in Florida and Disney World, but it is time to get back to reality. 

#Bibliophile #book blog #book blogger #Book Review #Book Worm #Bookish #Books #Bookworm #Children #Children&039;s Books #Kid Lit #Kids #Kids&039; Corner #Parents #Picture Books #Reading

[solarbird]

don't you feel better - at least, for now?

Old Soldiers, Chapter 4: "don't you feel better - at least, for now"

My computer is acting very badly today (the trackpad has gone off) so the formatting of this header is a little strange, but be aware that the rating on this story has been revised upwards, and that this chapter is NSFW. Be also aware that while I have not been setting archive warnings on the AO3 version of this, I categorically do not write non-con or underage.

[AO3 link]

Venom lay curled up against Widowmaker, her head on her lover's shoulder, eyes closed. "So glad you're home, love."

Amélie looked down to her lover's hair, sated, for the moment, but not finished, and she tipped her head forward, nuzzling at that spiky hair she knew so well. "I am too, cherie."

She rolled over, rolling Lena over as well, straddling over her wife. Lena squeaked a little in protest - "Aw, I was comfortable!" - but quieted as Amélie brought herself down atop the younger woman, kissing her, gently, holding herself up with one arm as the fingertips of her other hand brushed slowly along her lover's left torso and breast, Lena's body lighting up with blues as her wife's fingers danced along their ways.

Venom gasped a little, returning the kiss, reaching up around Amélie's head and to pull her closer, but Widowmaker pulled back and slid down, tracing down Lena's neck and chest and stomach with her tongue, down to her mons and then further, light following her touch, then head down between her lover's legs, hands now around her hips and thighs, Venom's back arched and Amé pushed her lover back down - can't have you if you flex away from me - Lena's hands weaving through Amélie's hair as she moaned.

Venom wanted, or part of her wanted, to quip about being even more comfortable now, but couldn't, the words lost, the thought lost to what her beautiful blue spider was doing with her amazing blue tongue, until she came, again, shaking with the release, moaning, gasping out, "How do you do that?!" and her spider smiled openly and wide, saying, "You have to be French."

Lena laughed and grabbed a pillow and bopped Amélie with it, crying, "Vive la France!" as her lover rolled away, giggling, this being the only kind of time and the only kind of place where the assassin might openly giggle, alone with her beloved and as safe as she ever might possibly be, warm in her nest with the woman she loved more than anything and anyone else in the world. No rifle, no guns, no mines, no chain - well, not that kind of chain - nothing but each other to hold and adore.

"Y'know," Lena said, as they cuddled back up together. "At some point, we have to get up and get back to the real world."

"I know," said her Amélie. "And it will not be so pleasant as this. But don't you feel better, at least, for now?"

"Yeh," smiled the younger assassin, sleepily. "You?"

"Oh yes," said the senior assassin, again kissing her partner's head. "Much better."

[the next day]

"I think it is important we allow them to take their best shot," said the Widowmaker, sliding the last chair off the wall and into place around the table. They had set up the teleconferencing gear in the practice gym's meeting annex, and were awaiting everyone else's virtual arrivals. "Politically important," she emphasised. The new Overwatch effort may not have been her idea, and she might still consider it dubious over the long term, but she was determined not to contribute to its failure.

The younger assassin did not growl and did not snarl, but the anger that flashed across her face might make someone think she had. Damn, she thought immediately, No. Get a lid on it, Venom! She brought more of the web online, forcing herself to calm. She smiled.

Amélie shook her head. "Please, Lena, don't. Be angry, do not lock this down so far."

Lena looked placidly at her lover, and blinked. "Won't do any good to yell at you, love. And I don't want to ruin last night."

"This is not better. Yell at me," said the older assassin, encouraging her lover with gestures of her hands. "Scream, if you must. We have never had lies, and I do not want to start now - not over someone like him."

Venom lifted the web a little, felt the rage surge, and bit her lip 'till it passed. Careful, she thought. A bit at a time. Another step, and then a third, and then she did in fact scream, drew her pistols, and jinked out to the gym floor, firing as many clips as she could, utterly destroying the "Morrison" practice bot they'd set up earlier, punching at its components hard enough to send machine parts flying across the room.

She hunched atop the remains, panting, and crying. "That's... why."

Amélie walked over, slowly, carefully. "And controlling it directly, as you have been, is fine - in the field. But it is not fine, here. Please. It is safe. Talk to me." She put her hand on the back of Lena's neck, and rubbed the muscles gently.

Venom hung her head, and, slowly, replied, "Nothin' to say that I haven't already. I hate him so much."

"I know. Say it anyway."

"I hate him. Not just for the Slipstream. Not just for that. For everything else, too." The younger assassin flipped over, lying on her back, shoving robot bits aside and staring up from the floor, as her wife sat down next to her, running her hands through her hair. "It's like, it wasn't enough to abandon me after the explosion. It's like, he had to destroy..." She paused.

"Go on," encouraged the spider.

"He had to destroy everybody else, too. It had to be him, or it couldn't be anybody, didn't it? Half of Overwatch died in that fight - I knew those people, we were friends. Hell, I dated a couple of 'em... there'd been this redhead, a flight mechanic named Emily..." She shook her head, no, trying to clear the memory away. "And then Winston was exiled, and Mei abandoned in Antarctica..." Her face went sharp and angry. "Didja know, when he brought on Hana Song, she was fifteen? Fifteen. He made her into a child soldier and nobody even questioned it."

"He hardly had to persuade her," the spider noted.

"Yeh, but he had a responsibility not to. And he did anyway."

The blue assassin agreed, "This life is no place for children," as Sombra's ready light flashed. "It looks like everyone is signing in," she said, as Jesse McCree, Geanna Mariani, and Akande Ogundimu's ready lights followed the first.

"Wow," Lena said, sitting up, wiping the tears away. "Everyone's right on time."

"Jack always had a way of focusing everyone's attention," said the spider. "I am not surprised that this time will be no different. Are you ready?"

"Yeah," Venom said, her head clearer, web completely lifted and still in control of herself. The violence had helped, at least for now, as it usually did. "I think so." She sat next to Widowmaker, holding her wife's hand under the table, and both their displays and cameras lit up. She looked over at McCree's image, and, muting her microphone, asked Amélie, "...is Jesse in his bedroom?"

"It is a small safehouse," the spider replied, with some amusement.

"Yeh, but... isn't that Shimada's bow in the corner?"

The spider discreetly checked, and nodded, just a little. "I think so." She smirked. "That is not what I meant by recruitment."

Venom, who had once been Tracer, and who had once been recruited, stifled a giggle. "The hell it's not."

"Quiet, you foolish girl," the spider said, struggling not to laugh. "Decorum. We have work to do."

#venom #old soldiers #tracemaker #tracermaker #widowtracer #talon tracer #tracer #widowmaker #overwatch #overwatch au #also on ao3