Fluffy one-shot set between the 6th and 7th episodes of the 2nd secret ending because I wanted more MC involvement the entire time. Also includes my attempt at a brief animated text log
Saeyoung x MC
“…I can’t let you see
him when he’s still so unstable…”
Over the last two weeks, that phrase had practically become
Saeyoung’s mantra. He apologized all the time for how long it had been since
they had seen each other, called her several times a day whenever he got a
spare moment. On a good day, he only sounded mildly anxious. On bad days she
would speak soft reassurances while he listened desperately, breath hitching
with barely-contained sobs. Today, he just sounded tired, very tired. Over the
last week she had been listening to him become more and more worn down. He had
poor sleeping habits to begin with, but he had never sounded this physically
and emotionally finished. It was time to put her foot down.
“Saeyoung, let me help.”
“I can’t. He’s still unsta- “
“Yes, and that’s why you need help.” She cuts him off
firmly, but does her best to keep her voice warm. He is frightened and in way
over his head, trying to isolate himself again. It’s not on purpose this time,
but she recognizes the pattern. “Text me a list of what you need, I’ll pick it
up and leave it out front.”
MC clicks the disconnect button before Saeyoung can argue,
following it up with a quick text to keep him from backing out. As much as she
would like to see him, pushing for it too soon might be too much for both
Saeyoung and Saeran.
Let me know what you need, I’ve got the rest of the day off! Love you ♥
The messenger lacks any sort of notification that the other
user is typing, much to MC’s dismay. She stares at the screen for a good two
minutes hoping for a confirmation before giving up and tapping the home button
to check her email. The only things there were promotional emails from
companies that needed to be cleared out (how did she even manage to subscribe
herself to so many mailing lists?) but it satisfied a little bit of the mental
itch left behind after the party. After ten days of checking her email come hell
or high water, once even a bomb, she had yet to rid herself of the habit even
if it was just her personal email and not the party coordinator’s official
Just when she thinks Saeyoung isn’t going to respond to her
text, a reply pops up on her screen. She reads through the list carefully,
getting the distinct impression that he has little idea what he is actually
going to do with all of these items once he has them. He has the diet one would
expect of a single, secluded, 21-year-old man: absolute garbage.
Satisfied she would at least be able to help out a little
bit, she picks up her purse and heads out to the store. ‘Fruits’ and
‘vegetables’ were a pretty vague request, but she tried to pick up a variety of
commonly liked and easy-to-cook-with produce for him and Saeran to eat. What
would Saeran like to eat? Is he picky? Unlikely, but it seems they both favor
sweet things. Everything else is relatively easy to pick out, going with name
brand products for everything except for the sprinkles (how different could
Beddy Crocker rainbow colored sugar lumps be from the store brand’s?), and
doing a little shopping of her own in the process.
Stopping off at her home first, MC artfully stacks the
multitude of ice cream pints in her freezer so they wouldn’t melt, grabs her
apron, and gets to work. It’s nothing fancy, simple, easy meals that re-heat
well. She packs all the food back up, removing the ice cream from the freezer
and stacking tupperware containers in her arms. It makes for a turbulent trip
to the car, but the trip out of the bunker in mid-afternoon traffic seems
almost relaxing by comparison.
Approaching the door, MC neatly lays out the bags and
homemade meals, rings the doorbell and pivots on her heel to leave. Her chest
aches at the idea that he doesn’t want to see her, especially when she is at
his doorstep, but she gets it. Saeran is having a rough time and the two
brothers need to sort through a lot
of deeply-rooted family issues. She probably only knows half the story and it
still seems like a high hurdle to overcome. The doctors advised there would be
damage caused by Saeran’s long-term exposure to the Mint Eye drugs. The first
time Saeyoung cried to her over the phone was when the doctors told him Saeran
might suffer from the drug’s after effects forever. That didn’t even factor in
the twins’ abusive childhood, or the trauma left behind from Mint Eye’s other
Compared to that, missing her fiancé for a few weeks, or
even months, and struggling to pay the rent for an apartment not previously owned by a cultist who
armed the building with a bomb wasn’t worth complaining about.
Just as she makes it to the lowest step, someone rushes to
the door, bounding up the last few stairs with heavy footfalls and smacking
against the wall before fiddling with the locks. It’s Saeyoung, looking tired
and worn underneath all his usual bright colors. MC gives him a concerned look,
glancing down to the bags and then back to him. His eyes brighten, just a
little, and her heart flutters. He missed
her. The smile on her face bubbles up of its own accord and he does his
best to return it through the lead weight of exhaustion.
There are only a few feet between Saeyoung and the comfort
and warmth of his fiancé, but neither of them move. To do so might push the
other into a situation they were uncomfortable with, a line they could not
uncross. Over the phone it was easier, at least for Saeyoung. He could share
things about his day and dote over her without the immediate risk of intimacy. He
had lost his mind and babbled in the messenger about his feelings months ago when they were just getting
to know each other. Once he got started pulling her in, he might not be able to
stop. He might scare her. Saeran might
scare her. His twin brother had nearly gotten all of them blown up, had
manipulated her, and had been nothing but hostile since she found out. She said
she was fine, but she couldn’t be. There was no way, not even someone as
kind-hearted as her could forgive everything on the spot.
And this time, all he
wants is to keep her close.
“I-It’s good to see you,” she breaks the silence, pulling
Saeyoung from his thoughts. “I didn’t think you’d come to the door.”
Saeyoung glances down to the bags on the front step. She was
right, he hadn’t planned on coming to the door, but the bell rang and he couldn’t
help himself even if all he can manage right now isn’t near the kind of love
and attention she deserves.
“It’s good to see you too.” She looks good, put-together and
bright even with her eyes filled with concern. Concern for him. Concern he wasn’t
worthy of. Saeyoung gathers up the bags in his arms, having a slightly easier
time than she did, though not by much.
I miss you…
I miss you too…
“Well,” she pauses, as if another moment might get him to
change his mind and let her in (emotionally or physically, beggars can’t be
choosers after all), but nothing comes of it. “I’ll get going. Let me know if you
need anything else. I don’t mind dropping by.”
“Sure,” he says, but he doesn’t mean it and they both know
Just wait for me a
Another two weeks go by like this, MC pestering him about
what he needs and then showing up a couple of times a week to bring by
groceries and her own homemade meals. Saeyoung shows up in the chatroom a
couple of times a day, and MC enters as often as she can manage, telling the
members about her day and making sure everything is okay. When Saeyoung does
come in, he is the bright, joke loving 707 for the rest of the members, even when
she knows things are bad back at the bunker. It worries her, because she knows
that if Saeyoung would just let them know what was going on the entire RFA
would do everything they could to help, but maybe the chatroom is his escape.
He needs a place to just be happy. Plus, she misses that bright joke-loving
part of his personality, even if it is just a farce it makes her happy to see
little pieces of it around in the chat logs. Hopefully soon he’ll be able to let
that part of him out more.
MC brings more of her own homemade food during the next few
trips after an uptick in both ‘thank you’ texts and updates on ‘God 7’s Kitchen
Experiments’ most of which seem dubitably edible . After the second visit, Saeran
starts coming out of his room as soon as the doorbell rings. He never makes it
close enough to the door for MC to see him, but she can hear the door shut and
the sounds of someone trying to be sneaky. It makes her smile, the food is
well-received by the both of them it seems. She really is helping them, and
Saeyoung seems to be warming up to the visits. He smiles more, and seems more
hesitant to see her go. They are back to affectionate goodbye kisses and
lingering stares to prolong the final moments before she leaves.
She leans into today’s goodbye kiss and rests her forehead
on her fiancé’s when he tries to pull away. Not yet, neither of them are ready
to let go yet, she can see it in his eyes, even behind the hesitance. Saeyoung
takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he speaks.
“…Do you want to come inside for a minute?”
I’ve been waiting for
“Of course,” MC says, grabbing a couple of the grocery bags
and following him inside. A flash of hair peeks out from the hall and tries to
duck away when she enters the house, just a second too late to keep from being
noticed. They both freeze in place, giving MC and Saeran a brief second of thoroughly
awkward eye contact before Saeran darts into his room, the door rattling softly
against the frame. She can hear Saeyoung fidget beside her, and looks over her
shoulder with a big grin to reassure him.
“Is that you Saeran?” She speaks warmly, as though she is
trying to coax a frightened animal over. In a way, she is. When that illicits
no sound from behind the door after a minute, she sets down the bags in the
kitchen and resolves to try a different approach. She makes a big show of
stepping back into the living room, projecting her voice as far as it will go. “Hmm…maybe
not. Too bad, I was looking forward to meeting him for the first time.”
Her acting skills may need a lot of little work, but
after several long seconds of silence, the door opens a few inches, revealing
Saeran peering at her like a disgruntled cat. MC can’t help but beam at him. He
might still be…rough around the edges, but it felt like progress, and the
potential for more to come.
One day they would all be a happy family, and she was sure
Manufactured by Eliphalet Remington and sons in 1862. .44 cap and ball, six-shots cylinders, easily removable by pulling down the loading lever and removing the cylinder axis, allowing to switch to a pre-loaded one. This particular example, believed to have been owned by a Confederate soldier, features an unusual lanyard ring and a homemade ring iron sight.
Remember the thrill you got as a kid when you received your very first knife?
Well I guess men will be boys forever because hey! I still know the feeling every
morning when I gear up for the day! I carry the stuff I carry because it gives me pleasure,
simple as that. My father taught me to be a gentleman and to be prepared and never to forget to be a scoundrel as well! I hope my kit represents that and maybe it gives some of you guys some new ideas. Hearty greetings to Pavel from PicaroonTools whose shop I can’t recommend enough and to everybody else remember what old Jack Burton used to say ’ it’s all in the reflexes!’
The ballroom of the swanky hotel was a dazzling sight, with sparkling chandlers and the bewitching dance floor, the rich and famous all dolled up and the sound of soft music and chatter filled the room.
Molly absentmindedly slipped her hands into pockets of the violet gown her mother had made her wear, as she waited for the tipsy rich people in front of her to finish giving the bartender their order. After another ten seconds of drunken giggling, her cowlicks began to go wavy with her impatience, the rest of her hair safely pulled back into a slightly messy bun, lest it follow their leads. Her hands slipping out of her pockets as she crossed her arms over her chest, her aluminum bracelet (made for nullifying her powers in crowded spaces like these) reflecting the light off the sparkling lights above. She had been tempted to shine the light reflecting off of it in one of the nearly wasted guests’ faces, but remembered Winston’s warning about not being rude or disrespectful (even if they started it) because she wasn’t a little girl anymore and they wouldn’t find it charming. And while she insisted that her rudeness could be passed off as ‘just a phase’ since she was thirteen, but Winston had been firm and so had her parents, so that also took away her option to tap her foot in irritation, but in these heels, as low as they may be, she was not used to them and would probably fall flat on her face without her powers to keep her steady.
How she wished they had let her wear her favorite combat boots! Other women here were wearing boots, so why couldn’t she?! But she had sucked it up, mainly because her mother had wisely chosen shoes that were the same basic style on top as the one she had placed on her one year old little sister, Wilhelmina.
Meaning they would match.
Using her adoration of doing cute things with her little sister to make her wear things she wasn’t fond of. Clever.
Cruel, but clever.
The tipsy messes finally moved out of the way with their drinks, nearly spilling it on her as they passed, but she passed it off with elegance, grace and a quick middle finger at their backs when she was sure that no one but the bartender could see. After that little slip up, she quickly walked up to him, to make sure she would not be stuck behind indecisive adults and spoke, “G’day! May I please have one orange juice, one grapefruit juice, ‘n two Mountain Dews?”
“Coming right up!” the bartender said as he began pulling out several containers from under the bar, “’N can I please have them in champagne glasses?” she asked, feeling a bit sheepish, “Easier ta carry those then regular glasses, ya know?” The bartender nodded but warned that there would be less to drink out of them then just a regular glass.
“Tha’s foine,” she assured him, “Two of th’ glasses are fer women drinking fer two, figure they’d appreciate not havin’ ta go ta th’ bathroom in a tick.” The man smiled and carefully handed her her drinks and told her to pass his congrats to the two lucky families.
“Cheers! Ta!” she called before heading back to her group, doing her best to stay balanced on her own feet as well as not bumping into anyone, but finding it tricky to do so when people kept throwing their heads back to laugh as if they had something to prove. And others not paying attention to those around them and flinging arms and hands out and nearly making her spill her order all over herself she scowled at the group only to see that they were all wearing a familiar logo.
“You know, it’s polite to say excuse me.” The guilty man said lightly, making his fellow knobs chuckle while the woman he was talking to seemed surprised by his harsh words.
“It’s also polite ta ‘pologize when ya nearly knock a kid over while she’s bringin’ drinks ta pregnant shelias.” she countered, her tone light, but pointed, making them quickly clam up as she passed, “But no worries, no one expects any better from you lot anyways.” she purred before picking up her pace and reaching her objective before they could retaliate. The woman they were talking to quickly taking her lead and slipping away from them.
She finally let out s sigh of relief when she reached Genji and his little two year old girl, Henrietta. He wore a dark suit and had most of his face plate off, his daughter wearing a cute little seafoam green kimono with a dragon similar to her father’s and uncle’s tattoos on it. “Are you alright?” he asked her, his little girl smiling at her and waving. Molly wiggled a finger back at the toddler before saying, “I can handle them, it’s Satya ‘m more worried ‘bout. She don’ need them makin’ ‘er stressed, ‘specially not now.” He nodded, concerned, because, while both her Mum and her Aunt were pregnant, Satya could pop any second while Angela was only a few weeks in. They didn’t want her going into labor with those bastards so close. “I’ll keep an eye on them.” he promised, his expression serious and stern as he bounced his daughter, making her laugh and clap with absolute glee.
“Ta.” she said before walking towards a large open glass door that opened onto a garden. She glanced around, her cowlicks pointing towards them like dousing rods when she finally spotted them and carefully made her way over to them.
Hana “D.va” Song, Satya “Symmetra” Fawkes and Dr. Angela “Mercy” Rutledge stood by the edge of the garden, chatting with a reporter about Hana’s recent collab with her boyfriend Lúcio to help raise money to purchase supplies for Junkers to decrease the crimes they needed to commit to survive, and how excited Angela and Satya were about the new incoming additions to their families.
Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Jamison ‘Junkrat’ Fawkes and Mako “Roadhog’ Rutledge not too far from them, Lúcio signing an autograph for a boy who was probably close to Molly’s age who was in a wheel chair while Mako carefully lifted a girl who had to be no more than six to see little Wilhelmina and little Aarush cradled in his and his partner in crime’s arms, the little girl’s eyes bright with awe, just as her own had been when she first laid eyes on them. The two children’s parents seeming a bit uneasy, but slowly becoming more comfortable with it as they spent more time in their presence and chatted. Torbjörn being with them with his own wife and children probably helped a lot with that too.
Molly walked over to the women, holding out the glasses as she closed the distance, “Sorry ta interrupt.” she said to the reporter, “But I figured tha’ since some of them is drinkin’ fer two…” The woman smiled in understanding and motioned her forward. Molly giving her a nod of her head and a ‘Ta’ in return before informing them that, “I got Aunt Sat th’ orange juice, dunno if it’s pulp or not, but I can always strain it out if ya want.”
“Thank you Molly.” Satya purred, leaving her flesh hand to continue to rest on her belly, where little Eva currently resided, while she took the champagne glass full of orange juice, “But I think I can handle whichever one they have on hand tonight.” She said warmly. She wore a sapphire blue sari with golden accents, a pair of large golden earrings, matching blue heels, her hair pulled back into a beautiful braid, her make up, flawless as always. But the thing she was obviously most proud about was how her entire outfit matched her boys’ tuxedos, but also her homemade engagement and wedding rings that her husband had added to her metallic limb, the actually purchased and not stolen sapphires sparkling beautifully whenever they caught the light.
“I got Hana ‘er favorite, cause hashtag guilty pleasures.” The Petite Korean laughed as she took it, “I can always count on my sidekick, Lightning Bug, to get the job done!” she said, her tone teasing. Molly quickly following up with, “I ain’ a sidekick! ‘M a partner in croime!” Before sticking her tongue out at her, making her laugh even harder. She wore a pink cocktail dress from her new clothes line (Angela, Molly and Wilhelmina’s dresses that night were also from her collection, mainly so they could match and show their support, but also cause it meant that Molly would wear it to be supportive and not go at it with anything sharp or that would stain it on purpose before the event), her hair curled and cascading down her back and shoulders, her jewelry was gold and her make up was light but made her face pop a bit more. Her shoes of choice were platform heels (something that you couldn’t bribe Molly into wearing for nearly anything in the world, not even a billion jars of strawberry jam or tons of tiny parts for her mechanical lightning bugs or anything else she liked… okay maybe she might if she could get another little one to snuggle out of it, but that was it), probably so she could smooch her boyfriend’s cheek with no troubles, which was great for photo ops since he was wearing a nice dark green tuxedo from her collection as well, so it was great for ads and for fans to gush over.
Finally, the girl held out the glass of pink juice out to her adopted mother, “‘N they had grapefruit juice so I got it for ya, Mum.” she said, a bit shy. Angela smiled and took the glass and thanked her in a soft, warm voice. She wore a white gown from Hana’s new line, the same basic style as Molly and Wilhelmina’s, and matching white sandals, her hair was down and she actually put make up on, but somehow she managed to still look like an angel, even without her Valkyrie suit’s iconic halo and wings… which made people give her looks when she came in on the arm of an enormous mountain dressed in a dark suit with his stupid flashy ‘roadrage’ belt buckle, while keeping their seated teenage daughter balanced on his other arm while she held her baby sister, whose gown was pink to match the scrunchies that held up her little pig tails.
“So who is that last glass for?” The reporter asked, “I assume that it’s not for me since I didn’t ask for a drink when you offered.”
“This one’s fer me!” She said, holding up the glass filled with neon green liquid, “I stayed up late doin’ homework yesterday ‘n had to get up early ta get ready fer this party! I need all th’ help I can get stayin’ awake roight now!” She then chugged the whole glass, just to prove her point, making the women laugh before chatting a little bit about what Molly thought about the topics she had discussed with the three women of Overwatch beside her, the women weighing in a bit when they felt it was necessary.
Lúcio walked over with Torbjörn’s wife, apologizing for the interruption and informed her that a photographer wanted to take an ‘Overwatch Dad’ picture featuring the dads of overwatch with their kids and Molly quickly nodded and raced over, handing him her empty glass as she passed him.
The dad group had been joined by Reinhardt and Fareeha (since he was married to her mother and had been a father figure to her growing up), Genji and Henrietta, and Old Jack Morrison.
“Why am I here?” The old soldier asked, “Isn’t this supposed to be a picture of Overwatch fathers with their kids?”
“Yeah,” Genji replied, “But you’re like, the grumpy grandpa of Overwatch, so you have to be in the picture!” 76 scowled at him, but Molly decided to cement it in by running over and grabbing his side, “Grandpa Jack! Grandpa Jack!” she chanted through laughter. The old man narrowed his eyes at her, but she quickly handed her dad her bracelet so she could lift up some nearby glitter off of a table and have it ‘blow’ over towards her face, making it extra sparkly and desu, “Pllleeeaaasssee Grandpa won’ ya be in th’ picture with us?” she said, giving him a pout that was supposed to be far less teasing than it probably was. He sighed and grumbled in defeat as she cheered before letting the glitter get ‘blown’ back onto the table. Reinhardt, Torb, Hog, Rat and Fareeha snickering as the photographer instructed them to come back inside so he would have better lighting, after the Junkers and Torbjörn quickly took a glance back to check on the three mothers in their families chatting with the reporter and seeing that they were fine, they joined them inside.
They took a few pictures of the group before exchanging thank yous and the members of the original Overwatch spread out with their charges, Morrison, who had no children, simply walked back with Genji and lightly smacked him on the back of the head for getting involved.
Wilhelmina began to fuss and a foul smell began to fill the air and her Dad excused himself to take care of her. As if on cue, the moment the mountain of a man was out of sight, Aarush coughed a bit and, after some soft words from his daddy and gentle and careful pats from his metal hand, the little guy nearly barfed onto his dad’s back, Molly catching it in mid air with her hands, her powers keeping it from escaping her grasp or touching her skin, almost acting like a plastic wrap like layer around the mostly fluid waste, so Satya wouldn’t flip out about the state of his clothing or anything else later and so Winston wouldn’t get mad at her for using her powers like he told her not to. He excused himself to go clean his son up, leaving Molly to search for a place to dump the barely floating baby vomit in her hands.
After vetoing the bathroom since she couldn’t just dump it without explanation, she caught sight of Lúcio and Hana walking back inside… and catching sight of a man from the group of Vishkar agents slipping out the door behind them and walking towards her mother’s group and felt her blood turn to ice before she felt it turn to fire.
No. Nuh uh. No way was she letting these bastards ruin anyone’s night! Not after all the time and effort both Satya and her Mum put into getting all three junkers prepared, dressed and making sure they knew how to slow dance for this! (Not that Molly was probably going to dance with anyone outside of Overwatch if she even danced at all, but that was apparently besides the point to them.)
She raced outside, somehow managing to keep her balance in her stupid shoes, not registering a tray covered in champagne flutes suddenly exploding behind her on a table set up near the doors as she made her way towards the two women, who were cheerfully chatting amongst themselves, not noticing the man wearing Vishkar’s V-logo approaching them.
Molly let out a few choice swears under her breath (another thing Winston had told her not to do, as well as her mother and aunt, but in this case, she figured that they’d all be understanding about it) as she did the only thing she could think of to stop the man in his tracks;
Fling Aarush’s vomit onto his back.
She felt the weight of the warm liquid fly off of her finger tips as she did so and watched as she ran around him in fascination as the light colored puke splattered down the back of his head, jacket and trousers, the man freezing in place as if he was someone who hadn’t expected to be stabbed in the back in a movie. His hand slowly reaching up towards the back of his immaculate hairdo, horror etched onto his features as his fingers touched the upchucked bits in the dark strands of his hair.
Molly practically skidded into a stop between the women, who had either heard the glass blasting apart, Molly running towards them or the man’s now very audible gasps of disgust and dismay, or some combination of all three, they never really managed to ask.
“Is that…” Satya’s eyes widened as she seemed to recognize the rebranded logo of her old employer.
“Vomit?” Molly finished, hoping to change the topic from the panicking grown man in front of them, “Yeah, Aarush had some tummy troubles, but Rat’s cleanin’ ‘im up, so no worries.” Satya’s concern seemed to be refocused on her boys at that while Angela quickly pulled out some wet wipes from her purse to clean her hands with, only for her eyes to narrow when she saw that her adopted teenage daugher’s hands were spotless, “And where, may I ask, is your bracelet, young lady?” she asked in a tone that set off many red flags in the girl’s head, “I took it off fer th’ pictures, Da’ left ta change Willi’s diapers before I could get it back!” she explained, holding out her guiltily clean hands out as if to surrender now, “Aarush got sick after tha’ ‘n I didn’ want Sat ta freak out, so I caught it ‘fore it got on Rat’s suit.”
“And brought it out here?” her mother clarified.
“Wasn’ gonna leave you two alone with one of these bastards.” she said plainly.
“Bastards?” The man repeated bitterly as he stomped forwards and held out a throw up tainted finger at Molly, “I’d say that the two junker men these women married are far more qualified for that title than we are!”
The three females stiffened, the teenager’s cowlicks tapered into sharp points and sliding down opposite sides of her head while Satya handed the girl her half full glass of orange juice before she started fiddling with her metal arm, catching the man’s attention as more Vishkar reps, who Molly assumed heard one of the previously mentioned things above and began crawling outside to join him as he began weighing on his former co-worker, “You used to be the top architect of Vishkar, the best of the best! And now look at you! Pregnant with another child of one of those barbaric-” Angela handed Molly her glass of grapefruit juice before she reached alongside her upper thigh, her fingers sliding up her own dress as if to reach something attached to her leg.
“Chaotic-” The glasses in Molly’s hands began to crackle and shatter, and the juice began to flow out of the cracks and seemed to be forming shapes behind the glasses.
“Idiotic-” Junkrat and Roadhog seemed to come back from addressing to their toddlers to see Vishkar employees harassing their girls and began pushing their way through the crowd to help them, other members of Overwatch following suit as a cylindrical wireframe began to take a more familiar shape.
“Disgusting-” Mercy slowly pulled a fairly large (considering where it had been and how it hadn’t really seemed to be there) gun, similar to her Mako’s from her thigh.
“Criminal…” the man’s voice began to waver as Satya finished making a grenade similar to the ones her Jamie made.
“Junkers…” he squeaked as he took in the sight of the three very angry women;
Satya had a bomb in her hands, her cool, calm air of superiority as regal as ever, Angela had a big ass gun in her hands and looked like she was a Charlie’s Angel with the way she held the gun, her expression confident and determined. And Molly was giving them all a wide, slightly demented, smile and had tilted her head, the hovering bits of glass and juice forming Junkrat’s smiley face and Hog’s pig icons. “Ya got a problem with Junkers, mate?” the teenage girl challenged with impish delight, as if saying, “Yes, please give us an excuse ta slaughter ya, it’ll be ‘nother hoighlight of th’ evening!”
Junkrat, Roadhog and the other members of Overwatch were standing just outside the doors, most of them trying to either not laugh hysterically or not have a panic attack, the little ones in the Junkers’ arms not really knowing what was going on other than, “Mummy, Auntie ‘n Molly are outside.” (Which was probably for the best, honestly)
The Vishkar employees looked at the women, looked at each other, then booked it through the garden, the last man looking like a skunk with the white stripe going down his back.
Winston walked up to them, furious, “You two made and brought weapons?”
The other members of Overwatch (sans the two daddy Junkers who quickly and eagerly rushed over to their brides, babies in hand) then began breaking up the crowd and stuffing everyone else back inside to give the angry gorilla and the families some privacy.
“Of course not.” Satya explained coolly as her boys finally reached her and she carefully scooped up her son from her husband and handed the grenade to her freckled Aussie, “I’ve only made a shell, it won’t work without the components that make it explode.”
“She’s roight ‘bout tha’, mate.” Junkrat confirmed, opening it up, “Without th’ roight mix, it ain’ blowin’ up any toime soon.”
Rat gave his wife a peck on the head, “It’s a beauty of a shell, though, love. Then again, everything you do is perfect.” He purred, pulling his family into a gently hug and pointed to Aarush, “Got all the proof I need ‘ere.” he then placed his flesh hand on her belly, “‘N ‘ere.”
“Awww…” Reinhardt said from behind them, Winston reeling around to watch his co-workers flee from the windows, not that the Fawkes family had noticed or really cared, but Angela giggled while holding her one year old while Hog inspected her gun, making him turn his attention to her.
“I cannot believe you brought a gun to a party, what if it went off by mistake and…”
“It ain’ loaded.” Hog interrupted, revealing no bullets in the chamber, “A gun without bullets is jus’ a blunt instrument, one tha’ ya have ta be close enough ta use. Besides, it ain’ loike she can’ patch ‘um up after she was done with ‘um. Hell, she could patch ‘um up after me ‘n Rat would be done with ‘um.” She nodded cheerfully, “As a doctor it is my duty!” she reminded him, gently leaning against him with a wide smile on her face.
“That’s besides the point!” The silverbacked scientist then caught motion out of the corner of his eye and stared at Molly, who gave him a very unconvincing innocent smile as his scowl deepened.
“I’m wearing my bracelet!” she said, holding up her wrist to see that, it was, in fact, there. He then glanced around to see that, there was no broken glass or splattered juice in sight. Knowing her, there would be no physical evidence of what she had done left behind for anyone to find.
He sighed and glared at her, “I’m taking your jam off the supply list for the next year for the cost of needing Athena to erase any video anyone here might of taken and the hotel’s security cameras.”
Molly scowled, “… fine…” she relented, knowing just how long the lecture would be if she tried to fight him on this.
With that settled, he sighed and went back into the ballroom, the two families waiting a moment before following suit, Rat and Hog gently herding them inside, making sure their wives and children were comfy by the buffet and busy chatting with the others before fist bumping with huge, proud smiles on their faces, not needing to say what they were thinking as they quickly passed their toddlers to a eagerly accepting (with grabby hands) Molly before whisking their wives onto the dance floor to throughly adore them.
Molly slipped off her bracelet for a moment, a giggle bubbling up from her stomach as those unspoken thoughts came to her, loud and clear before putting her bracelet back on and cuddling her sister and cousin;
I didn’t like apple rings…until I started toasting them.
The rings I get from the store is just so styrofoamy and kinda bland, never been my thing as a go to snack.. However, now that my single apple tree is producing, I feel an obligation to preserve her gifts.
After dehydrating the rings, which produced a dry and leathery texture, I popped them into the toaster oven to crisp up. You’ll notice some rings are little caramelized or brunt (it’s not meat. relax.). I personally like that smoky flavor profile and crushed on top of a warm bowl of cereal makes it so satisfying.
Hey, take slices of zucchini, first dredge them in flour, then dip them in beaten eggs, then dip them in bread crumbs mixed with herbs/salt/spices, and then bake them at about 200°c for about 20 minutes, it tastes delicious.
Also you can do this with sliced onions to make homemade onion rings
Do you ever wonder how Guardians get married? What ceremonies they do or how they propose?
Titans getting married on the city walls
Hunters finding places way up high with beautiful scenarios to propose
Warlocks spending days decrypting Shakespearean love ballads.
Or maybe if the guardians don’t think they have the time
Titans proposing mid battle as bullets and explosions fly around them as shit is hitting the fan.
Hunters randomly dropping the question in the middle of very tense scenarios, like in the middle of the Crota Stealth mission.
Warlocks doing it right before a dangerous mission or raid.
Then you have the weddings themselves
The Vanguard acting as the pastors, or maybe Shaxx being used if they couple were Crucible Stars
The few that are recognized as Iron Banner champions getting Lord Saladin to step in for the job.
Everybody does it differently though so Zavala’s is very straightforward and honorable.
Cayde-6 is more laid back and lighthearted. Occasionally making a joke or two during the ceremony
Ikora is humble but extravagant, having a calm but serious demeanor.
And the weddings vary but Titans tend to have larger weddings were everything is rank and file.
Hunters have weddings with only their fireteam members/close friends/family
Warlocks tend to do it even smaller with just the wedding couple and Ikora.
All the rings being homemade so Guardians have to go to Amanda or Banshee-44 to get them made.
Particularly brave Guardians forging their own rings by spending days farming for materials, only to fuck it up and do it all over again.
And my personal favorite
Two members of a fireteam getting married mid-raid to heckling (or disbelief) of the other members. The groups Sunsinger having to read off the vows, pausing momentarily to murder a Minotaur or two. Ending the whole ceremony with beating the raid boss as the couple kiss.
do you have any wish proposal/wedding headcanons? are they marriage type at all?
*comes up with a ton on the spot* Thanks for this, this is a lot of fun to think about!!
Trish never dreamed about getting married the way some girls do growing up. Sure, when she was very little, she liked the big dresses and elaborate decorations she saw on TV and in magazines. The older she got, the more weddings felt like a possible way for her mother to exercise even more control over her life. At one point, Trish thought she’d be lucky if she could even get to choose who she married – she knew better than to think she’d have any kind of say about the dress, the flowers, the decorations, or anything else. She didn’t want a wedding to become a media circus, which in Dorothy Walker’s care it absolutely would become, and so she decided on the spot at age 16 (after Dorothy had gone all-out on a Sweet Sixteen celebration) that she would never ever ever get married.
Ward grew up hearing his father talk about the family name and about his expectations for Ward’s future. Marriage was always something that factored into that – marriage to someone from a good family, to someone who mattered, to someone docile enough to be happy as a wife and mother without any far-reaching personal ambitions of their own. However, Ward’s mother (while she was still alive) always told him different stories. She impressed upon him that if he ever wanted to get married, he would have to do that with someone he loved very much. (Sometimes, looking back, Ward thinks his mother really meant to say “find and marry someone you love more than you fear what Harold’s response might be”.) Ward has not allowed himself to consider his mother’s words as more than flights of fancy, but he was not about to give Harold more means of controlling his life either. As such, marriage is something Ward has postponed indefinitely.
Ward and Trish aren’t the marriage-types, or so they keep telling themselves. They fall into their friendship by chance, fueled by a relentless love of the same movies and food (not to mention how infuriating they find each other at times), and never notice it has turned into more than that until they’re kissing each other at 2 in the morning amid empty boxes of food and copious amounts of paperwork strewn out around them. They fall into their relationship just as haphazardly as they did their friendship – it’s not until Trish borrows his shirts to sleep in and until Ward goes back to his own apartment to find it dusty and almost derelict that they realise they’re in it for the long haul.
Marriage isn’t something that comes up between them, ever, and for the longest time they don’t even entertain the thought to themselves. They wind up buying an apartment together because it’s the simplest thing to do now that they have twice the clutter in Trish’s living space and her neighbours are growing tired of half of New York’s superheroes trudging through the hallways at all hours. They never consider that getting married would make the paperwork easier, nor do they consider that half of New York is waiting on tenterhooks to hear when they’re going to take the big leap and tie the knot.
When they finally do discuss marriage, it’s in their hotel room after having imbibed several drinks that make them talk about things they usually don’t talk about. Ward doesn’t really plan to propose to her on the spot, but Trish talks about wedding dresses so wistfully that he winds up saying “why don’t we?” anyway. Trish winds up with a homemade ring around her finger that same night, while Ward ends up complaining over breakfast that the next time they’re going somewhere less secluded on vacation so he can actually find an ordained minister when he needs ‘em. They tumble into marriage just like they fall into everything else about their relationship – as something that “just happens” and isn’t planned out.
They don’t get married until they’re back in New York. Ward has to shout Danny down from making a big deal out of it, while Jessica just looks Ward up and down for the longest time before grinding out an “I’m not wearing a dress, and that took you long enough” that Trish takes as the ultimate approval. (Jess takes it upon herself to ensure that Dorothy Walker never catches wind of the wedding until it has happened, which she claims is her real wedding gift to these two.)
They try to keep the wedding as low-key as possible, but with Trish running all over town to find the best florist and Ward being spotted yelling at a caterer it’s not rocket science to put two and two together. Karen, in an absolute career-risking move of epic proportions, clamps down on the speculation in the media as a gesture of ultimate friendship to Trish – it’s only through Karen’s interference that they are able to keep the wedding as private as it ends up being.
Ward will deny it until his dying day, but he kept it together throughout the wedding preparations only to break down crying on Trish’s shoulder the second he laid eyes on her in her wedding dress. (Jess may or may not have snapped a picture of this that she plans to use as in-law leverage.)
Danny, being best man, has a moment of epic panic at the ceremony when he realises he forgot the wedding rings until an exasperated Luke fishes the box out of his jacket with the announcement that Danny gave it to him for safe-keeping. Luke cracks a joke about bulletproof relationships that has Claire shaking her head in agony, but Ward and Trish just wind up smiling at each other in silent agreement that this one thing between them just might be exactly that.