i call the master bedroom

imagine the first time genji sees tracer again after the recall and before they can get to talking about what they’ve done over the past years zenyatta enters the room and genji of course greets him as Master and tracer has that brief moment of “what the fuck really guys in public” before genji tells her what he’s been up to in nepal and she tries her best to smile and nod while hiding the fact she’s recovering from a minor heart attack

Creepypasta #1306: Let's Flip For It

Length: Medium

I found it sitting next to my car as I was leaving my apartment. I don’t know why I picked it up. How many countless pennies have I walked past as I’ve gone about my life? Dozens? Hundreds? Yet, for some reason, I was drawn to this one. This shabby, crusty old penny.

When I got to my desk at work, I began to unload my pockets. Cell phone. Wallet. Keys. Penny.

Phil, one of my colleagues, walked into my office. In his hands were two breakfast sandwiches from our favorite breakfast joint.

“Hey, Steve. They only had enough bacon to do one sandwich. The other one is sausage. I know we both like bacon, so… wanna arm wrestle for it?” he laughed.

I glanced down at the penny. Lincoln’s face, a nice shade of green, was staring up at me.

“Let’s flip for it,” I said. “Winner gets the bacon.”

Phil nodded as I flipped the coin. As it reached its apex, I called heads. It hit my palm and I flipped it onto the back of my hand.

Heads!

I polished off my sandwich and started going about my day.

About an hour in I started to realize it was going to be a slow day. No new orders. No new e-mails. And every e-mail response I sent got an out-of-office reply. Obviously, it was the day before a holiday. Everyone was probably out enjoying their lives. Meanwhile, I was stuck in the office, staring at my Outlook.

At around noon my boss walked in, Phil right behind him.

“Ok, things are slow and people are cutting out early. I need at least one of you here in case the team has any issues,” my boss said. “Decide who will get to leave early.”

As my boss left, I stared up at Phil.

“Well, you got the bacon sandwich, sooo,” he said.

“Hell no,” I said. “You got to cut out early last Friday and the Friday before that.”

“Ugh, come on, man. I got… plans… this afternoon,” he said awkwardly.

I looked down at the penny. I swore ole Lincoln gave me a wink.

“Let’s flip for it?” I said.

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vader’s castle looks like a weird combination of a medieval prison, a steampunk rapunzel tower, and a dungeon. i’m sure the effect was intentional.

Cute Daddy Michael Imagine for Charley

IT WILL BE IN HIS POV:

“Sweetheart where are you?” I called out as I looked aimlessly for my 2 year old daughter. We were playing hide & seek and to be honest this is probably the hardest game of hide & seek that I’ve ever played. I searched everywhere for her; the kitchen, living room, master bedroom, bathroom, everywhere! “Princess?” I called out once again and finally I heard a small giggle close to me. I looked to where I heard the precious sound and saw the closet door slightly open. Tip-toeing towards the closet I opened the door fast and growled playfully earning a small scream from the small blonde haired child. She giggled again and ran past me her little legs running as fast as she could. I chuckled before jogging after her keeping a close eye incase she got hurt. I scooped her up in my arms and twirled her making her laugh and throw her head back. “Gotcha Emmy!” I laughed as she clung on to my neck, her small hands tightly wrapped around. “You hungry princess?” I said as I smelled my wife’s cooking and began walking towards the kitchen. She nodded before hurrying her head into the crook of my neck. As I entered the kitchen I saw My beautiful queen placing three plates on the dining table. I placed Emily on her high chair before walking to the cup board and getting some cups. Pecking my wife’s lips quickly as I passed her I quickly pored some juice and placed them on the table before sitting down in next to Emmy. Grabbing her small plate I began feeding her mash potatoes. “Open up baby?” I said as I placed the spoon in front of her mouth. She shook her head stubbornly before pulling a disgusting face at me. “C’mon princess just a bite” I pleaded as I pushed the spoon further trying to get it in her mouth. She shook her head again and looked away making my wife chuckle next to me. I sigh before pulling her chin softly towards me pulling the spoon towards her mouth once again. She finally took a spoonful her nose scrunching up in disgust. “Swallow” I said sternly knowing she still hasn’t eating it. Instead Emily looked at me then at her mom then back at me. Much to my surprise Emily spit the mash potatoes at my face making me scream and drop the plate on the floor and stand up. Next to me both my wife and my child laughed loudly. I sigh before whipping the mash potatoes off my face making it fall to the floor. I looked at Emily playfully mad my hands on my hips. She giggled and murmured a small sorry before laughing once again. “Your lucky I love you” I said jokingly walking towards the bathroom to clean the rest of my face.

2

The master bedroom - or as I like to call it: The only bedroom in the house.

On the shelf Marty’s collection of vinyl toys.

I fell immediately in love with one of the motifs of baufive’s Man Amplified mesh, and wanted to have that particular yellow in the room. First it was also all over the wall but since this is a bedroom I decided to go for a more soothing colour, and used the yellow only for accents.

First Day (Extended Sneak Peek)

So I heard we’re spreading positive vibes because of stupid rumors. How about a super long sneak peak of the first chapter of First Day? Remember? That time travel au I started writing back in like March of last year? No? Too bad. You’re getting it anyway.

Takes place five years after mid-season four. Canon divergent from the end of 4a.


It’s been the kind of week that cranks the tension in her shoulders like a wet rag being wrung, only her sanity is what’s bleeding away instead of water. A vague sense of unease creeps along her spine as thunder rumbles in the distance, but she brushes it aside as she reaches for the black waffle iron in the upper cabinet. Lingering stress, likely, from long hours spent in budgetary meetings and longer nights spent rocking, walking, and driving a colicky baby to sleep.

She needs to stop moving for five seconds and have a seat, remove her heeled boots and rotate her ankles, fold her toes into the floor until the joints pop and release. If she does that, though, she may never get up again, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t see this dinner through with Roland.

Tonight, they’re making his favorite: homemade waffles from scratch. Breakfast for dinner, for his report on the science of cooking for the fifth grade science fair.

That’s the idea, at least.

Thus far, two eggs have rolled off the counter, a light dusting of flour continues to choke the color from Roland’s curls despite her efforts to comb it out with her fingers, and not five minutes ago he’d sneezed straight into the batter, prompting an abrupt restart of the whole process. They’ve come full circle now, accident-free long enough that she’s a smidgen more optimistic they’ll be able to start actually making the waffles soon.

As she walks toward Roland’s mixing station, she clips the kitchen island with her hip. Her grip tightens around the waffle iron as she stumbles forward, biting the inside of her lip and smothering a stream of cursing as the fine threads edging her temper fray even further. This is the third time tonight she’s snagged that corner, and the already tender bruise screams in protest.

She sets the appliance on the counter next to Roland’s workstation, hand drifting to her hip, gently probing. She’ll need to ice it later, can almost feel the purple mark spreading under her skin like an ink stain.

Boom!

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