anonymous asked:

Mcgenji "blood on lips"? :3

Thanks for the prompt Shades, I enjoyed writing this. A little darker, but I imagine that was something you were leaning towards. Enjoy C:

McCree could admit, hand over heart in honesty, that sometimes he forgot just how dangerous Genji was: when his sleepy, lopsided smile was the first thing McCree saw when he woke up with the soft light of morning streaming in through his bedroom window, or when he laughed and teased Hana in light-hearted competition over her latest game during their free days - even in the midst of battle, there always seemed time for Genji to make a cheeky quip or witty joke, as if the fighting and the bloodshed were merely an impromptu backdrop for ill-timed flirting between the two of them.

Sometimes didn’t mean all the time though, and McCree had seen his fair share of the dark side of his lover, hearing his laughter turn cold and cutting, his smile stretching across his scarred face in a slice of bloody red - red on his teeth and red on his lips, his tongue darting out to slowly wipe away the blood on his lips as if he wanted a taste of it; those were the times McCree remembered just who his lover was and the power he wielded.

McCree could admit, hand over heart in honesty, that he knew Genji’s different sides the way he knew his own; when he sees his lover’s softness turn razor sharp, and feel his warmth cooling to steel, with a sword in his hand and blood on his lips; but god damn, he ain’t never looked prettier in those times, and his kisses tasted just as sweet. 

Send me a pairing and a prompt and I will write you a three sentence fic

fancifultrash  asked:

I'm always weak for Scott and Reyes so you successfully baited me congrats. What about Scott doing something incredibly stupid on Kadara and coming back to the slums with a pissed off and worried Reyes? Cue Scott being super endeared yet annoyed since he's usually the one stressed out over the others stupid ideas.

This was cute. It’s about 1200 words so I’ll put most of it under a read more. Thanks for the prompt!

Reyes hunched forward, his elbows on his knees and his brow creased in concentration. He touched a finger to his earpiece, “I repeat: Aguila 1, do you have eyes on the objective?”

Again, only static answered, punctuated by the stutter of distant gunfire. Reyes willed himself to remain calm but before he could broadcast again, there was crackle of distortion, “Copy, Charlatan. I have eyes on the prize but it’s getting pretty hairy out here. We’re about a click, click and a half east of the base, it’s– it’s an ambush set up but–”

“Aquila, I’m losing you,” Reyes said. More shots. His hands curled into fists as he tried to stuff down the rising swell of panic in his throat. He couldn’t let his scout hear it, “What’s the Pathfinder’s status? Aguila, can you read me?”

“Ryder looks like he’s– and there’s another drop ship arriving, I can see it coming over the–Roekaar, definitely—” the connection was getting worse, Aguila’s voice was barely audible over the static. The Roekaar must have been using jammers, or they were on the other side of the spiny ridge of mountains near the base and the signal was blocked. Either way, Reyes was struggling to get the full picture. What he did know, sounded bad.

He swore under his breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. His mind raced as he tried to pull enough threads together formulate a plan, but there was nothing he could grasp for; he didn’t know exactly where they were, couldn’t pin down Aguila’s transponder location, and didn’t have any patrols in the area east of the rebel base that could immediately assist.

“The turian– down, it looks like– going after her, that dumb son of a bitch is going to–visual confirmation has been lost, I repeat–”

“Stay with him, Aguila. I need eyes on the Pathfinder, don’t let me down,” Reyes urged. His pulse was jumping, his heart hammering at his ribs.

“Negative, Charlatan–too hot, I’m pulling back to point–” the line crackled for a final time, “–see you back in port. Try not to hate me too much.”

Keep reading

The first year of Walter Simonson’s Thor ends with the biggest DOOM! of the many he’s been punctuating it with. From Thor #348, 1984, by Simonson and inker Bob Wiacek (and, of course, letterer John Workman). I can’t even tell you how much more enjoyable it is than the several years’ worth before Simonson took over.

anonymous asked:

What would a museum date with H be like? 😍

Very very informative and romantic.

He’d hold your hand though the whole thing. He’d opt out of the audio tour, or any tour, just so that you two could go completely at your own pace. He’d read the signs out loud, very quietly and near to your ear, occasionally punctuating the sentences with little kisses to your cheek. You’d impress one another with your knowledge, AND I bet he’s the type to indulge in a small makeout session with you when no one else is in the room.

She Survived (day 2)

Fluorescent lights shine blindingly in her face as she wished for the umpteenth time that the annoying beeps and their creator would go to Hell. The hospital room that surrounded her would be hers for the time being. Glancing around, she notices her red scrunchie on top of a torn piece of paper. Sliding the cloth on her arm, she reads the note:

“I’m really sorry for what happened. I swear I didn’t know he gave me a cup of drain cleaner. Glad you’re still alive! (please don’t kill me)” - V.S.”

So, Red Dawn was trying to off her? She’ll have to get Ram and Kurt to handle that. As if punctuating her thought, the door swings open and three girls file in. A tearful, yellow-clad cheerleader in the lead, reaching out to hug her bed-ridden friend. Behind her stood a girl in green with a red scrunchie (similar to her own) and girl in blue, both looking guilty and slightly relieved. It wouldn’t be the first time that the two was on the receiving end of the terrifying glare from their (now temporarily mute) red loving leader.

The AU in which Heather C. survives death by draino

how the bronze saints probably text

seiya: never uses autocorrect and has 0 patience for proper spelling and grammar. lots of question marks regardless of whether or not they’re necessary. either responds immediately or like 2 weeks later as if nothing ever happened. he’s also That person who has a perfect reaction image saved for every conversation and if not then he’ll take a blurred pic of himself overreacting to whatever the hell he’s texting about and just send that. 

shiryu: uses proper capitalization and punctuation but has 0 patience for texting in itself so his messages are always very short and feel awkward thanks to his lack of investment. once in a while he’ll randomly send things like weird news articles or dog videos without any comment whatsoever. responses come in fast but once he feels Done with the conversation he’ll literally say some shit like ‘Good talk’ and add a little smiley face so the crushing realization that he’s bored and wants to leave doesn’t hit as hard – but it does.

hyoga: practically ends every message with ‘haha’, which makes him sound like one of those haha and then what ;) kind of guys. very casual and also very fucking bad at responding. sometimes he never responds at all even though it clearly says he opened and saw the message. a notorious conversation ghoster. 

shun: so many emojis, good god. also very talkative! even if there’s nothing left to really talk about shun will come up with a new topic on the spot and everything just naturally transitions into it. always answers right away because he’s actually pretty lonely and a little too invested in his phone sometimes. will send cute pics and videos of things the other person likes and include a nice little comment with it unlike a CERTAIN DRAGON. be careful though because shun screenshots conversations when there’s drama and also there’s a chance ikki might be peering over his shoulder and reading things..

ikki: good fucking luck reaching him because his number changes like every 3 weeks. refuses to buy a smartphone and periodically goes through those cheap flip phones you can buy at the store. since his number is always changing the others will one day get a message from him like ‘meet me at the grocery store’ and not know who the hell it is so no one shows up. shun is the only person he updates about his new numbers. 

jabu: nobody texts jabu


The group’s third release, Delirium Cordia, makes this point explicit. It really isn’t the kind of thing one hauls off the shelf on a daily basis. A 75-minute work, it’s composed of dozens of sections but programmed as a single epic track. The music is punctuated by sounds evocative of the operating table—beeps, mechanical respiration and the subdued, businesslike conversational tones of expert surgeons.

It’s rough going, shifting from thrash to dark ambient interludes to jazz-like chording and back through all those sounds and more, for just under an hour, followed by 15 minutes of a needle gently scraping a record’s runout groove.

Choirs moan softly, gongs ring out, huge guitar riffs hit like slabs of concrete falling from the sky. Patton explains; “I wanted to force people to listen to it as one piece of music. Unless you were swallowing it as one giant pill, it would never have the same effect. And in that regard, it was much more like contemporary classical music. They weren’t songs. They weren’t pieces; They weren’t frames; They weren’t little cells of music. I wanted it to really come off as a monolithic, larger-than life experience, like sitting on the operating table or anything else. I wanted it to be long, drawn-out and painful.”

The recording process might have been nearly as agonizing as the listening experience;

“It had a zillion parts, and there were only certain sections where I knew what the final arrangement was going to be,” Patton recalls, “And I kind of kept the band in the dark about it. I said, ‘Don’t worry about it, you’ll hear it in the end and let’s just do these’—I don’t know, it was divided into maybe 50-something parts, some of which were band pieces, but a lot of them weren’t. Most of them were overdubs on top of things that I’d done at home. I didn’t want it to sound like a rock band, I didn’t want it to sound like us. I wanted it to sound like a contemporary music ensemble. So we basically rented a bunch of instruments. I had Dave playing mostly gongs and orchestral percussion.”

Gradblr Challenge Day 22

I took a little vacation from gradblrchallenge and from grad school in general after my last productivity crunch through finals. Since then, I got in a lot of quality time with loved ones, dancing, cooking, and SLEEP! :D It has been an eventful number of days full of highs and lows… and the week was punctuated what is either severe allergies or an average cold. 

Today I want to ease myself back into a reflective thought space. I hope to engage in literature that I’ve had stacked on my desk, untouched, throughout the latter half of the quarter. I also need to do a few things to prepare for my only meetings this week, all scheduled for tomorrow. Lastly, I need to determine my course schedule!! That’s been on the backburner for several weeks.

Hope everyone is doing well.

anonymous asked:


I don’t want to ruin your excitement but i kindly ask you not to use CAPS LOCK next time and put some punctuation marks. Not everyone here understands English perfectly, so it can be a real struggle to understand what you are saying. Thank you.

I’m not ready to assume things about other people sexuality based on some kind of looks that i personally don’t really see. We know that Tom still feels uncomfortable when he goes live. Same goes for Derek who usually has 5 people watching his livestreams. This time it was almost 6000 and he was obviously nervous. None of them looked in the camera. It was easier for both of them to look at each other. If you think that 2 friends can’t be in one apartment during the night just for the fun of playing some music together… Well… I disagree.

  • *classmate gets in trouble for talking when I was also talking*
  • me: who am I? Can I condemn this man to slavery pretend I do not feel his agony this innocent who bears my face who goes to judgment in my place. Who am I? Can I conceal myself forevermore pretend I'm not the man I was before and must my name until I die be no more than an alibi. Must I lie? How can I ever face my fellow men? How can I ever face myself again?