report boots

(request for Gabe to find a younger Jesse on a mission and Jack and him to adopt him)

“Reyes, reporting in,” Gabriel grunted, boots squelching in the cooling blood on the warehouse floor. “Found the Deadlock hide-out, resulted in a shootout, so far no survivors.” 

“Read you loud and clear Reyes, keep looking for civilians, Deadlock took hostages from their last shootout, see if any made it.”

“Alright, Reyes out,” Gabriel said before cutting the connection and walking further into the warehouse. It was dark and the many, many dead Deadlock members made the journey that much worse. Looked like the set of some shitty B-rated horror movie honestly, only the smell was very, very real and he was getting very, very sick looking at all the wounds, guts and blood.

He looked around a bit, poking around a bit, looking high and low got any signs of life. Not much was left, looked like they were packing up to leave honestly and most of the corpses were wearing Deadlock gear and heavily armed, so he had no accidently killed the hostages. No luck anywhere he looked. He finally elbowed a door open and found a huddled mess of faded pink material smeared with filth, mud and blood. A head of chestnut brown hair topped off the vaguely human so he quickly approached it.

“Hello? Are you alive?” He asked gently, softly nudging the shape.

A blood smeared hand slowly rose, jerking sometimes, before pointing towards a grating at the other end of the room. Through the cloth he saw mostly dead eyes looking blankly ahead.

“Mi… mi hijo… mi… hijo… meh… hijo… Jesse… McCree… mi hijo…”

The hand fell and a deathly rattle fell out of the body. Dead. He checked for a pulse just in case and felt none, assuming that this person clung to life just long enough to speak of their child. Speaking of which… he turned and shuffled over to the grating. A good, long hard look showed that it was barely attached to the wall to begin with. Grabbing it, he yanked it off and peered inside to see… 

“…Hola,” He greeted.


“You found him just sitting in the vent?” Jack asked softly as he gently petting the head of curls of the tiny body in his arms. A few month old baby gently slept as he snuggled into his chest and hoodie, blissfully unaware that his mother had died keeping him hidden. Jack very gently stroked Jesse’s back which only made the little baby yawn and snuggle deeper into the dark material of his hoodie.

“Yeah…” He sighed gently, still petting Jesse’s curls. “Mom had a lot of defensive wounds… she literally fought until her last breath to keep her kid safe. I hope I can find kin to give her a proper burial and take care of Jesse.”

“And if not?” Jack asked, obviously pained for having to say it.

“Don’t make me think about it, I’ll get the damned adoption papers if I stress about it,” He groaned.

When he got to base, he got the unfortunate news that there was no next of kin and that Jesse would be tossed into New Mexico’s foster care system with no one stepping up to adopt him. The thought of Jesse, whose mother had died fighting to keep him safe, was going to be tossed into an uncaring system and into the hands of strangers that could do horrible things to him just… set him off.

“Babe?” Jack asked him as he poured over some papers. 

“Huh? Just… thinking about things… Jesse mostly,” He groaned as he looked down at the papers.

“…You want to adopt him, don’t you?” Jack asked with a knowing smile.

“…yeah, I just…” He muttered before jolting when Jack hugged him from behind. He was wondering what in the hell thinking about adopting a kid and wondering if he was even going to be a decent dad with his constant military life interfering with his personal life when Jack signed the papers with a flourish. Gaping, Jack took the hesitation to kiss him on the cheek sweetly. 

“We’re gonna be great dads, babe,” Jack smiled.

After a moment of hesitation, he just smiled and melted against Jack, giving him a smile in turn before turning and kissing that stupid smile of his. Yeah, with Jack at his side, they were going to be decent dads. It took a village to raise a kid and the budding Overwatch crew would suffice and help them out.

248 thoughts

My first thought on chapter 248 is OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG is it June yet? Seriously, when I saw Ren see that picture I think I had a panic attack. This chapter went in a direction I really wasn’t expecting. I was expecting to find out for sure if Kyoko got the part and maybe see the start of Kanaes audition. I didn’t really think we would see Ren at all. With this said, I want to focus my thoughts on Ren and the picture.

If we remember back to the beginning of the manga we saw a reporter from Boots magazine who was interested in Kyoko. I always found it strange that that story line never went anywhere. I’m kinda hoping that this picture taker is related to that whole incident.

After I calmed down a bit and started thinking about this more I found it very interesting. We know Ren never has scandals with women. It’s been said several times. Yet this picture, has nothing to do with Ren. Yes it’s the woman he’s in love with getting kissed by another man, but why is Ren finding out about it before Kyoko? Especially if it’s going to be published. This is her scandal not his. It makes me wonder if there are more pictures, maybe that do include Ren.

It also makes me wonder about HOW Ren will react. We know how he reacted in the past before he found peace with himself. Will he get angry and ignore her and force her to fight him, or will he bust out Corn and find out exactly what happened? I do think maybe this time Ren decided to keep the wig for a bit, especially since he was worried about her. I think he might want to be able to become Corn at a moments notice. I have no proof of this, I just hope…

Last if Ren does get pissy at Kyoko I want her to bring up why she should have to make the vow she did when Ren isn’t her lover…throw his own words from Guam back at her. I would love to see how he reacts.


Pearl Hart, née Taylor, (c.1871 – after 1928) was a Canadian-born outlaw of the American Old West. She committed one of the last recorded stagecoach robberies in the United States; her crime gained notoriety primarily because of her gender. Many details of Hart’s life are uncertain with available reports being varied and often contradictory.

Hart was born as Pearl Taylor in the Canadian village of Lindsay, Ontario. Her parents were both religious and affluent, providing their daughter with the best available education. At the age of 16, she was enrolled in a boarding school when she became enamored with a young man, named Hart, who has been variously described as a rake, drunkard, and/or gambler. (Different sources list Hart’s given name as Brett, Frank, or William.) The two of them eloped, but Hart soon discovered that her new husband was abusive and left him to return to her mother.

Hart reconciled with and left her husband several times. During their time together they had two children, a boy and a girl, whom Hart sent to her mother who was then living in Ohio. In 1893, the couple attended The Chicago World’s Fair where he worked for a time as a midway barker. She in turn developed a fascination with the cowboy lifestyle while watching Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. At the end of the Fair, Hart left her husband again bound on a train for Trinidad, Colorado, possibly in the company of a piano player named Dan Bandman.

Hart described this period of her life thus, “I was only twenty-two years old. I was good-looking, desperate, discouraged, and ready for anything that might come. I do not care to dwell on this period of my life. It is sufficient to say that I went from one city to another until some time later I arrived in Phoenix”. During this time Hart worked as a cook and singer, possibly supplementing her income as a demimondaine. There are also reports she developed a fondness for cigars, liquor, and morphine during this time.

A story of this period claims that while in Phoenix, Arizona, Hart ran into her husband. He convinced her to come back to him and move to Tucson. Once the money she had saved ran out, he returned to his abusive ways. The story continues by saying that when the Spanish–American War began he volunteered for military service. Hart then shocked observers by declaring that she hoped he would be killed by the Spanish. A variation of this story has Bandman instead of her husband leaving Hart for war.

By early 1898, Hart was in Mammoth, Arizona. Some reports indicate she was working as a cook in a boardinghouse. Others indicate she was operating a tent brothel near the local mine, even employing a second lady for a time. While doing well for a time, her financial outlook took a downturn after the mine closed. About this time Hart attested to receiving a message asking her to return home to her seriously ill mother.

Looking to raise money, Hart and an acquaintance, Joe Boot (whose name is probably an alias), worked an old mining claim he owned. After finding no gold in the claim the pair decided to rob the Globe to Florence, Arizona stagecoach.

The robbery occurred on May 30, 1899 at a watering point near Cane Springs Canyon, about 30 miles southeast of Globe. Hart had cut her hair short and took the highly eccentric act, for a Victorian Era woman, of dressing in men’s clothing. Hart was armed with a .38 revolver while Boot had a Colt .45. One of the last routes in the territory, the run had not been robbed in several years and thus the coach did not have a shotgun messenger. The pair stopped the coach and Boot held a gun on the robbery victims while Hart took $431.20 and two firearms from the passengers. After returning $1 to each passenger, she then took the driver’s revolver. After the robbers had galloped away on their horses, the driver unhitched one of the horses and headed back to town to alert the sheriff.

Reports of the next few days vary. According to Hart, the pair took a circuitous route designed to lose anyone who followed, while making their future plans. Others claim the pair became lost and wandered in circles. Either way, a posse led by Sheriff Truman of Pinal County caught up with the pair on June 5, 1899. Finding both of them asleep, Sheriff Truman reported that Boot surrendered quietly while Hart fought to avoid capture.

Following their arrest, Boot was held in Florence, Arizona, while Hart was moved to Tucson, the jail lacking any facilities for a lady. The novelty of a female stagecoach robber quickly spawned a media frenzy and national reporters soon joined the local press clamoring to interview and photograph Hart. One article in Cosmopolitan said Hart was “just the opposite of what would be expected of a woman stage robber,” though, “when angry or determined, hard lines show about her eyes and mouth." Locals also became fascinated with her, one local fan giving her a bobcat cub to keep as a pet.

The room Hart was held in was not a normal jail cell, but made of lath and plaster. Taking advantage of the relatively weak building material, and possibly with the aid of an assistant, Hart escaped on October 12, 1899, leaving an 18-inch (46 cm) hole in the wall. She was recaptured two weeks later near Deming, New Mexico.

Hart and Boot came to trial for robbing the stagecoach passengers in October 1899. During the trial, Hart made an impassioned plea to the jury, claiming she needed the money to be able to go to her ailing mother. Judge Fletcher M. Doan was shocked and angered by the jury’s not guilty finding and scolded the members for failure to perform their duties. Immediately following the acquittal, the pair were rearrested on the charge of tampering with U.S. mails. The pair were convicted during their second trial, Boot receiving a sentence of thirty years and Hart a sentence of five years.

Both Hart and Boot were sent to Yuma Territorial Prison to serve their sentences. Boot became a prison trusty, driving supply wagons to prison chain gangs working outside the walls. One day while driving a wagon he escaped and was never seen again. At the time of his escape, Boot had completed less than two years of his sentence. 

The attention Hart had received in jail continued once she was imprisoned. The warden, who enjoyed the attention she attracted, provided her with an oversize 8 by 10 feet (2.4 by 3.0 m) mountain-side cell that included a small yard and allowed her to entertain reporters and other guests as well as pose for photographs. Hart in turn used her position as the only female at an all-male facility to her advantage, playing admiring guards and prison trusties off of each other in an effort to improve her situation.

Hart’s release from prison came in the form of a December 1902 pardon from Governor Alexander Brodie. The reason for this pardon, given on the condition she leave the territory, is unclear. At the time, Hart claimed she was needed in Kansas City to play the lead in a play, written by her sister, about her life of crime. A later rumor emerged in 1964, following the death of all potentially involved parties, alleging Hart was pardoned because she had become pregnant in a manner which would embarrass the prison. There is no evidence Hart ever had a third child so this rumor, if true, may indicate a successful ploy upon Hart’s behalf. Upon release from prison, Hart was provided with a train ticket to Kansas City, Missouri.

After leaving prison, Hart largely disappeared from public view. She had a short lived show where she reenacted her crime and then spoke about the horrors of Yuma Territorial Prison. Following this she worked, under an alias, as part of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. In 1904, Hart was running a cigar store in Kansas City where she was arrested for receiving stolen property. She was acquitted of the charge.

Accounts of Hart’s later life are sketchy and contradictory. One common story has her returning to the jail in Tucson 25 years after her imprisonment to visit the jail cell that once held her. Likewise, a census taker in 1940 claimed to have discovered Hart living in Arizona under a different name. Folklore from Gila County claims that Hart returned to Globe and lived there peacefully until her death on December 30, 1955. Competing claims place her death as late as 1960.

sumrallmind  asked:

Ask Cal to help you examine the written report

{[INVESTIGATE]: [Report]}

You step over even more corpses and retrieve the report. Your boots now have a thorough coat of purple goo over them. As per usual, the note is just gibberish to you. So it is up to Cal to translate for you.

Something happened here in this mine before it could be evacuated, and the main storehouse of crystals have been sealed off. You feel as though there are clues here but you don’t know how they are supposed to fit together to reveal.

Cal folds up the note and stuffs it into their parents journal.

[Your progress to understanding: Written Dunciea Runes has increased]


What Should We Do Now?

“Ritsu, reporting for duty!”
“Booting up askblog…””

it is with a heavy heart I must report that my old boots have officially become unwearable, so I gotta ask you guys in the interest of maintaining my gay fall aesthetic:

where can a girl get some cute combatish/or similar boots for not a lot of money?

anonymous asked:

What if Fareeha has a phobia that's unexpected somehow? eg acrophobia(OH THE IRONY) or something funny, and nobody knows that the normally brave and stoic Fareeha can actually be scared?

I truly started this out as something humorous … it very quickly went down hill … aaah oops. 😅

Thank you so much for the prompt!!


The thing about irrational fears is that they are … irrational. They make no sense. None at all.

Fareeha has not tried to explain the experience. Has not wanted to try to find the words to describe the feeling of inevitability. (The worst experience in the world is one which Fareeha deals with everyday. She lies to herself, says it will make her strong.) Has not wanted to try to defend herself. She is not ashamed.

… Perhaps she is a little ashamed.

A fear of moderate heights, for someone who spends a large portion of her day-to-day at extreme heights is … irrational.

Still, it’s manageable. She does not climb up trees, or roofs. Will not stand on cliff edges. Mutes the communication channel for the twenty or so seconds it takes to descend from her discomfort zone to the ground. She will not let them hear her hyperventilate. No one is the wiser.

It is manageable.

It is manageable until it isn’t.

“I do not want it,” says Fareeha, who is normally a bit stoic, but never unjustly so.

Angela is not in the mood for a battle of wills. She is tried and she is trying to save lives.

“I’m installing it in everyone’s armor,” Angela replies, “if I can have a constant read on your vitals, I will know when I need to come to your aid.”

Fareeha clenches her jaw, looks purposefully just above Angela’s head, protectively positioned between her and the Raptora.

“Install it in everyone else’s. Not in Raptora.”

Fareeha knows she is being ridiculous. Knows Angela is only trying to help; Angela only ever wants to help. Still, she will not be persuaded.

Something flashes across Angela’s face and Fareeha recognizes it as the same look her mother used to give her right before she’d said “I’m doing this because I love you.” When Fareeha applied to Overwatch and Ana came home that night with her application, ‘rejected’ written in the top in her mother’s script. It is not a declaration of love, but it is a declaration of that tender emotion which comes with concern for the welfare of those you care about. The idea that a person knows what’s best for another person, independent of reason - based solely in feeling.

Fareeha wants to feel sorry, but will not allow herself. She is an adult, she is capable of taking care of herself.

“Fareeha,” Angela says, she sounds so tired, “I want your permission on this … but if I have to, I will get Solider: 76 to allow it…”

And later that afternoon, they both stand in 76’s presence. Angela argues her case, Fareeha tried to defend hers, and Angela is granted the permission to install the equipment. Fareeha clenches her jaw and salutes because she is a solider, and a solider does not argue against their command officer. A solider thinks of the group before themselves. A solider betrays no fears. Still.

Fareeha feels something like betrayal.


The next mission they’re assigned to takes them to the desert, bullets rain and Fareeha rains justice. Towards the end of the fight, her fuel tank depletes and Fareeha is cursing in three different languages as she finds a rock to take cover under.

Because it is habit she mutes the comms just as she’s nearing that point where she is not high enough to be safe, not low enough to run, where she sits like a target and feels the most exposed. Her vision tunnels, her ears ring, her breathing is short and erratic. She counts to five then down from five then to negative five as the psych evaluator who cleared her for the army had instructed.

This time there is yelling in her ear. A private communication channel has been opened between she and Mercy through no action of her own and Mercy is panicky.

“Pharah?” She barks, “Pharah, report!”

Fareeha lands; her boots in the soft sand and it is a blessing. She breaths deeply twice and then opens the channel, she hopes her voice is not shaky, but it probably is.

“I am fine,” she responds. The gun fire has died away. Her visor tells her that Jesse is dispatching of stragglers, that Hana is deboarding her MEKA, that Angela is coming toward her.

“Your vitals are all over the place,” Angela says, her voice efficient and precise. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Fareeha replies, “no, everything is fine.”

“What happened?”

Fareeha hears it in her ear piece, but also in the flesh as Angela lands beside her. She takes off her helmet, Angela’s eyes are doing a quick analysis.

Fareeha knows she cannot hide it anymore, she wipes the sweat from her brow. Avoids the doctor’s eyes.

“It was just-” she stops, clears her throat, “just a panic attack.”

Angela watches her for a few moments, seems to think deeply for too long. And then asks:

“How long has this been going on for, Fareeha?”

It’s not disapproval, not really. It would be hard to call it anger either. It’s … something else. Something Fareeha cannot name. Which seems to be a trend in her life.

“Since I joined Helix,” Fareeha admits. “I have a … small fear of heights.”

Angela raises her hand, as if to brush it across Fareeha’s cheek, and then falls short, let’s it rest back at her side.

“You should have told me about this sooner,” she says, “as your doctor, I should know these things.”

“You should not have forced me to let you monitor my condition,” Fareeha retorts, “I should be allowed to decide what I share.”

Mercy frowns, the crease between her brows deepens.

“Normally,” she says after a moment, “I would agree with you. But you are part of a unit and there are certain liberties you forfeit when you join an organization like this.”

Fareeha knows. She knows because she is a solider. This is the life she has chosen.

“I know,” she says.

“These repeated attacks are not good for your heart,” Mercy continues.

“I know,” Fareeha repeats, feels genuinely bad.

“I-” Mercy stops, considers her next words, moves forward: “I worry about you,” she says, “let me help you.”

There is not a word for the flutter in Fareeha’s chest which feels like it could be a panic attack, in a different life, but in this one is so much more pleasant - more filling. Not a word she knows, not a thing she could articulate, but she feels it just the same.

“I’m sorry,” she says. Not for the reluctance, not for not saying it earlier. If it happened all over; Fareeha would not change a thing. Only sorry for the worry. She never wanted to make Angela worry for her.

“Me, too,” Angela replies. There’s a lot of depth to it.

Multi-Chapter Fic (Complete)

Title: He Takes a Moon (Ch. 1)

Index: Ch. 2Ch. 3Ch. 3.5Ch. 4Ch. 5Ch. 6Ch. 7, Ch. 8, Ch. 9, Ch. 10

Summary: Hater gets lost. Wander tells stories.

Pairings: Wander/Hater, but it takes awhile to get there.

Total Words: 25,991

Chapter One Words: 1,849

Chapter One Warnings: Minor violence, slight choking.

Notes: i said i’d come bearing gifts so here is the beginning of one!! mostly this is a chance for me to a). take a dip in the luscious pool of woy fandom b). jam in all of my sci-fi worldbuilding fixations and c). hint aggressively at my headcanons without explaining any of them. i apologize for both my tendency to dramatize children’s cartoons and my shipping tastes within those cartoons. Anyway.


He takes over a moon and it’s beautiful.

Keep reading

lmao @ hamfans getting all worked up over the bootleg……but for the wrong reasons

Okay so we all kno bootlegs r wrong. I personally havent seen the boot, but mostly bc i dont trust NONE of u mfs saying “just message me and ill give u the link :)” cause fr youre probably sending ppl viruses and shit as “”“”“revenge”“”“”. Either way, i dont plan on seeking this bad boy out bc ive been wasting all my energy trying to find a way to illegally download all of the life of pablo, but i digress.

Now that thats all out of the way, can yall tell me just WHY youre so up in arms about a boot that maybe 100 ppl tops have seen since this thing is so under-wraps? Bc if its actually bc u believe in supporting the artist and respecting their wishes, thats okay! As long as youre not a complete dick about it!! You guys r straight up telling ppl “ur not a REAL FAN. youre a terrible, disgusting excuse for a human being!!!! My biological father lin manuel miranda will hear about this!!!”

Im not even making this shit up ive been scrolling thru the “hamilton bootleg” tag for ten minutes. Okay the last part was made up but the point stands.

Its all so EXTRA its almost funny. Ppl are actually losing SLEEP over this??? But why?

Anyway, thats only for those of you whose intentions are pure, who mean what they say and say what they mean. Yeah, imma guess that a couple of you have seen the show live, but i wont hold it against u if thats TRULY to ur deepest CORE how u feel bc u rly rly RLY respect the artist and have never illegally downloaded anything ever.

But thats not most of yall, is it?

Like I said, boots are BAD, and tbh i feel like u rly shouldnt be watching one until the shows been out for a while. BUT if u watch one, who am i to shame you? Im currently watching a N2N boot, its lit.

Buuuut to the folks that r getting all preachy about “respect” when they say literally a sentence earlier “Usually im totally for bootlegs of shows, but idk hamiltons just different to me!” like ??? Why? Ask yourself why hamiltons soo special to be put on a higher plane of reverence? Is it bc its creator is so active on social media? If so ok?? U like him, ok thats good! But ur saying that all the other writers that toiled away on the other shows ur okay with bootlegging dont matter? Miss me with that shit.

Regardless some of u got soooo bent outta shape about it and wanted the ppl who were circulating the link around to S U F F E R so much, that u went out of ur way……to report the boot……to him……lmao

I mean you guys didnt want lin to see it…..but then kept reporting it to him like children…..what is the truth??? Yall want him to know about the bootleg or not??

But another thing, you guys cant get all hung up on respect when yall rly be on this website talking about how much dick u think lin can take, knowing FULL WELL that he sees things! He knows things! He got eyes everywhere yall how u think he found out about the bootleg so fast (aside from folks telling him)? Like im not bout to kinkshame yall cause ive proposed to leslie odom jr at least twenty times, but honestly……some of it is Too Much. You think a bootleg is gonna hurt his feelings? But what about if he were to stumble upon two teenage girls talking about him sucking off daveed diggs–i cant believe i just wrote that sentence look @ what yall made me do.

Not trying to offend anyone who is honestly upset about this whole situation, bc like i said its ok to be! just dont take it out on other ppl?? and dont be hypocritical about it idk

At the end of the day, theres more important things in this fandom to discuss. For example, yall still out here fetishizing the FUCK out of this cast omfg. Pls stop. A separate post will be made about this later.

tl;dr yall can keep popping off bc i love discourse but imma just b over here HAVING A FUCKIN BLAST BABY

Outrageous Bleach Insults

Author’s choice list. :)

For some reason, I have been thinking about what sort of outrageous insults could exist in the Bleachverse. You know, not simple things like “you moron” or “you stupid idiot” or “you actual fucktard,” but more elaborate and/or nonsensical insults. This is what I’ve come up with.

  1. You bankai-breaker!
    Ex: “Why don’t you say that to my face, you bankai-breaker!”

  2. You unwashed Squad 11 loincloth!
    Ex: “Watcha doing in our area, you unwashed Squad 11 loincloth?!”

  3. You absolute tentacle!
    Ex: “How could you do this, you absolute tentacle?!”

  4. You tub of shrunken head juice!
    Ex: “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, you tub of shrunken head juice!”

  5. You uniform-destroyer!
    “Why should I listen to you, you uniform-destroyer?!”

  6. You misfired cero!
    “Where’s my lunch, you misfired cero?!”

  7. You pointless and aggravating hairlock!
    “Don’t wake me when I’m sleeping, you pointless and aggravating hairlock!”

  8. You menos grande boot!
    “This report sucks, you menos grande boot!”

  9. You penile hollow hole!
    “Don’t act like a tough guy, you penile hollow hole!”

  10. You sudden mullet!
    “Do the exercise again, you sudden mullet!”

  11. You embarrassingly bad filler episode!
    “Let’s take this outside, you embarrassingly bad filler episode!”

  12. You unkempt wad of espada leg hair!
    “Just you try that again, you unkempt wad of espada leg hair!”