First time making a bujo spread! I know it doesn’t look that good but I’m still excited to fill it out these week. If any of you have any tips please let me know. Also I am obsessed with this sticker that my lovely sister gave me!
Imagen Sister Zenyatta ( I keep on forgetting that Zenyatta is his last name ) and Genji are like BFF and do alot of crazy things while she visits?
Fic because more than one person asked. Setting up foreshadowing for other asks I’ve gotten about this ‘universe’.
You stalked forward, feet light on the floor of the hallway, Genji running softly ahead. You looked into the med-bay and noticed a certain lack of a doctor. Smothering a giggle the two of you walked to the mug of piping hot coffee that Angela left. You dropped a couple of raisins into the coffee and the two of you casually stood outside the door waiting for her to return.
As Mercy neared the pair of you, the two of you started softly laughing and immediately started slapping each other telling the other to shush. Giving a casual wave to the doctor you waited a few minutes after she entered. Hearing her sharp cry of surprise as the raisins slipped into her mouth Genji and you scurried off, loud laughs bursting from the pair of you.
Genji quickly gestured for you to follow, looking for his brother. Finally finding the stoic archer drinking tea you quickly noticed what Genji wanted to show you. Slapped right on his exposed pectoral was a round sticker with the kanji for ‘nipple’ scrawled across it. Gesturing for you to keep quiet, Genji sat across from his brother and you followed suit.
“How are you doing?” you asked, a twitching smile on your face.
“I… I’m doing fine,” he awkwardly tapped his fingers on his mug.
“Would you like some?” pink tinkled his cheeks as you nodded and he started pouring you a mug.
“Here, have some,” he held the mug out for you and you smiled at him in response.
“Thank you,” you hummed and Hanzo looked down sheepishly.
“I would like some,” Genji asked.
“You can pour your own,” Hanzo snapped and Genji playfully rested his hand on his cheek.
“Because I’m not a pretty girl,” he flickered the lights on his visor, imitating the fluttering of eyelashes.
Hanzo glared at his brother and you looked blankly between the two of them.
“Me?,” raising a finger to point at yourself you confusedly asked, “Pretty?”
Before either of them could say anything McCree walked in, giving a lazy wave.
“Oi! Love bird,” he winked at Hanzo who refused to look at you, “Did you ask her ou…”
“What the hell is on your nipple?!”
Hanzo looked down and quickly got flustered, realizing it was there the entire time.
He scowled at Genji who suddenly started whistling. Launching himself over the table Hanzo ripped off the sticker, wincing at the sharp pain, and pinned down his brother. As Genji struggled underneath the archer, Hanzo stuck the sticker right into the forehead of the visor.
“I’ve been nippled,” Genji cried out and you laughed at the scene, flustering Hanzo even further.
Hanzo crawled off the cyborg and quickly settled back into his stoic pose at the table, mug of tea in his hand. You reached your hand out and Genji grabbed it. As you pulled Genji up, McCree squated next to the archer and murmured to him.
“You should just bite the bullet and ask,” Hanzo’s face scrunched up, “if you don’t act soon, monastery girl here is gonna get away.”
“It’s not that eas…”
“It is,” McCree cut in, “you just go and ask them if they wanna go on a date.”
Hanzo grumbled for a few moments, watching you, before giving a curt “fine”.
all you can do is nod, because without maggie you’re pulling back into the gravity and the darkness of your current situation. where it’s alex in surgery and it’s alex who you failed,
and it’s alex,
[or: maggie sawyer learns a truth about kara danvers]
it is worth noting this story is high in angst. it’s an attempt to delve deeper into who kara is as a character, and do what the show does not - recognize her pain and her grief and her trauma. so that in mind, please read with caution. tw: blood.
you remember, with great, pained clarity,
the moment everything changed.
“supergirl we need you over here. there’s too many. we can’t take them.”
your hands are shaking, bleeding, you let the soft skin of your fingertips shred against the fragmented concrete.
“we’re in the northwest corner, third floor. six incoming, supergirl, we’re out of ammo.”
you scream, because it is all you can do. your powers are gone, blown out by the force of your own anger. you have nothing left but alex’s dried blood on your hands and your own blood, your own pain. the physical sensation you are so abjectly unfamiliar with is at the present, a relief. it is a tether to the physical world because without it,
-A young girl leaned around my counter, unable to peek over it. With the sweetest smile, she asked for a sticker. Naturally I obliged, to which she said “Please and thank you, sir!” This is the exact note I want my year to end on.
-Upon announcing a woman’s total at $19.95, she informed me that was a good year. I am confident this same woman has said the same thing about the same total to me before, and I can only assume she somehow knows that was the last year before I was born and is personally attacking me.
-“I just had a phone conversation with him,” a man told his wife. “You called him?” she asked. “No, I texted him,” he answered, seemingly unaware of how words work.
-As my last good deed of 2016, I pretended not to hear an elderly woman ask me if I had found everything alright too, just as I pretended not to notice her face flush once she realized.
-A two year-old boy asked me kindly for stickers for his older sister in the single heart-meltingest moment of the year.
-As a gristly man in a leather jacket came through, I noticed something seemed off about his appearance. After a moment I realized that nothing was wrong with it, and that the small great dane puppy he was smuggling inside of his jacket was actually the most right thing he could ever do.
-I encountered a mind-reading young tyke who asked me for a sticker as I was in the process of handing her one. I would usually take this time to write a message for her in the event she sees this, but she already knows what I have to say.
-A couple stared at me intensely in complete silence at my every attempt to exchange pleasantries. This was made all the more unsettling by their nearly-synchronized movements and their distinctly reptilian features. I am onto you. Me and David Icke are both onto you.
-A young boy stood at the end of my aisle, dribbling a small basketball with an unsettling level of focus. Every thirty seconds, he would attempt to pass the ball between his legs. Every thirty seconds, he would miss the ball and walk after it sadly, only to begin the process anew. This seems the perfect metaphor for the last twenty years of my life and I would like to ask him not to remind me of this fact.