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In with a lego set and a 
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Jan 4, 2017 23:14
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| # ¿ Apr 29, 2024 10:23 |
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Two Sides (699 words) Sarah glared at her little brother. Pat was a little bit ahead, one hand in mouth and the other clutching the oversized coin he’d found, staring wide-eyed at every weird thing around the dim hallway they were in. It was so unfair. Dad was going to yell at Uncle Nero for letting them get lost, and then Uncle Nero would yell at her, when it was all Pat’s fault for running off. And even that would be fine if Pat hadn’t wanted wanted to stay and stare at the school of dolphins passing by, because then Sarah could have asked Uncle Nero to help her stop him. But the tour group was already around the corner when Pat had toddled past the Keep Out sign into the darkness, and Dad would’ve been even madder if Pat got hurt by himself. So Sarah had chased him, and now she had no idea where to go, and her brother was just staring like an idiot at everything like it wasn’t his fault. She kicked the ground. Stupid brother. Stupid coin. Stupid Dad, for not coming with them to this dumb underwater laboratory after talking about it for months and having Uncle Nero take them instead. Stupid Uncle Nero, for not helping her watch Pat. Mom would’ve helped, a part of Sarah’s mind whispered. But everything was Mom’s fault, too. Sarah walked up to Pat and grabbed his arm. He tried to jerk away, but she just tightened her grip. “Sarah, you’re hurting me,” he whined. “I don’t care. Let’s go back.” She turned around and started dragging Pat along, ignoring his protests. There had been a viewing window near the last intersection they’d passed. Maybe they could find the tour group there. Abruptly, her arm was yanked back, causing her to nearly fall over. When she looked back, it was at a stubborn-lipped Pat who’d sat down hard on the floor. She hissed, “What are you doing?” “I don’t want to go back.” He stuck his chin out. “Why not?” “I want to find another coin.” Sarah resisted the urge to stamp her feet. Dad always scolded her for doing that; Mom — well, she didn’t care about Mom. Sarah hated her. “You already have one. Isn’t that good enough?” “I want to find another one for Mommy, for when she comes back.” He looked up at Sarah with those dumb eyes on that dumb face, and she couldn’t take it. How could Pat be so stupid, she thought, eyes going watery and prickly. “She’s not coming back,” Sarah forced out. “Ever.” “Mommy promised me that she would come back,” Pat insisted. “When she does, I’m going to give her the other coin I find and we’ll have a pair.” “She lied!” Their mother hadn’t told Sarah anything like that the night she left — just told her to take care of her brother and kissed her goodnight before turning off the lights. When Sarah had gone down for breakfast the next morning, the only one there was Dad, staring at the eggs burning in the frying pan. “No!” Pat yelled back, face red. “She wouldn’t!” Sarah could barely see, the lights in the floor blurring into dim circles, but fury drove the next words out of her mouth. “Don’t you get it? Mom left and she’s never coming back! Uncle Nero’s been here since Thanksgiving! How can you be so dumb?” “I’m not dumb!” Pat squalled. “You are! You’re dumb and stupid and an idiot and-and—” Sarah did her best to think of something, anything, to let her keep yelling. “That’s the reason she left!” “You’re lying!” He shrieked, and Sarah listened to both sobs and footsteps echo down the corridor as she crouched down and pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. Mom had told her to take care of her brother. Well, she didn’t want to. Sarah remained there, seeing nothing, thinking nothing, until something touched her shoulder. She looked up. There was a man in front of her, wearing a white lab coat and glasses. Uncle Nero was behind him, holding Pat’s hand. They looked mad. Dad wasn’t going to like this at all.
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Jan 9, 2017 11:30
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katdicks posted:in Lmao In with my gay slashfic
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Jan 10, 2017 17:50
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Don't Fear the Reaper (Yes, Really) [1210 words] The first time I tried calling him "heavenly", Gabe had pulled away, looked up at me, and said, "Really, Morrison?" If it hadn't been for the crinkles around his eyes, nobody would've known to look for the chuckle underneath the all-too-familiar growl that usually meant what the gently caress, dude. The remnants of those laugh lines might still be on the specter that faced me now, but there wasn't really anything I could feel other than shock. Confusion. The growing certainty that I was finally snapping. It was inevitable, I supposed, with the stresses of the daily grind and of never having quite enough and the waves of guilt that still washed over me every night. Gabriel Reyes had been dead for precisely one year now, having breathed his last in a sterile hospital room. His family hadn't invited me to the funeral. That had hurt, even though it was only fair. But he was standing in front of me now, or at least he appeared to be. If I was hallucinating, my brain had decided to go all-in on the details, because the scent of greasy, rotting food emanating from the nearby dumpster was subsumed by a mustiness that reminded me of the cathedrals in Europe. Gabe's hospital gown was gone, and in its place was his usual black t-shirt, those familiar battered jeans; he didn't look gaunt, or thin, or dying -- even the rich brown of his skin had turned to a deathly, dull gray. "Surprised to see me?" he growled, but didn't wait for an answer. "Makes sense. New York is pretty far from Los Angeles." The mockery and delivery was familiar, but the voice that delivered them was deeper. Grittier. "Gabe." I got out, then swallowed. "I don't understand." "I wouldn't expect you to." He stepped closer, and I couldn't help but back up, even though he was blocking the only way out. "You're dead. Healer Stiles told me himself." The man had been a professional when he'd called me, his voice lacking even the slightest hint of accusation. "Well, he wasn't wrong." "But you're not a hallucination." I couldn't see his sneer in the darkness, but I could hear it. "No, I'm not. Just a magical accident." We stood there, each waiting for the other to speak, but Gabe had always been more patient than me. "Are you just going to stare at me?" "Why did you leave?" he asked, just like he did in every one of those loving dreams. "It's not important." All of a sudden, I found myself slammed against the rough brick wall behind me. "I'll be the judge of that, Jack," he growled. I tried to push him off me, but he was utterly immovable. Apparently, turning into a remarkably well-preserved reanimated corpse wasn't the only way in which he'd changed. "I came back," I finally offered, but even the most casual of Gabe's acquaintances could predict how he'd respond to that. "Sure," he sneered. "And? Doesn't change the fact that you left." "Gabe—" His arm pressed against my throat, his lips pressing together into a tight, pale imitation of a grin. I gasped for air, clawing at him, but he was immovable. "Are — you going — to kill me?" I got out, almost certain we both knew what the answer to that would be. But apparently, he didn't. He drew back as if stung, and I collapsed to my knees, clutching my throat. He stared down at me as I stared down at cracked concrete, unwilling to meet his eyes. "Answer the question." "I got a job offer," I muttered. "Highest salary I'd ever seen." "Ah, money. Wouldn't have figured you to take after Judas so literally." I tried to get up, but he just nudged me over with his foot, sending me sprawling against the brick wall behind me. "That's not everything, though. There's something you're not telling me," he mused. This time, when I pushed myself to my feet, he let me. "C'mon, Gabe. People stab each other in the back for money all the time." I chuckled weakly. "Never thought you would pass up the chance to be cynical." I found myself pinned against the wall for the second time in five minutes. He grabbed my chin, and stared at me. "Not when it comes to you." I closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to look at him. "I filed for Chapter 13 bankruptcy a week before you died." As he stiffened, I continued, words falling faster and faster out of mouth, "Two days later, one of my old friends from the Army told me about an open position in Manhattan. If I didn't pick it up right then, it would go to someone else. I was desperate and I..." I trailed off, and it was a couple more seconds until he broke the silence. "You never told me." "I didn't want you to know!" I did my best to jerk my head to the side, to look away, and his grip had slackened enough that I could. "Gabe, you were dying. You didn't need to know." "How nice of you to decide that for me," he hissed. "I'm sorry," I snarled back, and abruptly hit my limit. I couldn't take this. I slumped back against the wall and buried my face in my hands. "Jack." He sounded surprised. Well, I suppose I'd never really let him see me like this. When I didn't answer, he drew closer. "Jack?" he said again, and placed a hand on my shoulder. We stood there in silence for a little longer, then I said, "You're not here to kill me." Gabe sighed. "No. It would be easier if I was." I wiped at my cheeks, glancing briefly at him. "Well, now you know." He nodded, once. "I should've asked." "Gabe, I told you — I didn't want you to know." "I guess I did have to literally come back from the grave to get you to tell me the truth." He said, deadpan. Then he snorted, and I let out a watery chuckle. The echoes in the alleyway died out, and he leaned in, close. Our foreheads knocked together. "This doesn't fix everything," he said. "I know that," I whispered. "But does it at least fix something?" In lieu of a reply, he pulled me forward and his lips pressed down on mine. His mouth still tasted like a blend of coffee and cigarettes. Which was good. No matter how much I loved Gabe, I would've gagged if this had really been like kissing a dead man. I wrapped my arms around him, hand cupping the back of his head when we finally broke apart. His cool breath wafted over the back of my neck as I closed my eyes and let my head rest in the crook of his neck. "Gabe?" "Yes?" "Can I still call you 'heavenly'?" He sputtered, and I couldn't help the smirk that sneaked onto my face. "Jack, what the hell—" he got out before I cut him off. "Because you seem a lot more like the devil than an angel with the red eyes, and I—" His shoulders started to shake, and I took that as a cue to switch my tone to mock outrage, eyes fluttering open. "Honestly, Gabriel. This is a very important question." He pulled back, his face set back into that easy, sly smile, and I found I couldn't do anything but look at him. "I know," he said, and kissed me again.
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Jan 16, 2017 10:39
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:Okay well I am not really into Reaper/76 slash as a rule because I don't really see them ever getting together. It's not like they're old war buddies who ended up on different sides of the same coin and hatefuck occasionally (that's Reaper/Mcree tyvm) -- Morrison and Reyes were in different units and haven't really interacted all that much in the official background. Well actually Reaper used to be the old leader of Overwatch and Morrison joined alongside him and they were "friends" (ha). And then Morrison got promoted over Reyes and Reyes got really loving jealous and they had an epic break-up that ended up blowing up the main headquarters of an international organization as well as the organization itself. So basically you're wrong and you should read up on canon more, you utter scrub. Also all they did was kiss so if that's "erotic" for you I feel really sorry for you man cause that really sucks
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Jan 17, 2017 00:40
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I'm going to regret this but in
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Jan 21, 2017 06:03
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A Note to Myself (141 words) Reject lax acceptance, refuse to save face Trick not oneself one display might suffice For rapid but steady, relentless pace Should dictators die with their thrones now replaced Tell yourself still you must pay change's price Reject lax acceptance, refuse to save face What have you given? True, make your case Still, attend to the future and futures you sacrifice For rapid but steady, relentless pace So pick up the phone and visit the polling place Remind yourself, twice Reject lax acceptance, refuse to save face And pay no attention to thieves of king's grace Calling for patience when he'd preached precise For rapid but steady, relentless pace Is the world that you dream of the one that you chase? You know it is. So keep it alive Reject lax acceptance, refuse to save face For rapid but steady, relentless pace
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Jan 23, 2017 05:53
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in
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Jan 24, 2017 09:27
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In with a (USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST)
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Jan 31, 2017 20:16
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Thank you for the crit 
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Feb 5, 2017 00:12
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in.
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Mar 4, 2017 03:50
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| # ¿ Apr 29, 2024 10:23 |
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The Saddest Rhino posted:really how the hell is video game avatar shooty man slash fiction of them NOT EVEN HAVING SEX, JESUS CHRIST something from your heart, it might as well be the glowing pulsating red heart that pops up as the "SHOOT HERE PLEASE" at the very last stage of a video game and then you shoot it and then we get the credits sequence and i'm not sure where i'm getting into, but that pulsating red target video game heart doesn't even have a valve open to insert a boner so WHAT THE gently caress, MAN it was an editorial decision anyways ty for the crits Rhino <3 kurona_bright fucked around with this message at 06:37 on Mar 20, 2017 |
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Mar 20, 2017 06:33
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