MAYBE I'M FOOLISH

[shilicn-blog]

Reaper has been moved to @jianwci

[shilicn-blog]

@honeybooze

"-- Go AWAY!”

A SCREAMING monster, the wraith would screech until his desired isolation was accomplished; LASHING with tongue and tar, huffing in ANGUISH. to that which denied him his painful peace. 

[shilicn-blog]

HEADCANON - deceived by what you believe

Marriage can move quickly when two people are absolutely SMITTEN with one another, and he would have gone so far as to say they were SOUL MATES. The years in the SEP certainly furthered their bond, and the transition to Overwatch ( -- and from there, for Gabriel, to Blackwatch, and Strike Commander for Jack ) would cause little strain on their love. Gabriel can only speak for HIMSELF, but he was HAPPILY married-- would not have wanted to be with anyone but Jack Morrison, would not have wanted to adopt and raise a child with anyone BUT him. ( They did have a child together, adopted, and raised with a great deal of love-- Gabriel is a known SPOILER of children, even his own, though he is still STRICT. ) Even AFTER everything, he keeps his ring on him, may not consider them divorced, but isn’t quite certain they are still HUSBANDS--- it is hard to to believe there is still love from this man to him after all that he has done, and all that he will CONTINUE to do. 

[shilicn-blog]

@thelcved

“--- Good morning, SUNSHINE.” 

Gloved leather fingers across skin, palm FLUSHED against the drells chest, ever the exploratory one.

[shilicn-blog]

You need stitches. (engclsgleich)

PROMPT - hurt - not accepting

“Okay.”

Stilled, sat on the table, nearly as emotionless as he was IMMOVABLE. Fingers grip the sides of himself, being in such a TERRIBLE condition was not uncommon for the man, ‘least physically. 

“– Morrison okay?”

[shilicn-blog]

honeybooze replied to your post: ‘ that’s what you get for picking fights. ’ ...

Sombras rolling her eyes so hard fheyre probably gonna get stuck whoops

Sombra, disrespectful in my edge house?

[shilicn-blog]

‘ that’s what you get for picking fights. ’ (from sombra!)

PROMPT - hurt - accepting

“— I don’t pick fights, Sombra.” 

And yet the blackened OOZE from beneath the mask, a substance thicker than TAR and quicker to stain, would have spoke otherwise if it were to poses a proverbial SARCASTIC mouth. 

“I pick battles.”

[shilicn-blog]

‘ you got two choices: let me carry you, or die out here. take your pick. ’

PROMPT - hurt - not accepting

“— Time calls for the former.”

Though the PRIDE of a wraith called the latter; he would take the suffering of a shell lodged in what MEAT was left of him, nearly IMMOBILE, but the speed in which he could walk would shorten their time a great deal. Time, as they would say, was of the essence. 

“... Thank you.”

[the-composer]

❤ ▬▬ emotional starters to kick you in the feelings.

“What am I to you?” “If you could be with me, would you?” “Do you still think about (___)?” ”Do you want to be something more?” “I need to tell you how I feel.” “I miss how we used to be.” “Is it okay to say that I’m jealous?” “I’m so sorry I’m jealous… It’s such an ugly feeling.” ”I can’t help the way I feel.” ”They all want you, but they don’t even know you.” ”Is it okay to want you for myself?” “You’re mine. I don’t want to share.” “I want to be the only one for you.” “It’s you. You’re it. You’re the one I want.” “If you want me, you can have me.” “You can have others, but I will be your priority.” “Let’s talk about what you want.” “Let’s talk about what I want.” “I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait until you’re ready.” “You’re my friend. You didn’t know that?” ”I don’t think I know how to love…” ”Can I trust you?” “I forgive you.” “I only play around because I don’t have you.” “Name it. I’d give it up for you.” “You play so hard to get. Will I ever catch you?” “How can I get you to like me?” “Is there some secret to winning your love?” “Are you available?” “Are you afraid of commitment?” “If I agreed to be exclusive with you, would you do the same?” “Do you feel anything?” ”Why are you pushing me away?” ”The instant you start to feel something, you turn tail and run.” ”He/she/they love you, you know…” ”Don’t. I’m not good for you. Don’t even think about falling for me.” ”I will hurt you. That’s just a fact.” “You’re so wild that I want to be the one to tame you.” ”If you love them, then I want to as well.” “Your heart is safe with me.” ”You’re the type who wants to have your cake and eat it, too.” ”You’ve got me wrapped around your finger.” ”I’ve missed you so much.” ”Your happiness comes before mine.” ”I don’t mind sharing, as long as I’m with you.” “I am so sorry for hurting you.” “Can we start over?”

[kolhearted-archived]

Team “I don’t trust that your kindness doesn’t come with a catch”

[shilicn-blog]

@breakiitdown

A whiplash of tar SMOG, the faceless to face the well know, though a TERRORIST should be known in wider circles than a musician turned freedom fighter. Another time, perhaps, PRIDE would have boiled.

“--  Boo.”

[shilicn-blog]

‘ are you bleeding? ’

PROMPT - hurt - not accepting

“— No.”

LIAR, when there’s an inch thick of shoulder meat missing from a bullet that NARROWLY left the touch cut of meat and bone; where he BLEEDS a thick substance, and where he would sling his pack across shoulders would hide the injury well enough, and SOAK his ichor into the mesh.

“Quit your worrying ... hike up your bootstraps and get moving.”

[shilicn-blog]

disfigurxd

                       NSFW || READ AT OWN COST

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NSFW BELOW

Breath hitched, another STRIKE to the rosy red cheeks of his love; PUNISHMENT was brief because Gabriel was GREEDY, though he wanted the man to rut helpless with quivering thighs in his lap, “Backtalk tonight, Jack?” Never mind it, craning to press a kiss to his posterior, then, as if he were INDIFFERENT to the sight before him, leaned back and removed both hands; Gabriel was adept at hiding himself, but there was little to be done about the hardened bulge of his cock. “--- Go on then, if you want to backtalk, rut against me.”

[desperate-housewives]

[shilicn-blog]

disfigurxd

PORCELAIN   hand,   naked,   came   to   touch   the   forehead   of   what   had   become   the   carcass   of   his   lover.   Odysseus   returning   home   to   find   his   love   in   tears.   his   cotton   white   skin   against   the   charcoal   black   of   the   spawning   darkness,   he   let   the   ABYSS   lap   at   his   toes   as   he   continued   to   crouch   beside   his   beast.    “   Please,   Gabriel. ”    Voice   was   so   soft   like   a   hymn   of   angels,   a   song   of   healing.      “   I   need   you   in   one   piece. ”  

Merely the SHELL of the man he wants was, though he would admit the state he PERSISTED in was less akin to man and more to eldritch BEAST; find The Reaper written in a long forgotten bestiary than the shivering, ribbon mess he had become. “ ... Morrison.” An ODDITY was his alabaster companion, truly, a man know to keep a promise better than himself; pitiful was he, moaning in his pains, eyes opened for seconds before they fluttered closed. The claws he used to SHRED himself stilled at request, embedded now in what little flesh remained, and such was the tar ABYSS to cling and curl, CLAIMING the man besides him. “-- Jack.” 

[stop-this-pain]

[shilicn-blog]

disfigurxd

A   pause   in   motion,   so   sudden,frozen   in   time.   Crumbs   avalanched   down   his   chest,   his   shirt   enriched   by   the   caramel   sweetness.   His   mouth   mid   crunch   had   slowed   right   down   and   ceased.   Still   full   to   a   brim.      “   What’s   yours   is   mine ,   right ?   ”

He looked seconds away from SNATCHING the remaining cookie from his husbands hands; there’s betrayal in pursed lips, ANNOYANCE that his hiding place had been found as easily as one might pick up a book. “Jack.” Fingers catch a wrist, thumb across the vein, and perhaps he is too ROUGH as he pulled the man close, where he cupped the mans ass with his free hand. “--- Not my cookies.” With that he CAVED, ducking to catch what crumbs speckled his lovers chest; he’ll soak the caramel sweetened shirt with his own dribble, with a hand working Morrison’s ass, and the other denied him another taste of the cloyingly sweet cookie.