#oncereigned

[deathanointed]

HM. VELVET AND HONEY ON THE SURFACE, yet underneath a trap door was a spring of acid awaiting to maul of the skin off her prey. She was gargantuan  Jorogumo kenneled beneath pretty flesh and squeezed into a slender figure. Seemingly, the only anomaly was the heat that had been flushed her cheeks and the eidolic glow in her eyes. “What a shame,” She had begun, her tone a sickle encrusted in sugar. “and here I was expecting a civil conversation with you.”

@oncereigned | CONT.

[eviilpanda]

Seriously.

[excineris-a-blog]

( @oncereigned )

     Entirely uninvited and perhaps unwelcome, Jack lets himself into the room as if it is his own. It feels like it is, sometimes, what with how often he lingers in it, at the side of one of its residents. Reyes has steadily infected his being, swimming through his veins like the serums the doctors injected him with, though Gabriel doesn’t come with so many ruthless side effects. Rather, he is quite the opposite of those drugs -- a drug of his own kind, one that counteracts the other, one that can steady Jack’s pulse and supply him with enough strength to somehow jump each impressively high hurdle set in place by the doctors.

     It may help in the long run, all of the medication, the ‘training’ ( it’s nothing like any training Jack has previously endured ), the way physical and mental limits are discovered only to be pushed past. Jack actually thinks so sometimes, when he can feel the increases in strength, agility, or anything of the sort. He’s always reminding both himself and Gabriel that there are changes taking place, they just have to finish trudging through hell to find the major results. But even he, in his youthful optimism finds it hard to keep going sometimes.

     Surely it’s the same for Reyes, but the older man is even more closed-off emotionally than Jack is, so the blonde is never quite sure when he’s struggling the most. That’s why he keeps his front built up; that’s why he fights so hard to be cheerful. He wants to serve as a reminder that things will get better.

     ❝ I saw that your roommate was still in the medical bay, so I thought I would pop in. ❞ He’s limping as he crosses the room to Gabriel’s bed, but just barely. He’s good at disguising his pain, but there are times where he settles for simply making it a little less obvious. He seats himself -- again, without an invitation -- at the edge of the bed with a dramatic sigh. ❝ Long day, huh ? ❞

[climxtologist]

          ❛ may i ..  ask you one thing ? ❜    despite a looming threat ,  the barrel of a wispy shotgun held close ,  she kept her ground .  the chances of an escape was far and wide in between ;  the corner at her back ,  the mouse trapped in the corner by a cat .  her blaster at the hilt ,  she drew no weapon at the reaper  &&  faced him with no illwill ,  just a curious shimmer in earthen hues .    ❛ do you truly ..  believe overwatch needs to suffer ? ❜    a certain unease to her voice ,  yet ringing with a melodic kindness .    ❛ i`m sorry ..  but the world needs this group ,  it needs us ..  i - i think things can be fixed ,  but not with people like you on our backs . ❜

          @oncereigned  ( ♥ )

[ncscope-blog]

“ You want to ask, so ask. ”

@oncereigned (Westworld) (not acc.)

“Seeing right through me, don’t you, Gabriel?” The light mockery in her voice was undeniable, and she went as far as to flash him a cocky grin in the reflection of the mirror ; the bathroom was small, but not small enough that she couldn’t poke fun at him and hope to get away with it. The first aid kit neatly open on the sink, poor Gabriel Reyes sitting on the edge of the bathtub while she went through her little inventory, this was a sight to behold and remember in the glorious days of Overwatch - Blackwatch’s Commander finding refuge in Ana’s den so he wouldn’t have to face the good doctors at the infirmary or give any embarassing explanations that would then go on the record.

But Ana wanted those explanations, and she was hoping the prospect of a promise to keep it all a secret between them would convince him to spill the beans. Either that, or the threat to refuse to treat him and send him right back whence he came from. “So, tell me. How did that happen?” She snickered, opening a pack of sterile gauze and a bottle of distilled water before her eyes trailed back to the black eye her friend was now sporting. “Did you collude with Reinhardt’s fist, by any chance? Was it intentonal or an accident?”