#silent pining

[kwoojii]

namiku disney date!! + a snacc :D

simple style half body commission for @jaysosillyart! thanks for your support!

[ovwechoes]

Shadows of Compassion: Brigitte x Reader (GN/SFW)

AU short fic where you meet Brigitte on the battlefield; you're both supposed to hate each other and in a moment that you've been trained for, you cant bring yourself to hurt her.

You lingered over her, dagger in hand. This was the moment you were trained for, and you finally had the new leader of Overwatch underneath you. She was defenceless, her limbs pinned down and all her strength used up trying to fight you before. All that was left was to end it all. Complete your mission. But you couldn't.

"You haven't won yet. Even if I fall, Overwatch never dies." she spoke softly, looking directly in your eyes. There was a fire burning behind them, fuelling her words and burning at your ideals. You were taught this would happen, as a last ditch effort to get you to drop your guard and give her an opportunity to win. You weren't going to let that happen. And yet, as your mission stayed clear in your mind, your hands remained above her chest, unable to drive the knife deep in her flesh. All you could do is watch her underneath you, with the sharp edge of your blade dancing over her now destroyed armour.

You found yourself analysing the details of her body; especially her hair. The way the reddish-brown hair surrounded her was breath-taking, as though it was effortlessly sculpted to emphasise her face. It looked soft, freshly washed. Brigitte takes pride in herself and her appearance, it's something you had always noticed but especially now. The smell of roses mixed with sweat from the fight was strong, as though she was born with it intertwined in her genes. Her very being was effortless, and all you could do was slowly admire as though this was the first time you had seen someone so... beautiful. Images Talon had shown you before the mission and whilst training could never have done her justice, and you were left starstruck.

In a moment of defiant determination, Brigitte continued to bite at you, "Stop staring at me and finish the job already! Is Talon that desperate for agents that they can't find someone who isn't afraid to kill me?" You could see in her eyes that she was growing inpatient, as though she were a rabbit being watched and played with by a wolf before being eaten alive. And yet she was still fighting; Brigitte wasn't going to give in so easily and you could see that fire inside her was growing more and more. In this moment, her once blue eyes that had an unwavering sense of resolve and warmth, were changed into something that was almost unrecognisable. Was she anxious? Angry? Annoyed? You couldn't honestly tell, but you knew she was talking to herself and calculating something in her mind, and her face spoke every word of it.

Her lips were pressed firmly together, as though they were conserving energy for another attack against you and Talon. Brigitte's jaw was clenched, like a dog ready to bite at the hand that strikes them. And yet, you couldn't help but notice how soft they were. They looked as though they were sculpted to compliment her perfectly; she definitely had the best genes in the Lindholm family. The way they were both infuriating and still alluring to you was torture - all you needed to do was drop the knife deep into her beating heart, and finish your mission. And yet, your gaze was fixed onto her lips, as though you couldn't get the feeling of what they'd feel like against yours off your mind.

And her muscles; usually you weren't phased by physical bodies - it's not something you paid no mind to. But the way hers reminded you of a roman legionary made your mind flutter with possibilities. You were left with the image of Brigitte training, her muscles flexing as she used machine after machine with droplets of sweat dancing on them effortlessly. The mental image of her drinking water to hydrate, with it dripping down her slightly exposed chest, making it wetter than it already was. Florescent lights of a gym studio making her skin glisten and shine, emphasising her strength and determination even more. It was deadly and left your mind foggy with a mixture of admiration and lust. You detested what she was doing to you by simply existing.

This toxic feeling you were inflicted with by Brigitte was spreading, like a viral infection taking over your mind and body. Your heart was racing, your mind foggy, and you were overwhelmed with the woman in front of you - defenceless, accepting her death and watching in agony as she calculated her next moves. "Keep your eyes on that and not on me. I’m not here to entertain you." She continued biting at you, but with a hint of annoyance littered in her words. Brigitte's head tilted upwards slightly, indicating she was watching the dagger hold unsteadily above her this entire time. While your eyes were left on her, she was determined to watch your weapon. You were left wondering why was she still speaking to you, when you payed her no mind to reply? Was she enjoying this? Buying herself time possibly? It helped ground you though, and you were finally thankful for her inesent need to fight however she could.

And so, you slowly brought your dagger down, piercing through clothing and you could feel the resistance you knew was her delicate but rough skin. Brigitte winced and cried out, her body jolting as you continued pushing slowly but now steadily. All you could think of now was your goal, as you kept your eyes shut. You knew if you opened them and watched her as you took her life, you'd be enamoured with her once again. You couldn't take that risk. That was, until you saw them.

Lights scattered across you both from the air, you had ran out of time. Overwatch was here and ready to ambush you to rescue Brigitte. She screamed out, continued thrashing with energy she must've conserved while you were foolishly watching her. All you could do was hurry off her; the job couldn't be completed and you couldn't risk finishing her off without Overwatch capturing you. It was vexing, to say the least, but you had no other choice. You climbed off her and began to run, with her watching you leave still laying on the ground. You left her stunned and bleeding through her armour, with laboured breaths and a scattered mind flashing in and out of consciousness. All she could do was focus on her breathing, as she was surrounded soon after by her teammates, all focused on keeping her alive and helping her back to Overwatch HQ. You watched from the shadows, making sure it was safe to go back to your own escape and back to Talon. You were ready to face the consequences, and mentally prepared yourself for the punishment waiting for you for letting a feeble woman pollute your once clear mind.

Brigitte was stained into your mind now, and you made it your new mission to understand why, and finish what was started once and for all.

[badwolf-gallagher88]

Just watched The Musketeers season 2 episode 9, and I am not okay…

I didn’t realise I needed Milady and Athos kissing in the Cardinals secret corridor but apparently I really did…

[milkywayscap-blog]

How could I ever tell you?

Syr felt Claude lean against them and sighed slightly. Claude chuckled, sounding a bit tired. It was the first time something like this had happened, and despite that, Syr felt a warm feeling in their chest. The hellhound had always felt drawn to Claude, and it didn't help that, at least in their eyes, Claude had made it clear that he fancied them to a certain extent. However, they were hesitant to make any significant moves, not wanting to disrupt the delicate balance between them. It felt like an invisible line existed between them, and neither knew if they should cross it. Yet, sometimes, Syr felt that taking that leap would be worth it, especially when it felt like the light of their life was within reach. This moment of peace was as close to lovers' bliss as Syr and Claude could get without taking that leap.

They sat together in the garden under the weeping willow. Claude leaned against the tree, panting a bit, with two baskets full of different herbs and flowers. The two were out collecting plants for Claude's newest potion or elixir. They decided to take a break after filling up the two baskets. The willow tree's leaves provided shade and a curtain of secrecy, blocking the view from outside. The sunlight still passed through the leaves, creating shadows and casting a warm light on whatever was in its path.

Claude suddenly says, "Syr, I love the experiences we've had over the past few decades. You're the best partner I've ever had, in adventures and in parenting. Thank you for dealing with the twins and me when we can get out of hand," He hesitates a bit but ends up putting his hand over one of Syr's. He feels his face burn up a bit at the confession he's let out, but also at the fact that Syr didn't pull their hand away. "You know I would do anything you asked of me... I care about you and the twins' well-being. You all are important to me," Syr replies with a nod. They can't help but whisper a smile at Claude's words.

[improving-the-truth]

Envy is a Nasty Thing

David pities Sarah because Sarah likes Jack. At least, that's what he tries to tell himself.

~~~

Jack came over for supper that wintery night for good reason. Or maybe David goaded him into it, nobody could ever be quite sure. But Esther did know that Jack always looked rather glad to spend time with their family, to be indoors, to have food on the table when he wasn’t always so sure he’d get any at all, especially now when it was harder to come by than ever. Sometimes Esther didn’t know if they’d have enough to feed everybody herself, but she refused to turn away a child in need. She was even more adamant on this stance when that child was a friend of one of her own. In this case, all of them at once.

She noticed Jack looked more exhausted than he usually did as soon as he came in, used to the youthful brightness in his eyes after enough nights of sitting across from him at the table.

Jack looked ill, Esther decided, tactfully recruiting Sarah to go convince him to stay the night once the boys had all left the table. It would do him good to rest by the fire rather than end up walking all the way back to that lodging house of his through the sleet and snow pelting their foggy windows. It was coming down much harder than it had been at the start of their meal. Esther had been watching, building up a basis for her firm decision that Mayer promptly agreed with.

Sarah accepted the challenge, any enthusiasm she might have had for Jack staying over after weeks of barely seeing him at all masked with perfect rationality. It was a practical decision, anyway. If Jack was coming down with something, it would come down on him full swing as soon as he stepped foot out there.

Sarah turned towards the wood stove Jack was gathered around with Les, David hurrying off to fetch something from his room. Les was showing Jack the new box of little wooden soldiers he’d gotten for his birthday.

She went over to sit down with them. Jack smiled at her, and she really wished it hadn’t snowed at all despite how much she loved the winter, so they could go up to the rooftop and be alone.

Esther calls David over to help her clear the table in Sarah’s place. Jack only glances at him once before Sarah grips his attention again. David noticed.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why Sarah was being absolved of her turn to help out. It didn’t take David very long at all, piecing it all together with the final stinging indicator in the form of his mother’s fond smile down at the water basin.

His lips turned into a strained frown, looking over his shoulder at the corner of the room. Sarah and Jack were talking with their heads close together like they were sharing some kind of secret. Her hand was on his knee.

David ruefully turned back to the sink as his mother piled up dishes beside it.

Maybe taking a much needed tumble down the icy fire escape would do him some good today, knock some sense into him since nothing else could seem to do the trick. There was no reason for him to resent his sister like this. For what, anyway? Jack’s attention? Sarah had a nasty habit of writing in surnames for herself on one too many pages of her diary. There was good reason for that this time, though.

Jack was a good guy. Handsome and tall and clever, in a sensible, practical way that David nearly overlooked one too many times. The only reason Jack didn't already have a girl to occupy his attention was probably because none could stand him long enough for it to count. David knew firsthand how difficult it could be to try and get close to him, pry away the protective barriers that sealed his feelings about the most mundane things behind closed doors. He was difficult and stupid about being difficult. David was getting better at reading him, not his expressions but the natural lies he would make up on the spot in response to certain questions. Jack was too talented for him to tell all the time, but he could differentiate when he was being genuine about something and when he wasn’t. Like when he talked about his birthdate (which David still didn’t know for sure, there were still several potential days in the running) or his family (which he claimed to simply not have at all) or such common things that made absolutely no sense to lie about, the things that genuinely made David’s blood boil. There was nothing malicious in David for Jack to be worried about him spreading his business to anyone else, but to lie about his favorite color? What the hell was the merit in that? What was so awful about David knowing his favorite color?

David didn’t like calling people names. That was for kids taunting each other in the schoolyard, for when he was so outrageously angry and he wanted to hit Jack right where it hurt, jabbing at the broad difference in their lives in that David had the opportunity to go to school and Jack didn’t. He thought that Jack could act really damn stupid sometimes, but he never said it aloud, because saying that and letting Jack know he meant it was a good way to make Jack disappear for days and days until David begrudgingly went to apologize himself.

Finally, David identified the constriction in his chest as pity. Pity for Sarah, because someday she would have to deal with the side of Jack he was already working at, and then it wouldn’t be his problem anymore. That was for the best, anyway. She’d get him all to herself like she deserved, because the best of Jack outweighed the worst by a longshot. The worst made it all the more rewarding when they had those nice moments up on the roof, or at the harbor, or drenched in sunset gold talking about things they normally wouldn’t talk about. Seeing Jack smile and laugh and shine in his own skin like he always should, the present occupying his torrential mind more than the past ever could before it all came crashing down again.

Jack unveiled the worst in people, and the best. He would make Sarah crazy like he made everyone who fell under his spell crazy, inclined to say and do insane things they wouldn’t ordinarily do. Inspire venomous envy when anybody else went near him, threatened to encroach on claimed progress, picking up the axe where the last person had left it, made to start chipping away all over again.

Not that David would know anything about that. He scrubbed the plate he’d picked from the stack harder. Poor Sarah.

[mackdaddyofthecravate]

Watcha thinkin' bout, Ray? ~*