#vastiitas

[iobartach]

@vastiitas asked; Don't go there. I mean it.

the darkness seemed to breathe prompts

Without intending to, a hidden nerve had been touched upon, laid bare thanks to his errant commentary of historic events. "Oh, that wasn't my..." The start of an apology dies quickly in his throat, cognisant enough to not dig a deeper hole for himself. He should've known better than to throw specific names around carelessly, given too easily to a surge of excitement upon connecting once distant pieces of information.

"It's the hat. I remember seeing it during public events, when you, Orton and the others were commended for your work." Back in the days when Overwatch still had a pristine and glowing reputation, at least in the eyes of the public. As tempting as it was to speculate on what led up to its collapse, he kept his mouth shut instead, unwilling to misuse or fall out with this chance to speak with a hero.

"I am indebted to an old friend of yours, actually. The one with the British accent." Granted, he took a guess that they were still in contact, unlike the others. A fragmentation that nobody could've predicted ever happening in the first place. "I have much to thank Overwatch for, even if I only know of a few fragments concerning how it was brought to its knees by the Petras Act."

[godmarkd]

chernobog, how to get cacti spines out of butt

FIRST, YOU MUST IDENTIFY THE SPECIES OF PLANT, IN CASE RHE SPINES ARE POSIONOUS. YOU CAN USE THEM TO ELIMINATE YOUR FOES IF SO. SELECT THEM CAREFULLY UTILIZING TWEEZERS, TONGS, OR THE KNIFE YOU USE TO MURDER THOSE WHO GET IN YOUR WAY, AND PRY THEM FROM THE RECTUM. DO NOT CLEAN THE WOUND WITH WATER. UTILIZE GLUE, OR THE TEARS OF THE WIDOWS YOUVE CREATED TO CLEAN THE WOUND. BANDAGE.

[godmarkd]

@vastiitas asked:

❛ if you're going, at least look me in the eyes and say goodbye. ❜

"Don't make this hard, Cole." The desperate plea was wrapped in anger, some simmering thing that had boiled the opinions of others, that scorched away their protests. His departure was that of conflict, of trouble, some arguments sparked between Emre and Gabe and burning everyone else that had been present for the Deepsea Raiders mission. Emre knew what was coming next, and he wouldn't stand for it. He didn't look up as he spoke again.

"You should leave, too. Get out before it gets bad. Better yet, come with me - I'm sure we can find something that will suit your skills that's not contributing to the death of innocents."

[southrnweed]

“𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗈𝗇𝖾-𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉.”

Thistle tore his attention away from the collection of three small holes near the bottom of his t-shirt (were they intention? Or natural? He couldn't remember...) before he tore his actual gaze from them.

❝ I wouldn't know nothin' about that. ❞ Thistle had come from a religious family and he had the spiderweb cracks of damage just about any kid who did had. But he'd fallen out of it young and didn't dedicate much time to it one way or another. He certainly wasn't a follower anymore and he also couldn't bother to sink any time in philosophizing about it otherwise.

❝ Think it's more like a one-way relationship with yourself nowadays. I think even if their perfect White Jesus came on down in a flurry of bald eagles and monster trucks, they'd still gun him down the moment he said a damn thing 'bout feedin' the hungry. Don't think most religious folks love anything but themselves. ❞

He'd taken to the holes again and ran a fingernail along one, no bigger than a pencil eraser tip, to see if the surrounding broken threads might give him a hint as to if it's been done with a tool or just from wear and tear.

❝ But I don't know every religion. Hell, I rarely knew mine. But maybe that just backs up my point. People don't want no god to listen to and follow and serve or whatever else. They want some magic yes-man to hover 'round them and tell them the shitty things they do are a-okay. ❞

[lasthail]

how's hewey, dewey, and louie, doc?

it  takes  him  by  no  surprise  that  cole  wants  to  see  hewey  ,      dewey  ,      and  louie  .      it  just  takes  him  a  little  bit  by  surprise  that  he'd  even  ask  .      grace  has  always  found  himself  wondering  where  some  of  his  gifts  go  ,      weeks  and  months  and  years  since  their  gifting  .      he's  never  asked  about  his  gifts  once  they  were  given  ,      though  .      it's  only  been  a  couple  months  since  cole  had  given  him  the  little  things  .      and  grace  has  been  dutifully  keeping  them  in  the  best  condition  he  can  muster  .      they  match  the  sweater  he  wears  ,      the  magnets  on  his  fridge  .

❝        you  wanna  see  ?        ❞        he  pulls  his  phone  from  his  back  pocket  before  cole  can  answer  .      it's  a  rhetorical  question  .      grace  wasn't  actually  looking  for  an  answer  .      he  is  ,      however  ,      looking  to  pull  up  a  photo  on  his  phone  ,      which  he  quickly  turns  to  let  cole  see  .      three  orange  ceramic  foxes  ,      thoughtfully  placed  on  the  desk  in  his  class  room  .      they're  positioned  in  a  three-point  semicircle  around  a  pencil  holder  covered  in  various  stickers  of  planets  ,      plants  ,      and  animals  .        ❝        my  three  little  stooges  .        ❞        they're  obviously  not  literally  his  three  stooges  .      otherwise  he  would've  named  them  larry  ,      curly  ,      and  moe  .      but  those  names  were  already  given  to  his  original  astrophage  .      the  three  anthropomorphic  ducks  had  been  the  second  best  bet  .

❝        i  put  them  on  my  desk  in  my  classroom  .      are  they  at  risk  of  being  stolen  ?      maybe  .      which  is  why  i  stuck  them  to  my  desk  with  with  mounting  tape  .      kid's  sticky  hands'll  slip  right  off  .      it's  not  foolproof  ,      but  it's  the  most  they'll  allow  .        ❞        he  aims  a  grin  at  cole  .        ❝        i  get  to  look  at  them  every  day  ,      so      …      they're  doing  great  .        ❞

 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪ ㅤ*ㅤUNPROMPTED .  /   𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜  𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 .

[southrnweed]

You look exhausted. When's the last time you actually slept?

❝ I don't sleep anymore. I just kinda drift...❞ Somber and sullen in tone, low and gruff and tired. His gaze was distant and unseeing-— at least towards anything there in their immediate vicinity. This performance lasted all of another beat before he was casting Cole a side-long glance, his face splitting into a lazy grin.

The fatigue was still there, but there was that spark or something or another Thistle carried with him regardless. ❝ You sure know how to stroke a man's ego. Why don't y'just spit on me and tell me I look like steamin' shit while you're at it? ❞

There was no heat in his tone though and he tugged off his baseball cap to ruffle his presently unruly curls beneath. Why did it always feel like it was time for a haircut? Like he was just perpetually in need of one? Haircut purgatory or some shit.

❝ Shit's been peaceful. Lotta hotel rooms n' rentals. Nice ones lately, too. Not as much time on the road or sleepin' in the truck bed off in some fuckass field. ❞ By all accounts, one would assume this should have the opposite effect and that he ought to have been sleeping like a baby. The rest went unspoken and the blanks were left for Cole to fill in and understand or stay wondering.

Comfort wasn't so comfortable when you went without it for long enough. A comfortable bed wasn't exactly comfortable when you'd gotten used to sleeping in places and in positions that had your joints aching the next day. He was still in that adjustment period was all. It'd pass like it always did when he came off these long periods on the road and outside of comfort.

❝ Them TikTok gurus got me lookin' into supplements though. Somethin' or another about high cortisol levels fuckin' up the sleep cycle. Ain't that stress shit? Do I look stressed to you? ❞ He let his tongue peek out to run over a chapped portion of his lip. Thistle scrunched his face and shook his head. ❝ Nah. Actually, don't answer that. ❞

[intothewildsea]

@vastiitas

Finding work was proving to be difficult. It wasn't that she couldn't work or that she didn't have skills - it was just that it was hard to do any sort of honest job when your wanted poster had been plastered up on the bounty board in every single town.

Her English was getting better and she was sure she could explain what had happened if someone just asked. The few bounty hunters or lawmen she had encountered hadn't been keen on listening to her, though.

The money she had stolen from her captor only lasted for a little while. She had purchased clothes, a bag, and a few other necessities. Food, mostly. The place she had ended up was nothing like the island of her childhood. No forests to forage, no bodies of water to fish in. Her usual methods of survival wouldn't work.

Which meant she had to adapt.

As much as she didn't want to steal, there weren't many other options. She just didn't take into account how bad she'd be at pickpocketing. It didn't help that the scars on her hands were still stiff, making her swipe at the man's coin purse clumsy. She'd managed to get it off of his belt but it slipped from her fingers and landed on the ground with a loud clink of coins.

[mercymedic]

The flowers were sent to the wrong address instead of her clinic and the chocolates had been pilfered. Cole has spent the whole afternoon barrelling through town on a dented red pick-up with Mary in tow fighting locales over sparse resources in salvaging Mother's Day. He looks every bit dishevelled of the day's events as he fixes up the bouquet in the vase with one hand with Mary cradled in the hug of his other. In her child-pudgey hands is a crayon colored card glued with construction paper hearts, Happy Mommy Day scrawled across its front. From the kitchen, the oven spews the scent of aromatic herbs baking into Dinner when Angela clicks open the front door.

Cole Cassidy whispers a hurried just like we practiced into the wisps of his daughter's hair as he dents his knees to reach for the heart shaped box of chocolates at the base of the flower vase and rounds to meet his wife. Mary lifts up her card, elbow butting into Cole's cheek, and in unison they greet her, "Happy Mother's Day!" (i imagine mary doesnt say mother's day fully the way she trips over trick or treat but ahgkbtk)

mother's day! @vastiitas

if anyone would have told angela that there existed a future where she would get to come home, welcomed by a loving husband and a happy, healthy child, she would have laughed it off as fictious thing; something from ear-dogged romance novels left unfinished and forgotten with the rest of who she used to be, lost in time to the long stretch of war. but when she opens the door to the other side of her very first mother's day, she remembers Mercy in a way she hadn't allowed herself to for a long time; the promise of tomorrow is no longer a burden for her to carry. it is here for her to live.

it is here, and bright, and hers.

( after everything, hope has led her here. )

angela brings mary into her arms the moment she's close enough to reach her. she brushes away soft brown bangs to plant a kiss to the top of her head, reveling at how her daughter fits into place against her bosom as if she were always meant to be there.

"oh, mary! you made this just for me?" they open her card together, admiring crayon scribbles and construction paper hearts until mary's child-pudgy hands start reaching for the box of chocolates tempting her from her father's hand. angela laughs, leaning up to kiss the tension out of cole's shoulders, the nervous held breath. there's nothing in this world that could make his toddler-gripped shirt and tired eyes look any less idyllic to her. the kitchen could be on fire, and she would still be the happiest women in the world pressed up against him.

"thank you, liebling," she says, kissing him again.

"ich liebe dich."