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james stares at him, considers it for a second before uncocking the gun. he shoves it beside his .38 before offering a hand to the other man, some skinny little runt with half finished tattoos on his exposed forearms.
james looks him over, raising an eyebrow. “you got a name, kid?”
nameless-without-a-gun lets james pull him to his feet, seeming to hesitate for a second before he speaks.
“sasha. you?”
“nova. word of advice - don’t challenge anybody you aren’t certain you can beat.”
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In another life he’d let Jesse-fucking-McCree push their mouths together and fill his lungs full of smoke in full view of anyone who might have cared enough to be looking. Now his nanites fill the air with as thick a haze as Sombra’s smoke, agitated and uncertain with the reminder that he’s not the only ghost in the room.
Bookmarked by hum
16 Jan 2024
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“Hey y’all, welcome back. For those of you who are new ‘round here, I’m Jesse.”
Jesse takes a slow drag off the cigarette in his fingers before reaching over to stub it out, lean muscles of his abdomen flexing and shifting, and Gabriel hates that he can’t look away.
He’s watched a fair number of camboys get off for tokens, but none of them pull him back in the way Jesse does.
Jesse is shirtless, dressed in nothing but a pair of worn jeans held up by an obnoxious belt buckle, and a ragged cowboy hat. There’s more grease streaked across his chest, and a smattering of bruises on his throat that look suspiciously like fingerprints. The knuckles of his right hand are busted; freshly skinned, not even scabbed over yet. Hurt himself working on his bike, most likely, and Gabriel hates that, too— knowing this random trailer park fuckboy has a motorcycle. That he smokes too much, and drinks shitty beer. That he can’t afford a decent pair of underwear, apparently. Jesse piggybacks off of his neighbor’s wifi to stream once a week, though, and the last few weeks Gabriel has found himself here, watching.
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Bookmarked by hum
30 Dec 2023
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Baptiste is quiet even though Mauga knows he isn’t sleeping. There’s an anxiety threaded through his scent that Mauga can’t entirely place. He knows what Baptiste’s pain smells like, the discomfort that settles in him when he is injured. The bullet wound in his arm is the least of the things bothering him.
A pair of civilians had gotten caught in the line of fire that night. It was nothing in the grand scheme of things, Talon has been tearing through cities all over the globe with no concern over collateral damage, but Baptiste hasn’t been the same since Monte Cristi— when Mauga found him at the docks looking haunted.
Looking ready to run. As though escaping Talon would do something to wash away the blood on their hands.
As though it hadn’t soaked down into their bones already and colored everything that they were in shades of brilliant red.
Bookmarked by hum
22 Dec 2023
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5 times Sniper almost saw Spy’s face (and one time Spy allowed for it)
The Spy stood before him, one hand clutching at his face while he panted his exertion from their fight. Between his fingers Sniper could see why the Spy had thrown that uncharacteristic punch - his knife had sliced a neat line up through the side of his blue mask, a thin trickle of blood running down his gloved hand. He looked cagey, and Sniper would almost describe his stance as nervous.
Bookmarked by hum
09 Nov 2023
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Young and stupid. Picking up smoking because a pretty girl did too.
...She might’ve still been young and stupid. She was still smoking, after all.
Bookmarked by hum
17 Oct 2023