#shclia

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Send “Hold on, please.” for my muse to die in your muse’s arms.

     Red.     His fingers … they were red: sticky, metallic, gory red … and not of that of someone else, either.  His hand trembled, and with no control of his own, his eyes collapsed downward toward the gaping hole in his abdomen.

     ❛That’s …❜

     The expression in the young man’s eyes betrayed his usual surety: he looked lost, confused, and definitely not fully aware of the situation unfolding.  He was in shock … He was dying.

     Still at a loss for words, he peered upward, meeting the eyes of a stranger … wait, no– he had seen her somewhere else before, but where?     It’s hard to explain exactly why he laughed in that moment: perhaps the shock was still yet to dissipate, or perhaps it was a moment of defense in the face of defeat.  Maybe he just had an extremely sick sense of humour.  It’s hard to say– regardless, the laugh was quiet and meek, barely an echo of his usually obnoxious, maniacal cackle.  He wheezed a wet, struggling breath, and blood trickled from his mouth to the tip of his chin in a painfully slow, inevitable fashion.

     ❛That– f-fuck … that was … a real doozy.❜

Oh? He would be the shiniest omnic in the world with this polish! He hoped her lips wouldn’t be cold, considering his metal plate could get quite cool inside the facilities.

mfmghn hopes and dreams starts playing, junkrat mcfreakin loses it

Send Jumin bad pick-up lines.