[ The day after their argument, he keeps his word and texts her again. It takes him some time to craft a message, most of the morning. Eventually he gives up on tweaking it and sends it. ]
I'm sorry about yesterday. I got upset when I found out you had experienced two years of time passing after I died, and it took a little time to press through it. I was right to tell you to wait until today, so I'm kind of glad I gave it a time limit and all.
I reread our conversation. I can see why you would have taken it as me being condescending to you. I truly did not mean it that way. I was literally just asking if it got through to you. I will think about how I word things better in the future.
As far as it being a pattern with me, I am not sure. I do need to watch out for you in a lot of circumstances and I've gotten used to that being the case. I know you're an adult and you make your own decisions. That's all fine with me, because it has to be.
As far as us continuing to talk. I need to tell you sometimes things come up where I find it painful. I don't mean to be pushing you away. And I don't intend to give you the silent treatment or anything. Not here, not after what happened under the Dome. But occasionally I may have to just say stop like I did yesterday and that's going to be all you hear for a day or so. Sorry.
Can you please explain to me what has been happening to you for two years. I know you met some people on the rig who helped you improve, so you say. What else happened?
[ She honestly wasn't sure he'd do it. She half expected him to run away from the conversation like he always does, that she'd have to either get on his ass about it or let it go so as not to risk fucking everything up again.
But no, he keeps his word. And he sounds... off. She sits staring at the message for a long time, typing and deleting impulsive statements she knows she'd regret. She doesn't want to lose him again. She really doesn't.
But it also feels like she can't win. Like if she pushes too hard, he'll give up on her anyway. ]
okay. fine. i don't want to hurt you. you know that, right
[ She almost regrets including that, once she does send it. Does he? Isn't that the problem, here? ]
after you died, after i shot wash, i was on the run. same as we were, just on my own except for delta. for months. honestly it kinda all blurs together, now. spent a lot of time drunk in shitty motels, if i'm honest
[ Lonely. Full of guilt. Full of rage at herself. ]
then i got dragged to the rig and i was there a little over nine months. the rest is history
you may not mean shit that way, drew, but it's been this way for as long as i can remember. and honestly, it being okay with you because 'it has to be' isn't
that doesn't actually sound like it's okay with you??
and i don't know how the fuck to reconcile any of this with you also not worrying about me as much because things aren't the same as they were
[ A few emotions flash through her before she settles on genuine relief and happiness for Ducky. Several of which make no sense and she won't give the dignity of acknowledging, because offering Ducky a contract wasn't on the cards—not unless she really needed it. She needs an out, in relationships like... like... in relationships, of all kinds, friends included. There's no burn it to the ground out of a contract if things go sour. Hell, she feels weird about contracts in general. So fuck those emotions, be glad for Ducky. ]
oh sweet you got your shit all sorted, knew you'd find someone that suited you
[ ...wait. The name. She actually knows two Felixes, now, but one's the annoying asshole across the hall contracted to Wash. The other is... ah. Hm. ]
It's after a visit from Ducky at South's apartment that she'll discover a small gift wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. Inside is a small piece of wood carved into a compass rose--except instead of pointing to N for North, there's an intricately curved S.
There's also a card.
Do they still celebrate Christmas in space? If not, I hope you'll accept the sentiment regardless. Merry Christmas, South.
It catches her by surprise, in small part because the holiday had all but entirely slipped her mind in any practical sense with everything going in, but in a much larger part because she can't remember the last time she got a gift. Let alone something so... personalised? So she stands and just looks it over, for a while, after she finds it, absolutely not smiling like a fool to herself, shut up, before deciding to at least text a thanks.
some of us still celebrate christmas in space, yeah. merry christmas, ducky, and thank you, this is beautiful
and i double super owe you that fuckin fancy dinner now. soon
[ wash really mostly needs to get out of his own head. going after felix was probably a bad idea, but he needed to, and now the result is a blow to his shoulder that's going to take a while to heal up and -- other, more long-lasting consequences. as always when wash needs to distract himself and pour himself into something, he tends to focus on other people, and so his thoughts had eventually turned to south.
it's been a few days since his little trip to the down, and wash shows up at south's door with a knock. and also whiskey. he's just always going to bring some over now, it's not like he'll get through any of it on his own. ]
-- Hey. [ friendly, warm, as much of a smile as he'll ever have, lifting the bottle a bit. ] Not interrupting anything, am I?
[ he's just here to chill out. and maybe ask you some things. ]
[ She answers the door looking either completely set for a lazy ass day around the house, or like she's about to go workout—it's legitimately hard to tell with her, her choice of casualwear is mostly sportswear. But no, it's the former, she's just been chilling out watching some truly, truly trashy Duplicity TV because she almost no social life to speak of, so. It's still running inside. ]
Nah, not really. Just kinda having a day in. [ she glances at the bottle and snorts a laugh, she hasn't even finished the bottles in her place yet despite some of her worse nights with bad choices made ] You coming in or just making a booze delivery?
[ Yes, she's being a shit. The implication in the question is obvious enough, she's just like this. ]
This is your reminder that you have three weeks to find a contract. Unfortunately, I may not be able to make all the introductions I was planning, as I've sustained an injury and will be slower about everything for a while.
[ So, considering what Sombra wants here, she is obviously aware that she needs to reveal herself. But for these first few messages, she decides to intentionally keep herself obscured by an online handle and a little profile picture that's not a face, but a digital purple sugar skull - just a little mystery, for the fun of it. ]
sooo i hear someone's in jail for...... hm, what is it, failure to establish a contract in a timely manner? seems unfair i wonder, though, what exactly do you need to get out of there? and will they keep you until you get it?
[ You know, as if she doesn't know the answers to those questions already. ]
[ South just about jumps out of her skin when her silent grumbling is actually interrupted by a ding from her device. She knows she should probably subject herself to the mortifying fucking ordeal that is posting asking for contract help for the second time, but she hasn't yet, so she's hardly expecting messages.
Opening it really doesn't make things all that much clearer. What in the fuck... ]
unfair's a fucking word for it, sure
yeah, they're gonna keep me here til i get a contract. because that's how this bullshit system works
[ It's more snippy about the system than she should probably be even in private message chains but like. Sense never stopped her before. ]
[ It's already been a little while since she's been home, having spent the night out god knows where (cowboy, she's with her cowboy again), and yet, ]
ok so i'm going to ✨act out✨ again and this time you can't tell me not to mostly bc it's not really acting out but, you know, that makes it way less fun
that explains absolutely fucking nothing do you realise that actually why am i asking ofc you do but like that in NO way reassures me ur not doing something citation worthy anyway
Temple knocks nervously on the door of South’s apartment. A blue diamond almost - but not quite - blends into his light blue shirt. And though it’s barely visible, the effect it has on his behavior is not at all subtle.
But Temple’s oblivious to it, unaware of just how unusual his current behavior is. To him, it just feels like he changed his mind a little - though in reality, it wasn’t exactly him doing it and it was far more than just a little.
After months of trying not to interact with any of the Freelancers, trying to stay out of their way and hoping they’d stay out of his, Temple’s finally decided to approach them again.
Because this week, he’s been thinking about the conversations he’s had with North and York and Carolina - and with South, he supposes, though he had less of one with her than with the others.
And he’s thinking that, since none of them intended for Biff to die or for any of the sim troopers to be hurt or manipulated, he should really just… let it go. Give up on his grudge, give up on revenge, give up on all of it. That it really isn’t worth it, especially now that he is in Duplicity.
So, Temple’s here to tell South that, to tell her that he forgives her and the rest of Project Freelancer for everything.
South's own sticker effects are... subtler, in that there's no obvious way for her to notice her flip from selfish to selfless just internally, especially not when when she's been trying to get less selfish lately anyway—to whatever limited degree of success, success that mostly applies to a few people. Around Sombra and Ducky, with who she spends most of her social time, it's barely going to register.
But Sombra and Ducky are out, right now, and now that South's getting accustomed to no longer having a deadly silent apartment all the time, it is actually now sometimes nice to have the place to herself. What she doesn't expect to happen is visitors. Neither of the others tend to invite people over, so as she gets up her only assumption is Wash—
Which is obviously immediately thrown out as soon as she opens the door.
"...Temple?" That's his name, right? Right. She hasn't seen him in... god, how fucking many months now? Since they were in memories. Since... North was still here. Christ, things have changed since then. Half of them have disappeared.
[ South's pettier side almost makes her ignore it. Almost. Her head thunks back against the wall behind the bed (empty, still so fucking empty), her eyes scrunch shut and she swallows down that urge to act out again. Deep breath, then she lifts her head again. ]
[ It's somewhere around 2am, about two weeks after Sombra's disappeared from the city and since her number was abruptly disconnected, when a series of new messages suddenly arrive (making South's phone incessantly beep even if she'd put it on sleep mode): ]
[ South, who does not get enough texts to realise the system's been fucked in advance— ]
dude what the fuck is with ur username????
[ YES she knows what the code means, it's the only reason she knows its him at a glance before she sees their other messages, but WHY is he messaging it her under that name?
Obviously she does not notice her own UN has changed. ]
[ when south and sombra awake from the cuddle pile that wash happened to find them in, south will find some of the mess around them taken care of -- not all, but enough to notice. there's some cleared out space on the coffee table, and resting in the middle of it all will be wash's helmet, polished steel grey with the yellow trim, faceplate gleaming in the light.
he's attached some text files to it (somehow!). one for sombra that will take her at least a bit of work to get into, but the one for south isn't behind anything at all. ]
South:
I think we're both thinking of where you might end up when we go through those doors. Whatever happens there, will happen. But I want to tell you this:
You've been through a lot of shit in your life, but you've always picked yourself up again. You dust yourself off and you go forward, but it's not just that. You kept going forward and you kept growing. And when shit gets tough, sometimes you'd want to steel yourself against the world, but you could never help how much you cared, how much your momentum would still carry you forward and past it and through. You kept letting people in. You looked at who you were and decided that wasn't all you wanted to be, and you made it happen. And I think those things make you one of the strongest people I know.
I wish more of the others had been able to see the kind of person you've chosen to be. But I'm glad that I got to bear witness to it. Almost makes sex hell worth it.
Sorry that I'm disappointing you one last time. But thanks for having my back -- and for reminding me what having a family felt like.
[ You're just going to do this to her? Make her feel emotions? In her own home? Aren't there enough of those going around? Sombra's sat there decoding her own message as South's honestly blinking back tears—not that she'd admit it if pressed. Over two fucking years, it's been. Over a year here. Over a year with Wash and— fuck. ]
goodbye to you too, asshole fucking leaving us this shit and pissing off
look im no good at this sentimental shit but thanks for giving me a chance couldntve blamed you if you didnt want to fucking deal with me but yeah family, huh
[ Typed but not sent: ]
never thought i'd have a brother again
[ He is so getting his ass kicked when this all turns out to be a false alarm. ]
[ The text continues like that, automatic, a constant scroll of purple Sombra text on South's phone that only disappears once South presses the little skull in the middle, that then takes her to her actual messages with the little menace. (Don't you just love having a little hacking gremlin in your life, South?)
Whether or not South fell asleep in the night, even if she's right there in the house with her little sleeping beauty, there's a certain point in the night where Sombra is left alone. And it's there, in the tiniest of windows between the shifts that South and Wash have been taking to watch over her while she sleeps for the past three goddamn weeks, almost, that Sombra awakens, alone and lightheaded, to the hum of her electronics.
She then promptly decides she wants Taco Slut Hut. Which means... ]
[ Before Sombra says a single thing to South: a fucking citation notification arrives on South's phone. A brand new one, for one Olivia Colomar as usual, sentenced to three days in the People Zoo for blatantly breaking curfew. (And apparently, biting a guard again.) Pointedly: No bail. ]
ONCE YOU'VE BEEN BOMBED, YOU HAVE TO BOMB 8 OTHER PEOPLE! IF YOU GET BOMBED AGAIN YOULL KNOW YOUR REALLY SEXY!!1 IF YOU DIFFUSE THE SEX BOMB CHAIN, YOULL SUFFER A VERY UNSEXY BRAIN INJURY! BOMB WHOEVER YOU THINK IS SEXY!!
*** NO BOMBING BACK — [He just forwarded this from Castiel to eight random people, blame the angel. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯]
[ Even when she's on her back, when it's South on top of her, it's because it's exactly where Sombra wants to be. It's where she wants South to be, trapped between her thighs as Sombra keeps her close, pants and moans and claws, blindly, at South’s back as their bodies move together.
Perfect, they fit together perfectly and Sombra doesn’t want to be anywhere else.
Her lips are never far, either pressed to South’s in a messy, desperate kiss, or leaving a trail of kisses all over her face, just - always close, warm and pretty and close, her breath hot against her skin as she makes those unrestrained noises of hers that South has come to know so intimately. Her noisy little partner, in all her little (and not so little) moan-screaming glory - noisy now still, really, even as she drifts into something sweeter. As the world narrows, surrounds the two of them and two of them only, as she just- breathes with her, deep and shaking. As she drifts into one of her particularly affectionate moods, sweet and desperate as she clings to Anja like she’s a lifeline, kissing at her face haphazardly with the haziness of all her love she's somehow managed to collect in her heart.
The little buzz of her favourite toy (custom made by Sombra herself, of course) to use with Anja gets easily lost in her noises, the music she's left playing in the background, the way they're both so deeply wrapped up in one another. She's swept away by it, lost in some beautiful moment with someone she loves and breathless, all at once her affection tips over and spills out - and instead of the te amos she tends to give in moments like these, what spills out instead, sudden and quick, a sentence in a single breath- ]
-make our contract permanent.
[ A shaking breath, fingers threaded through blonde hair, and Sombra gasps in a breath before she's kissing her again, slipping words between, ] Quiero ser tuyo.
[ It's always so easy to just let herself drown in Sombra—take that as literally or metaphorically as you like, either would be true. There haven't been many places in her life where South has felt comfortable being the quieter presence in the room, to not want to puff herself up and act even bigger than she is, but with Sombra it's simple; in the bedroom and out of it, Sombra is loud and consuming and South wouldn't have it any other way.
She's never still, not her hands, not her body, not her lips. She is Sombra's, and Sombra is hers, and for a moment she doesn't even register the switch in Sombra's verbalisations. Just for a moment, before her arousal-addled brain actually catches up with her ears and, half-muffled in kisses, ] —wait, what did you just say?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Text, un: luckyducky
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oh hey ducky
p alright, actually? y'know, all things considered
got some of the weird bullshit from the other week cleared up, so
you? you good?
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text: un: carolina
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[ Why yes, South does do a little bit of a double take when she realises who this text comes from. ]
eh, i'm fine. getting used to shit. so holding up about as well as any of us, probably
[ Mostly. But things being a bit weird for her are a given, she's dealing. ...mostly. ]
you? haven't had as much an excuse to see you around as the others
[ Most of those excuses being related to said weirdness, honestly. ]
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text; un: englishman
I'm sorry about yesterday. I got upset when I found out you had experienced two years of time passing after I died, and it took a little time to press through it. I was right to tell you to wait until today, so I'm kind of glad I gave it a time limit and all.
I reread our conversation. I can see why you would have taken it as me being condescending to you. I truly did not mean it that way. I was literally just asking if it got through to you. I will think about how I word things better in the future.
As far as it being a pattern with me, I am not sure. I do need to watch out for you in a lot of circumstances and I've gotten used to that being the case. I know you're an adult and you make your own decisions. That's all fine with me, because it has to be.
As far as us continuing to talk. I need to tell you sometimes things come up where I find it painful. I don't mean to be pushing you away. And I don't intend to give you the silent treatment or anything. Not here, not after what happened under the Dome. But occasionally I may have to just say stop like I did yesterday and that's going to be all you hear for a day or so. Sorry.
Can you please explain to me what has been happening to you for two years. I know you met some people on the rig who helped you improve, so you say. What else happened?
no subject
[ She honestly wasn't sure he'd do it. She half expected him to run away from the conversation like he always does, that she'd have to either get on his ass about it or let it go so as not to risk fucking everything up again.
But no, he keeps his word. And he sounds... off. She sits staring at the message for a long time, typing and deleting impulsive statements she knows she'd regret. She doesn't want to lose him again. She really doesn't.
But it also feels like she can't win. Like if she pushes too hard, he'll give up on her anyway. ]
okay. fine. i don't want to hurt you. you know that, right
[ She almost regrets including that, once she does send it. Does he? Isn't that the problem, here? ]
after you died, after i shot wash, i was on the run. same as we were, just on my own except for delta. for months. honestly it kinda all blurs together, now. spent a lot of time drunk in shitty motels, if i'm honest
[ Lonely. Full of guilt. Full of rage at herself. ]
then i got dragged to the rig and i was there a little over nine months. the rest is history
you may not mean shit that way, drew, but it's been this way for as long as i can remember. and honestly, it being okay with you because 'it has to be' isn't
that doesn't actually sound like it's okay with you??
and i don't know how the fuck to reconcile any of this with you also not worrying about me as much because things aren't the same as they were
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text; un: luckyducky
no subject
[ A few emotions flash through her before she settles on genuine relief and happiness for Ducky. Several of which make no sense and she won't give the dignity of acknowledging, because offering Ducky a contract wasn't on the cards—not unless she really needed it. She needs an out, in relationships like... like... in relationships, of all kinds, friends included. There's no burn it to the ground out of a contract if things go sour. Hell, she feels weird about contracts in general. So fuck those emotions, be glad for Ducky. ]
oh sweet you got your shit all sorted, knew you'd find someone that suited you
[ ...wait. The name. She actually knows two Felixes, now, but one's the annoying asshole across the hall contracted to Wash. The other is... ah. Hm. ]
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Holiday Gift
There's also a card.
Do they still celebrate Christmas in space? If not, I hope you'll accept the sentiment regardless. Merry Christmas, South.
Ducky
no subject
It catches her by surprise, in small part because the holiday had all but entirely slipped her mind in any practical sense with everything going in, but in a much larger part because she can't remember the last time she got a gift. Let alone something so... personalised? So she stands and just looks it over, for a while, after she finds it, absolutely not smiling like a fool to herself, shut up, before deciding to at least text a thanks.
some of us still celebrate christmas in space, yeah. merry christmas, ducky, and thank you, this is beautiful
and i double super owe you that fuckin fancy dinner now. soon
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hot or not at captcha so MOVING IT HERE
What do you take 'this kind of thing' to be?
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giving subtle or not-so-subtle warnings not to hurt someone, duh
[ 'Someone you give a shit about' is not said, but. Yeah. Implied. ]
tho i'm really not the subtle kind
like. at all. usually i just go to outright threats TBH
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well this notif didn't come through. suuuper late sorry
been there, no worries!
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action, sometime early march
it's been a few days since his little trip to the down, and wash shows up at south's door with a knock. and also whiskey. he's just always going to bring some over now, it's not like he'll get through any of it on his own. ]
-- Hey. [ friendly, warm, as much of a smile as he'll ever have, lifting the bottle a bit. ] Not interrupting anything, am I?
[ he's just here to chill out. and maybe ask you some things. ]
no subject
[ She answers the door looking either completely set for a lazy ass day around the house, or like she's about to go workout—it's legitimately hard to tell with her, her choice of casualwear is mostly sportswear. But no, it's the former, she's just been chilling out watching some truly, truly trashy Duplicity TV because she almost no social life to speak of, so. It's still running inside. ]
Nah, not really. Just kinda having a day in. [ she glances at the bottle and snorts a laugh, she hasn't even finished the bottles in her place yet despite some of her worse nights with bad choices made ] You coming in or just making a booze delivery?
[ Yes, she's being a shit. The implication in the question is obvious enough, she's just like this. ]
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text; un: luckyducky - foredated 3-10
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[ Whoa hey what the fuck. ]
whoa hey what the fuck nevermind any contract shit rn you’re hurt????
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horny singles in your area!
finally gets to this
[ ...y'know what this is actually infinitely less awkward with an actual stranger. ]
congrats you're the first one i've had that's someone i don't already know
this shit being as creepily fucking accurate about what you're into too or what
\o/
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text; un: azúcar
sooo
i hear someone's in jail for...... hm, what is it, failure to establish a contract in a timely manner?
seems unfair
i wonder, though, what exactly do you need to get out of there?
and will they keep you until you get it?
[ You know, as if she doesn't know the answers to those questions already. ]
no subject
[ South just about jumps out of her skin when her silent grumbling is actually interrupted by a ding from her device. She knows she should probably subject herself to the mortifying fucking ordeal that is posting asking for contract help for the second time, but she hasn't yet, so she's hardly expecting messages.
Opening it really doesn't make things all that much clearer. What in the fuck... ]
unfair's a fucking word for it, sure
yeah, they're gonna keep me here til i get a contract. because that's how this bullshit system works
[ It's more snippy about the system than she should probably be even in private message chains but like. Sense never stopped her before. ]
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text; un: azúcar
ok so i'm going to ✨act out✨ again and this time you can't tell me not to
mostly bc it's not really acting out but, you know, that makes it way less fun
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that explains absolutely fucking nothing do you realise that
actually why am i asking ofc you do
but like that in NO way reassures me ur not doing something citation worthy anyway
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Action; backdated to 5/27 - 6/1 (COLOR THEORY); mentions of unethical experimentation, death, war
(continued cws: manipulation/altered mental states)
Temple knocks nervously on the door of South’s apartment. A blue diamond almost - but not quite - blends into his light blue shirt. And though it’s barely visible, the effect it has on his behavior is not at all subtle.
But Temple’s oblivious to it, unaware of just how unusual his current behavior is. To him, it just feels like he changed his mind a little - though in reality, it wasn’t exactly him doing it and it was far more than just a little.
After months of trying not to interact with any of the Freelancers, trying to stay out of their way and hoping they’d stay out of his, Temple’s finally decided to approach them again.
Because this week, he’s been thinking about the conversations he’s had with North and York and Carolina - and with South, he supposes, though he had less of one with her than with the others.
And he’s thinking that, since none of them intended for Biff to die or for any of the sim troopers to be hurt or manipulated, he should really just… let it go. Give up on his grudge, give up on revenge, give up on all of it. That it really isn’t worth it, especially now that he is in Duplicity.
So, Temple’s here to tell South that, to tell her that he forgives her and the rest of Project Freelancer for everything.
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South's own sticker effects are... subtler, in that there's no obvious way for her to notice her flip from selfish to selfless just internally, especially not when when she's been trying to get less selfish lately anyway—to whatever limited degree of success, success that mostly applies to a few people. Around Sombra and Ducky, with who she spends most of her social time, it's barely going to register.
But Sombra and Ducky are out, right now, and now that South's getting accustomed to no longer having a deadly silent apartment all the time, it is actually now sometimes nice to have the place to herself. What she doesn't expect to happen is visitors. Neither of the others tend to invite people over, so as she gets up her only assumption is Wash—
Which is obviously immediately thrown out as soon as she opens the door.
"...Temple?" That's his name, right? Right. She hasn't seen him in... god, how fucking many months now? Since they were in memories. Since... North was still here. Christ, things have changed since then. Half of them have disappeared.
sorry for the wait!
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sorry for the long wait! (discussion of death, violence)
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un: vaquero
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ah fuckin shit what happened????
am i about to regret not coming to that thing bc she overdid it
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text; un: 💜
go to sleep already u've been scrolling for hours
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[ South's pettier side almost makes her ignore it. Almost. Her head thunks back against the wall behind the bed (empty, still so fucking empty), her eyes scrunch shut and she swallows down that urge to act out again. Deep breath, then she lifts her head again. ]
sombra you are also awake
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text; un: 💜💦pussy💦💀 (1/5)
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(5/5)
1/2
2/2
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text; un: d4ddyd0m
Cat's out of the bag.
text; un: br4t2bt4med
[ South, who does not get enough texts to realise the system's been fucked in advance— ]
dude what the fuck is with ur username????
[ YES she knows what the code means, it's the only reason she knows its him at a glance before she sees their other messages, but WHY is he messaging it her under that name?
Obviously she does not notice her own UN has changed. ]
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text; un: recovery
text; un: dakota
wait why am i saying oh shit
or. wait should i be saying oh shit?
[ ... ]
i mean for besides assumedly other merc related reasons to say oh shit
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1/2 lmao
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v backdated to when we were all being gaslit into going home
he's attached some text files to it (somehow!). one for sombra that will take her at least a bit of work to get into, but the one for south isn't behind anything at all. ]
South:
I think we're both thinking of where you might end up when we go through those doors. Whatever happens there, will happen. But I want to tell you this:
You've been through a lot of shit in your life, but you've always picked yourself up again. You dust yourself off and you go forward, but it's not just that. You kept going forward and you kept growing. And when shit gets tough, sometimes you'd want to steel yourself against the world, but you could never help how much you cared, how much your momentum would still carry you forward and past it and through. You kept letting people in. You looked at who you were and decided that wasn't all you wanted to be, and you made it happen. And I think those things make you one of the strongest people I know.
I wish more of the others had been able to see the kind of person you've chosen to be. But I'm glad that I got to bear witness to it. Almost makes sex hell worth it.
Sorry that I'm disappointing you one last time. But thanks for having my back -- and for reminding me what having a family felt like.
-- Wash.
text, un: dakota
goodbye to you too, asshole
fucking leaving us this shit and pissing off
look im no good at this sentimental shit but
thanks
for giving me a chance
couldntve blamed you if you didnt want to fucking deal with me
but
yeah
family, huh
[ Typed but not sent: ]
never thought i'd have a brother again[ He is so getting his ass kicked when this all turns out to be a false alarm. ]
text; un: ✨ tu amor 💜💋
[ The text continues like that, automatic, a constant scroll of purple Sombra text on South's phone that only disappears once South presses the little skull in the middle, that then takes her to her actual messages with the little menace. (Don't you just love having a little hacking gremlin in your life, South?)
Once there: ]
SHE'S A STRAY AGAIN I WANT HER FR THIS TIME
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jfc u can just text me like a normal person yknow when have i ever ignored one of your texts
who's a stray. the bongo cat?
[ She knows exactly who Sombra's talking about she's not that stupid, but she's gonna make you say it Sombra. ]
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1/3
Whether or not South fell asleep in the night, even if she's right there in the house with her little sleeping beauty, there's a certain point in the night where Sombra is left alone. And it's there, in the tiniest of windows between the shifts that South and Wash have been taking to watch over her while she sleeps for the past three goddamn weeks, almost, that Sombra awakens, alone and lightheaded, to the hum of her electronics.
She then promptly decides she wants Taco Slut Hut. Which means... ]
2/3
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text; un: брз << fwd; un: castiel
( ) ) *
)\ ) ( /( ( ( /( ( ` (
(()/(( )\()) ( )\ )\()) )\))( ( )\
/(_))\ ((_)\ )((_|(_)\ ((_)()\ )((_)
(_))((_)__((_) ((_)_ ((_)(_()((_|(_)_
/ __| __\ \/ / | _ )/ _ \| \/ || _ )
\__ \ _| > < | _ \ (_) | |\/| || _ \
|___/___/_/\_\ |___/\___/|_| |_||___/
ONCE YOU'VE BEEN BOMBED, YOU HAVE TO BOMB 8 OTHER PEOPLE! IF YOU GET BOMBED AGAIN YOULL KNOW YOUR REALLY SEXY!!1 IF YOU DIFFUSE THE SEX BOMB CHAIN, YOULL SUFFER A VERY UNSEXY BRAIN INJURY! BOMB WHOEVER YOU THINK IS SEXY!!
*** NO BOMBING BACK
—
[He just forwarded this from Castiel to eight random people, blame the angel. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯]
let's GOOOOOOO
Perfect, they fit together perfectly and Sombra doesn’t want to be anywhere else.
Her lips are never far, either pressed to South’s in a messy, desperate kiss, or leaving a trail of kisses all over her face, just - always close, warm and pretty and close, her breath hot against her skin as she makes those unrestrained noises of hers that South has come to know so intimately. Her noisy little partner, in all her little (and not so little) moan-screaming glory - noisy now still, really, even as she drifts into something sweeter. As the world narrows, surrounds the two of them and two of them only, as she just- breathes with her, deep and shaking. As she drifts into one of her particularly affectionate moods, sweet and desperate as she clings to Anja like she’s a lifeline, kissing at her face haphazardly with the haziness of all her love she's somehow managed to collect in her heart.
The little buzz of her favourite toy (custom made by Sombra herself, of course) to use with Anja gets easily lost in her noises, the music she's left playing in the background, the way they're both so deeply wrapped up in one another. She's swept away by it, lost in some beautiful moment with someone she loves and breathless, all at once her affection tips over and spills out - and instead of the te amos she tends to give in moments like these, what spills out instead, sudden and quick, a sentence in a single breath- ]
-make our contract permanent.
[ A shaking breath, fingers threaded through blonde hair, and Sombra gasps in a breath before she's kissing her again, slipping words between, ] Quiero ser tuyo.
\o/
[ It's always so easy to just let herself drown in Sombra—take that as literally or metaphorically as you like, either would be true. There haven't been many places in her life where South has felt comfortable being the quieter presence in the room, to not want to puff herself up and act even bigger than she is, but with Sombra it's simple; in the bedroom and out of it, Sombra is loud and consuming and South wouldn't have it any other way.
She's never still, not her hands, not her body, not her lips. She is Sombra's, and Sombra is hers, and for a moment she doesn't even register the switch in Sombra's verbalisations. Just for a moment, before her arousal-addled brain actually catches up with her ears and, half-muffled in kisses, ] —wait, what did you just say?
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Dinner Party Invite (yes, i know south doesn't remember dup but temple hasn't realized that yet)
un: dakota
[ You ever just have the weirdest fucking day... as if turning up in sex city wasn't weird enough, now she's already getting texts? ]
okay so who the FUCK is this
un:icechess | text
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🐙 text ; un: mordor ; invite for birthday bash + renaming party at/for jolene's 🏴☠️
would love to have you there :)