#also i lost her my game keeps freezing or loading forever

[literalite]

ok so this is my evil sim style vs my . regular one i GUESS HAHA but based on what u guys told me bright colours, sharper and smaller features, more cartoony + alpha hair was the opposite of what i have already going on. and then because my head was aching afterwards i hit this lady with a hammer until she was recognisable to me

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, ART! You’ve been accepted for the role of EDMUND with an approved FC change to Max Irons. Admin Minnie: I knew this was a winner while reading your plots Art, but it was your para sample that really left me speechless. The way you showed us how he had suffered and how he had ached, all that bitterness and resentment and ambition and pride... it was so clear how deep your love for Edmund goes. I am thrilled to see someone with such an intimate, intense grasp on Easton’s soul. Please stay forever, and please ruin us for the rest of your life! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Art

Age | 19

Preferred Pronouns | He/him

Activity Level | Well here’s the thing about quarantine. I will be spending the next two-three months in a house, all day, every day, with consistent access to a laptop. I also lost my job and because the US economy is a flaming pile of garbagé, I don’t imagine getting another any time soon, especially since all my skills are in food. All this to say, I believe I will be incredibly active, outside of my Skype’d classes and grocery runs and whatnot.

Timezone | MST

How did you find the rp?  | A discord friend DM’d it to me after I went on a rant about Edmund and the layers to his “Thou, Nature, art my Goddess” soliloquy. They know me so well, and acceptances were literally in like six hours from when I got the link, so I sat my butt down, put down my real-world obligations for a moment, and typed this whole thing out like I was writing an unstarted essay due at midnight.

Current/Past RP Accounts | All my old RP writing is from years ago and is, frankly, really really bad. Thank you for making this optional.

IN CHARACTER

Character | Edmund or Easton Craven. I love Daniel Sharman’s wonderful, gorgeous face with my whole heart (hello gay awakening), but I’d like to use Max Irons instead, if at all possible.

What drew you to this character? | So, my love of Easton/Edmund actually began about a year ago, when I cut my hair and started playing around with names and different clothes. I was in a Shakespeare class at my college, and it was a requirement that we perform a monologue. It didn’t need to be Broadway-worthy, we just needed to deliver it, and we could do this as often as we liked. I performed two. One from a play we had read and analyzed, as my professor asked, and I did another. That second one was Edmund’s “Thou, Nature” soliloquy. It was the first time I performed as a guy to an audience that thought I was a guy, not a girl playing dress up. So I have a really strong emotional connection to Edmund, regardless of the form he’s in.

I was really excited by this particular version of him, however, because I thought it played right along the line of a monstrous asshole and charming young man doing what he can to deal with the hand dealt to him. He’s both of those things, to me, and I really enjoyed that you brought that forward. Edmund, from the source, reminds me of Chris Evans’ character from Knives Out, in a way? Completely self-motivated, selfish and cruel, and yet really fun and charming, as long as it isn’t you he’s screwing over at the time. I know he isn’t that character and I’m honestly really glad for it. I just found a similarity there.

I just really like those kinds of characters in fiction, and that, combined with my emotional ties and vague debt to the source character, meant I arrived and started writing as fast as I could.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

These are all ideas, nothing here is set in stone, and are entirely dependent on the beauty of the other writers free will.

Some Twelve or Fourteen Moonshines Lag of a Brother: From the get-go of this awful experience known as the human existence, Easton has existed just slightly behind Everett, just enough to keep the guy freezing in the shadows. It’s the last name, the mannerisms, and the goddamn eyes that sit in his skull. It is a truth, acknowledged by both me and him, that there is an association to Easton he really wishes wasn’t there. This is why I want someone to look at Easton and see Easton, not a Craven.

Now, I want to pause here, and say that Easton is a lying snake of a man that would and probably will sell out his own family for one corn chip. He is completely self-centered, convinced of his superiority, and willing to bleed the world dry to get the pound of flesh he is owed. I want someone to see this, to realize there is a snake curled around the Capulet’s necks, willing to bite and kill every single one of them if it means he gets to sit comfortably on a throne of gold and bones. Because that is what he wants, he wants the world to pay for every second of misery he endured in his life. But he is charming, slippery in the way only the truly awful can be. He’s accepted the labels thrown at him and become them, which is its own kind of armor. Who doesn’t love a bad boy?

But beyond all that, he is rotten through and through. I’d like his armor to crack and reveal the duplicity underneath, maybe around someone like Maeve or Catherine, someone that might not be believed right away. I love the idea of Easton being the wolf among some very dangerous sheep, but the really, truly awful ones not realizing. This could produce a really fun dance, where the two parties involved both try really really hard to overthrow or remove the other from their position while still trying really hard to maintain a veil of normality.

But that dance is what makes this all so terribly fun. They’re on a rock, doomed to eventually die, and Easton wants his power, but why can’t he play a few games while trying to get it?

I Grow, I Prosper: Easton, poor guy, was brought into the world and then spent the next twenty-six years being told his existence and all the things that came with it were his fault. They weren’t, or at least they weren’t in the way he had been told his entire life. He has learned to move past the label of “bastard” or “illegitimate”, meeting all such claims with the certainty that he must act the part. But does his position fulfill him? Does his current lot in life spark joy? I think not! He is a captain, yes, but so is his brother. He is, at best, on equal footing with his brother and at worst, he is the younger brother desperately following behind Everett as a living shadow yet again. Easton needs to be more than Everett. He’s wanted this his entire life. The whole city needs to look at Easton and see him, not his brother, and then Easton wants to rub it in Everett’s face, lord it over him for the next century at the shortest. That is the general idea behind this plot: Everett surpassing and overcoming his brother. The fact that he’d end up lording over so many others is really just a plus!

This plot would require effort. Loads and LOADS of plotting and communication on my part, and a whole lot of cutthroat, stepping-on-literally-everyone-else-in-Verona from Easton. He is going to have to exploit the hell out of Celeste and the information she can get him, potentially leading to her downfall just so Easton can succeed. He will need Rafaella and Tiberius to trust him almost unconditionally, which, just from what I’ve seen poking around the main, seems pretty much impossible. And of course, he has to successfully and continually one-up Everett, which might be the hardest job of all, given the whole awful tangle of EmotionsTM that Easton has towards him. It’s hard for him to be clear-headed when he wants to tear Everett into little tiny pieces with his bare hands.

But hey, that is, again, the whole point of this plot: the destruction of the legitimate son. Eliminating the sun so the moon can rule 24/7.

My Services are Bound: No matter how ambitious, how desperate Easton is to rule the world, he doesn’t yet. He works for the Capulets and he is a tool used to further the wishes of those above him in this terribly illegal food chain where dog eats dog. No matter how much Easton wishes it was different, it isn’t, at least not at the moment, and he must bide his time until something better happens.

Yes, Easton is a tool, and I want him to be reminded of that. He has the ambition to rule the world, can picture himself with a crown he may never hold, but he is a knight on the chessboard. I want his ego to be checked, I want him to be taken down at the knees and reminded of the situation he is in, who he works for. Now, ideally, this would come from the Capulet family themselves and not a rogue Montague or something.

The Capulet family, in order to win this war they’ve found themselves in, need their tools to be obedient and ready to deploy at a moment’s notice. This is not the case with Easton. He’s a rebellious man, more loyal to himself than any of the lofty ideas the Capulet heads have surrounded themselves with. So the family he serves would need to get Easton back in line, somehow. They’d need to remind him who he is and whom he serves no matter what it took and use whatever tools at their disposal. This could potentially happen after Easton completely blows off a mission he was handed to advance his own agendas, which I think would probably be the best choice as it would probably send these awful shrieking sirens off in the Capulets.

I want this particular plot because Easton is so assured that he will be able to make the world pay and yet he’s just one man against so very many others.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Oh most definitely. As a writer, I am a firm believer in conditional happy endings, probably because I play so many video games. In order to get a happy ending, in order to survive, the character has to do all the right things. The likelihood of Easton doing all the right things is just tiny, absolutely microscopic.  

IN DEPTH

I was going to do both, but I’m running out of time so…

In-Character Para Sample:

There is something beautiful in standing alone, where there are no silent reminders of how Easton arrived in this world, how he stepped into it screaming and no one cared to change that. There were no side-eyes, reminding him of how unwanted he was, how utterly unworthy he was to bear the name “Craven”. No hands hiding giggles at the boy his mother ran from and his father hid away. Here, under the bowed ceiling in the transept of the Capulet’s cathedral, there was only him and God.

“I hope,” Easton began, fingers lightly running across the back of a pew likely not used for praying, “that you know what is coming.” The eyes that proclaim a taint to his family’s name were raised to dance across the ceiling. “If word is to be believed, you, an old man in the sky, a Father,” he spat out, “brought me here. Placed me here upon this Earth to do whatever it is I so wish.” A smile, small and dangerous with heavy promises was birthed on his face, an expression that could not have been more familiar to his muscles. “I suppose that’s all a father has ever done for me. Perhaps,” he mused, lightly tapping his chin as he continued to wander aimlessly among the seats of a flock absent. “Perhaps I should be grateful that both You and him are both so delightfully hands-off.”

“I suppose this rock is where You chose to put all Your bastards, isn’t it? Shoved them away from Your kingdom, making them fight for their place in Your home despite them all being Your children?” The noise that escaped Easton’s mouth was not fit for the place he stood in, but it hardly seemed to matter to him as he collapsed into a pew, feet raised to rest on a Bible, feet that had stood in a man’s blood not hours before. “I suppose that must be how it is, because we’re all made in Your image, aren’t we? And that man had to learn it from somewhere.”

His head fell back, eyes closed to the beauty above him in a silent condemnation for Who it was built for. “You’ve released yet another snake into your garden by making that woman my mother and handing me the Craven name, you know.” The observation was quiet, laced with the bitterness of cyanide, perfected over years of similar declarations. The words were familiar, not on his tongue but rather to his mind, the idea similar to ones he had kept close for years.“I have crawled in the dirt on my stomach for too long because of You, and I shall take a throne and dare You to steal it from me.”

He inhaled, once, a desperate attempt to calm the words he could feel rising like acid in his throat. It didn’t work, though Easton didn’t try very hard. He rarely did when alone. “I am owed this, you miserable old bastard,” he hissed out from behind his teeth, sounding like the snake he had just claimed to be. “I will take everything because this is Your fault, and I will make your precious sheep pay for every inch of Your mistake. It’s mine, I deserve it.” A hand was clenched into a fist in his lap and Easton shifted forward, only to slam it into the wood of the pew ahead of him. “It’s mine.”

He stood suddenly, coat rising around him like smoke rising around a fire, warning the world of the danger just over there. Turning on his heel, he left the cathedral without a look back, without a fear of God. And though there had been no one around, the air hung heavy with a question. Just which father had he been addressing?

Extras: If you have anything else you’d like to include (further headcanons, an inspo tag, a mock blog, etc), feel free to share it here! This is OPTIONAL.

I submitted this through an Easton mock blog! There was going to be stuff there but my laptop crashed and I need to eat dinner!

[stylesgalaxy]

mastermind; chapter 2

"Every character in a book serves a purpose." My creative writing professor covered that with us today. "We may not think much of their existence but at the very least, they leave our main character with an idea or a thought that could alter their path."

Next to Julia, I never really felt like the main protagonist of my own story. I was the sidekick, the supporting actress. I was the character who's existence was overlooked, but I played a major part in helping the main character. I don't know if I minded it very much. I don't want to call attention to myself, but introverts also deserve to be the main character in their stories, right?

Maybe.

But the story I wanted to live in right now, unfortunately was not mine. It was Julia Tate's and Harry Styles'. They were meant to be. They were like the type of characters you took years to write and develop so they can come to their happy ending and the world would tear up in joy. They were like the couple who the entire theatre stood up to clap for when they finally kissed.

Who was I to stand in the way of that? Not to mention, that was my own best friend's boyfriend.

You saw him first though. The jealous voice inside my head spoke.

But this isn't kindergarten. I would reply back. Those aren't the rules to the real world.

Sadly, the real rules in this world stopped me from even getting close to Harry. In another world, Harry and I easily could be best friends, something about him drew me to him and it's hard even in this world to keep us apart. But I need to keep us apart because Harry and I getting close would never lead to anything good for as long as I was friends with Julia.

"I'm home!" Julia's cheerful voice rings out as she steps in. The door to our apartment closes shut and she stands by the kitchen, grinning. I notice the copious amounts of shopping bags in her hands.

"Daddy sent you more money?" I ask bringing my coffee mug up to my face to hide my smirk.

"Oh, shut up," she grins wider, setting her bags down and opening the fridge door.

"What happened this time?"

Since Julia's parents divorced, she had been staying with her mother which meant she didn't see her father as much. She saw both of them even less since her and I moved out for university. Her father was really rich. And because he hardly heard from her, anytime she called him upset, he was quick to send his personal assistant with gifts for her or money.

He was actually the one who got us this apartment. It was in the nicer part of town and had a concierge and 24-hour security. The apartment itself was not too big though. The front door opens up to our kitchen on the right, and the living room straight ahead. If you go past the kitchen, on the right theres a very short hallway that leads straight to the bathroom, with my room on the left and Julia's on the right. Her mother had to fight her father to not get a bigger apartment because while her father was actively trying to buy her love, her mother was actively trying to keep her from getting more spoiled that she already was.

My parents on the other hand, were very grateful that Mr. Tate allowed me to stay with her and offered to pay rent but he dismissed the idea, saying I was like his own daughter. (I don't know how that works since he probably doesn't know how tall his real daughter is, much less what I look like, but I'll take it.) But I told him I wanted to pay, so he let me saying that learning how to manage your money is very important. Living with Julia was like being married. She shared her money a lot and paid for small things so I didn't have to. She had always been very cool with spending her money on me, ever since we were kids, it's just something I'll be forever indebted to her for.

"I told him I'm stressing about failing my midterms," she says, fishing out a slice of cheesecake from the fridge.

"That's all it took?" I ask in shock. If I called my father and told him I was stressed about failing my midterms he'd tell me to hang up and go study.

"I may have cried a bit."

I roll my eyes at her.

"Hey!" she exclaims, "I am stressed! I needed that money to go shopping and de-stress."

"And did you?" I smirk, knowing Julia was insatiable.

"Partially. I'm meeting up with Harry tonight, that should help loads," she says giving me a knowing look.

My gut wrenches. They've been going out for nearly two years and still, my gut wrenches.

"I'm going to go over to his, you wanna come?" she asks subtly, but it's not lost on me. Harry lives with his friends, Louis and Niall. Julia is under the impression that I have a crush on Louis and her and Harry have been trying to set us up since the semester started.

"Don't think so. I really should finish my sculpture prototype," I reply.

"Aw, come on! Louis is going to be there."

"Well, obviously. He lives there."

"It's gonna be fun! We can play a board game—"

"I thought you were gonna be fucking your boyfriend," I mutter.

"I will! After I get you and Louis talking," she says casually and digs into her cheesecake.

I shake my head and start walking back to my room.

"Wait no, don't leave! I need help," she pleads. I sigh deeply and turn back around, resting my arms on the counter. "It's Harry and I's second anniversary next week."

I know.

"I don't know what to get him," she pouts.

I know that, too.

"He always gets me such nice things, even on random days! I want to do the same for him."

I look into her sad eyes, and sigh again.

"I'll think of something," I say quietly. Julia was the worst at keeping relationships. I wasn't, and as her best friend I was obligated to help her out when she began dating. Except, "helping her out" turned to a way bigger thing with Harry. No longer was I telling Julia what she should do. Now, I just did whatever I could get away with, without Harry finding out it was me. Julia was grateful for my help and I couldn't lie and say I hated knowing I contributed to Harry's happiness in some way.

"Ah, Thank you!" Julia exclaims, running to hug me. "You're the best."

***

"Hmm, can you hold up the green one again?" I ask the lady at the gift wrapping station. She puts the bronze ribbon back and brings the green one to the light brown box. As cheesy as it sounds, the green colour reminded me strongly of Harry's eyes. I guess it's a good thing I won't be the one giving it to him. "Yeah, I think I'll go with the green one."

"I have these silver artificial flower decorations, do you want me tie it in with the ribbon?" she asks.

"Yeah, sure, that'd be nice," I say after thinking on it for a bit. They seemed a bit girly, but I knew it was something Harry would like.

She finishes wrapping the gift while I open Julia's text messages. Her last class of the day finished half an hour ago so she was home.

I'm hungry, she texts.

I'm on my way home, do u wanna order take out? I reply.

chinese?

sure.

I enjoy cooking if I'm not busy, but I've been out all day so I wasn't able to make anything. And the most Julia can cook is a box of mac and cheese, so I'm assuming we're out of that which is why she's hungry.

The lady hands me the gift in a brown paper bag and I thank her, trying to catch a bus before rush hour hits. I check the bus app and see that it's going to arrive at 5:25, so about twenty minutes. Great. Twenty minutes in the chilly fall air, with nothing but a thin jacket. I didn't realize it would be so cold today or I would have at least brought a scarf.

I start pacing and shuffling to keep my self warm. My hands are stuffed in my pockets with the bag hanging from one of my wrists. I shouldn't be here right now. I'm supposed to be working on my cardboard sculpture prototype, so I can get it done and make notes for my history seminar, and then start on my calligraphy prints. At least it was Monday which means I don't have to go to work until the weekend.

Just as I continue cursing the bus for taking so fucking long, another gust of cold wind blows in my face. My jaw locks in anger. I hate everything about this moment.

Next thing I know, a black Range Rover car pulls to a stop in front of me. I freeze in shock as the window rolls down.

"Aria?" Harry smiles at me. "What are you doing out there?"

"Freezing my tits off," I mumble quietly. Can't he see I'm waiting for the bus?

I'm not sure if he hears me or not but he chuckles and leans forward to open the passenger door.

"Get in," he says. I immediately start feeling bad.

"No, it's okay! My bus is," I check my phone for the time, 5:11, "two minutes away!"

"Don't be silly, I can't leave you out here!" he shakes his head. "I'm going to your place anyway."

Hesitantly, I step forward and get in his car. The second I shut the door, I feel the warm air from his heater surround me. I glance at Harry who gives me a small smile before driving.

It's silent between us.

For the past two years, I've tried not to let Harry get too close to me. It would be detrimental in my plans to keep him and Julia together if we became friends and he were to suddenly realize I played a bigger part in their relationship then Julia herself sometimes. I've tried countless things to shake him off. I've pretended to be super shy and quiet to get him to leave me alone, but he was simply gentler and constantly made sure I felt comfortable around him. I've tried pretending to be weirdly obsessed with odd things, but he actually found interest in the fact that male giraffes drink a female giraffes urine to ensure she's ready for mating. I've tried being a downright bitch to him, that even made Julia intervene, but he made excuses for me saying that I was just going through another phase. Nothing worked because Harry was the kindest and sweetest soul there ever was which made me sadder than it made me mad.

"What's in the bag?" he says suddenly. I stiffen for a moment.

"Uh, just some things I need for my sculpture," I answer shakily. Immediately I knew that wasn't the right answer because for some reason my art fascinated Harry.

"That's cool, can I see it?" he asks eagerly and even reaches over to peek into the bag. I slap his hand away quickly.

"No!"

"Why not?" he looks at me sadly.

"It... it can't be exposed. It's special... clay. And if it touches air it'll be ruined. I just don't want to risk it," I lie.

"Oh, ok I get it."

I lightly exhale in relief.

"Wait," he says suddenly. "Then how do you use it? If it can't touch the air?"

Fuck.

"Um..." I start sweating. "You need to work with it in a special room."

"Like a dark room?"

Not at all.

"Yes."

He nods and the conversation dies. Thank fuck Harry is a business major and has no knowledge of anything art related. He doesn't question me again until we get to the apartment.

"Harry?" Julia asks, when we walk in. "What are you doing here?"

"I missed you," he says giving her a peck on the lips. Her arms wrap around his neck. I look away and grab a plate to take some food out for myself. "Is that Chinese food?!"

"Yeah it just arrived, you want some?" I hear Julia say as I make a beeline for my room with my plate in hand.

"I'm going to be in my room," I call out and shut the door before any of them can respond. I hear Julia's loud giggling from the living room and sigh deeply before pulling my headphones over my head and blasting music.

Harry leaves a few hours later and Julia barges into my room without knocking. If it was anyone else I would have thrown a fit about my privacy, but there's nothing in my room I need to hide from Julia, and I'm used to her ways.

Julia slumps down on my bed with her head facing me. I turn around from my desk in my swivel chair and look at her expectantly.

"I have so much shit to do," she states.

"Then why are you here?" Now that I know it's nothing serious, I take this moment to unlock my phone and check my social media.

"Let's watch a movie."

"Julia, I'm busy."

"You're on your phone."

"'Cause I'm hoping you'll get the hint that I don't want to talk to you."

She throws a pillow at me and I laugh.

"Go do your work," I tell her.

"Okay, but in exactly one hour I'm dragging your ass to the living room and we're watching a movie. I don't care how much work you have to do. We need to relax."

"Fine, fine," I say waving my hand to shoo her away. She makes it just out the door before I remember. "Wait!"

I roll my chair over to my closet and fish out Harry's gift.

"Here," I say, handing it to her.

"Aria, thank you so much! I owe you!" Julia says gratefully and comes over to hug me.

"You don't, I used your card to pay for everything."

"Not that! You went out of your way to get this for me! Let's go for lunch tomorrow, I'll pay."

"You know you don't have to," I assure her. Besides, I'd gotten Harry plenty of gifts on Julia's behalf.

"No, we're going. It'll be fun!" she smiles eagerly so I nod. Julia lightly shakes the box. "The wrapping is absolutely gorgeous. Even prettier then the one you got for his birthday... what's in it?"

"Uh, a Tom Ford cologne... it's something a little new but still similar to the scents he goes for," I start but then realize what I said and look up at Julia, "... I think." She doesn't seem fazed, so I continue. "A framed photo of you two and his favourite chocolates."

"Wow, that sounds amazing... thank you again, Aria, you're a really good friend," she says sincerely. I smile shyly at her. "I might have to take you out for dinner, too," she teases.

"Okay, but only if it's that new Italian restaurant."

She nods excitedly. Then she pauses, "Can I ask you something?"

I freeze for a second, dreading the worst.

"Sure."

"Why do you avoid Harry so much? I think you two would get along so well."

"I don't avoid him," I say dismissively.

"You do!" she insisted. "Look, I'm not mad at you, it's just that... I think it's hurting his feelings."

"Really?" I ask quietly. My insides feel like lead. I hurt his feelings? All these years I put him through my stupid phases to shake him off me to protect (mainly) myself, and not once did I think about what he would feel like.

"He hides it pretty well, but I see him looking at your door sometimes, wondering why you never hang out with us," she says.

"Okay, wait—I'm not gonna sit there and watch you guys make out like a third wheel in my own home," I argue.

"We wouldn't make out if you were there," she rolls her eyes. "And not only that, you always run to your room when he's here. And he told me about your conversation on the way here. He senses that you don't want to talk to him."

I sighed heavily. The last thing I wanted was for Harry to feel bad. I don't care if I felt bad because I was the bad one for loving my best friend's boyfriend, he was completely innocent. But Harry is also a grown ass man and there's only so much I can do. I hate to think this, but he's going to have to deal with my cold behaviour because I clearly drew the short stick in this situation.

"Can you just at least try to make an effort to be friendlier to him?" Julia pleads. "Please? It would mean the world." I look at her forlornly. "I just want to know that my best friend and boyfriend get along! I mean we're about to celebrate our third anniversary! He means a lot to me."

I shouldn't be surprised, I really shouldn't. They'd been dating for two years and Julia has never stayed with any guy for more than a few months. And from what I heard about Harry, he hadn't either until he met Julia. They belong together. But that doesn't make it any easier for me.

I choose my next words carefully.

"The world doesn't revolve around Harry," I say simply. "I'm sorry if his feelings got hurt, but I can't cater to everyone's needs. Sometimes I just have to do what I do."

"I understand," she whispers sadly. "Thank you."

"I do get along with him, though!" I say, feeling bad. It was tough enough seeing him in love with her, and being the one to tell Julia how to love him—I didn't need to add being his friend to the list.

For fuck's sake, when am I going to catch a break?

"Okay, I can try to be nicer, but don't hold me to it if I can't. And certainly don't tell Harry about this. I don't want him to get worked up over my actions, you know how unpredictable I can be," I say eventually.

"Yes! Oh, thank you thank you thank you! I won't tell him, and I won't hold you to anything. All I'm asking for is for you to try!"

***

"Aria."

I nearly jump at the sound. It was way too early in the morning to deal with Harry, who was apparently behind me in the line at Starbucks.

"Harry," I turn around and greet him with a tight smile.

"Julia told me that she talked to you about being nicer to me," he says and I inwardly roll my eyes at Julia for doing exactly what I asked her not to.

"Harry—"

"I just want you to know that I didn't ask her to say any of that! I-I know you probably don't like me very much, but it's not something I'm holding against you. I like Julia a lot. And you're her best friend, I'm always gonna try to be friends with you, but I don't want to pressure you into anything. I don't want to cause any trouble," he says with the cutest frown on his face. He looks so adorable with his slightly ruffled hair and tired eyes. I want to wash away all signs of uncertainty from his face and have him smiling again.

"I do like you," I manage to say. "You're a really good guy, Harry, and Julia is very lucky to have you."

He stares at me intently and I have to force myself to not melt under his gaze. How does Julia handle this? I've never stared into his eyes this long and I think I'm already developing some sort of breathing issues. But he continues to stare at me, waiting for an answer. I decide I can't stand to see him displeased.

"I'm a very reserved person, I'm sure you've noticed." He nods, eager to get me to open up to him. I move up a spot in the line up. "I just have some difficulties showing my kindness sometimes, and it's something I'm trying to work on. I really didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything—if I did."

He shrugs and grins.

"It's okay," he mumbles. I feel like shit at the fact that he didn't deny me ever hurting his feelings.

"I'm sorry for being so difficult. I do want us to be friends," I say. He smiles wider now.

"Don't apologize for being the way you are. I don't mind. I'm just glad you don't hate me," he chuckles and I shake my head. Hate him? Boy, does he have it wrong.

It's my turn to order so I walk up to the register. After I tell the girl my order, I look back at Harry and wave him over. He immediately walks up to me and reaches for his wallet.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"Yeah! I was just gonna ask what you're getting," I say. I can't help the smile that spreads across my face because he's standing centimetres away from me and he smells so good.

"Oh, you don't have to–"

"I insist," I say. He looks at me for a while, biting his lip. "I'm trying to be friendlier, remember?"

"Alright," he gives in, turning to the lady. "Could I please get a Skinny Cinnamon Dolce latte?"

I have to fight Harry to pay for the drinks because he keeps insisting that he can't let me pay. I press my hands to his side and push him away but he pushes me back with his hip and hands the girl his money. While she gets his change back, I give him my meanest glare.

"Stop that, you're not scaring me," he chuckles.

"I'm not?" I question, glaring harder.

"No, because you just told me you like me," he smirks.

My heart jolts. I don't know why. Maybe it's because of the way he talks about me "liking him" so casually that it lets me pretend for a moment that we're in a relationship.

Ugh, Aria, you're so pathetic.

Nonetheless, my expression shifts slightly and Harry notices.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I'm sorry! I only said that because you said—"

I roll my eyes at him.

"Relax, Harry, I'm okay," I say. He breathes relieved and I take a moment to think about how happy he'll be when he learns that I'm way more easy going and chill than I let him believe I was for years.

We grab our drinks and leave, I try not to think about us parting soon because this run in has brightened my mood so much.

"A frappuccino?" Harry asks in disbelief when he notices the iced drink in my hand. "In this weather?"

"What? It's delicious," I argue.

"You'll get sick."

"No, I won't."

"Yes, you will."

"No, I won't."

"Whatever, it's your problem. Though you can count on me to have a nice laugh when you do get sick," he smirks.

I grin and push him off the sidewalk. "Go to your class, Harry! I've had enough of you for today and it's not even eight yet."

Harry bursts into laughter and yells out a goodbye before walking away. My smile grows wider as I make my way towards my class. This has been a wonderful morning so far, I really hope the rest of the day goes by just as nice.

***

"Quick! Which dress?!" Julia yells the second I step into our apartment. She's holding up a navy blue, maxi dress and a light pink, off the shoulder, knee length dress.

"Pink!" I choose quickly.

"Okay, good, I like that one too."

"What's it for?" I ask, properly stepping in and putting my keys away.

"My anniversary date with Harry obviously," she says absent-mindedly, stripping in the middle of the living room to change into her dress. I mentally slap myself. I completely forgotten that was today. My morning with Harry distracted me from remembering what today was. "Can you zip me?"

I walk over to zip up her dress. Julia lets her long, curled hair fall down her back. She turns around and I inspect her flawless makeup. She looks beautiful.

"You look amazing," I say.

"Thank you!" she kisses my cheek and then picks up her clothes to take to her room. I sit down and watch as she fiddles around with the straps of her shoes, then triple checks that she has everything she needs in her purse. She checks her phone about four times to ensure she hasn't missed a text from Harry. The fact that she's been on countless dates with Harry and she still gets nervous before she sees him only proves how much she loves him.

I have to admit, when she first started dating Harry in first year, I hoped it wouldn't last long like all her other relationships have. I hoped that they wouldn't click and would break up and I'd wait the respectable amount of time before seeing if it was okay with Julia if I started talking to Harry. I was so stupid in first year. Why did I think I even mattered when it came to them? They were the main characters, I was the secondary. Nothing I wanted would matter in regards to their relationship, and if they ever were to break up Harry would never move on to me. Not after Julia. Julia was gorgeous, she exuded perfection through every pore in her body. And me? I was plain. Plain brown hair, plain brown eyes, plain clothes, plain personality. I didn't stand out in any way.

I wished one day to be able to walk in Julia's shoes. Just to see what it's like. To have people look at you like you're the prettiest person they've ever seen, or to bump into you simply so they can talk to you.

God, Aria, stop being so pathetic.

I shake my head to get rid of those thoughts. There were more important issues in everyone's lives than my selfish desires for being more attractive.

"Okay, I'm all ready. He should be here soon," Julia starts tapping her foot impatiently. "What do I say to him when I give him the present?"

"Say the cologne reminded you of him," I start. "The picture is of you two at your nineteenth birthday, say that was one of the happiest nights of your life—because he was with you." She's listening attentively and nodding along. "If you want to get corny, tell him you chose the green ribbon on the box because they reminded you of his eyes."

"Okay, thank you," she breathes. I grab her hand and squeeze it.

"You'll be okay, why are you so worried?" I ask.

"I don't know, I just don't want anything to go wrong," she looks into my eyes. "I really, really, like him. I don't want anything to go wrong, I don't want to lose him."

I gulp.

"You won't," my voice comes out croaky. "He loves you."

She takes a deep breath and nods again. "You're right. Thank you so much. Aria, I seriously have no idea what I'd do without you. I just get so nervous with him sometimes... You'll have your phone on you, right? So I can text you?"

"Of course."

"Good."

***

I'm in bed. I've finished my calligraphy prints and even had time to make extra ones. I've watched everyone's stories on Instagram and Snapchat. There was only one that I cared about—Julia's. Harry doesn't post much so she was all I had to clue in on their date.

How was it going? Was Julia saying the right things? Did Harry like the gifts? What did he get her? Did she at least pretend to like it?

Pfft. Of course she liked it. Harry knew Julia well enough to know what she wanted before she even knew.

My phone buzzed in my hand and I quickly unlocked it to check the message.

aria. he keeps choking up and tearing a little, i dont know what to do, im nervous

I paused for a moment. Choking up and tearing? Was he emotional or did he hate everything?

is it good choking and tearing or bad choking and tearing??

i dont know!!!!!!

does he keep staring at you, like, intensely??

yea, he keeps looking into my eyes

where is he right now?

bathroom

ok i think hes just getting really emotional

good emotional

nothing to worry about he just loves u a lot

what do i do?

if he's getting really emotional, he probably doesn't want to be out in public anymore. suggest that you guys leave to go home or anywhere else im sure he just wants to be with you alone

ok, will do. thanks!!

g2g hes coming

I lock my phone again and leave it on my bedside table. Things were going good, I can breathe again. Tomorrow Julia will tell me everything about their date, for now I'm going to sleep.

***

Thanks for reading!

I updated this one cause i made a lil mistake, but also if there are random "_" in the text thats from when I italicized words and the website I wrote it in left them when I copied it over here, it's so annoying. I thought I got all of them out, sorry if there's any I missed!

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[alltheimaginationofme]

A Different Kind Of Glasgow Kiss- Drew McIntyre

Lil’ bit of Drew loving, not requested but oh so needed!

Tags: @blondekel77 @calwitch @chanelxberlinstark @briqueenofthenorth @fioportella @wrestlingfae @whocares006 @dancefaeirie @ramsaypants @alibob687 @lunarchaosqueen @keepyourdreamsalive @meremaidqueen @demonqueen29

 WARNING SMUT AHEAD

P.S: Let me know how I did with it!

Dolph was a pain in the ass. He couldn’t ever keep his hands to himself or his nose out of other people’s business. Since his return, he’d been nothing but trouble for everyone backstage, but he apparently took a liking to me in particular. I think because I didn’t take his shit without giving some back made it a challenge to him.

But where I’m from, you don’t back down.

“Hey sweetness, wanna go for a drink? Or should I say shall we go for a tea break?” Dolph swung himself onto the nearest crate that I was folding clothes on and I rolled my eyes at his attempt at an English dig. Another annoying aspect of Dolph was his relentlessness. Now he KNEW he could get a rise out of me- he never stopped until he did. I collected the pile of clothes and ignored him, turning to another stack that needed my attention. “Comeon babygirl, you don’t need a big red bus- I’ll give you a tour of me for free.” He cackled at his own joke and I cringed, it only ever seemed to be London jokes with him. Dolph jumped from his crate and into the seat that I was going to put clothes in. “You can’t hold out on me forever, I know you. Maybe I should ask my Scottish friend for tips?” He wriggled his eyebrows at me and I sighed.

“Perhaps I should ask your Scottish babysitter to come pick you up, we all know you get annoying when you drink too much Mountain Dew” Dolph grinned in triumph at me and I frowned, I usually lasted longer than that against him. It was whenever he brought up the skulking Scotsman I always tried to end the conversation early. There was something about Drew that I couldn’t shake, he was like kryptonite to me. Obviously the large man was insanely attractive, but whenever he was around me I just seemed to freeze.

I grunted at Dolph’s grinning face “Get outta here Ziggler, some of us have work to do.” Dolph got right up in my space and murmured “And some of us wish that work was on a rather large and heavily accented man.” His face was close to mine, and the temptation to head-butt him was astounding. If I did that, I would lose my job and the game would be up- no doubt Dolph would make a public scene to further add to my discomfort. So I played him at his own game.

“Actually Dolph, I was rather hoping for someone smaller, blonde, shit eating grin… And definitely can’t tell the difference between Dorito orange and sunkissed tan.” I put my hand on his shoulder and pushed past him, laughing as he spluttered for a comeback.

Apparently, Dolph would get his revenge a week later in the form of a wardrobe malfunction. When I arrived to his call I was beyond shocked to learn it wasn’t Ziggler with the problem- it was his partner. My eyes widened when Drew held out his trunks to me and looked almost apologetic. I narrowed my eyes at the trunks, the split was too clean to be wear-and-tear. Dolph snickered in the corner and I sighed, of course he would cut the trunks. “No problem McIntyre, give me 10 minutes tops.” I took the clothing and turned from the room, not giving either man a chance to speak. Dolph would only anger me, and Drew would only make walking away more difficult.

I sat at the sewing station about 3 minutes later and was beginning the repairs on the trunks when someone walked up behind me. It could honestly be anyone in this department, but when I felt someone leaning over my shoulder I bristled. “Repairs for Drew McIntyre.” I didn’t look up from my work and the person was still there when they spoke “Aye love, I came ta see how ya were doin”

I froze. Luckily I was sat down, or else that voice curling around me would’ve made my knees weak. Drew walked to the side of my work station, grabbed a chair from another and sat. He motioned with his hand and I shook myself out of the stupor and began to work again.

The work wasn’t actually difficult, I was just making sure I checked and rechecked everything in front of him- I didn’t want anyone complaining about my handiwork. Drew had sat and watched silently the entire time, and although he was trying his best to be quiet he still cut an imposing figure watching me work.

When I was finished, I held the trunks to him and avoided making eye contact with him. He grunted and stood, towering over me. I felt him hesitate and he took the trunks gently, our fingers stroking as he did so and I shivered. “Thank ya love” His deep timbre vibrated through my body and I nodded, almost closing my eyes at it. I didn’t see his grin as he walked away. I was too busy trying to remain calm after staring at his thighs for the past 5 minutes.

I managed to avoid Dolph for the rest of the night, meaning that I also avoided the Scotsman. It was a relief to be able to get work done without Ziggler bombarding me with cheesy lines, but it also meant that I wasn’t able to ogle Drew either. Clouds and silver linings I suppose.

I couldn’t get Drew’s soft voice out of my head. He spoke with such a harsh accent but made it sound almost melodious when it wrapped around words. The small interactions we had made my mouth water, the size and look of him made my thighs tighten. He had the look of a life ruiner in all the best ways about him.

I rounded the corner with armfuls of clothes and gear when I head Dolph’s laugh. I backed off into the corner and willed myself to not be seen by the irritating Ohioan. “Man, what more can I do for you? I’m annoying her in every way possible and dropping you in every conversation! Ya know she only reacts when I mention you anyway…”  Dolph faded into background noise as my face started to become redder. Dolph KNEW he was being an annoying kid! But he was doing it for a reason…

I left it for a while before I came out of my hiding place, walking with a purpose towards my destination- with a lot of questions about what I had just heard. Who the hell had he been talking to?

 I got my answer soon enough in the form of Ziggler. From what I had heard, the sweaty orange man had just lost his title and from the defeated sigh and slump into a chair he had lost something else as well. “You’re getting fake tan everywhere Ziggler.” Was my only comment to him. It was odd to see Dolph without his usual bravado about him, and I wanted to feel bad for the title loss but I just couldn’t bring myself to care. He rubbed his hands across his face and looked at me “He’ll kill me for this, but I just lost because of him.”

I raised an eyebrow at the pronoun game, and guessed he was talking about the Scottish Terminator. Dolph leaned forward and shook his hair out of his face. “He likes you. Like, LIKES you. He’s too much of a wimp to say anything.” He smiled sadly at me “I already know you like him too sweetness. I promise I’m not actually this much of an asshat…” He smiled into the distance and stood from the chair. He clapped me on the shoulder as he went past, I had long since stopped folding ring gear into the box. My eyes glazed over and I thought about what Ziggler had said- Drew actually liked me! Me! I smiled to myself, perhaps the awkward McIntyre was explanatory, but it made him adorable to watch me work.

I finished my work for the night with a smile on my face, partly because I was Ziggler free. Mostly because of the secret Dolph had told me, but I was slightly concerned that I hadn’t seen Drew. It was unusual backstage to have one tag partner away from the other in case they made a last minute change to story.

I had been heading out to the car park when I heard him.

“Hey love, ya fancy letting a Scottsman in yer ride?” Drew looked sheepish, his hands stuffed down his front pockets and a few strands of hair hung in his face. I smiled to him and gestured towards the car. He grinned and moved his case towards it. I finished loading up and got in the drivers’ seat, giving him time before I grilled him. I didn’t have time, as Drew had to fold himself into the car to even fit and I burst out laughing. Still chuckling, I reached over his lap and pulled the bar at the side of the chair to slide it backwards for him- Drew had tensed the entire time. I dared to look into his face and dark eyes met my gaze.

I lost my nerve at his look and slowly returned to my seat, starting the car and focusing on driving to the hotel. On the way there I saw Drew look over at me a few times and go to say something, only to purse his lips and look away again. I didn’t want to bring up what Dolph had said, but other than that we hadn’t really spoken before.

We pulled up in the parking lot of the hotel and Drew grabbed the bags from the car while I was checking in. Our rooms were on the same floor. It felt nice walking side by side with Drew, he had this air around him that nobody messed with- he was calm but radiated power. I snuck a peak up at him as we entered the elevator to see he was peeking down at me too. We both laughed and I burned red.

“Drew… What happened with Dolph?” I don’t know what prompted me to suddenly turn so serious, but it tumbled from my mouth before I could stop it. I felt him freeze next to me. He sighed and I ducked my head, wishing I hadn’t said anything to him.

“Ziggler and I… Never really got on. Tha locker room stuff was all we agreed on, and even then my opinion differed.” Drew tucked some hair behind his ears. “He wanted ta be more aggressive. I got tired of being such a bad guy. I still am a bad guy, jus aimed different.” He smiled sadly at me, and I had a feeling that he was giving me the polite version of what happened. I knew that some politics happened backstage, but I was never privy to knowing the details.

Drew’s hand reached out and smoothed my hair out of my face, his fingers lingered on my cheek and I took a breath in. “I kinda want different things now.” My breath stopped altogether at that. There’s no way I could be misreading things, so I went all in.

I had to go on my toes, and even then I wasn’t tall enough to reach his lips- luckily for me he lent down to me and we met halfway. Drew’s beard tickled my face and his lips were a soft contrast to the hair, caressing mine in a dance that saw me loose but I still ended up with his tongue in my mouth. Drew’s hands could completely cover half of my face, but he cradled my head and was so gentle like I was something he was scared to break. The doors opened and we broke the kiss for me to ask one question:

“Your room or mine?”

Drew smiled “Whicheva we get to first.” I grinned back at him and grabbed his hand. Yes I ran down the hall and he barely got past a speed walk with his legs, but I doubt anyone would laugh at us right now. My room appeared first and I thanked God when we came upon it, I was shoving the card in every direction at the lock for it to open while Drew kissed down my neck. “You’re not helping here” I was breathless, and not from the brief sprint.

When the door finally opened, Drew picked me up from behind and carried me into the room- somehow managing to drag the bags in after us. I was thrown on the bed and promptly began to undress. It seemed Drew liked the competition as he raced me to get down to nothing.

I stopped as Drew was taking his trousers off. The man was thicker than a tree and endless apparently. The situation dawned on me, I was about to get into bed with a guy that I had been crushing on for months.

Drew took me in his arms and wrapped himself around me. He kissed me softly and smiled down at me “This’ll only go as far as ya want it.” My own smile turned playful and I stepped closer to him “And how much do you want it Drew?” My smile soon disappeared as he took my hand and placed it over his boxers, onto his cock that did not disappoint. I licked my lips and kissed him. Drew took that as his confirmation and picked me up to put me on the bed.

“Ah, can’t wait to be inside ya” I noticed his accent got thicker the more turned on he was, and suddenly the accent that made me weak in the knees had me wetter than a cup of water. I pulled his face back down to me as he settled between my legs. His tongue explored my mouth and I rose from the bed to meet his hips. Drew started to trail his mouth down my neck and found a particular spot before grinding his hips down into me. The feeling of him made me rake my nails down his back, the moan he let out in reply vibrated through me.

His mouth had made its way down to my chest and his hands could cover the entirety of my small amount of boob to offer. Drew’s tongue circled a nipple whilst his hand massaged the other. I moaned up into his touch when he began to suck on one and my hands ran down to his last article of clothing- I tugged on the waistband.

Drew’s face moved back up to mine and he looked into my eyes. He seemed to be searching for something, and when I met his gaze the entire time he smiled. We rolled apart and stripped the last bits of clothes covering ourselves. My thong had just dropped to the floor when Drew’s arm wrapped around my waist again and dragged me onto the bed.

I landed underneath him and he settled between my legs again. “Ah would love to be slow…” As he spoke he dragged a finger through my folds and made me whimper. “I think we both need this.” He spoke with finality and I reached up to bite his lip. He kissed me with his full force and I felt myself get pushed back into the bed. The fact that he would be in me doing that soon was enough to make me lightheaded.

Drew rolled his hips and guided the tip of his cock in my folds, coating it before he found my entrance. I held my breath. With another roll that screamed experience he pushed inside me. I arched up and moaned in his ear, the feeling of being stretched yet perfectly full made me gasp. No one else had ever felt like this to me. I doubt there had ever been anyone as big as Drew was either. When he was fully in me he groaned and hung his head.

I became impatient underneath him and rocked my hips into his, Drew cursed and began to pump slowly. We both began to moan in tandem as he picked up his pace, our kissed became sloppy and open mouthed. Each time I came out for air his lips found mine to steal it again. Even with all of this going on, I still felt the need to tease.

“Go harder, I’m not going to break Drew.”

I whispered them into his ear and he growled, the look of passion gone from his face. His hands grasped my hips and turned me over onto my stomach. My face was stuffed into the mattress, and before I could say anything, Drew was pounding into me with renewed vigour. Each time he bottomed out my hips were pushed further into the bed, and I could’ve swore at one point I was bowed with the force he put into it.

It wasn’t a surprise that I didn’t last long with the enthusiasm he was putting in, but when I did come it was a shock. I screamed until my throat was sore and it went black behind my eyes. Drew was relentless, not stopping until I went lax on the bed. He stuttered after one thrust and grit out through his teeth “Where do ya want it”. I managed to lift my head and look over my shoulder to whisper “Inside” He grunted his approval and I dropped my head again, my hands gripping the sheets as he continued. I could hear him taking deep breaths now, trying to last longer.

Drew came with a shout and dug his teeth in my shoulder blade, slamming in with finality. I cried out at the feel of his bite and the come slowly spreading into me. Drew’s arms were shaking as he rolled to his side and began to cuddle me from behind. I felt exhausted. Before I could fully drift into sleep I thought would tease him once more. “I could get used to those kind of Glasgow kisses.” I felt him chuckle behind me.

“Aye love, I’ll wake ya up with one.”

[gyromitra-esculenta]

The Indifferent Stars 1: Everybody Dies (And It Is a Load of Bullshit)

Okay, to have all my eggs in one basket, sice i posted only the link earlier, and the second part (along with fear chapter) in on the way, have at the unecessary Mass Effect AU. It’s supposed to be more of a slice-of-life space opera after the second chapter. Renegade scenario with Commander Reyes.

“Do not be deceived,” replied the machine. “I’ve begun, it’s true, with everything in ‘n’, but only out of familiarity. To create however is one thing, to destroy, another thing entirely. I can blot out the world for the simple reason that I’m able to do anything and everything - and everything means everything - in 'n’, and consequently Nothingness is child’s play for me. In less than a minute now you will cease to have existence, along with everything else, so tell me now, Klapaucius, and quickly, that I am really and truly everything I was programmed to be, before it is too late.” – “The Cyberiad - Fables for the Cybernetic Age” by Stanisław Lem, as translated by Michael Kendel

With the labored sound of his own breathing as his only companion, Gabriel Reyes contemplates the stars floating just outside of his reach – stars dulled by the glow of the nearby sun seeping over the edge of his visor. Not much else he can do at the moment, not with the most of the joints of his suit frozen in place due to the power failure resulting probably from the impact with a bigger piece of wreckage from the Overwatch. Which is probably for the better, considering each minute movement sends the distress pangs of sharp pain informing him of dislocated and broken bones. The familiar taste of iron oozes down his throat.

There is something to be said about the cold beauty of the stars, the fact that some of them are long dead and gone, and yet… And yet their image persists. How one could travel away from their chosen sun and keep its memory with themselves forever.

He briefly wonders who will receive his last transmission when he is same as they are, long dead and gone, cold with the unrelenting whispers of space creeping into his bones. He had never been one to lie to himself about the odds, and the odds are not unfavorable – they are impossible and foregone conclusions that slipped through his fingers the moment they were attacked.

To his right a part of the ship’s stern drifts slowly, the fires still burning where the breach containment fields held. Even if he could move there, it would be of no use with the life support slowly switching off in his suit.

Thank god Morrison wasn’t on the deck because he would have killed himself trying to get everyone to the safety – the thought is strangely random and fond, maybe a little bitter – brings out a strained chuckle and a twist of suffering from his ribs. Would it have changed anything if the person he had trusted to be his shadow for years were here? The answer is inconsequential, the ifs and buts mere exercises in futility, the memory…

Morrison walking into his quarters, stopping just past the door, posture rigid and official, hands held behind his back. Staring forward at a spot above his head.

“Commander.”

They are still playing this game, Gabriel thinks, over a week now, and Morrison is still stubbornly fuming like a baby. Should have long calmed by now. He is going to humor him.

“At ease,” Gabriel leans back in the chair, considers the subtle shift at his words. “What do you want, Morrison?”

“Commander, I’ve submitted a request for reassignment,” Morrison keeps his eyes steady on the wall. “I’d ask you to sign off on it.”

The anticipation – the cold suffocating feeling – unfurls in his stomach, races up his spine, covers his shoulders – a sensation he had come to associate with moments before anger and fight. Gabriel grits his teeth and Morrison still – still – refuses to look at him.

“What do you think to achieve by that?”

“I want us to part our ways with mutual respect, Commander,” Morrison breaks his composure for a brief moment, eyes drifting to Gabriel and then snapping back to that space in the air. ”In three days time, the ship will dock on Earth. I’d like to check in with Command then.”

The tense cold doesn’t leave, the expected anger does not come, instead, a slimy chilly thing curls around his back and reaches to his throat. Gabriel flicks fingers over the console.

“Approved.”

Morrison starts, then nods.

“Thank you, Commander.”

Three days, he will come around, but at the dock, he is distinctly reminded Ana, who would have talked Morrison down from his hissy fit, is no longer with them.

“Commander.”

There is it again, the anticipation, the cold prickling at his neck, and Morrison stands before him with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Gabriel waits for himself to get angry but in the end, he clasps Morrison’s arm briefly.

“Good luck out there, jackass. Don’t get killed.”

Morrison blinks rapidly, almost licks his lips – almost smiles but not truly – then bows his head slightly.

“You too, Gabriel. Thank you,” he lingers a second, weight shifting to the other leg, finally turns and walks away. Gabriel lifts back the pad.

“So we have to replace all of those rifles and check for…” McCree is looking at him quizzically with a furrowed brow. “Something the matter?”

“Nah, I suppose you got your reasons, I’ll get to those rifles then, boss,” the kid shrugs, “shouldn’t be a problem.”

Now, Gabriel wonders what would have happened if he had turned around. Had Morrison hesitated and faltered in his step, waiting to be stopped, or merely pressed on without a glance back?

The chill slowly sets in his flesh and with the indifferent stars and the void of the space inside his helmet, Gabriel finds letting go is easier than he ever thought it to be. He slips his eyes closed and floats away.

And apparently, considering the amount of pain he wakes up to, letting go is worth shit, and some more. Something simmers under his skin, hot and freezing simultaneously. The light is too sharp and darkness crowds the edges of his vision. A voice, calling, insistent, drifts in and out, too lost in the static buzzing in his ears.

Gabriel rolls to the side and tumbles down to the ground, disoriented. Something is very wrong in how his body does not want to listen to what he tells it to do. Hearing and sight slowly return to him. Explosions. Shots. Structural damage if the tremors that run through his arms he leverages himself on are not originating from the muscles he feels like he is using for the first time in days. Voice, female, steady but hurried, calling him through the broadcasting systems.

“Reyes. Give me a sign you hear me. Stand up.” Gabriel hoists himself up and defiantly stares at the probable source of the voice, the rude gesture is an afterthought but brings a modicum of satisfaction. The room decidedly does not resemble a proper medical facility, the equipment speaks more of a science laboratory – and vertigo threatens him with nausea. “Good. The base is under attack and you need to move fast.”

The question of the woman’s trustworthiness hangs in the air but the sounds confirm the situation. Gabriel turns towards the door trying to keep his balance – something is off, the way he feels how his body catches up to his intentions. The corridor is empty, the smell of spent ammunition and smoke wafts from the outside.

“The security is compromised and there is no other personnel surviving. We do not have the feed from the next room but other sensors indicate at least one person, you have to find a way to bypass them.”

He notices Talon emblem on the wall, and that brings up many issues in a split second, the most disconcerting being what exactly is he doing in a facility clearly belonging to Talon, and why the woman speaking to him sounds as if he should be here. Gabriel sets the questions aside, the same as he does with his evident survival of the assault on the Overwatch. He runs through possible scenarios as he approaches the door from the side, the rescue mission is a possibility considering the clear association of the base with Talon.

He has no suit and no weapon, which could prove troublesome, but overcoming one enemy while unarmed is not a hard feat, especially if he expects them to be inexperienced in comparison.

After the first shots are fired, Gabriel rushes forward taking in the details. No, no Alliance equipment, the assault rifle is of make not used by the military – ERCS. Not the rescue, at least not an official mission, and the man shoots continuously without pause. The simmer and static rise in volume until it suddenly stops and he stands over a body, twisted and bent, skin grey and gaunt, stretched strangely over the facial bones, eyelids pulled back. He does not recollect what took place except the sudden rush forward.

“Now this is amazing,” a new voice joins in, an accent Gabriel cannot place, “the vitals show unexpected abrupt system stabilization.”

“Doctor, we have no time…”

“This is my experiment, Lacroix, I remind you.”

Gabriel picks up the rifle and checks the ammo. The sensation of being lagged and strangely displaced recedes.

“And this experiment, doctor, will prove to be a worthless venture if Reyes fails to join us. Reyes, you need to go up the stairs and reach the dock. The shortest route will have compromised security bots and human enemies.”

An experiment, an interesting thought. Gabriel cracks his neck and slowly ascends the stairs. The occasional droids he finds on his way are easy to dispose of – no living targets, only bodies. The first woman gives him steady instructions and warnings, and from other information that slips through her guidance, he can glean the situation.

The Talon base he is traversing is, hilariously, under the attack by the members of the very same organization, the snake is eating its own tail. Lacroix’s allegiance also becomes clear. His own role in this whole mess is unexplained but at this precise moment he won’t look a gift horse in the mouth, not yet, not until he gets answers and blows this joint.

The door to the supposed dock hisses open and Gabriel is faced with the first sight of a human since the moment he woke up less than half hour ago. The woman stands pointing a pistol at a hunched down man with his hands in the air.

“Amelie, you don’t understand! What are you doin…” The woman fires a single shot and then holsters her gun turning towards him. Her visible skin gleams with an uncanny tint of bluish coloration.

“Finally, Reyes, you took your time, now put your weapon down because the only way you’re getting off this station is with us,” she nods at him, and Gabriel feels anger towards her – a Talon member – trying to issue him orders. “He was the leader of this little mutiny,” Lacroix misinterprets his posture.

“What’s stopping me from blowing out your brains?”

“For starters, there is only one functional shuttle, and the only person that has access codes is me,” she shows her back and starts to walk away. “Follow me.”

“Not a care about any other survivors?” Gabriel lowers the rifle and follows slightly behind her.

“You are no stranger to necessary sacrifices yourself. Everyone in this facility is expendable but you. Even me, but only after I deliver you to a meeting with my superior.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less of you, Reyes,” Lacroix lets him enter the ship first and closes the hatch behind, fiddles for a moment with the keypad. The undocking begins the moment he sits in front of the other woman inside, a redhead, in a much more flamboyant attire than Lacroix’s bodysuit. Heterochromia, judging by the unusual pigmentation, unless the eye is artificial, with a metallic plaque around the socket.

“Attention to detail, good. Topical albinism,” the one Lacroix referred to as ‘doctor’ earlier gives explanation observing him with a scrutiny that makes his skin crawl. The simmer in his muscles is back. “The parameters still read off the charts, especially with the fact we had to jumpstart you before the planned date, but system stability holds. Tell me, Gabriel, what did you do then? Used medi-gel?”

“Doesn’t concern you,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, and Lacroix seats herself next to her.

“On the contrary. Doctor O’Deorain is the head of the Reaper Project, and she is singlehandedly responsible for bringing you back to life,” Lacroix flicks open a datapad. “The whole venture took over twenty-nine months since the moment we had recovered your body and sunk more funds than the production cost of the Alliance fleet up to two years ago over the entire period of its existence. We had expected to exceed that significantly but the project had been cut short by seven months.”

Gabriel forces down the unease over the new information – if it’s even true – and puts the rifle on the seat to his right but keeps his hand on it.

“Please, Moira will suffice, and I’m amazed at the headway I had achieved, with the starting parameters he shouldn’t even be functional yet,” the doctor smirks. “Run the personality test.”

“I’m not something you can run tests on,” Gabriel snarls lunging forward, fingers clenching around her neck, digging into the jugulars, and momentarily he feels a cold twist in the back of his throat. His hand loses definition, the edges fuzzy, like smoke, but everything else in the backdrop keeps sharpness of its contours. “What have you done to…?”

Moira pins him with a glance.

“Sit down, Gabriel. It seems that the cohesion suffers in moments of agitation, dare I say, emotional agitation,” he releases her and falls back, staring at his fingers. “Interesting, it’s the same readings from a moment before the system’s stabilization. And to answer your question, I had introduced a swarm of my own design into your body to aid in the reconstruction and to jumpstart your organs. If you are worried about the grey goo scenario, I took the precautions. The swarm is keyed to your genetic blueprint and cannot interact in the same fashion with any other organic or inorganic matter. Amelie, the test.”

Gabriel still cannot tear away his gaze from his hand slowly returning to the solid shape.

“Of course, doctor. Now, Reyes, your career is a surprise with your background. An orphan without traceable kin, outside the system, enlisted military as soon as possible. Torfan, batarians?”

“I’m no stranger to necessary sacrifices, Lacroix, said that yourself. Done the job,” he growls, “some called me a criminal.”

“Which was a surprise considering that even earlier you were lauded for facing the impossible odds and leading your squad with minimal casualties on Elysium.”

“The strategic goal had been repelling the attack, not leading the offense.”

“I think you should try something more recent, we have to at least gauge if there are any significant reticency issues,” Moira fiddles with her omni-tool. “This is still ancient LTM.”

“Virmire,” Lacroix stares at him over the datapad. Virmire. One of the very close calls. The first friend he had lost. “Ana Amari, one associate that had been working with you the longest. Why have you left her behind to die?”

“It was her choice, and in the end, it gave us the time we needed to obliterate the facility,” and this dull pressure on his lungs is the loss, the longing for her presence and advice.

“You needn’t feel guilty, Reyes, it was the right choice, and, as confirmed by our intelligence, Ana Amari is alive. We hope you can both cooperate again.”

“Alive?” He spits, fast, attention suddenly focused on Lacroix.

“We have established, how to say, the communication channel. Now, about…”

“No,” Gabriel interrupts her, fast and harsh. If Talon had put that much of an interest in his life, it is time to make use of it. “You want me to do something, I pick people. I want McCree and Morrison.”

“This should prove entertaining,” Moira regards leisurely her painted nails. “Go on, Amelie.”

“McCree is proving hard to track down but with the bounty that was put on his head only in case of information that proves authentic as to his whereabouts, or his capture, I don’t expect him to stay hidden much longer. Morrison, on the other hand,” Lacroix puts back her datapad, “is listed as killed in action during a raid on one of our minor facilities on Pharese. Our investigation proved to be futile in uncovering any traces leading to a different conclusion.”

The chill stabs into his shoulders, bites into the back of his neck, clenches around his chest, runs along his spine. Gabriel stares at his fingers slipping again into blurred lines. Morrison had one job to do, always shit at listening to the orders, always something. The snarling fury finally comes and he latches onto it, fast, vicious, scorching white-hot sensation at his core.

He is defined.

Gabriel smiles. Over two years, closer to three. He still knows too little. If, and only if, anything he is being told is factually true, there is much more he needs to be aware of to bring down Talon.

“And what do you want me to do?”

Lacroix leans back.

“For now, Doomfist wants to discuss this with you. It is the only thing that is required of you, Commander Reyes, after that you are free to go wherever you please”

He can work with this.

*

When the news hit, Jack remembers the strange detachment, the certainty it’s all some form of a ruse, or a mistake, but as hours turn into days, and those into weeks, he is overcome by sudden grief, and with hands at his mouth he finally lets himself cry, just like he had when Ana had been declared dead.

It isn’t until he crawls from under the rubble and the bodies of his squadmates that something just breaks. He walks away and does not look back.

Now, he steps off the shuttle, a worn out bag slung over his shoulder, and walks with a step of a man unsure of his destination even if he had familiarized himself with the layout of the station beforehand, at least with what was available to be found. The rest he can find out on his own, exploring, and laying down plans.

Doesn’t take them long to mark him as prey, the predators gorging themselves on the weak and the vulnerable. It isn’t strange that humans are among their favorites, soft, without natural armors and external carapaces.

“Please, I don’t want any trouble,” Jack mutters with his hands raised, empty palms to them, knowing that the display of supplication will only entice them. Five minutes later, he is the single living creature left in the corridor. Methodically, he checks the bodies, collects the money and other things that might prove useful later on. The twinge of guilt is painful, he shoves it back to be forgotten, after all, it was their choice, not his, he gave them a way out.

He has a bigger game to hunt.

[stunningvacationtips]

50 Shades of Vacay: Why Low Expectations Could Be The Key to Family Travel Success

By the time I saw "50 Shades of Grey," I had actually currently heard it was an unsexy, awkward, unsatisfactory, careless mess. Not to me. My expectations had been established so low, that any kind of idea of charm or chemistry was a shocking delight.

What I'm going to recommend, is that if you go right into your family members trip anticipating "Birdman," you could wind up somewhere near "August: Osage County." If you go right into things with your expectations correctly calibrated, your journey might be the sleeper hit of the season.

Sipping my Diet plan Dr. Pepper as well as taking pleasure in some of the microwave snacks I had smuggled right into the theatre, I had to admit, I was enjoying this terribly evaluated motion picture fiasco. The magic of practical assumptions can not be underestimated.

I hadn't expected greatness, and therefore, I can appreciate and welcome exactly what did work concerning the film, and also not be sad when the discussion handled all the gritty realistic look of a very unique episode of "Charles accountable." It was catch as kitsch could as well as I liked it. It was playing at the ideal theatre, we might get home in time to ease our caretaker as well as also embed an ATM run before the series began. It was silent and dark and also tranquil in the theater. I could comply with the story, as well as ultimately, I think I'm eagerly anticipating the follow up. I don't want telling you that, yet I feel I owe you the truth.

And currently, to your household vacation.

Let's begin by striking the word vacation. Trip is a rave testimonial from the New York Times as well as stress you do not need.

If you are traveling with kids, particularly children, you will certainly not be carefree as well as you will certainly not be resting. You will likely not be rejuvenating. You will be far away from the comforts and also regimens of residence as well as, oh nothing, you will certainly be LIABLE FOR HUMAN LIVES, so just kick back as well as take a few selfies of your feet, why do not you?

No.

In truth, I strongly recommend you take an added day when you obtain home to ensure that you can recuperate from your wonderful family members "getaway" prior to going back to function, as well as by that, I mean include 14 lots of laundry while you enable your central nerve system to discover its method home.

Between seeing to it your child does not vault off the luggage carousel in some dank, unfamiliar airport cellar, as well as handling the infuriating shame-fest that is being not able to fold up a Pack-and-Play in under 25 minutes, this will not be a trip in the means that the word may suggest. You will certainly fail to remember to pack baby wipes, you will feed your children guilt-inducing quantities of road-side grub, every person's rest patterns will certainly be interrupted till your cognitive capabilities and also overall pallor will certainly appear like that of an overnight DJ by the time three suns have actually established on you and also your family members, far away from residence. This, as well as a lot more, will divide your experience from just what is typically considered a "getaway" but, a journey you take with your family, will be a trip, in the most effective sense of the word. And you must hit the trail at any type of cost, go where you can, for as long as you can, as quickly as you can, as often as you can.

I inform you this due to the means the chocolate dip solidifies over a Foster's Freeze soft offer by the side of the roadway on the way to Yosemite. I had that gelato when I was in 2nd grade, I could taste it still. I inform you this since of the method my mommy messed up the lyrics to "Fantastic World" on the oldies station, contending with Sam Cooke as well as the fixed as she drove our VW bug from San Francisco to Priest's Grade, a section of freeway on The golden state State Route 120, poor with hairpin turns and steeper compared to any kind of highway I 'd seen. I inform you this because when I looked out the window as well as read the indication aloud for the community of Moccasin, I could keep in mind specifically the means my brother and my mother giggled at my mispronunciation, not making enjoyable of me, however thinking I was charming, stating it that very same upside-down every time we passed that community for several years. These were unusual celebrations, all of us on the very same group, my forever strained solitary mommy singing to the radio, our lives of carob as well as sprouts in the city discarded for delicious chocolate soft offer in lord-knows-where, my mom in her head headscarf and boots, examining her map, squinting.

" Well, we're not in MocCASin any longer," she 'd say.

Now that I'm a parent I can review our yearly journeys to Camp Mather - a household camp run by the city of San Francisco in a town beyond Yosemite called Groveland - as well as understand that it was probably not much of a trip for my mom. We dealt with, my brother as well as I, naturally. We contested Ping Pong as well as who rode in the pole position. There had not been much cash, so although she offered us each a budget at the start of the week to spend on hay trips or sweet or playthings at the present store or magazines, we constantly ran out, and eventually, she had to tell us we couldn't horseback flight when the various other children were going. She possibly had to stop us from opting for packs of various other kids to play video games and also drink milkshake or smoothies, because we had run out of money. She needed to ensure we were slathered with sunscreen and also insect repellant which she recognized where we were which we weren't treking off into trouble.

It was a trip. It was not, at least for her, a vacation.

If you ask me for the happiest moments of my whole childhood years, so numerous of them would be far from house, in position unidentified, between house as well as the few family members "holiday" destinations of my youth. My mom vocal singing, "do not recognize much regarding scientific research books," scrunching up your eyes at the windshield, changing her sunglasses, the means we were together, against the globe, covered in soft serve, climbing the Priest Grade. The means we can see ourselves differently since the backdrop had actually changed, the extras looked different, the lens as well as lighting as well as emphasis were softer or sharper, or both, and all of us felt in a different flick for a scene or two.

You'll keep up late the evening prior to your trip, nervous, wishing you remember their audio device or pyjamas or Band-Aids and also you'll be hopelessly tired when you obtain home. You will possibly be lost at times, and also harried and also aggravated and frustrated. Youngsters will sob and also have temper tantrums and also get over-stimulated and under-slept.

I desire someone had told me that traveling with young youngsters was never a holiday, but that if I went into it with my assumptions calibrated appropriately, it could be delighted in as something else, maybe better: a journey. Each time I load my youngsters into a vehicle full of child carrots and bags and also uneasiness, I remind myself that I never desire to leave residence ever once more and I vow that I WILL CERTAINLY NEVER LEAVE RESIDENCE AGAIN EVER BEFORE WITH THESE KIDS. And each time I get home, when the dust has worked out and the folded up laundry has actually returned to drawers, I look at the photos and the memories in my mind and also desire we traveled more.

Look, I may have painted myself right into a word edge, here, starting with "50 Tones of Grey" as well as going all sentimental on you, but I'm pretty sure I can bring this station wagon around.

Expect confusion as well as effort. Place your arms out towards it, don't battle against struggle, and also you'll make memories for your kids that will not thaw or discolor. If you go in anticipating a vacation, you won't obtain the trip you should have. If you enter anticipating Citizen Kane, you are really going to dislike 50 Shades.

OK. Mr. Vacay will see you now.

[thejamesoldier]

Could you do 067: "I came home to a Nerf gun on the front porch and a note that says ‘Here is your weapon. I have one too. Loser cooks dinner. Good luck. xo’" from the 101 Fluffy prompts with Bucky please?

Why of course I can!!! And I am so fucking sorry this took a century and a half to post. I’m a horrible person. xxx

Home Sweet Nerf Gun

Bucky came home to see an offensively bright, neon pink and orange nerf gun on the front porch. Just laying there all innocently on the doormat (the doormat says ‘Welcome! Beware of husband, cat is shady, wife is cool though’). With a curious grin he climbs the three porch steps and halts before the gun that has a small torn piece of scratch paper perched on top of it. It reads in your familiar script: Here is your weapon, I have one too. Loser cooks dinner. Good fucking luck xo.

Bucky right out cackles when he sees your P.S - ‘p.s you should not have taught me how to snipe baby’

He picks up the toy gun and immediately checks his rounds, well he checks how many foam darts there are (5, as that’s all the gun loaded at once). Before he steps foot in the house he gently folds the piece of paper into a tiny square, shoves it in his front pocket and familiarizes himself with his equipment. Bucky is so used to the smooth movement glide and familiar weight of his actual guns, that this light plastic toy is throwing him off. It’s stupidly stiff to cock and it doesn’t reload well, its aim accuracy will have to be accounted for because 1. foam darts do not have the same velocity that actual bullets do, and 2. there are no stabilizers in the toy to help give the barrel absolute straight trajectory.

Bucky nods to himself once he has learned and mastered his ‘weapon’, before quickly silencing his phone in his back jean pocket and taking ten deep breaths to slow his heart. He is taking this very seriously, going into full on Winter Soldier-grade stealth mode. Bucky has yet to master the culinary arts and is feeling kind of lazy (which is honestly such an accomplishment, it took forever for Bucky to learn that feeling lazy didn’t equal torture, brainwashing, or death) so not having to cook dinner would be awesome.

He leaves his glove on his metal hand (he was just out to the market for some plums but they turned out to be not ripe enough so Bucky left a little sad and plum-less) to mute the tiny whirs it makes as the metal appendage quiets itself down, sensing from his heart-rate that its stealth time. Bucky adjusts his grip professionally on the ridiculous toy gun, eases the door open, and slips into the house completely silent.

Of course, being as its Y/n and his home, they installed Stark level security systems but when he looks at where he knows the different monitors are, he notices that they are all off. A smile swipes clear across Bucky’s face at this.

Y/n is apparently incredibly serious about this too.

Bucky knows he’ll dart her first, but he’ll allow her to learn from this almost like a training exercise. In the line of business he’s in, it wouldn’t hurt for her to be able to learn a few tricks in case someone finds out where he lives and what his weakness is: you. Their cat Stevie (yes they named the cat after Steve, it was mostly on accident but the name stuck and the cat has this wonderful tan calico fur that looks like the exact color of Steve’s hair) comes up and purrs as he rubs through Bucky’s legs in greeting. Stevie loves Y/n, but Bucky is his favorite. Barnes couldn’t resist not saying hello back and quietly bends down to rub his bone knuckles down the cat’s curving spine.  

Bucky freezes solid when Stevie thanks him with a gentle meow. He immediately expands his hearing for any sign that Y/n heard it. A creak upstairs sounds and Bucky knows exactly where Y/n is. There is a loose floorboard on the landing right before the staircase leading down into the hallway next to the living room. Bucky smirks at Y/n’s clumsiness and moves like a shadow on the wall, silent as as the dead, towards the staircase.

Once he has reaches the archway leading to said hallway near the stairs, he stops and sneaks a look to make sure there aren’t any more sounds to gift him more knowledge. When there is none (probably because Y/n is panicking and not moving at all) he swings his gun and his body around the corner of the archway and moves swiftly down the hallway. Bucky reaches the doorway to the living room and spots the staircase knowing Y/n is at the top of them where they curve a little out of sight.

He stays there for a few moments, luring Y/n into a sense of false security. Bucky’s smile grows when he hears tell tale sounds of shifting and moving on the landing above him. He even sees Y/n’s shadow on the wall opposite the stair railing as she hesitates at the top.

“I see you baby,” Bucky taunts and watches as your shadow jumps and then stills. “Now if this were real, and someone had seen you even if its your shadow, that means you’ve just lost at least half of your chances to get away unseen or alive.”

He hears your breathing speed up to keep pace with your galloping heart.

“Take smooth deep breaths sugar, it’ll give your mind room to make decisions. Now just think logically, what options do you have?” Bucky coaches calmly, not moving from his position quite yet.

“The windows?” You ask slash answer as you take Bucky’s advice and even out your breaths, readjusting your sweaty grip on your nerf gun.  

Bucky nods proudly to himself, “Good honey, but remember that you’re on the second story which means if you’re gonna take one of the windows you have to know you can land without hurting yourself.”

“Okay,” You say in a little drawl as your mind works to calculate how high you could jump from.

Bucky starts silently approaching the staircase, beginning to work his way up one silent step at a time out of sight hidden in the shadows.

“Also if you’re gonna jump and run, already be planning where you’re going to be running. Which window is closest to visual cover like foliage or buildings?” He asks to help you deduce escape routes but also to distract you from moving from your easy target position at the top of the curling stairs.

Bedroom window, first on the right, Bucky provides to his own question in his head easily, having already thought out every scenario of under attack escape the second they bought the house.

“Uh, one of our bedroom windows?” Comes your response as you distractedly check over your shoulder to look down the hall at Bucky and your open bedroom door.

“Which one darlin’, you gotta know,” He prompts while remaining out of sight from you, noticing the head on your shadow is turned but your body stayed in place.

Not smart.

There’s silence as you continue to stare at the open door like it’ll give you answers faster. You mentally walk through your bedroom and remember what the view is from all your windows.

“First on the right? The one near the trees!” Comes your triumphant and hopeful response.

“You got it doll,” Bucky praises as he edges on the invisible line where, if you turned back around, you would see him. He stays behind it for another second before lunging out from around the curve of rail and shooting you dead in the chest.

You squeal in surprise and flail to the ground from the crouch you were in. Your gun slides off somewhere and Bucky chuckles, coming to hover over you still aiming the nerf gun at your chest.

“Dead.” Bucky unnecessarily announces as the foam dart sticks pointedly just above the swell of your left breast, right where your heart is.

“Dick!” You exclaim completely scandalized as you pluck the dart off with ‘pop’, raising yourself up to your elbows, “You cheated by distracting me! Where’s your honor Barnes?”

“Baby,” Bucky murmurs as he kneels down next to you, his smile gently softening into an expression of grave seriousness, “There is no honor in killing. When it comes down to the wire, things like honor just don’t exist. It gets to a point where its either you live or you die, and nothing about being taken to that primal state of mind is honorable. It’s dirty and twisted no matter how righteous the cause may be. Taking life is…its…”

Your face falls from its former expression of teasing and disgruntled, to pained as Bucky trails off and places the nerf gun as far from himself as possible, disgusted. Years of grit and horror relive themselves in his eyes and you suddenly hate yourself for setting up this game in the first place. How could you be so insensitive? With a choked off apology you place a warm palm against his stubbled cheek.

“Oh James,” You whisper as your eyes begin to burn before pulling him into a hug, laying both of you down gently on the wood floor. “I love you.”

You know there’s really nothing you can say to help ease Bucky’s pain so you stick with the three words that have gotten you both through everything so far. Bucky lays carefully on top of you, buckling down into your softness and warmth. You stay there a couple of moments, just breathing each other in and feeling your lungs strain to touch through each other’s chests.

“You are so, so precious to me Y/n.” Bucky suddenly says, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks before raising his head to look down at you, “If you were ever hur–,”

“Shush don’t think that way.” You promptly interrupt as Bucky cradles your face in his hands, both gloved metal and exposed flesh, like your face was made glass that had shattered and was recently glued back together.

“It’s in my nature to think that way love, to worry. I’ve always been a worrier, you and I both know Steve can chat your ear off about it.” He murmurs rapturously, the emotion blooming in his eyes like silver dusted forget-me-nots as he nuzzles your nose with his.

It makes your heart soar hearing him talk about his nature. Not the Winter Soldier, or Sergeant Barnes even, but James’ nature, Bucky’s nature. The nature and heart of someone who isn’t a killer. Because Bucky never was and never will be a killer, even if he has killed. It took him so long to re-realize that that’s who he was and still is.

“I know baby, I know,” You hush with such a profound love in your voice to match his. Your hands raise to cover tenderly over his against your cheeks as you keep eye contact with the beautiful man above you.

“God you have such a full world in you James, rounded and true and brutal and honest and kind. You amaze me.” Comes your confession that you are sure Bucky already knows; knowledge devised from the way you touch him, look at him, how you say the words ‘I love you’, but you have never actually said this out loud to him before.

And it’s freeing. It’s wild. Its the only true beauty a human can possess.

Bucky huffs like you just punched him in the gut and rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed only to let the darkness in him fill with light and love.

Of all the things Bucky Barnes is good at, the art of loving is his greatest talent.

To be loved by James is to be given the abysmal privilege to see life for what it is: fleeting and eternal.

After quite a few long moments of sparkling transcendent silence, you begin stroking Bucky’s hair out of his face and take a breath in,

“Alright,” You concede, “Since I lost, what do you want for dinner?” 

And not missing a fucking beat Bucky responds in complete seriousness with, “Your pussy.” 

okay woah it kinda got heavy there at the end (totally was not expecting that btw) but I lightened it up a little. I hope you liked it, lemme know! xxx

Permanent Tag List: @evilmermaidsinc, @buckyandsebsinbin, @simplyme8308, @captain-chimichanga, @mellifluous-melodramas, @notsoprettykitty, @ryverpenrad 

Masterlist

Most Recent Updated Fic: Opia

[livingthervdream]

Rapids to Rodeos!

Today we leave Yellowstone. I am driving the Suburban with the girls while GB and Andrew are driving the RV. Our plan was to head to the dump site to empty before we head to Cody. We had no hookups at our site but they had a communal drop site for waste. Unfortunately the line was extremely long and people were taking forever. We had to make a water Rapid excursion Cody at 1245 and it was 2 hours away. It’s 1000 and we didn’t want to press our look so we decided we would just take care of everything when we pull up at our campsite in Cody. So on the road we go to Cody Wyoming!

As we pull out of our campground, I just soak up the view: The Forrest, Lake Yellowstone, the mountains…just everything that we didn’t make…nature did. My eyes start to well up as we head out on the road so sad to go. I’m sure I was welling up for a combination of reasons. This was the peak of our trip and what a cherry on top of the sundae it was. From here, we still had Cody but it really was our trend back to reality. The craziness of work and back to our schedule of life. It was so nice to just get away with the 4 people I care about most. I can’t remember another time that I truly cried at the end of a vacation. We had our ups and downs but how often do I get to spend 14 days without work and home hustle bustle to enjoy the company of my family. It maybe took a couple days 😜but the kids were for the most part getting along and playing with each other…instead of fighting constantly. Playing pretend games in the woods or in the car and not distracted by TV, Electronics, School and their everyday responsibilities. There were also tears of absolute gratefulness and thanks for a husband who took the time to plan this amazing experience. How he did it i will never know, between work and fire fighter school not to mention tending to his every day responsibilities…I truly am the lucky one. Ok enough with the tears…ohhh and please remind me to reread this later on when I say my family is driving me up a wall! Which hopefully will be longer than a week from now😜 As we are leaving Yellowstone, we are able to caravan to a couple pull outs for some photo ops. Of course, we stop at the exit. That welcome to Yellowstone sign that we missed when we arrived (we were in no condition for photos after 12+ hours driving) was forever captured in photo by the Bransons! All were smiles for nice photo and crazy photo! GB got his head shot photo with his Hixton Travel Plaza trucker hat. (Inside joke: GB has a friend who owns this truck stop in Hixton, WI. Without his friend knowing, he had a cousin by this hat and mail it to us for our trip. GB has been taking headshots with his glasses on, hat on and deadpan face at all our sites and sign pictures. He has then been texting his friend all these photos! Apparently they are going to launch a clothing line and who knows…you may see a certain someone modeling the headgear at Yellowstone or Corn Palace! I laugh everyday!) We roll into Cody around 1215. We have just enough time to park the RV at Walmart. Side note: if you ever have an RV and don’t know where to park. Apparently you can park at Walmart and they don’t care. So thanks Walmart for being our parking spot while we went rafting! Luckily the rafting adventure was in downtown Cody only 5 minutes away from Walmart. We had enough time to grab some grub at Arby’s and head to our meeting spot with 10 minutes to spare. Luckily all of us already had our swimsuits on with shirt cover ups so all we needed was the spraydown of Sunscreen and we were good to go. This rafting trip was GB’s idea. There was an all day, a half day, and a 2 hour trip. I heavily recommended the 2 hour seeing as how I thought that was all about Libby could take. I would love to take a day trip if it were just the two of us but I think 2 hours for the kids would leave it more of a positive experience. I was also unsure about Libby’s age and size. I mean we have 3 kids as a backup in case we lose any but I don’t think I would like to see my youngest just float down the river. GB assured me that he had spoken with the lady at reservations and she said she would be fine. Well, as we pull up I see a woman who has a dachshund with her. The kids loved the dog and asked who is watching the dog while she is rafting. The woman responded “she is coming rafting too.” Really?? Ok now I am really wondering what kind of trip this that this dog can also come on? We are all fit with our life vest and they have a perfect one for Libby. What that tells me is the last kid that wore it came back alive and in the boat so she has a fighting chance! They drive us to the rafting site and unload us as well as the boats. There are 3 tours going on simultaneously and all 3 are manually inflating the boats. This looks like a fun job, definitely an UE work out! They go over safety rules and what to do if someone falls off the raft. Apparently you float on your back in T-formation and wait for them to throw this small pillow to you where you don’t hold onto the pillo you hold onto the rope in order to get towed in. Now I was kind of lost a little so I can only imagine my kids are lost and that is if they are even paying attention. They then talk about always hold onto your paddle so as not to lose it down the river. They also mention that when a command of “hang on” is called out you should grip the outer red rope and lean into the boat. Ok I can totally see hanging on but I know my kids would have to reach half way out of the boat to grab onto it and then the whole lean into the boat…yup that’s it…someone here is not going to make it. I had this picture of the Colorado river and losing half my family in it as they floated down far beyond the boat. I am sure GB didn’t sign us up for such an intense Rapid ride but that is the only picture I had in my head. Sending up prayers to St. Jude for this one! The groups are split up. Our family is grouped with the woman who has the dog. Ok this is going to get really interesting. The woman begins to put the dog in this cloth tote. Really? She’s going to stay in there the whole time?? This I gotta see. She is loaded in front with her dog, GB and I are in middle row with Libby in between us. Ok, that is a safe spot, I am starting to calm. The back row is a new hire (she looks sharp…not too worried) Ali in the middle and Andrew with a paddle. He needed a couple verbal and manual cues for proper paddle hold but he definitely needed a good upper body work out…his OT would have been proud with how he didn’t complain a bit and liked it actually a lot. Maybe we need a rower machine for work😊. Our guide sat in rear to help direct the boot. I must say he was a very good guide with a loud booming voice that I couldn’t help but repeat his commands after he said them. More so that Andrew would have another reminder of what to do. We are hit our first bumps and Andrew holds his own while I remind Libby and Ali to hang on to the grips next to them. Unfortunately, the dog didn’t like the idea of getting wet and really just didn’t care about eh whole white water rafting experience. She was shaking and clawing her way to the back of the boat. The poor thing was shaking and wet and clawing it’s way almost out of the boat. Libs and I got scratched a bit by its sharp claws but you couldn’t blame the dog…the poor thing wanted out and the tour just started. There were times that the dog was wrapped around her owner’s neck like a mink just shaking and digging in her claws for dear life. Now our guide was jousting on orders such as paddle forward and so on. GB and I did most of the paddling. The woman in front was too busy hanging onto her dog to really contribute to the paddling and Andrew tried but really couldn’t accomplish what an adult could do I can say GB and I definitely got the UE workout we paid for! We hit some rapids and Libby got doused with water! It was great! She sat there looking at me laughing but shaking from being wet and cold. All she could say is “Momma where’s the car?” after laughing of course. The other 2 were having tons of fun laughing and screaming the whole time. We ended our tour with everyone still inside our boat including the dog. The poor thing calmed down after a while and just hung onto her owner. The kids were freezing after taking off their jackets just wanting to wrap up in their towel. Once we got back to the car, which was warm inside from sitting out in the sun, the kids changed back into dry clothes and finished heir drinks that they had gotten at lunch. We headed back to the RV to get set up at the campsite. Goodness knows we weren’t camping out in the Walmart parking lot. The kids were so excited to head back to the campsite. Once everything was loaded and hooked up, we all took a much needed hot shower. Afterwards, the kids were pumped to head to the jumping mat and just bounce around for a while. There was also a nice playground that the kids hung out at helping to kill time before dinner and the rodeo. Once everyone was ready, we headed off to dinner. We ended up eating at a place called Irma’s. It was an old time restaurant that they restored keeping some of the old decor that was there in the past. Large animal heads hung on the wall while a showcase of rifles was set up behind the bar. They had a buffet where the girls ate for free (awesome!) and Greg saw Country fried steak on the menu so everyone was happy. I headed to the buffet to get plates for the kids. By the third time, the guy running the buffet began to question how fast I was eating. I told him I was getting plates for my kids but I would be back for my plate soon enough. When I came back for my plate, the gentleman picked out my family as he said the kids were eyeing me everywhere I walked. It’s the mom life I said.

After dinner, we headed to the rodeo. The night had gotten colder, good thing this awesome mom packed hooded sweatshirts and pants for everyone! The kids and I had never been to the rodeo before...this actually was our first rodeo! To start the rodeo, the color guard came out on horses. Each was holding a flag and they moved out in different formations, how hard that must have been. Afterwards, everyone bent their head down in prayer and then they played then national anthem. I didn't realize how patriotic and religious these rodeos were, I guess I never heard about that part. The roping of the cows was Libby's favorite. She kept rooting for the cow to get away and not get roped. When they would walk away she would say "the cow won! Good job cow!" Not sure the cowboy would agree with her! We got to see both men and women rope cows along with cowboys sitting on bucking bulls. That was crazy! GB kept telling us to watch their heads before the gate opens, apparently they always adjust their hats. Well, I watched and noticed that they were all wearing helmets...and boy did they need them. The way they go flying off those bulls and then how close their bodies get to the feet of those bulls...yikes😬! Andrew got a chance to head down to the arena with other kids and try to chase 2 calfs. You could see him run hard for the first 2 minutes then after that the calves were running circles around all these kids. He was exhausted but he had fun. Libby didn't want to leave but unfortunately Ali was freezing to death and was not happy so we bid our goodbyes to the cowboys. Libby was none too happy saying "but it's not over yet!" Unfortunately, it was for us. Cody was a lot of fun but none of us were looking forward to the car rides home.