#however! i do not have a glass eye a bionic eye or any sort of visual prosthetic!

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

ok so my second semester has started in full swing, meaning i don't have time to actually make any fanworks for @mcytphysicaldisabilityweek but i WANT TO SO BAD. so today i'm telling you all about my hcs about empires!sausage and vision impairment.

so this hc spawned from a joke sausage made in jimmy's season 2 episode 13 (around the 9 minute mark) while they're searching for the warden fwhip gave as a "present". he refers to his free cam as his "detachable eye" and this offhanded joke kinda spiraled in my mind.

so s1 sausage gets into a very bad fight when he's in his late teens/early 20s. the injuries are very severe, and one particularly bad one results in the loss of his left eye. he gets a glass eye after this, but it's solely an aesthetic thing, it is not a visual prosthetic and does not supplement his vision in any way, as that technology/magic (it's weird in empires, it's inherently weird in any world where magic just Exists) either doesn't exist or isn't particularly developed yet. i haven't decided which it is but either way he does not have a bionic eye/visual prosthetic.

he only has the one glass eye, which perfectly matches his natural eye color (he's got the money to make it a really nice one, as king). when he starts to be overtaken by the corruption, however, his right eye starts turning red. this means it no longer matches the glass eye. after he gets kicked out of the wra and goes Full Evil he says "hm, fuck it" and starts wearing an eye patch instead. he thinks the red eye looks cooler if it's not offset by the blue one. once again, this man values aesthetics over all else. he could always get a red eye made, but he decides not to, he's too busy with Evil Plans and the like.

after blood sausage + good boy sausage get separated, good boy sausage goes back to wearing the glass eye immediately. in his mind, people associate the lack of it+the eye patch with him being evil, so he doesn't want to wear them (and like, people don't not associate that with blood sausage, but they also wouldn't have begrudged him for wearing it. he's just got! a lot of insecurities and issues! but i digress).

blood sausage obviously uh. can't access any tech in The Void and even when he makes his way into his own world, he sticks to the eye patch cause, like, why would he do anything different. he thinks he looks sick as fuck (he's right). in my mind he's got one of these cool decorative ones like this lady shows off on her social media:

anyways. s2 sausage also injures his eye resulting in the scar+vision impairment, though his injury happens when he's a child (like, 7-10 years old). it's not an injury from some sort of weapon like s1 sausage. i'm thinking, like, a rock or a tree branch or something else a small child is liable to get near and hurt themselves with. by the time this happens to him, however, it's been 1,000 years and something akin to the bionic eyes/visual prosthetics we have in the real world have been developed (though not exactly like the real world ones, as from what i understand, patients only qualify for them irl if the vision damage is in both eyes. which, with how different the vision is in a bionic eye than a normal eye, makes sense but. i don't care i wanna give more characters visual impairments because more characters SHOULD have cannon visual impairments. anyways.)

so he gets a visual prosthetic akin to a bionic eye but adjusted for. yknow. existing in a world where there's magic. vision in his left eye is not completely restored, ala a bionic eye in the real world, but it does help him get a limited scope of vision in that eye back.

however, when blood sausage+s2 sausage merge, this is a very big jump for blood sausage. he's never had vision in that eye before, and suddenly having it, even if it's not to the same scope as their right eye, is extremely off putting and difficult to get used to. for a while, the two of them cut a deal in order to allow blood sausage to get used to the additional sensory input. while sausage has had this for like, 30 years of his life at this point, and is used to doing everything with it, he's willing to wear an eye patch while not doing particularly strenuous or dangerous activities (during which he'd need the full extent of his vision so he doesn't hurt himself) in order to give blood sausage a break from the stimulation as he gets used to the change. he's already getting used to so much by issue of being in a different body than his own, and one that like... ages and shit too, so they work out a way to accommodate the changes. idk man i just think they're neat.

[sexuallyfrustratedpineapples]

Nyo! Prussia Roleplay Starter

If you are looking to roleplay with me, please feel free to like this post or DM me!

Looking for: Italy, Southern Italy, Canada, 2p! Canada, Austria, Nyo! Hungary, England, America, Denmark, Spain, Scotland or France. Others may be considered and I am open for polyships.

TW: Car Accident, Motorcycle Accident, Hospital, Loss of Limbs Also: There are no graphic descriptions of injuries involved here. I'm not a huge fan of them, so I try to keep it out of my writing.

Julchen could not remember what happened to her. She could not remember the wreck that caused her to lose her favorite motorcycle, the airlift to the hospital, why she was missing her leg from below the knee or her arm below the shoulder. The whole ordeal was a blur to the Prussian as she sat in the room in the rehabilitation facility in preparation to go to her next therapy appointment. When the accident occurred, the Prussian did not have any family or friends to speak of really. Her father disowned the woman ages ago and she had not seen or heard from either him or her brother since. This meant the first place to report her missing was her job, followed by her becoming a ward of the state due to the fact that she really had no one. Thankfully for her, a coworker who had watched her dog prior to the accident knew where her spare key was and was kind enough to take and hold her dog for her. The landlord was left a note taped to the front door and her rent came out of her account monthly so that was not an issue.  Some of her other bills and things would be a bigger issue, though she dealt with it one at a time as she could. For the time being, Jul was stuck in the facility to her dismay. She managed to pay for decent prosthetics between her savings and the kindness of her coworkers. Her arm was an older bionic model which would be helpful as she relearned to write and do other tasks with it. Her leg was a newer, basic model that came with a foot attachment for the time being. The woman would have to relearn to walk before anything else and thankfully, it was going well. She now needed to get the hang of running to really get the ball moving for her chance to go home. Today was no exception for her practice of walking as well as using her cane for her other, newly gained disability. Julchen was no stranger to struggles with vision. She had pretty much had vision problems since she was a child and though this did not change with the accident, it only got worse. Being albino meant that she was predisposed to having mild eye issues and she was about the same as most people, however the accident caused one of her eyes to struggle to take in more than blurry shapes. With glasses, the other eye could sort of make out some stuff, though it was not great. Since she was legally blind now, it meant that Jul would no longer be able to do the work she loved to do and she would have to find a new lease on life. For now, the Prussian moved herself from the bed and started her daily limp across the complex and to her appointment. The walk was nice, if not a bit chilly with the weather changing from summer to fall. The physical therapist she was working with was a little rough around the edges, though he was pretty cute so she forgave that. It was also fun to turn his face as red as she could per session. The Prussian pushed the door open, entering the facility and gave a slanted grin in what she hoped was the direction of the man. Her eyes were filled with determination and a little excitement as she stood there, crossing her arms. “You ready to watch me get it right today?

[br34dr10t]

Amputee Nyo! Prussia

(Nyo! Prussia x Any Male Nation; though I do like Spain, France, Southern Italy, Northern Italy, America, Denmark, Austria, England. Nyo! Hungary all as options. Please be at least 18 years or older as I do not rp with minors. I prefer to continue roleplay via email or Discord, either of which I can provide. Please let me know if you are reading or interested in the starter even if we do a different ship than this. Thanks!)

Julchen could not remember what happened to her. She could not remember the wreck that caused her to lose her favorite motorcycle, the airlift to the hospital, why she was missing her leg from below the knee or her arm below the shoulder. The whole ordeal was a blur to the Prussian as she sat in the room in the rehabilitation facility in preparation to go to her next therapy appointment.

When the accident occured, the Prussian did not have any family or friends to speak of really. Her father disowned the woman ages ago and she had not seen or heard from either him or her brother since. This meant the first place to report her missing was her job, followed by her becoming a ward of the state due to the fact that she really had no one. Thankfully for her, a coworker who had watched her dog prior to the accident knew where her spare key was and was kind enough to take and hold her dog for her. The landlord was left a note taped to the front door and her rent came out of her account monthly so that was not an issue.  Some of her other bills and things would be a bigger issue, though she dealt with it one at a time as she could.

For the time being, Jul was stuck in the facility to her dismay. She managed to pay for decent prosthetics between her savings and the kindness of her coworkers. Her arm was an older bionic model which would be helpful as she relearned to write and do other tasks with it. Her leg was a newer, basic model that came with a foot attachment for the time being. The woman would have to relearn to walk before anything else and thankfully, it was going well. She now needed to get the hang of running to really get the ball moving for her chance to go home.

Today was no exception for her practice of walking as well as using her cane for her other, newly gained disability. Julchen was no stranger to struggles with vision. She had pretty much had vision problems since she was a child and though this did not change with the accident, it only got worse. Being albino meant that she was predisposed to having mild eye issues and she was about the same as most people, however the accident caused one of her eyes to struggle to take in more than blurry shapes. With glasses, the other eye could sort of make out some stuff, though it was not great. Since she was legally blind now, it meant that Jul would no longer be able to do the work she loved to do and she would have to find a new lease on life.

For now, the Prussian moved herself from the bed and started her daily limp across the complex and to her appointment. The walk was nice, if not a bit chilly with the weather changing from summer to fall. The physical therapist she was working with could be a little rough around the edges, though he was pretty cute so she forgave that. It was also fun to turn his face as red as she could per session. The Prussian pushed the door open, entering the facility and gave a slanted grin in what she hoped was the direction of the man. Her eyes were filled with determination and a little excitement as she stood there, crossing her arms. “You ready to watch me get it right today?”

[fortnite-cobalt]

Recovery-1

Recovery-0 Recovery-2 Recovery-3

The following story is a work of fiction. The story is PG-13 and thus recommended for those who can tolerate the following:

Blood, Guns/Weaponry

The story shall be placed underneath the Cut. Enjoy at your own Discretion.

It was dark. It felt oddly familiar yet so distant.

Was he dead? Was this the afterlife everyone was talking about? The ‘reward’ so many people killed for?

It didn’t seem like much of a reward…

He coughed and stirred. His eyes adjusted to the sunlight filtering through the blinds. He turned his neck and groaned. He’d taken more damage than he thought. He moved his arm to prop himself up, wincing at the loud creaking noises it was making.

Where was he? Who took him in?

Looking around the room, there were no signs that someone had been actively using this room. It honestly looked like a guest room quickly turned medical suite. He started peeling off the heart sensors and such before turning to stand from the bed. All he succeeded in doing was falling off the bed. He looked down to see the bionics for his legs were missing. Someone had managed to take them off, along with his left hand. He pushed himself against the bed, before checking to see if his mask was on. His goggled were still in place, as well as the face piece and eye-plate. He sighed in relief before realizing he was only in a pair of boxer briefs.

He looked around to see what was happening when he heard the door click and open. He quickly grabbed a nearby hanger, brandishing the metal in a vice-like grip to try and give it some structural integrity.

The door opened fully to a young woman with medium black hair styled on the side. Her glasses were red framing her face gently while her cardigan hung loosely over her. She turned to see Cobalt on the ground, holding the coat hanger and glaring at her. “Oh my goodness I am so sorry! I should’ve been here when you woke up!”

Her voice was bubbly, slightly higher pitched and full of concern. Like someone who would easily make one feel at ease, were they not in a situation like this. Cobalt still held the coat hanger defensively, wary of this new woman here.

“Who are you and where am I.”

The woman set the tray with food and some bottles down before pressing her skirt down and crouching. She looked at him in the eyes and smiled. She was clearly nervous, and rightly so; Her skirt would restrict her movement and make it easier for Cobalt to attack, legs or no.

“My name is Rue Durand and this is my home in Paradise Palms. Would… Would you like me to help you back onto the bed?”

Cobalt shook his head as he remained on the floor. “Why am I here?” Rue was obviously getting more nervous as she eyed the coat hanger. Perhaps Cobalt could use that to his advantage. “W-well, you sort of fell out of the sky last night, right onto my garden. It woke me up and when I saw the shape you were in, I knew I had to help. So I dragged you in, washed the wounds and parts I knew I could wash, then dressed your wounds and started work on your limbs. Only your right arm seemed to be in working condition, but even so that’s not saying much. It looks like it’s just about on it’s last legs.” She coughed, clearing her throat. “That is to say, I didn’t want you to completely freak out about not having any limbs. But I would like to insist that you stay in bed until you’re healed. I haven’t done a normal treatment cause I don’t know what would happen if I tried to scan you right now to check for internal injuries. All I know is that your overtly human bits are in working order.”

Cobalt kept an eye on this woman, careful of what he wanted to say. “So you’re the one who cleaned and dressed all of my wounds?”

Rue smiled and nodded. “Yup! It pays to have five PhDs! I’m a certified Neuro-Surgeon, General Practitioner, Robotics and Engineering, Chemistry and Physicist!” Somehow this information didn’t do anything to put Cobalt at ease. Yet this woman had plenty of opportunity to cut into Cobalt other than removing bullets. She has plenty of motivation to do so and yet here she was helping him. He was silent for a good while when she coughed again. “So… Would you like help?” Cobalt shook his head, instead opting to struggle onto the bed. It took longer than it needed and Cobalt clearly had to put effort into it, but he managed to finally prop himself up on the bed.

“Don’t worry. I’m working on your legs and arm as quickly as I can. Also: I’ll need to change your bandages soon since you did lose a lot of blood from all those bullets in you.” She set the tray of food on the bedside table for Cobalt before quickly exiting the room. Cobalt looked at the tray and saw a bottle of Gatorade and a sandwich with some chips on the side. Clearly she hadn’t accounted for him waking up, though she didn’t need to leave her lunch with him. He shrugged and started eating, voracious after being unconscious for however long.

He was still uncertain about this woman. What was her endgame?

[imma-fcking--nerd]

What Happens In Vegas... (Part 1)

Summary: After a nasty breakup, you head to Vegas to try and have some fun, only to find yourself completely overwhelmed and alone. However, your bartender comes to the rescue, making you an offer you don’t want to refuse. Thanks to him, your week long vacation certainly turns out differently than you could have ever expected.

Author’s Note: This is my first ever Bucky story and I am so excited! It was written for @bionic-buckyb‘s AU Writing Challenge in celebration of 5k followers. My prompt was ‘vegas’, so I really hope I did it justice! I’m planning on turning this into a mini-series, so please, let me know what you think!!! 

Warnings: Language; mentions of cheating; pure, teeth rotting fluff; heavy make-out session

Word Count: Roughly 5,000 (yikes)

*******************************************************************************************

Sliding onto the stool with a sigh, you propped your chin on your hand and stared at the colorful bottles of various alcohols in front of you. This was so not how you wanted to spend this night, but it was better than locking yourself in your room like a hermit. If you were being honest, just thinking about the next few days made anxious nerves twist in your stomach. This trip was mistake, I should’ve just left well enough alone-

“What can I get you, sweetheart?” The deep voice broke your trance, bringing your attention to the bartender.

“I’ll have a shot of Patrón,” you mumbled, straightening up and pointing at the bottle. “Silver, please.” You watched as he poured the liquid into the glass, picking it up and slamming it back as soon as it was full. Shoving it back toward him with a grimace, you cleared your throat before speaking again, trying to talk around the burn. “Hit me.”

Not taking your eyes off the glass, you watched as he poured you another, once again slamming it back and repeating the request. After the third, you needed a break.

“Been playing Black Jack tonight? You sure have the terminology down,” the bartender chuckled, turning to put the bottle back in place before collecting your shot glass. Shaking your head, you finally took the time to look up at him. And what you saw took your breath away.

The man was tall and broad, hell, thick. With a chest that big, he looked like he could easily pick up and toss a car. His arms were just as large, bulging against the long sleeves of his Henley. Your eyes trailed up only to find a perfectly stubbled chin, chiseled jaw hidden under the dark scruff. A few strands of brown hair framed his cheeks, seemingly fallen loose from the small bun at the back of his head. His lips, which looked tantalizingly soft, were twitched up in a grin, one eyebrow arched curiously as he waited for a response. You finally settled on the most gorgeous pair of blue eyes you’d ever seen, quickly falling into them and getting lost.

He was positively unreal.

“Uh- um…” Words had left your brain, your mouth stuttering to come up with anything coherent. “N- no. Nope. No Black Jack for me.” Wow. Nice one.

“Well, you should think about playing sometime. Seem like you’d be good at it,” he replied, that sweet smile never leaving his face. You wanted to respond, to come up with something that would keep him talking to you. You just weren’t ready for this beautiful man to leave your sight yet. However, before you could pull a sentence together, he was called over by another customer, tossing you a wink before he walked away to do his job.

Sighing yet again, you dropped your head to look down at the bar top, tracing patterns on the glass with a finger while getting lost in your head again.

“Whaddya drinkin’?” someone asked from beside you, words slurred together. You glanced up to find a man, probably ten or so years your senior, grinning lustfully down at you.

“Nothing, I’m alright,” you told him politely, hoping he’d just leave.

“Lemme buy you a drink, baby,” he insisted, inching closer. You could smell the alcohol radiating off of him and tried not to grimace.

“No, thank you.”

“C’mon, don’ be like that.” Your eyes went wide when you felt one of his hands wrap around your arm, jumping at the contact as panic began to well inside you.

“The lady said no.” Thank God. The hot bartender was back, only this time, the look on his face was practically deadly and it was directed right at the creep next to you. “Get your hand off of her and get the hell out of here.”

“But-“

“Now.” Fear in his eyes, the guy threw some cash down on the bar and quickly turned, heading for the exit. You let out a shuddering breath, closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself. “Are you alright?” The bartender’s voice was much softer now, concern evident in his tone.

“I’m fine. Thank you,” you told him, offering a grateful smile.

“Of course. I deal with pricks like him more than I should have to. You sure you’re okay?” You simply nodded, asking for some water, which he gladly got for you. “I’m James. But my friends call me Bucky.” The grin he gave you was practically blinding.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you…Bucky,” you said, reaching a hand over the bar to shake his, making him chuckle. “How’d you get that nickname?”

“It’s a riff off my middle name,” he explained. “So, what brings you to Vegas, Y/N?” Your eyes followed the movement of his hands, wiping down glasses as he talked with you between helping customers. Your mind took note of his prosthetic hand, metal moving and touching and gripping seemingly no different than flesh. Fascinating.

“Well,” the word was a sigh passing through your lips. “To put it simply, I suppose, this is a sort of ‘revenge/get over my ex/let loose and forget about his stupid ass’ trip.” Bucky chuckled again, the sound deep and warm.

“Sure doesn’t sound simple.”

“Originally, I was supposed to come with my boyfriend. His idea, by the way,” you pointed out. “He had it all planned, bought the tickets, booked the room. Then just a few days before we were supposed to go, I come home from work early to find him fucking the dogwalker from three floors down. We don’t even own a dog!”

“What an asshole,” Bucky responded, his eyes conveying all kinds of sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, I thought that he was taking me on this trip to propose,” you admitted quietly, fingers playing with the now empty water glass in front of you. A snort left your mouth as you grinned a bit, a new thought crossing your mind. “Clearly, I dodged a bullet!” Bucky grinned back.

“Clearly.”

“Anyway, I took my ticket, ripping up the other and throwing it in his face, pissed and insisting that I was taking this trip on his dime. Told him it was the least he could do for being a cheating bastard. I think he was a little scared because he just kept his mouth shut and nodded along.” A smug smirk danced on your lips at the memory. Then you remembered your predicament and your face fell. “But now I’m on this stupid trip by myself for five days and don’t know what the hell to do.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked, dark brows drawing together as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. Holy hell, I didn’t think his biceps could get any bigger.

“It’s just…Am I supposed to go explore the city alone?” You sighed, shaking my head. “For one thing, that could get dangerous. A woman walking around by herself, in a place she’s clearly not familiar with. That doesn’t scream ‘I’m an easy target!’ or anything. Plus, I really don’t know anything about Vegas. I guess I could look things up but again, I’d just be by myself and…I dunno. The trip just doesn’t have the same appeal anymore, I guess.”

Several seconds of silence fell between you as you stared down into your glass, tracing the edge with the tip of your finger as everything raced through your mind. Bucky’s deep voice, hesitant, made your head snap up to meet his icy blue eyes.

“You know,” he started slowly, clearing his throat before continuing. “I could show you around, take you to see the sights, whatever. If you want.” You blinked dumbly up at him a few times before straightening up.

“Really?” There was disbelief in your voice.

“I know we just met and I would completely understand if you said no. But yeah, I have the next few days off and I can take a couple personal days. I’d be more than happy to give you the Vegas experience.” He offered a lopsided grin, the look sweet and honest on him. Your mouth was gaping like a fish, words failing you yet again, until finally you just nodded profusely.

“That- that’d be great, wow, thank you so much,” you rambled, probably sounding ridiculous, but Bucky only smiled and assured you that he was glad to do it.

You spent a bit more time at the bar that evening, talking with Bucky when you could and thinking over the next few days, a much more positive attitude in your head. Before you headed upstairs to get to bed, you exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up the next morning. As you left the bar, waving a final goodbye to the man that had somehow just become you tour guide, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, oddly excited for what was to come.

You wouldn’t have been able to miss Bucky’s blinding smile from across the lobby if you had tried. The second your eyes met, his face was lighting up and he was making his way toward you. Nerves twisted in your gut at seeing him again, the prospect that you were actually going to let this man show you around the city finally sinking in. But that was pushed to the back of your mind as soon as he was in front of you, happiness radiating off of him.

“Mornin’,” he greeted, stuffing one hand in his pocket and pointing toward the door with the other. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s do this,” you breathed, offering a grin of your own as you nodded.

“You didn’t eat yet, did you?”

“Uh, nope. Why?”

“Great,” Bucky replied, leading the way toward the door, you following at his heels. Once you were out in the bright Nevada sun, he shot you a look over his shoulder. “I know a place that serves awesome waffles. Assuming, of course…”

“I love waffles,” you filled in for him, earning another gorgeous grin.

“Perfect!”

After breakfast, which Bucky had insisted on paying for despite your protests, he took you to see some of the famous sights and building around Vegas that were within reasonable walking distance. You were feeling much more comfortable with him after talking and getting to know him more, a very relaxed air settling between the two of you.

You had learned that he was originally from New York, your home city as well, and that his best friend, Steve, still lived there with his fiancé. He was a war vet, hence the metal arm, and had struggled after returning home and trying to adjust back to regular life. After getting into a pretty dark place and just barely being pulled out by Steve, Bucky had decided that he needed a change, something drastically different, so he had spontaneously moved to Las Vegas and become a bartender. He had added that working out usually helped him to clear his head and stay out of trouble, No wonder he’s so damn buff, and that he enjoyed bartending because in a way, it gave him an opportunity to help others sort out their problems, but could also be fun and he also made pretty good money because hello, this was Vegas!

After a late lunch of sandwiches and milkshakes that were to die for, you and Bucky made your way slowly back to the hotel, stopping to look at things here and there and take pictures to document your trip.

“So, what do you say we hit the town tonight, experience the Vegas night life?” Bucky offered, a devilish smirk gracing his lips. “We can drink, gamble, hit up a club or two if you want.”

“Clubs aren’t really my thing, but I’m definitely in for the drinking and gambling,” you said, smiling brightly. “I can finally learn how to play Black Jack.” Bucky laughed heartily at that, your chest filling with warmth at the sound.

“Pick you up at 7?”

“Sounds good!”

“Oh, my God!” Bucky laughed, cheering along with the crowd that had gathered around the table to watch you. “This is crazy, I’ve never seen a streak like this before! Doll, you’ve gotta keep goin’!” His large hands landed on your shoulders, squeezing lightly before settling back on the edge of the table.

You giggled at his encouragement, the buzz you had from the shots he had bought for you earlier making your mind just a tad hazy. The people around echoed their agreement, clapping and urging you on.

“Alright, alright,” you conceded, picking up the dice once again and giving them a good shake before letting them roll, yet again landing on a hard eight. Jumping up and down and yelling in delight, you practically pounced on Bucky in a hug as more noise erupted around the table. Bucky was laughing and smiling like the sun, returning your celebratory embrace happily.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he said. “How are you so good at this?”

“I dunno,” you replied, shooting him a smile and a shrug. “Luck, I guess.”

The night continued on like that, laughter and happiness engulfing you in a bubble as you drank and gambled and had an all-around amazing time. You bashed your ex openly and loudly, Bucky encouraging and supporting you with every complaint and criticism, throwing in drunken compliments and remarks about how you deserve better. You toasted and drank to moving forward and finding better things, each of you drunkenly pledging to get more out of life and experience as much as you possibly could.

Finally, with most of the patrons heading out, you and Bucky went on your way and hailed a cab, sobering up just slightly on the ride back to your hotel. He promised to call you in the morning and walked you to the door of the building while the cab waited, making sure you got inside safely before heading off for home. Once you collapsed into bed that night, you let out a content sigh, much of the weight that had been resting on your chest over this trip and your ex and everything that happened now lessened. As you curled into the sheets and closed your eyes, images of Bucky’s contagious smile flashed in your mind.

Dull pounding against your skull woke you the next morning. Groaning, you rolled over onto your stomach and buried your face into the pillows, blinding reaching for your phone to check the time. When you cracked an open to look at the screen, you found a few texts from Bucky, received just a few moments before you woke up.

From Bucky Barnes: Holy hell. Don’t know about you doll but my head is killing me. Aging and alcohol don’t mix well apparently

From Bucky Barnes: let me know when you’re up

Smiling in spite of your terrible hangover, you decided to give him a call instead of texting him back and anxiously waiting for a response. After just a couple of rings, Bucky’s deep voice, scratchy from sleep and the alcohol, was greeting you.

“I’m feeling just about as terrible as you sound,” you told him, earning a slight chuckle.

“Yeah, I think I’ll hold back on the shots for awhile,” he responded. “Just thinking about it kind of makes me want to throw up.” You laughed in agreement before a slightly awkward pause settled between you, the question neither one of you wanted to address hanging heavily in the air. “So, we both feel like shit. Do you want to go out today? Because if you’re up for it, then-“

“Honestly, not really,” you sighed, cutting him off as an idea formed into your head. You weren’t sure he’d go for it, but it was worth a shot. Gnawing on your lip, you took the chance and asked before you lost the courage. “I was thinking room service, movies, and bed sounded good today.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay that’s-“

“And you could join me, if you wanted to,” you blurted, hoping he couldn’t hear the frantic beating of your heart. Another pause. Squeezing your eyes shut, you once again shoved your face into the pillow, wanting nothing more than to disappear into it.

“I’d love that,” Bucky finally answered, the smile clear in his voice. You couldn’t help but break out in a huge grin, silently squealing. “Let me shower and grab some things and I’ll let you know when I leave, okay?”

“Okay. Bye, Buck.” Laying there, you stared at the ceiling, grinning like a fool as excitement coursed through your veins. Bucky was coming over to spend the day with you.

Wait…Bucky was coming over.

As realization hit, you jumped up and practically ran for the shower.

“Did you know that Patrick Swayze is actually the one performing this song?” you asked, referring to She’s Like the Wind in the Dirty Dancing scene when Johnny has to say goodbye to Baby while you snacked on some chocolate-covered strawberries. Bucky made a surprised noise around the food in his mouth, brows raising in interest.

“Really? Interesting.” You were lounged on the large bed in my hotel room watching your favorite movies, comfy sweats on and a plethora of delicious dessert items from the food service menu laid between you. You had gone through and picked out everything that sounded remotely good, more than happy to run up the bill that your ex would later be paying. It had been an utterly unproductive but very fun afternoon.

As the sky outside grew darker, you and Bucky just stayed in our own little world, laughing and joking as if you’d known each other for years. And if you were being honest, it had felt that way since you first spoke, an odd level of comfort ever present around him. There was just something about his open and generally positive personality that brought the same characteristics out in you, something you wouldn’t expect after what just happened with your ex.

“Shit, I didn’t realize it was so late,” Bucky said, checking his phone. It was already close to midnight, both of you having lost track of time. You tried your best to hide the disappointed frown that wanted to settle onto your features at the thought of Bucky leaving, even if you were going to see him tomorrow. He was quiet for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in thought before he turned to you with a bright grin on his face. “Wanna get Taco Bell?” You blinked in surprise a few times before letting out the laugh that was bubbling up your throat.

“Hell. Yes.” Jumping up, both of you grabbed your things and headed out the door, chatting on your way down to his car. The drive there was spent singing along obnoxiously to the music blasting from the speakers, you taking snapchat videos of Bucky as he overdramatically danced and shouted the lyrics to the songs while you laughed loudly, tears forming in the corners of your eyes with the force of it. Honestly, you couldn’t ever remember having this much fun with any of your exes.

After getting your food, you returned to the hotel room, putting on another movie while you ate. Bucky was lounged on the couch while you were sprawled across your bed, both of you trained on the movie, tiredness beginning to settle into your bones. Your eyes had started to get heavier, resulting in you ‘resting’ them every once in awhile.

It wasn’t until the next morning that you realized you had fallen asleep, blinking harshly against the sunlight streaming in. Confused, you looked around to find your phone only to see Bucky fast asleep on the couch, one arm tucked under his head, the other laying on his chest that was rising and falling gently with each steady breath. You took a moment to admire him, the way his hair was falling haphazardly over the arm of the couch, his pink lips parted slightly, expression calm as he snored softly.

Not wanting to wake him, you moved as quietly as you could to the bathroom, washing your face and brushing your teeth. When you walked out, Bucky was stretching and letting out a yawn, smiling at you once you plopped back on the bed.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you joked, earning a snort.

“Mornin’.” Oh, God. Bucky’s voice was scratchy with sleep, somehow deeper and sexier than it was already, sending a shiver that you tried to hide down your spine. “Didn’t realize we fell asleep last night.”

“Me either. You didn’t hurt your neck on that couch, did you?”

“Nah, I’m fine, doll,” he assured with a chuckle, standing up and stretching once again. As he lifted his arms, the strip of skin between his sweats and shirt was exposed, practically making your eyes bug out of your head. Get it together, woman! “Well, I’m gonna head home and clean up. Want to go for a late lunch and some more sight-seeing?”

“Yeah, that sounds like fun,” you told him, walking him to the door and waving goodbye as he left. After a deep breath to compose yourself, you jumped in the shower and began to get ready for the day.

“Okay, but did you see the guy-“ Your sentence and Bucky’s laughter was interrupted by the sound of a phone vibrating continuously as you walked through the lobby of the hotel later that night. You both trailed off, his brows drawing together as he pulled his phone out, a frown settling over his face as he looked at the caller ID.

“Sorry, doll, gotta take this. It should just be a second,” he apologized. You assured him it was fine and waited patiently as he took the call, catching bits and pieces of the conversation. Bucky hung up with a sigh, running a hand through his hair and offering an apologetic smile as he approached. “That was my buddy at the bar. They need someone to come in for a few hours and close up, the other guy scheduled called off sick and he just got an emergency call; his wife went into labor. I’m sorry, Y/N-“

“Bucky, you don’t need to be, it’s fine!” You said, shaking your head. “They need you. And you’re already here, so…” He chuckled at that, looking at the floor and nodding before meeting your eyes with a small grin. “Besides, you’ve already taken so many days off to hang out with me, you’re probably broke.”

“An empty wallet is worth it if it means spending more time with you, doll,” he joked, throwing you a wink that made a blush rise to your cheeks and a nervous giggle bubble up from your throat.

“I should get some sleep anyway. You promised a day of shopping tomorrow, which means I need to be well-rested.”

“Am I gonna regret that suggestion?” he asked playfully, walking backwards toward the area of the hotel bar.

“Probably, yes,” you answered, nodding vigorously and laughing. Bucky gave a small wave before bidding you goodnight and heading to work, leaving you in the lobby of the hotel. Making your way to the elevator, you walked slowly, not in a rush to get anywhere anytime soon.

Once you had completed your evening routine and crawled into bed, sleep seemed to want to avoid you at all costs. You tossed and turned, threw covers off and pulled them back on, arranged and rearranged the pillows, tried switching sides of the bed, even laid with your head at the opposite end for a bit, but you were still wide-freaking-awake. With an annoyed huff, you flopped onto your stomach and grabbed your phone, tucking a pillow under your chin as you roamed some social media, played a game or two, until finally an idea hit you.

To Bucky Barnes: How’s the bar? Anymore damsels in distress that needed saving tonight?

From Bucky Barnes: Haha not tonight, it was actually slow for a Saturday. Thought you were going to bed?

To Bucky Barnes: Can’t sleep :p

From Bucky Barnes: Come down. You can talk to me while I clean up

Deciding it was better than staring at the ceiling all night, you slipped on some flip flops and made your way downstairs. The building was quiet, only a few people here and there passing you on your way. As you walked into the room of the bar, most of the lights were off, Bucky the only one in the area. He must’ve heard you come in because his large framed turned to face you, smile plastered on his face as he cleaned a glass.

“Hey there, insomniac,” he greeted, watching you climb onto a barstool and grin goofily at him.

“Hi. Got an extra rag? I’ll help,” you offered, but Bucky shook his head, insisting that he’d take care of it. So instead you just sat and talked, conversation flowing easily as it always seemed to with him. It was mostly Bucky telling crazy stories of his time working there, but you were more than happy to sit and listen.

Finishing wiping down the glasses, Bucky headed to the back with the dirty ones that needed washed, leaving alone for a few moments. As you looked around, you noticed the piano in the corner, wondering how you had never taken note of it before. Sliding off the stool, you made your way over, running your fingers along the shiny black exterior and admiring it. You took a seat on the small cushioned bench, lifting the lid over the keys and gently laying your hands over them. Tentatively, you pressed a few keys, the sounds seeming to echo in the quiet room.

“You play?” Bucky’s deep voice asked, making you jump. You hadn’t realized he had come back. Shaking your head with a sigh, you turned your attention back to the instrument.

“No, but I wish I did. I love Piano music. It just has such an…enchanting sound.” Making his way over, Bucky sat on the bench next to you, placing his fingers, both flesh and metal, on the keys and shooting you a wink before starting to play.

Your jaw nearly dropped.

Because why wouldn’t he play the piano? He’s just the freaking perfect male specimen!

Once he was finished, he ran a hand over the back of his neck, a light blush coloring his cheeks under that dark scruff.

“I don’t know too much, just a couple songs,” he said sheepishly, probably the most timid and quiet you’d seen Bucky since you met him a couple days ago.

“No, that was fantastic,” you gushed. “Can you teach me anything? Even just a few notes?” Smiling at your excitement, Bucky nodded, beginning to position your hands correctly and teaching you what notes were associated with what keys. You learned a very simple beginner piece, some kids song you recalled from your childhood, practically squealing when you finally played it all the way through.

“That was great, doll!” Bucky told you, just as excited. He nudged your shoulder with his, turning his head to look you in the eye. “See, it’s not too hard.”

“I guess not.” Your words caught in your throat as you looked back at him, blue eyes suddenly intense as they gazed at you. His face was so close to yours, so close, and you could smell the mint from the gum he had been chewing earlier. Letting out a shaky breath, your heart seemed to nearly beat out of your chest as the air between you shifted.

Bucky leaned in slowly, making sure to give you enough warning that you could stop him if you wanted to, pausing just before he reached your lips. A barely audible whimper escaped your throat, sending Bucky’s lips crashing to yours as his metal hand came up to tangle in the hair at the back of your head. His mouth moved against yours experimentally, tongue darting out to lick at your bottom lip until you opened for him. A quiet moan rumbled through Bucky’s chest at the taste of you, sending a spark of heat down your spine. Your hands made their way to his face, fingers grazing the sharp line of his jaw, holding him to you.

Suddenly, Bucky was hauling you into his lap, arms going around you and fingers splaying across your back as you straddled his thighs. Your kiss was turning more passionate, bordering on sloppy as you clung to each other, friction igniting between your bodies.

Bucky’s lips suddenly parted from yours, allowing you to gulp in air as he moved down to your neck, your arms curling around him. His hands slid down to your hips, slipping under the fabric of your shirt to grip at bare skin. The scruff on his face scraped in the most tantalizing way against you as he pressed heated kisses down the column of your throat, nipping at your collarbone.

“James,” you gasped, eyes closed in bliss as you just felt him touch you. He broke away at the sound of his name, forehead resting against yours as you both panted. You were still pressed together, electricity charging all around the two of you, the only sound that of your heavy breathing.

“Let me take you out to dinner tomorrow,” Bucky finally said, voice quiet and rough. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him, still flushed and out of breath, and waited for him to meet your eyes. When he did, you nodded, biting your lip to try and contain a smile. Bucky grinned back, leaning up to press another kiss to your lips.

[sad-af1121]

Strangers In The Mind: Part 1

Summary: A cure has been found for Bucky and as he is going under treatment, he starts having bizarre dreams about you. He doesn’t know why or how. Never in his life has he actually met you but, he is determined to find you. (soulmate AU) Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 1370 Warnings: Angst, mentions of abuse/torturing, depressive thoughts? A/N: This is shorter than the next parts because it’s like a teaser/background. It is going to be angsty and I hope y’all enjoy. Silhouette by Aquilo is a great song for this fic. Feedback is welcomed 💜   

Present

“Hey, stop looking so grim. You should be glad I’m here, mister.”

There you were looking radiant as ever. The wind blew through your hair, creating ripples of your scent to spread out in the open. His heart swells seeing the crinkles of your eyes, the brightness of your smile, and the love you held most emitting from you. Bucky could have sworn an angel came down to visit him every night whenever he tried to sleep.

But time was slipping through his fingers.

“I am, I am. It’s just that… I don’t understand why I see you here.” Bucky says while looking around the beautiful forestry surrounding the two of you. You both laid on the green grassy ground, on a mid-springs day as a soft breeze coursed through the air, making the plants dance. You giggled laying on your stomach, making sure your dress didn’t rise as you started kicking your legs back and forth.

“You’ll know soon, I promise.” You said, picking the petals off a white carnation flower. Bucky looked down at you, using his metal hand to prop up his head as he watched you destroy the delicate bloom.

“I love you, Y/N… always and forever” He says softly as he absorbs your beauty one last time before his time is up.

“I’ll see you next time, Buck.” You state, ignoring what Bucky said. A single tear ran down your pink cheek as you felt the disconnection from him. He was being pulled out of his dreaming state.

He was waking up.

“W-wait.” He hesitated as the sky became dark, consuming everything as it disappears into the dark void.

“Goodbye, James.” Your voice lingers on in a haunting whisper as you fade away.

Bucky awoke from yet another dream he couldn’t explain. He threw the covers off this body as he swung his legs over the edge, leaning his forearms on his thighs as he went over what happened.

A dream.

That’s all it was. Nothing more.

Every night you would show up in his dreams in a different setting, different appearance, and different state of mind. The amount of detail Bucky could see was astonishing. Every touch, scent, sound, and taste left a mark on his soul. The way your lips always stayed plush, your skin smooth like silk, your eyes bright as day and your voice calming, luring him to sleep like a lullaby. Just like his nightmares that would feel so real, so tempting that it would drag him down into the abyss of darkness, you were his light.  

When Bucky was in Wakanda, T’Challa and many scientists were able to find a cure for Bucky’s brainwashing. It was a combination of using Wanda’s abilities and reversing the effects Hydra had forced upon him. Extracting every word from his mind wasn’t an easy task. It was as if it was stripping apart of Bucky from the inside.

Those words had become him.

The kind of screams that made your blood run cold like shards of glass piercing through flesh filled the room as scientists and Wanda tried getting rid of the words that have only done terrible things. Bucky’s eyes would become wide and glossed over as his desperate yet terrified screams left his body. Every time Wanda went inside his mind, a jolt of electricity shot through his entire core, hitting every nerve along its way as it runs up his spine into his brain. Imagine touching an outlet that shocks your finger for a second, leaving a sting behind, but for Bucky, it lasted for hours until Wanda detached the word from its source.  

The blood from his face would drain, making him more zombie-like than he already was. His heart would thud so loud you could had felt its beat booming through your chest like a stereo. Indents in the shape of a crescent were left into the armrest of the chair Bucky sat in. He dug his nails into the material, bracing the amount of telepathic energy placed upon his mind. His body shook in fear and uncertainty, trembling as his body tried to recover from the procedure. He would stare into space, not knowing if the pain he was going through was worth it as nurses checked his vitals and his state.

He pondered if this was any different than his time in Hydra. He was being experimented on, always on surveillance, and lacking any sort of freedom. After the Accords, Steve wanted to make sure Bucky was well taken care of by T’Challa and his team. There was no other option for Bucky, so he spent about 5 years in Wakanda until Steve requested him back at the tower where his treatments would continue. But that was the least of Bucky’s worries.

It didn’t matter how much pain he had to endure for the poison Hydra had implanted in him to go away. He wanted them out for good. He yearned for peace.

An escape.

The first few days at the Tower were hard. Bucky would lay in bed at night, tears stinging his eyes as he thought back to his life, before enlisting. How he grew up with Steve, the love he carried for his ma and sisters, and the most upright respect he had for people who came his way. It wasn’t in his nature to be cruel. Not once did he bully a kid because they seemed weak, beat up a man for no reason or treating women like they were trash after he spent the night with them. It wasn’t him.  

What did I do so bad in my life to deserve this?

Staring into the void, tears would run down the sides of his face as he laid there numb from his thoughts. Still a reminder of what the Winter Soldier has done, he remembers every face he killed, tortured, beaten, and brought fear upon. Never in his life did he expect it to turn out like this.

I’m a monster.

With time, Bucky would heal as his nightmares would decrease. They’ll never go away as his demons were still there, waiting for him at the gates of Hell that was his mind. They were ready to remind him what he really is and of his past. Each kill took a piece of his soul. He didn’t know what emotion was, being fried every couple hours whenever he remembered his true self, James Buchanan Barnes.

He knew the night terrors weren’t going to go away, but having less of them were better than having the constant fear of relapsing and going into Winter Soldier mode.  He just wished he didn’t have to wake up in the middle of the night with his sheets drenched in his own sweat and his heart beating like a drum, loud and fast. Frantically moving around as his sheets would trap him, tangled and wrapped around his limbs like something never letting him go.

He’d look around the room, familiarizing himself that he is safe and isn’t under control. No more hiding in the darkness, in fear as the only type of people who surrounded him were the ones who cared most and the ones who just wanted to help.

But I don’t deserve them.

As time went on, Bucky could dream about things other than his time at Hydra or his fear that consumed him for most of his life. Strange dreams like memories played in his mind as he slept.

It was odd at first, seeing unfamiliar faces and places as he roamed around, basking in the moment. Bucky couldn’t think the of the last time he dreamt, or how his mind could imagine again. To his assumption, Hydra blocked the receptors in his brain that allowed him to do so.

However, he realized there was a woman in his dreams that would appear every single night.

He didn’t understand why he was seeing the same woman in his dreams, but he didn’t mind. She brought him peace as he left the real world and came into limbo. She was the anchor to his struggles and light to his darkness.

You.

TAGS: @thatawkwardtinyperson @jezzula @buckybarnesismypreciousplum @amrita31199 @papi-chulo-bucky @softwintersoldier @angryschnauzer @avengersandlovers @soldatbarnes @cumonbucky @badassbaker @finallybreathee @james-bionic-barnes @atari-writes 

(permanent tag-list is open)

[brisbaneiphonecasescovers]

The iPhone 11 Review

Introducing The iPhone 11

The iPhone 11 offers superb cameras, a more durable design and excellent battery life for an affordable price, making it the iPhone to buy for most people. You may have gotten an iPhone because you heard it was the best. You may not really know how to use the phone in order to get the most out of it, but that is what this article is for. This article contains information you can use to really get to know your phone. Keep reading for great tips.

After previous Apple phones fell behind the likes of Samsung, Google and Huawei, the iPhone 11 represents a big leap forward for photography, thanks to a new ultra-wide lens and a new Night mode for better low-light performance. In fact, camera on the new iPhone surpasses that of the Pixel 4, based on our testing. Apple has also upped the ante with greater video-recording quality while also delivering superb battery life.

You’ll make a few penances versus the pricier iPhone 11 Pro and iPhone 11 Pro Max, however generally, the iPhone 11 is the best iPhone for a great many people and seemingly the best telephone for the cash, time frame. 

Apple iPhone 8 (Installments 128GB) for $80 forthright with 2GB of information for just $50 every month from some providers. Look here for more about iPhone 11. 

iPhone 11 Price and Availability

The iPhone 11 is presently on special (Sept.20) and starts at $699 for 64GB of capacity, or $29.12 every month. That is $50 not as much as what Apple charged a year ago for the iPhone XR. 

In the event that you exchange your current iPhone in great condition you can purchase the iPhone 11 for as low as $399. I would have jumped at the chance to see 128GB of capacity to begin yet you can get that sum for $749, or 256GB of capacity for $849. 

For example in the UK, you can purchase the iPhone 11 from Apple’s site, where it costs £729, £779, £879 for the 64GB, 128GB and 256GB stockpiling adaptations separately. In correlation, this is about £20 not exactly the section level iPhone XR’s dispatch value, which is unarguably a markdown, however a unimportant one. With exchange ins, you can let that fundamental cost down to £529. 

Look at our iPhone 11 accessories page for other incredible limits we’ve found, and make certain to bookmark our best iPhone 11 cases and accessories bargains pages for any enormous deals for the new iPhone and other top items for these special seasons.

iPhone 11 Specs

Starting Price$699CPUA13 BionicRAMUnknownStorage64GB, 256GB, 512GBMicroSD?NoRear Cameras12-MP wide (f/1.8) and 12-MP ultra wide (f/2.4)Front Cameras12-MP (f/2.2)Water ResistanceUp to 2 meters for 30 minutesBattery SizeUnknownBattery Life (Hrs:Mins)11:16Size5.94 x 2.98 x 0.33 inchesWeight6.84 ouncesColorsBlack, Green, Yellow, Purple, White, Red

iPhone 11 Design: Colorful and More Durable

The iPhone 11’s structure is a blend of well-known and new. The front and sides are essentially samesies with the iPhone XR, complete with the indent at the top, aluminum band and fairly stout bezels (in any event contrasted with the iPhone 11 Pro and the best Android telephones). 

The indication that you have the new iPhone is the larger than average double cameras on the back, housed in a matte glass square. The focal points sort of help me to remember robot eyes. The remainder of the glass has a reflexive completion, so this camera fix gives an intriguing piece of complexity. (The iPhone 11 Pro is all matte glass on the back.) 

I like the new hues for the iPhone 11, which have a more controlled vibe than the Technicolor rainbow that made up the iPhone XR lineup. The more quieted shades incorporate a mint green, a light yellow and a light lavender purple. You can likewise pick from back, white and Red. 

The greatest plan change on the iPhone 11 is the thing that you don’t see. Apple guarantees that this telephone has the hardest glass — front and back — of any cell phone, on account of a double particle trade process. Some iPhone 11 users have made nosie about easily scratched unitss, despite the fact that we have not seen any scratches on our survey unit. All things considered, you might need to put resources into an iPhone 11 screen defender or iPhone 11 case. 

This gadget likewise has IP68-appraised water obstruction, which implies that it can withstand 2 meters of water for 30 minutes. The iPhone XR could do just 1 meter. The iPhone 11 Pro ups that to 4 meters, yet that is not really motivation to spend additional batter. 

At 5.94 x 2.98 x 0.33 inches and 6.84 ounces, the iPhone 11 is indistinguishable from the iPhone XR in estimate and weight. This places the telephone in the middle of the 5.8-inch iPhone 11 Pro and the 6.5-inch iPhone 11 Pro Max, which I see as a fair compromise as far as vivid review and having the option to utilize the telephone with one hand.

Like the iPhone XR before it, the iPhone 11 is the iPhone I’d recommend to most people. And not just to existing iPhone owners — anyone looking for top-notch cameras should consider this handset, especially because of Apple’s aggressive $699 price. Based on our testing, the iPhone 11 can now hang with or beat the best cameras from Google and Samsung.

Overall, the iPhone 11 is a remarkable worth and without a doubt probably one of the best iPhones you can purchase.

from Brisbane iPhone cases & covers https://brisbaneiphonecasescovers.home.blog/2019/11/19/the-iphone-11-review/

[colemohrkok89-blog]

Who are you? (Name, age, titles) Cole Sabine Mohr

What are you? Human/Android Hybrid

Where are you from? Lucky, Louisiana

Where are you currently based? Port City, Tethannis Prime

When are you from? Born 3/15/1989

What are your powers? (Maximum 3 distinct powers)

Technological Telekinesis

Technology Manipulation (Technopathy)

What are your weaknesses, or what are the limitations of your powers? (At least 3 weaknesses/limitations)

Noise pollution - Easily overwhelmed by outside noise, more susceptible to mental distractors

Not a strong physical fighter

Powers can be muted by magic

How did you get your powers? After a motorcycle accident left half of her body ruined, Cole met a shady doctor that promised he could fix her myriad health problems. She was taken to Port City where she signed away her life to participate in clinical trials that ultimately ended the damaged parts of her body being replaced with high tech prosthetics.

Why are you joining S.P.I.R.I.T.? Travel and social opportunities.

What is your codename? Metal Head

Do you have any alliances or affiliations with other extraordinary persons or groups? Allied by force with Dr. Henry Stone of Dynamic Prosthetics Research Lab

Do you have any rivalries or archenemies with other extraordinary persons or groups? Strongly dislikes Dr. Stone for keeping her in his service in exchange for rebuilding her body and unwittingly giving her powers.

What form does your Mask/Cape take? (Please see the Premise to understand this further. Neither have to be literal - your “Mask” can be glasses, a helmet, a hat, or it can be a literal mask. Your “Cape” can be a cloak, a jacket, a shirt/tunic, a dress, or a literal cape.) Cole’s cape is a worn leather jacket adorned heavily with spikes and patches that proclaim things like “Don’t fucking touch me” and “Let’s be Perfectly Queer.” Her mask is a custom motorcycle helmet -- all black with white typewriting font, on one side: Who needs drugs? On the other side: Seriously, I have drugs.

Physical description: (2 paragraphs, or 5 detailed bullet points)

Short hair -- Cutting her hair short used to be symbolic of Cole’s continual struggle against the man, but now it’s more of an easy fashion choice than anything -- she chooses to keep it short because it’s simple to take care of and the ladies seem to love it.

Slender/Non-muscular -- Cole can talk a big game, but she doesn’t have much to  back it up. She never seems to be able to put anything but some base muscle on, and has a terrible time trying to gain weight, despite her best eating and exercising efforts.

One bright blue eye, one brown -- Cole’s natural eye color is a stellar bright blue. Unfortunately, due to her accident and subsequent surgeries, her left eye was replaced with a realistic but technologically advanced bionic eye which is brown instead.

Tattoos everywhere -- Although some were literally ripped off in the accident, they were redone over the synthetic skin placed over her metal parts. She’s got 57 total and they all range from inspirational sayings to cartoons, getting more and more ridiculous (and stupid) each time she adds onto the count.

Usually grease-stained -- Cole spends all of her time in a garage of some sort, working on one machine or another. She loves working on her own car most, and during her free time, she can be seen fiddling with it, getting her ratty clothes dirty in the process.

History of major life events:

Cole was born and raised for sometime in Lucky, Louisiana by her Southern father Jacob Mohr and her French Cajun mother Bernadette Parisi. They were both salt-of-the-earth people with big dreams until crystal meth and heroin began showing up in their small parish. Both parents took to it quickly, no doubt to find an outlet for their stress and anxiety, and spent most of their time getting high and trying to keep down jobs to pay for their house and children. Although their hearts were seemingly in the right place, their state of minds were rarely strong enough to comprehend what time of day it was, let alone what their household truly needed. To make matters slightly worse, Cole had been a very difficult child, getting in trouble at school, at home, at church -- she was a handful and the Mohrs did not stop with just her. A few years down the road, there were more Mohr children, all of whom were thankfully much calmer and well behaved than their eldest sister.

So around the ripe age of 16, Cole had two jobs and was making sure that her tiny brothers and sisters were at least getting to and from school without trouble. Sure sometimes that meant sending her shady racing friends to pick them up or drop them off, however, most of the time she was able to grab them in between jobs or on her breaks. After awhile, the constant stress began eating at her. She was only 16 and already felt exhausted as though she were in her thirties, but she knew there was no way to leave while her parents were still strung out. So Cole confronted them both one night and ignighted a fight the likes of which would never again be matched in their family's history (or so she assumed because of the severity). She had decided to move secretly, and couldn't bear the idea of her siblings being mistreated while she was somewhere else -- in New York City as she'd recently decided.

It took another year and a few months, but by the time it was Cole's 18th birthday, Bernadette and Jacob were as clean as they were going to get, promising to only touch whiskey, pot and cigarettes and to be better parents to their many children. Cole promised she would, in turn, send money back and make sure that they were never without her, despite the distance she was about to put between them. Now the only thing left to do was to find a way to New York so that she could start her life! Unfortunately, the opportunity was far less glamorous than the girl had been hoping, but it was her ticket out, so she drove a car loaded with heroin up to a house in Brooklyn and then took the bus into the city like nothing was amiss.

Cole was now loaded down with money and needed to find a place to stay, which wasn't hard because of the fistfuls of cash she could dish out for at least the next few months. She spent her next few months in New York racing and stealing cars, working stupid side jobs at restaurants or small time mechanics' places, and contented herself with making money and having fun. And it was fun!

Until the accident.

One night, Cole set out for a club on her brand new Suzuki crotch rocket. After swerving to avoid a passing car, she was thrown from her vehicle and sustained multiple, life-threatening injuries. That was when she met Dr. Stone and the horrible people at Dynamic Prosthetics Research Lab on Tethannis Prime.

The doctors were baffled that the accident hadn’t killed her, and when it hadn’t, it perked the ears of a Dr. Joseph Stone. He was one of the top most respectedd researchers for high tech prosthetics and exoskeletons, managing to produce the best and most consistent research and advancements in the field. It wasn’t because he was brilliant, or because he was compassionate, it was because he had materials that not many others had: humans with nothing to lose.

So Cole signed her life away, seemingly to save it and keep living. What she didn’t know, was that right after her life-saving surgeries, Dr. Stone was set on putting her to work to pay for the expensive machinery he’d grafted to her. She labors for him because she feels as though she owes him, but Cole despises the man with everything she has. He’s the reason she hasn’t been able to go to or contact her home, the reason she can’t have a real job she likes, and he is the reason that she is more machine than woman.

Despite her current sorry state, Cole is upbeat. Dr. Stone keeps her comfortable in a nice apartment, lets her build her own cars, and does not give her curfews as he does with some of his other experiments. Cole considers herself stuck but lucky enough -- she still has somewhat of a life on Port City.

PROJECT S.P.I.R.I.T.’S PUBLIC FILES:

CODENAME: Metal Head

SPECIES: Human

APPROXIMATE AGE: 30

TITLES/RANKS: None

KNOWN ABILITIES:

Technology Manipulation (Technopathy)

Technological Telekinesis

KNOWN AFFILIATIONS/ALLIANCES: Dr. Stone of Dynamic Prosthetics Research Lab

KNOWN ENEMIES: Dr. Stone of Dynamic Prosthetics Research Lab

HOME S.P.I.R.I.T. BASE: (Please approximate to the nearest major city to where your character is located; the list of bases is in progress and the home base will be corrected in the public file in the future) Port City, Tethannis Prime

ID PHOTO: (Please use a link and do not post the image itself; make sure this is the same photo as your icon.) https://www.mytalk1071.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/AP_452298469918.jpg

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OOC INFO

Name or Alias: Archer

Age: (18+) 30

OOC Contact: (email, messenger name, etc) mfbernstein11@gmail.com

In-Character Extras: (a google hangouts account for your character, which is required) colemohrkok@gmail.com

[pltstory-blog]

Chapter 4. David.

David woke from another nightmare. For the last two weeks since he had arrived on Glasgol station getting a full night’s sleep had been a luxury. Normally stress caused him to sleep even more than normal. His body had a tendency to face adversity by simply turning off and sleeping it away. But now the source of his fear had become his sleep. Or, more accurately, sleep brought him closer to his fears. Without consciousness to distract him from images of Donald’s throat spraying in his face or the face of the man in the crowd, they swarmed his mind and came to life in his dreams. Unfortunately, work on Glasgol left him so exhausted by the end of the day that at least some sleep was unavoidable. He had spent his first week helping Ramos to tear apart the inside of his ship. They had started with expensive wood furniture, tapestries and chrome fixtures. Every sign of luxury in his yacht was stripped away to reveal the sturdy bones of the ship.  The wood floors were torn out and replaced with metal. The mezzanine level pool was replaced with an extra clean water tank. Glasgol’s gravity was created by it’s spin so at the center of the disk, where the ship was docked, gravity was lighter. This made moving things much easier, but not that easy. David hadn’t thought he would be useful to the rebuild. He had never done a day of physical labor in his life. Many times he thought his body had reached it’s limit. But the looming figure of Ramos and his desire to stay on his good side kept him going. Once he had hauled everything onto the dock the robot arms Glasgol was outfitted with took care of moving things into the correct storage area. On week two, they started to build. Adding shields, guns, cold storage capability, more shields and more guns. David had no idea it took so much firepower to simply ship goods. They weren’t even in a heavy war zone.

He rolled out of bed with the images of his nightmare still lingering behind his eyes. He rubbed his hands over his face a few times, then stretched and looked around his tiny room.He sat on the bottom of a metal bunk bed. The bunks were just a couple of metal doors that someone had welded onto stilts. A ladder laid on it’s side served as the top bunk’s rail, but there was no ladder leading up to it. It was just as well, the top bunk was piled high with back stock from SMilee’s bar “The Rag and Bone.” Even if David thought he could haul himself up there without a ladder, he wouldn’t have room to sleep. A single step took him from his bunk to the other side of the room. A small chest of drawers held his few belongings. The suit he had been wearing when he came to Glasgol was folded up neatly in a drawer. It was much too nice a suit for a dock worker. He looked at himself in the mirror that sat on his dresser. The glass was cracked down the middle, but he could see that the black eye Ramos had given him upon their meeting was completely healed. He had new bruises to replace it. Between hauling crates and flying around the engine room he had taken a considerable beating. He had never seen himself so battered before escaping to this swirling plate out in space. He pressed his palms into his eyes thinking about the quiet days spent in front of his computer. He used to love when a new data cache came in first thing in the morning and he could sit mining code for hours. Things were so different now. He never felt alone on this station. Someone always had an eye on him, making sure he wasn’t getting into trouble. Smilee had security cameras in just about every room of his trading post. On the rare occasion David had time to venture away from SMilee’s Post, he was usually followed by BIL, Smilee’s android. BIL was a two foot tall box with tank wheels and a little periscope head. He zipped along behind David everywhere he went. Smilee insisted this was to keep him safe but he was fairly sure BIL wasn’t equipped with weapons. In the mirror, David saw the reflection of his bedside table and his interface. It was blinking to indicate he had a message. He tapped his temple to activate his implant and the message appeared in front of him: Engine room today. David groaned. A day of nausea and slamming into walls. He turned to leave taking the two strides necessary to cross his room. With his hand on the door handle he hesitated. What he wouldn’t give to get back into bed and stay there. To not have to walk out this door into the insanity that had become his existence. He considered just telling Sven he was too ill. What would he do then? Stay here and sleep? These days he would rather go to the engine room than sleep. He pushed his door open and faced another day on Glasgol. His room was at the end of a hallway. When he reached the other end of the hall he could either turn right into Smilee’s office or left out onto the shipyard. He took the door to the left and made his way to the dock and up into the ship. He passed through the stripped out great room and down the long corridor to the engine room. He opened the first entry door and closed it behind him. The engine room was a zero-g area. He had to wait in this intermediate chamber for the gravity converter to seal itself before he would get the green light and the other door could open. The signal lit up and David opened the door to the engine room. Immediately his feet left the floor and he grabbed the rail. One of the first things Sven taught him was that the gravity drive creates a lot of spin on objects in the engine room. So if you don’t want to twirl like a top you have to keep a firm grip with one hand, or strap yourself into one of the harnesses. David had suggested the harness the first time he lost his grip and twirled away from what he had been working on, but Sven insisted that using the harnesses was cheating. David used the various handholds attached to the walls of the room to navigate his way up the wall toward Sven. The engine room was tall, it ran along the entire height of the ship between the two grav lenses. The drive created the gravity distortion, which was then sent through the two huge lenses on either side of the ship to create a gravity wave that the ship could “surf.” As he approached, David only saw Sven’s legs as he was waist deep in the engine wall.

“David, hop over to those dials on the other side. I need you to read them off to me.” Sven instructed. Any time David heard Sven say “hop over” he knew things weren’t going to go as smoothly as indicated. He looked at the other side of the engine room. It was only about a six foot gap, and with zero grav that was an easy distance to float. However the spin always made things tricky. David hesitated, trying to calculate the correct angle to jump. Grav drives were made to distort gravity into a “surfable” wave. All this gravity distortion created a spin in the engine room that was hard to fight against. If you drop a tool, it will get whipped around in a circle. If you lose your grip, you’ll be sent spinning.   “I don’t hear you swearing so I assume you’re still sitting here. Remember what I said, just turn with the spin. Fight against it and you’ll get all fucked up. Snap ass! I need those readings!” David took a deep breath and held it. He pushed off the wall gently and tried to angle his shoulders with the direction of the spin. As his feet left the wall he spun faster than he expected. He turned his shoulders hoping to slow himself down. His shoulders stayed somewhat parallel to his destination, however his knees followed the spin. In the short time it took to float over to the dials his body was twisted, and in trying to correct it David forgot about his inevitable meeting with the other wall. His left shoulder hit the rail at the same time his gut hit the rung below it. The breath David held was knocked out of him and he struggled to catch hold of the railing as his shoulder bounced off. “Lords of-” He swore as he got hold and righted himself. “You’ll get it, man.” Sven said with absent-minded encouragement. “Read me the numbers, top to bottom.” David did as he was told. As he read the various dials, Sven made adjustments. “What are we trying to fix?” David said after reading the last dial. “With all the new shields and guns all over the ship we need to adjust the lenses to make sure they are aimed at the surf shield. Otherwise the grav wave will smash all the pretty toys we just put on.” “Seems like a lot of guns for a merchant ship.” “Space is crazy. If you have a ship full of goodies someone is going to try to take a piece of it. You can never be too careful. Alright. I think I’ve got it. I just need to hop up to the upper rudder and make sure it is still lined up” Sven said as he pulled himself out of the engine. He had his eyepatch off so David could see the twists of wires and components holding his bionic eye together. He wondered what sort of enhancements he must have in that eye to help with his engine work. He watched as Sven skipped his way up to the top of the engine. He could have stuck to one side and just climbed using the handholds. Sven didn’t like to take that long. Instead, he jumped back and forth between the two walls of the engine room, making a full rotation with each jump and propelling himself quickly upward. Just watching it made David ill. After making the necessary adjustments he flew back down as quickly as he had gone up. “You hungry, man? Di’s cooking this morning.” Sven asked when he reached the bottom. Diane or “Mama Di” as she was affectionately known around the station was Smilee’s assistant. More accurately his counterfeiter. Every other morning she cooked breakfast for the dock workers in between cooking Smilee’s books. It was a small dock and most of the work was done by the station itself, so these breakfasts only included Smilee, Ramos, Sven, David Leanna the bartender at the Smilee’s bar “The Rag and Bone” and the three orphans on loan to them from the local Preservation House. Two boys, around ten, Brandon and Caleb and a younger boy named Max. The two men left the engine room and headed down to eat with everyone else.  They were halfway down the dock when Sven threw an arm up in front of David. “Hold.” Was all he said. From their position on the platform they could see the docking bay where all incoming ships needed to enter. There was a ship approaching the dock. David could see it was about the same size as his ship, but heavily armed. Four smaller ships were attached to the side for quick deployment and they all had a red and white crest on the side. “Who are they?” David asked. “Roma.” Was all Sven said. It was all he needed to say for David to understand. “We need to hide you. Docking will take them 20 minutes at least.” He started running down the dock toward Smilee’s office with David close behind. “Are you sure they’re after me?” “I don’t know. They might be here because of that Whiskey Skiff. Might just need refueling. But your name has been on the Roman Wanted Report every day this week so I’m not willing to take a chance.” Ramos was at the door of Smilee’s office, apparently on his way to get them out of the ship. “In here” he said and gestured to the back of Smilee’s office. “Can you swim?” “What?” “It doesn’t matter, I guess, the tank isn’t that deep. Jump in and follow Hank.” “Hank’s tank?” “Do it, kid. The water heater interferes with the bioscanners. Hank has a den at the bottom full of air. Go!” Ramos shoved him up the ladder the tank. He hadn’t swam since his school days but he was sure he could make it to the bottom of a tank. How was he supposed to get into a den meant for an opaan? He took a deep breath and slipped into the water, trying to make as little mess as possible. He fought his brain to open his eyes in the murky water but before he could he felt Hanks furry body pass under his hand. He kicked off the side of the tank, holding one arm in front of him feeling for Hank’s tail to follow. He reached the bottom quickly where he felt the opening of a tunnel. He was barely able to squeeze his shoulders through but when he did he felt air on his face. He opened his eyes and saw a small den, just barely large enough for him to squeeze into. He tried to curl up to make room for Hank but he didn’t seem interested in joining him. He jumped back into the water and swam away. David felt himself shivering. What if the Roman police ship was here for him? What if the den didn’t hide him? He wondered if he should have told Ramos the truth. He had always been a terrible liar but after what had happened to Donald he felt he couldn’t be too careful. He fed Ramos a story he had heard around the office of a mad who was fired for stealing Old Earth Art and selling it on the Trennan black market. He thought it would be easier to just fill his name into another criminal’s story than to explain to an apparent pirate that his coworker had told him he stumbled onto some sort of conspiracy but that he had been shot through the throat before he was able to tell him what it was. The only clue he had was in his backup files. The government servers were so unreliable he had taken to backing up his own work years ago. Technically, it was against regulation but no one seemed to care. His briefcase held an extra set of storage drives that he plugged in every day. WHen they filled up, he double checked that all his work had actually made it to the government backup, and used his backup to fill in any gaps. Then the whole thing was deleted to make room for the next set of data. He hadn’t wiped his drives since he had downloaded the files that, according to Donald, had started all of this. He still hadn’t been able to figure out what was in the files that he shouldn’t know about.

The tiny den felt like it was closing in around him. He shut his eyes and tried not to think about the crushing water above him or the clubs on the other side of the glass. The den was made of glear plexiglass so he could see the outline of Ramos, Smilee and two other people. The water was salinated and full of plants for Hank to play in so it was too murky to see through very well. He could hear the muffled sounds of people talking, but he couldn’t make out the words. His breath soon made the den hot and he wondered if he would run out of air. A couple of times he drifted off only to jolt awake and smack his head on the wall. After what seemed like an eternity Hank returned. He popped his head through the entrance, then turned and left again. When David didn’t get the clue to follow he returned, this time grabbing at David’s sleeve and pulling him toward the opening. David followed him back out of the tank where Smilee and Ramos were waiting for him. All the doors to Smilee’s office were closed. Ramos threw him a towel while Smilee paced behind him smoking. “Kid, we have tolerated your unbelievable backstory thus far because we had no reason to dig further into it.” He began “but let me tell you something about Glasgol station. We exist on a border stop between Stella Romanus and Solaria. We fall just on the Solarian side and therefore are technically under the jurisdiction of the Solarian Peace Patrol but we see them rarely this far out. In the twenty five years we have owned this station I have only ever seen the Roman clubs set foot on our dock three times. We call them the “clubs” but they are, of course the Royal Police of Roma. Things are a still tense enough on the border that the Roman police avoid crossing the border at all costs, lest they give the wrong idea to the Peace Patrol. They played nice enough, assuring us that they were here for fuel and supplies after taking a wrong jump or two. Luckily for us Di’s system can spot any scan that comes into it. They checked every manifest, every public record on this base. They all had discreet bioscanners switched on so they could scan as they paced the room. Luckily Di keeps the real books safe and they couldn’t get past her firewalls on the security footage but this certainly changes our attitude toward your protection. If you are going to bring hellfire down on us that’s fine, we know how to handle it. But we can’t always stuff you in an opaan den and pray for the best. We need to know who is after you and why so save me the stolen data file bullshit and tell me what we are dealing with.”