box rail


Buckingham Palace by Leonard Bentley

“This photograph was taken on a rainy day in March 1931, not the kind of day to be messing about trying to replace the wheel of your car especially on the pavement outside Buckingham Palace. The motorist is well supervised by an Inspector and Police Constable from Cannon Row Police Station and several members of the public who, no doubt, are offering words of advice to the hapless motorist.”


He moved behind her onto the balcony and reached his arms around her to rest them on the railing, boxing her in. “I thought you’d like it here. I know there will be a period of adjustment, but I did it for both of us. You were miserable on D’Qar. It hurt me. Your loneliness was unabated.”

“Lovely, Dark and Deep” by @shadowlass

Go and read here:


Scott decided that Malia and I should go down to the basement of the school and shut all the lights off. They wanted to throw off the uncontrollable werewolves when the full moon had been raised. We rushed down the metal stairs and walked everywhere around the basement. It was freezing down there, for me anyway, Malia was used to the cold.

“Where is the power at?” She asked and walked around tall boxes and rails of files. I shrugged and wrapped my arms around myself.

“M-Maybe we have to go down more.” I said, shivering and I pointed to the door directly in front of me. Malia turned around and saw the metal door and went to it and opened it without hesitation; she was always that way.

It led to another stairway that led deeper into the basement. Malia’s eyebrows were pulled together as she was thinking to herself.

“Why would the controls for the lights be so deep under the school?”

I shrugged again.

“I think I know why.” We heard a deeper voice and footsteps from behind us. Before I turned around, Malia growled and her eyes turned a bright blue.

It was Theo. Malia grabbed me by the arm and threw me behind her.

“What the hell are you doing here, Theo?” Malia asked harshly and Theo smirked, shaking his head.

“You two are so silly.” He walked towards Malia and slapped her across the face. She fell to the ground, but she instantly got back up and grabbed him by the shirt, throwing him across the room. We heard rushing footsteps coming down into the basement. It was Scott and Liam.

They grabbed Malia and they sprinted through the door and completely forgot about me. They were long gone by the time I started to bang on the door. I gave up and walked back down the stairs. I was a mess, and I didn’t get into a fight or anything; it must have just been the anxiety and stress.

I slid down the concrete wall and sat down on the dusty ground, holding my knees to my chest and I rested my chin on top of my knees. I refused to look at Theo, but I felt him looking down at me.

“You’re freezing.” He said and he huffed.

“No I’m not and I wrapped my coat around me more. Theo laughed slightly and took his sweater off and threw it at me. It landed right on my face and I took a big whiff of his scent. His coat smelled so good; like sweet and spicy cologne.

I looked up at him and rolled my eyes as I put his sweater on over my coat. It was still freezing though. Why was I still cold? I could still feel him staring at me. It was like he was drilling his eyes through my head. Theo squatted down and pushed a piece of my hair behind my ear and I pushed his hand away from me.

“That last thing I want you to do is touch me anywhere.” I said as I scooted away from him. He crawled toward me and cupped his hands on my face.

“I know you’re freezing and you need to be warm before the cold gets to you.” He whispered and set his hand on my waist and then took his shirt off with his other hand.

“I’m not taking this off to give it to you.” He threw his shirt somewhere in the basement and he push me down onto the ground and crawled on top of me. I looked him up and down and his body was toned and perfect. I wanted to touch him all over, but I wasn’t going to break; he was the enemy. He ran his finger tips down my body and pulled both his sweater and coat off of me and bit his bottom lip; all I could do was stare at him as he undressed. I was frozen; I had no idea what to do. I wanted him, but at the same time I would feel guilty for having sex with the enemy.

“I…I don’t think we should do this. I mean…I shouldn’t be doing this with you.” I tried to roll around him and crawl away, but he had a strong grip on me.

“I’m just helping you out. You’re freezing and your temperature is dropping very quickly, and you know it.” He said as he started to unbutton his pants. I looked down at what he was doing and I finally decided that I wanted him. All I was thinking about was how badly I wanted Theo inside me; I wanted to feel his lips all over me. He gripped my breasts and bit his lip; he growled quietly and massaged my breasts. I swallowed and he crashed his lips against mine. I heard his pants unzip and I set my hands on his neck and kiss him deeply. He tore my shirt off and ripped my bra apart and attacked my neck with rough kisses. He sucked, nipped, kissed, and licked around my neck. I moaned softly as he ran his hands down my sides and unbuttoned my pants and pulled them down, along with my panties.

He pulled his pants down and his boxers; we both were fully naked and it was freezing. I was shivering fiercely and he positioned himself on top of me and kissed me gently one time.

“You might be freezing now, but when I’m done with you, baby you’ll be hotter than the sun.” He said and crashed inside of me. My mouth opened wide and I moaned loudly as the sudden of him inside me. It wasn’t a slow coming pleasure; it was more like fireworks exploding inside of you. Between each thrust it felt like my heart rate was getting higher and higher.

“G-God Theo, I-I’ve always W-wondered what it felt like to get F-Fucked by you.” I said and moaned louder than I ever had in my life time.

He bit down on my neck with his sharp teeth and I scream loud and he locked me down by my wrists as he crammed inside of me and sunk his teeth down into me deeper and blood slowly ran down my neck from the deep bite. He released his teeth from me and blood dripped from his teeth and I looked up; a tear ran down my face from the burning pain on my neck. Theo wiped the tear away with his warm thumb.

He pulled out of me and he was right. I felt like I was in a room that was about 115 degrees.

“Don’t touch your clothes.” He grabbed my wrist and looked at me; he looked at me so softly.

“I want to be the one to dress you. Maybe you can be my little doll.” He said and kissed me softly and he wrapped his hand around the front of my neck, but he didn’t choke me.

“You’re my little pretty doll, but of course, no one can know.” He smirked.

So. Elaaden.

The pro: The krogan continue to be the best thing ever. It’s a lucky damn thing we brought the krogan. Most of the Milky Way inhabitants are just hanging out on the Nexus waiting to starve to death, but the krogan – nope, they came to build a home, and damn it if anything is going to get in their way. New Tuchanka is my favourite place yet. Now if we’d had the sense to bring the bloody quarians too, we might not be in the mess we are at all.

The con: So much sand. So much fucking sand. Bioware, you are not Bethesda. You will never be Bethesda. I have never looked at a door or cave in a Bioware game and thought ‘I must explore the wonders within’ because I know it will just be the same collection of boxes and railings designed for cover rather than to look inhabitable that you get everywhere. I hated the damn Mako, Bioware. No, that’s … not fair. I hated the Mass Effect side quests where I got dropped on some featureless planet and had to drive halfway around it just to shoot some bad guys. The only difference between the original Mass Effect and this one is that you have better rendered sand. Stop making me ‘explore’, Bioware. You have nothing I want to see.

I just want to do all the companion quests, because you’re generally pretty damn good at companion quests.

My First Kiss at the Public Execution - 6

PART 1 - PART 2PART 3 - PART 4 - PART 5 - PART 7 - PART 8 - PART 9 - PART 10 - PART 11

a/n: posting this earlier than like midnight cus im gon to see princess mononoke in the theaters tonight and im so fucking hyped i know if i dont do this now i’ll prolly forget for two days so enjoy!! tell me what you think!

@beautifulramblingbrains @frecklefaceb @feminamortem  @anditcametopass @dauntlessmetalmom @pathybo @mimigemrose @ag-delights @abfoster1s @sparklemichele @murmelinchen @jojuarez26 @purple-puddin @audreyfulquard [if you wanna be on the list hmu]

Warning: just a couple of frisky makout scenes, it’s setting up for next chapter with will be very fun to write

Eric X OFC // Divergent Trilogy

word count: 3,541

i wake alone
in a woman’s room i hardly know
i wake alone
and pretend that i am finally home

“Really?” Mae asked eyeing the two relatively small boxes that sat on the bare mattress, “That’s all?”

“Yeah I guess, it’s mostly clothes and gear,” I replied as I slung the black duffel bag over my shoulders then grabbing one case.

“You don’t even have a TV?” she questioned, lifting the last box and heading out the door.

“I never really wanted one,” I shrugged as I took one final look back at the small room I had resided in for the past few years since I’d left Amity for good. I didn’t feel much of anything as I let the door shut behind me. Most of the time I spent there was sleeping or getting dressed, my strongest memory was when I first saw it.

Once I passed initiation and was an official member of Dauntless, I was assigned to this space. We had to spend at least a year here before applying for an apartment, but I never bothered to move out. Until now, that is. Passively accepting what is given to you is very much an Amity trait. It’s more Dauntless to demand better, to take what you deserve.

Keep reading

Christmas Scenes (2 of 3)

Mod Bonnie : Flood my Mornings 

[Flash forward to December 8, 1950]

Claire’s face appeared over the top of his book—The Age of Electricity, tonight— and bent down, smiling, for a kiss. He let the book fall at once, and reached out to cup her buttocks. 

“I could kiss ye forever, Sassenach,” he said, unable to keep a smile from disrupting their kiss, “Warms me right to my toes.” 

“Oh, good! That’ll come in handy in a moment,” she said, nipping his neck before straightening and putting her hands briskly on her hips. “Will you help me get some things down from the attic?”

He followed her to the hallway between the bedrooms and watched as she reached upward to pull a wee chain he’d never noticed before, bringing down an equally surprising hatch door. 

“Jesus H. CHRIST,” she laughed as a freezing downdraft hit her. “I THINK it just might be winter!”

A ladder—cleverly hinged to fold in upon itself—came into view, and Claire hopped nimbly up the rungs, disappearing into the darkness beyond.  

“I didna even ken there was another room up here,” Jamie said, climbing up onto the third rung to peer into this unknown part of his home.  

Well,” Claire called, her voice emanating ghoulishly from a corner to his right, “I’d hardly call it a room, but it’s sufficient for keeping useful miscellany out of the way: off-season clothing…tools that won’t fit in the shed…” Jamie didn’t understand the next words she uttered, the sound muffled as she bent over facing away from him.

“What was the last, Sassenach?”

Her outline appeared from the gloom pushing a large box toward him. “I said, ‘and Christmas decorations!’” 

There were just four boxes in all, and not heavy ones, at that; it took no more than two minutes to get the lot down into the living room. Even this short exposure to the frigid attic space, though, had left her shivering. Jamie —firmly dissuading Claire from adjusting the Heating—quickly built up a fire in the hearth. It was nothing like a fire of his time, to be sure—this one, with its wee, store-bought pine logs, was meant to burn for only an hour or two—but they both sighed as the warmth flooded the room. 

“It smells nice,” Claire said, kneeling on the hearth next to him with mugs of tea and smiling a little wistfully. “I’ve missed it: the smell of woodsmoke.” 

“As have I.” They sat quietly for a time, holding hands, breathing in the quiet and the past and the memory. 

“What does one use, to decorate for Christmas, then?” Jamie asked to banish the ghosts of Lallybroch.

Most of this is garland for the front window boxes and railings,” she said, pulling out vast ropes of green Plastic fashioned to look like fir branches, festooned here and there with red flowers of the same material. 

“Very bonnie,” he said, though he felt a bit baffled by the notion, which seemed to entail a great deal of unnecessary work. What other (strange) things did Claire typically do for the Christmas holiday? He voiced this question. 

“Oh, well we…” She stopped and blinked, looking suddenly strange. “Nothing.” 


Her voice was halting. “I feel as though I…barely remember the last two Christmases.”

Jamie made a small sound, but said nothing, just waited for her in that way the two of them knew so well. Only when you’re ready. I’m listening, love. 

“The first one,” she said at last, “was only a month after Bree was born….I think listening to a Christmas record while breastfeeding was the full extent of my holiday festivities,” she said with a laugh that held more sorrow than mirth. 

“Ye didna have Penelope until earlier this year, aye?” At her nod, he said gently, “I canna say that I’d have had much desire for festivity, either, all alone wi’ a new bairn.”

She gave a small smile before continuing. “Then last year about a week before Christmas, a neighbor– but bear in mind, this was back on Fury Street, not here– knocked on my door and pointedly asked when my decorations would be up. She ‘didn’t want me to be embarrassed by being the odd one out’ (as if I weren’t already, the foul hag). So I caved and decorated the outside of the house enough to look presentable.” 

“Ah,’ he said, understanding, “ye dinna seem the type to take it to mind to affix wee baubies to the house wi’out sufficient reason.” 

“It was rather pretty,” she said, taking a sip of tea, “but I… I still wasn’t feeling in the spirit, really. Didn’t feel worth it to put up a tree, as it was just the two of us and Bree too small to pay much attention in any case…” Claire pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her free arm around them. “It just felt…” She shook her head, not taking her eyes from the fire. “…Sad. I knew I was supposed to make it some sort of magical Christmas world for her…knew that I ought to build the fantasy of it for her sake… but I just couldn’t seem to muster myself for it.”

Jamie set down his mug, reached across, and gently squeezed her knee. “Ye didna have such a thing yourself as a wean, aye?”

She looked up, surprised, then shook her head. “I barely remember ever having a proper Christmas. I suppose my parents might have, when I was small; but Christian holidays barely registered for Uncle Lamb. We were hardly Currier and Ives material spending Christmases sweltering in the desert.”

Jamie didn’t even try to guess what precisely she meant by that, but leaned in and kissed her, cupping her head in one hand, gently and comfortingly. “Does it make you sad, a nighean? Not to have had the ‘magical’ Christmas?”

“A little…” She made a scoffing sound in her throat. “And then I feel foolish for being sad over silly sentimental traditions.”

“It’s no’ foolish,” he said. “and it’s no’ wrong that ye didna have them the last few years. In fact, I think it’s even better that you didna do so.” 

“Why should that be, Jamie?” 

“Because we’ll be able to create our own silly, sentimental traditions, now,” Jamie said, smiling. “Everything will be brand-new for all three of us.”

“Oh…” she said, smiling back with at last her usual spark. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” 

“I’ve few preconceived notions as to what a proper modern Christmas ought to be like,” he said, “but I’m in favor of as many foolish things as you like.”

She raised her eyebrows with a mischievous grin. “Will you dress up in a red suit and white beard and squeeze down the chimney with presents?”

Jamie laughed aloud. “If that’s what’s done, then yes: I will gladly play my part in carrying on wi’ the baffling nonsense of the season.”

They laughed and Jamie bent her head back gently, needing no warmth there before the fire, but letting her touch and the touch of her banish all traces of cold, present and remembered. His own holidays–his everydays–had been bleak, these last years, as well, had they not? Lonely? Hopeless? 

But everything is now new. Everything is now good. 

“I did make one gesture toward the season last year,” she said suddenly, pulling back from the kiss and turning to the last box (smaller than the others) and pulling out a parcel wrapped in brown paper and twine. She unwrapped it to reveal the colorful fabric within. “You’re meant to hang a stocking by the fire on Christmas Eve so Father Christmas can fill it with sweets and presents. ”

She handed him the parcel. While they would never do as serviceable garments, they were very lovely, made of colorful felted cloth, decorated with shimmering thread. One said “Brianna” on the cuff and showed three cheery men that Claire said were wee ginger biscuits customarily eaten for holidays; the other, “Claire” with an evergreen tree dotted with colored baubles.

“You made these?” he asked, surprised and impressed. She nodded, a little shyly. “They’re wonderful, mo chridhe. Very…fun!” he said, feeling foolish over using so flippant a word for something she had clearly put her heart into. He reverently traced the outlines of the whimsical patterns.

“I shall have to get started on one for you,” she said, glowing in the firelight. “A Fraser stag, maybe?”

“Do they eat venison at Christmas, then? Now, I mean?”

“No… but seven flying reindeer pull Father Christmas’s magical sleigh–-and those are rather like stags!”

He leveled his gaze at her. “For all your contentions that the twentieth century is less mystical than the eighteenth, my Claire,” he said, kissing the very tip of her nose, “I dinna believe it one bit.”

Mod Gotham: Brian and Ellen AU

Six-year-old Faith Fraser took careful hold of her corner of the trapdoor.

“When I say heave,” their grandfather instructed, “yer Grannie and I will help ye. All right?”

Three-year-old Brianna Fraser nodded, her red curls bouncing in the light cast by the lantern.

“All right! One – two – three – heave!”

After a few moments the trapdoor opened. Brianna curiously peered over the edge into the gloom – and Ellen extended a careful arm to prevent Brianna from falling into the root cellar.

“It’s so dark! Why do we have to come out here when it’s so dark, Grannie?”

“Because it’s the only way we ken the Redcoats won’t be about.” Jamie set down his basket and handed the lantern to Brian, who held it above his head as he descended into the root cellar. Once Jamie had carefully stepped down almost past his shoulders, he effortlessly picked up a giggling Faith and hoisted her into the dark, then took the lantern from Brian.

“Here ye go – pick out enough potatoes to fill the basket, aye? There’s a good lass.”

Faith dutifully crossed to the far corner of the root cellar – full of shelves of dried fruit, dried meat, herbs, jars and jars of preserved vegetables, and enough potatoes and apples to feed all the hungry mouths of Lallybroch throughout the long winter.

“How are we doing, Jamie?” Brianna tugged on Ellen’s skirts, and she lifted her granddaughter to her hip, blessing her with a quick kiss to the forehead. “Will we need to try for another harvest?”

Brian stepped around his wife and held tight to the opened trapdoor as he carefully descended into the cellar, standing shoulder to shoulder with his son.

“We may have to,” he mused, glancing around at the half-full baskets. “Do ye think the ground is too hard to try at that softer patch?”

Jamie shook his head, keeping an eye on Faith as she carefully selected the potatoes.

“It’s been a bit warm these past few days – and we have to look, at least. Canna hurt. It’ll be a lot of onions and neeps and potatoes this year, but we should do well. And I may be able to bring home a stag or two, God willing.”

Brian silently slung an arm around his son’s shoulder – so proud. “It’s settled – we’ll take a look in the morning.”

“I’m done!” Faith piped up from the corner. “I canna lift the basket, Da – can ye help me?”

Brian crossed the packed-earth floor to examine his granddaughter’s work. “Good work, *a leannan*. Can ye help me wi’ a boost?”

“Watch yer back!” Ellen’s voice drifted from up above. “I dinna want ye throwing it out again.”

Brian sighed theatrically, and Faith giggled.

“That’s what ye gave me a son for, am I right? To help his puir Da in his auld age?”

Jamie stepped to Brian’s side, and together they hoisted the heavy basket of potatoes to their shoulders. Jamie pushed Faith in front of him and held out his free hand against her back as she negotiated the stairs to the surface.

“Auld age, my arse,” Brian muttered. “I’m fit as I ever was.”

“Mmphm. Keep telling yerself that, auld man.”

“Mama! We’re home!”

Faith tore through the door to the Laird’s bedroom and jumped up on the bed. Claire carefully settled one-month-old William Fraser against her shoulder and extended her other arm so that her eldest daughter could snuggle happily against her side.

“How did your little expedition go?”

“Well enough,” Jamie replied as he stepped into the room and closed the door, a sleepy Brianna nestled against his neck. “The stores are a bit low, but Da and Ian and I will go walk the potato fields tomorrow. We’re bound to fill up a basket at least – it’s been a while since we’ve been out.

Jamie stepped out of his boots, gently set down Brianna beside Faith, and stepped to the other side of the bed. Carefully he reached a tentative finger to stoke wee William’s brow, before bending to give his wife a kiss.

“How’s the wee lad, then?”

“He just finished his supper before you arrived. We’ll be good for a while.”

“Mmm. Move over a bit?”

Claire handed William to Jamie, then shifted over on the bed. Brianna and Faith took this as an invitation to crawl over their Mama so that they were safe between her and Da.

Jamie carefully lay William, swaddled in one of Claire’s spare arisaids, against a pillow, then slipped under the covers. In the dim light his arm crossed over his three children – and his fingers met and twined with Claire’s.

“Happy Christmas,” he whispered.

“It will be the happiest of Christmases, won’t it?” she replied.

“Will ye tell us a story, Mama? Maybe the one about mice?”

“There werena any mice, Bree! Remember, the mice were all sleeping?”

“Hush – that’s right, Faith. Not a creature was stirring – not even a mouse.”

“Can ye start from the beginning, then?” Jamie asked quietly, thumb tracing the bumps of Claire’s knuckles. “I want to hear it all again.”

The logs crackled in the fireplace. The wind picked up outside. The world was full of such uncertainty – but not here. Not in this room. Not on this night.

“Twas the night before Christmas…”

Snowbird! It’s 20 minutes outside SLC and one of the best resorts ever. PERIOD! Here’s some great ski lingo to brighten up your thursday and review your slope lingo

Après Ski: Literally means “after ski,” but really refers to the nightly booze/dance party assault which can do way more damage to your body than a day on the snow.

Bombing: Going downhill at a stupid-fast rate of speed without regard for your own body. Or anyone else’s body.

Bony: Early or late season conditions featuring a slew of wood and rock landmines under your skis.

Brah or Bra: Synonymous with “bro.” A fraternal/plutonic expression between males bonded through testosterone based experiences.

Bulletproof: Compacted, icy snow that’s literally hard enough to ricochet bullets.

Bunny: A female skier who appears to be more concerned with whether her boots and gloves match than actually skiing.

Chowder: Chopped/skied up snow + powder = chowder = the exact opposite of effortless.

Cornie: Short for cornice, which is an overhanging edge of snow on a ridge or the crest of a mountain with a sharp drop below.

Death Cookies: Icy chunks of snow that cover the run like evil gremlins waiting to grab your ski edge.

Eat Wood: This is what happens when a skier or rider gets to meet a tree up close.

Face Shot: A somewhat rare and cosmic event that occurs when the powder is so deep that the snow hits you in the face with each turn.

Line: A natural line of descent between two points on a slope.

Flat Light: Grey skies and dim light that can create vertigo and/or make terrain changes seem like a surprise attack.

Freshies: Untracked powder.

Gaper:  Any unstylish or ill-advised novice who stands out (albeit unintentionally) as being completely clueless.

Gaper Gap: That giant, unmistakable gap of forehead flesh typically visible between a gaper’s helmet and goggles.

Glade: Heavily treed areas that are still skiable.

Gnar: A shortened version of the word gnarly, meaning either a place or activity that is high on the scale of dangerousness and coolness or used to refer to quality snow that one intends to shred.

Jibber: Someone who skis rails, boxes, and other features around the mountain. Also referred to as a “park rat.”

Pow: Short for freshly fallen powder snow.

Ripper: An accomplished and impressive skier or rider.

Dirt Bag: One who lives to ski or ride and avoids anything that isn’t skiing or riding, often including work. Also known as a ski bum.

Smash: Meaning to ski or ride, but only if you’re a ripper. Not applicable to gapers/spores/novices. Often used in place of “shred” or “killing it.”

Yard Sale: A major fall in which a gaper/spore loses his or her skis, gloves, hat and poles across the run.

Spore: Stupid + People + on + Rental + Equipment = Spore. I swear I’m not making this stuff up.

Steazy: Style + Ease = Steaz. For example, Olympic athlete Shawn White is the reigning godfather of steaz.