crossed rifles

9

http://www.nexusmods.com/newvegas/mods/59674/?

New Vegas Railroads is now out!

You ever find it funny that even though the NCR canonically have working railroads, and New Vegas is a high-profile area, there’s no working trains, freight or otherwise?

I did. And because I’m the best, I’ve decided to add some actual trains to New Vegas.
But then I decided to go the extra mile.
Welcome to New Vegas Railroads. A worldspace/immersion mod that aims to get the Mojave moving a little bit, by expanding upon the NCR’s often mentioned but little seen railroading endeavors.
With this, the player may travel to the town of Bullhead, the major NCR railroad hub in the Mojave, and help them get New Vegas’ railroads back up and running.
But even if they choose to ignore that, Bullhead Railyard is full of things to do, with tons of unique weapons, equipment, and secrets scattered about.

FEATURES
-A new worldspace, Bullhead Depot, the major rail hub for all westbound freight in the NCR, connected to the Mojave via tunnel. With a massive amount of little features, secret areas, and more!
-Bullhead features working signal lights, trains configurations changing as the day goes on (but only if you get the trains running), working lifts, and much, much more.
-New equipment, all train themed of course! From railway rifles, crossing-gate melee weapons, and a locomotive-themed powerfist, plus much, MUCH more.
-After the player saves Sloan from the deathclaws, and deals with the Powder Gangers, they can head to Colonel Hammer, the overseer at Bullhead, and inform him the tracks are clear.
-Once they do this, trains will start traveling along the Bullhead-Sloan-Boulder City rail line, with set schedules!
-The ability to catch a train out of Bullhead, and ride it across the wasteland to Sloan, Boulder, or the Follower’s trainyard!
-A multitude of trains, most of them are standard Barstow diesels, but we have a special massive steam locomotive, the Twohead Flyer, ready for action.
-Ability to watch the Twohead Flyer depart Bullhead and arrive in Boulder. It even crushes NPCs on the way!
-Four fully voiced, unique NPCs.

3

vz.52

Semi-automatic rifle that was produced in the former Czechoslovakia. It bears some resemblance to the SKS, and even features an integrated bayonet, although side-folding instead of under-folding. Chambered in 7.62x45mm, some rifles were converted to 7.62x39 as the Com-Bloc nations began to standardize calibers. The easiest way to tell a 7.62x45mm from a 7.62x39mm vz rifle is the angle of the magazines floor plate. The latter has a very steep angle to accommodate the 7.62x39 cartridge. The other trick is to check the receiver under the rear sight for a cross pin. This particular rifle is a 7.62x45mm model but the seller is advertising it as a 7.62x39mm. He’s going to have an angry buyer. (GRH)

#1: Elizabeth Eckford

Ladies and gentlemen, this is Elizabeth Eckford. This extraordinary woman was apart of Little Rock nine, a group of nine African American students who were the first black students to enroll in Little Rock Central High School in Arkansas in 1957. Here are a few words from Eckford about her experience preparing to attend her new high school:

From  FacingHistory.org:
“I was more concerned about what I would wear, whether we could finish my dress in time…what I was wearing was that okay, would it look good. The night before when the governor went on television and announced that he had called out the Arkansas National Guard, I thought that he had done this to insure the protection of all the students. We did not have a telephone, so inadvertently we were not contacted to let us know that Daisy Bates of NAACP had arranged for some ministers to accompany the students in a group. And so, it was I that arrived alone.”

"On the morning of September 4th, my mother was doing what she usually did. My mother was making sure everybody’s hair looked right and everybody had their lunch money and their notebooks and things. But she did finally get quiet and we had family prayer. I remember my father walking back and forth. My father worked at night and normally he would have been asleep at that time, but he was awake and he was walking back and forth chomping on cigar that wasn’t lit.”

“I expected that I would go to school as before on a city bus. So, I walked a few blocks to the bus stop, got on the bus, and rode to within two blocks of the school. I got off the bus and I noticed along the street that there were many more cars than usual. And I remember hearing the murmur of a crowd. But, when I got to the corner where the school was, I was reassured seeing these soldiers circling the school grounds. And I saw students going to school. I saw the guards break ranks as students approached the sidewalks so that they could pass through to get to school. And I approached the guard at the corner as I had seen some other students do and they closed ranks. So, I thought; ‘Maybe I am not supposed to enter at this point.’ So, I walked further down the line of guards to where there was another sidewalk and I attempted to pass through there. But when I stepped up, they crossed rifles. And again I said to myself; 'So maybe I’m supposed to go down to where the main entrance is.’ So, I walked toward the center of the street and when I got to about the middle and I approached the guard he directed me across the street into the crowd. It was only then that I realized that they were barring me, that I wouldn’t go to school.”

“As I stepped out into the street, the people who had been across the street started surging forward behind me. So, I headed in the opposite direction to where there was another bus stop. Safety to me meant getting to that bus stop. It seemed like I sat there for a long time before the bus came. In the meantime, people were screaming behind me what I would have described as a crowd before, to my ears sounded like a mob.”

Assassin - Steve Rogers x Reader

Request: HI!!! i love Lift sm it’s so good may i request something where fem!reader is an assassin and is using steve’s apartment in brooklyn as a sniper nest to kill a bad guy bc her intel told her that he’s not going back from a mission until next week but steve comes home early bc the mission was easier than they all thought and he finds the reader just looking through her sniper and stuff gets awkward? Thank you ily!!!

Warnings: None.

Words: 1 585

A/N: First of all, thank you so much for requesting. Secondly, I kind of went off the tracks and made this into some kind of sappy drabble and I apologize! :’)

TAKING REQUESTS

Originally posted by oursisthefvry


She knelt down before the door, glancing behind her quickly before turning her focus to the gold-colored lock before her. She dug out her lock picking gear and placed them in the keyhole, twisting them in place with ease due to much practice, the door creaking open.

The place was just like she had imagined yet all the details were still new to her. Her eyes followed the colorless photographs hung up on the wall, the flowery wallpaper and the old furniture. It seemed out of time yet a few things would stand out. The kitchen appliances for a starter, the laptop on the kitchen table for a second.

She wanted to ask headquarters if they were sure he was away, but she didn’t want to question them. She had done too much of that during her past missions. She just wanted to be sure, but she ended up making a fool out of herself as headquarters were always right.

“I’m at my location. Getting in position now.” She informed through her earpiece upon seeing the living room window. She swung her gear off of her back and opened up the long and narrow bag.

Copy that, Alpha. Target arriving in T minus 4 minutes. Team Omega at stand by.”

She screwed the tripod base until whole again, propping it in front of the window before starting to put her sniper rifle together. She was swift, knowing exactly where each piece was going. She placed it on the stand and lowered the aim for the window on the fifth floor in the building across from the one she was in.

Her heartbeat slowed down as she took long and deep breaths. Her aim was good, her gear was in place and her senses sharp. All she had to do was wait for the target.

She had only accepted the mission as she felt it was so personal. She wasn’t much for working in big cities. It came with too many complications which meant she had to take extra many precautions. It became tiring in the long run, but the mission she was on was far too personal for her to rely on someone else to take care of it.

As she sat there, right eye scanning through the scope, she was suddenly put in a headlock. She inhaled sharply and her hands flew to the strong arm wrapped under her chin.

“Who the hell are you?” He asked, relief washing through her at the same time as embarrassment.

“Steve.” She choked out, her voice strained from the lack of air she was receiving. “It’s me.”

He dropped her and she stumbled forward, gripping onto the wall for support as she coughed. “Y/N?” He said, grabbing her shoulder and forcing her to spin around. His tense muscles eased as soon as he saw her face at the same time as his curiosity and confusion peaked. “What on god’s green earth are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” She tried to retort as if she was in any position to do that. To her luck, Steve was Steve, so he answered her question.

“I came home early from my mission. What’s your excuse for breaking into my apartment and standing by the window with a rifle?” He crossed his arms. She didn’t want to tell him, and she tried to ignore headquarters constant commands in her ear to not tell him, but she couldn’t do that to Steve.

She picked the earpiece out of her ear, walking over to the kitchen counter where an old glass of water stood, dropping the device in it and watching it sink to the bottom before turning back to Steve.

“While you were away, we were given reliable information about a spy who was targeting you. My first guess was Hydra but I honestly don’t know. Either way, we’ve been tracking the fake name he’s been using and followed the purchase of an apartment to right there…” She pointed across the street to the apartment in question. “I was given orders to keep this off the radar, your radar, to be exact. You weren’t supposed to know about the spy or that I had been here to take care of him.”

“So if I have someone on my tail, they don’t even let me know anymore? They keep it secret?” He question, rightfully upset.

“Look, Steve… I know you don’t like the way we handle things compared to yours and the Avengers ways, but I have orders, even if I don’t have someone listening to them.” She glanced towards the dysfunctional earpiece. “I need to do this… For your safety and for my job.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Y/N and him had a thing in the past, which meant roughly six months before, and although their feeling had far from gone away or as much as faded, they couldn’t stay together. Y/N was dedicated to the service she was in, and Steve was against her killing-methods. Work had in the end been what caused them to fall apart, no matter how much they both hated it, that was the only reason.

“I’ve told you that there will always be a spot for you with the Avengers. You don’t have to continue this life of murdering.”

“Like you haven’t killed a couple of bad guys during your time.” She argued, her voice low.

“I’ve never worked for an organization that kills for money. If they could afford you, you’d kill cheating husbands for grieving wife’s. Sometimes, the lives you take, do not deserve to be taken. You know that your organization is not what it used to be… They might still have some trace of what once was a faction of SHIELD, but you know that they’ve changed, don’t you? I’m sure they’ve ordered you to kill people. People you thought were innocent.”

“Stop.” She put her arms up in defense.

“This is your way out, Y/N.” He pointed to the submerged earpiece. “You can work with the Avengers.”

“I just don’t see how I would fit in with you.” She explained, a battle between two sides going on in her head.

“And so you think you fit in where you are now?” He had a suggesting tone to his voice that caused her eyebrows to furrow together. “Take a look.”

He pointed at her rifle. She eyed him before turning around, slowly leaning down to the scope and centering the window across the street.

“Oh god…” She gasped, standing up and placing her hand over her mouth.

“That safe source your superiors talked about was probably stolen, SHIELD information. “Steve looked to the building beside his own where Rhodes stood in the window. “He moved here after I suggested the neighborhood. SHIELD keeps track of him, of course… And I’m willing to bet my life that your little organization knew that it was no spy that moved in across the street from here.”

She couldn’t find the words in her to tell him something, anything. Her mind was a blank slate.

“Want to know what my mission was?” He questioned like she would have a choice in whether he would tell the answer or not. “Locating a leak within SHIELD that caused Natasha to have her cover blown over in Europe.”

“Bosnia…” Y/N breathed out, remembering having the mission given to her to go to Bosnia and take out an elite Hydra agent, but turning it down for Steve’s spy.

“You see? They’re lying straight to your face.”

“They might as well be Hydra…” Her brain was trying to puzzle it all together.

Steve took a step closer. “We don’t know that, but whatever they are, they’re far from SHEILD. You could be the one who takes them down. You can live in the Stark Tower, or we could go off the grid for a while…”

She shouldn’t have paid attention to it in the moment, but she couldn’t help it. “We?”

His cheeks flushed red. “Well, you and I could go to one of T'Challa’s many hideouts around the world… Reconnect.”

“Is that the word they use for it these days?” She tried to be flirty but he saw the tears well up in her eyes, realization crashing down on her like a harsh wave.

“Oh no, baby… Come here.” He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her against his chest as her first tear managed to slip. God was it heartbreaking to see her cry. He had known her for years, and she had never allowed to show herself weak, ever. She needed to find out she had been working for the bad guys all along to finally break. “It’s going to get better, you hear me? I’m here. We’re going to be together after all. We can take that trip to China that we always wanted, walk the entire Wall…”

She chuckled against him, pressing her check flat against his chest. “You’re so dumb.”

“You love it though.” He smiled. “Admit it.”

She would never.

She looked up into his eyes, hoping he would forgive her for all the times they had fought over her wanting to stay true to the organization she was hired by. She hoped he would forgive her for all the people she had killed. She hoped she would forgive herself for both of those. Perhaps it would take time, but it seemed as Steve was willing to give her that.

Fic 467: Like Wild Horses

Had a rather specific request for some Sniper/Spy that wound up being a little light in the Spy department. Enjoy!

——

“What on earth is that?”

Sniper looked up to see Spy, cigarette in hand, gazing out into the distance. He dusted off his knees as he pulled himself back to his feet and turned to follow the rogue’s gaze out into the New Mexico desert. Eagle eyes scanned the brush that covered the valley below before being drawn to a strange motion just on the other side of the river. Reaching back, he grabbed his rifle and brought the scope up to his eye.

It took him a moment to find whatever it was in the small view of the scope. Then there it was; blending into the surrounding brush and stone and thrashing for all it was worth.

He brought the gun down and looked over at Spy, who was looking at him with an eyebrow arched questioningly. “It’s a horse.”

“A horse?”

“Yeah.” Sniper slipped his arm through the rifle’s strap. “A horse. It looks stuck.”

“And where are you going?” Spy asked as Sniper started down a barely visible game path that skirted close to camp.

“Going to take care of things.”

The rocky stream bed crunched beneath his boots where the summer sun had long since left the earth parched and dry. What had been a roaring river during the spring melt was now barely a stream. Hardly anything to even worry about crossing.

With his rifle slung across his back, Sniper kept his eyes on the flashes of movement ahead of him. Still easy enough to see, but they were growing smaller. It wasn’t surprising with the heat of the day. Who knew how long the beast had been there before Spy had caught sight of it.

He really hoped he didn’t need the rifle.

After a ten minute trek, he got to the other side of the stream and finally got a good look at his quarry. Wide white eyes looked back at him as he knelt down onto the ground, and he could hear the nearly frenzied breaths coming from flared nostrils. The buckskin coat was covered by a light sheen of sweat from the withers down to the black socks at the hooves, and a fleck of white clung to the corner of its mouth. However the poor thing had gotten itself into this mess, it had spent a fair bit of energy trying to get back out.

“Easy there, girl.” Sniper murmured, keeping his voice low as he started slowly creeping forward. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

The horse started, throwing it’s head back with a noise that sounded like a scream as its ears lay flat against its head. He froze, holding absolutely still and wondering just how possible it would be for a horse to kick sideways. After a moment, the horse stilled and Sniper took another step forward as he held a hand out in front of him. Hooves stamped on the hard packed earth, and he could still see the whites of its eyes as he inched ever closer.

By now he was close enough to see what had trapped the terrified animal. A nasty bit of fencing wire was snarled around a foreleg. And if that wasn’t painful enough, it had gotten wound around a rather robust batch of brambles, effectively hobbling it where it now stood. The soft buzzing of flies let him know that the poor thing was bleeding and already attracting the desert’s pests.

Carefully removing the rifle from his shoulder, he set it to the side before getting within touching range. “Hey there, sheila. It’s okay, I’m here to help.” His voice was low, the same kind of voice he remembered his old man using back when they had to fish a particularly skittish colt out of the one bloody billabong that ever formed on the farm back in Australia. Whether this horse had ever been touched by a human was anyone’s guess. There was no brand, but on the other hand, most horses tended to act the same when wrapped in a meter of barbed wire. All he could do was try.

He held his hand out in front of him as he made sure to stay in view. The last thing he needed to do was spook it any more than it already was. As he got closer, the horse stilled, even as nervous energy still shook the muscles beneath its skin. “Yeah, that’s good.” He murmured as he lay a hand on the trembling withers.

The horse turned its head to stare at him with wild eyes, and for a moment Sniper was terrified that he’d made a horrible decision. But a rough snort was all that came and slowly, ever so slowly, Sniper started to move again. Letting his hand drag along the sweat slicked coat of the trapped animal, he moved up towards its head and crouched down next to the leg that had become snarled in wire and brush. A small pocket knife was retrieved from his vest and he started to cut away the brush bit by bit, careful not to pull the wire. The kukri or his machete would have made short work of the job, but they would have likely spooked the horse worse than it already was.

Tossing aside the last bit of brush, he then turned his attention to the wire. He breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered that despite the blood, it hadn’t cut very far at all. Still, rusty wire was never good. Finding the end, he gently started prying it away and the horse jerked away.

“Woah, there!” Sniper had to force himself to keep his voice low as he threw his own hands up to protect himself.

Freed from the brush, the horse practically lept away. An agonized whinny was wrenched from it as it landed on its wounded leg; an odd mixture of elation and pain. It stilled after a moment, leaning heavily on its uninjured leg and staring the man a few feet away.

Sniper half expected it to bolt. It’s breathing was still heavy, nostrils flared, but it was still. Its eyes had lost the crazed white, and had returned to the warm brown that he’d seen in many a gentle steed. Long ears flicked forward and it tilted its head expectantly.

“You gonna be still for me?”

Slowly crawling back to his feet, he approached the horse and once again took the wire in his hands. He could feel the horse trembling under his fingers as he worked, but the horse stayed in place. A handkerchief would have to do for wiping away the worst of the dirt and blood. A bandage would be better, but that would have meant good odds of seeing the horse again. With no brand, chances were that it was one of the mustangs that he’d seen periodically since arriving in America. The last thing he wanted to do was leave a wild horse with a dirty bandage. As he contemplated fetching water to give the leg a good rinse, he suddenly felt a draft on his head.

“Oy!” He exclaimed as he looked up to see his hat being held between the horse’s lips. An almost impish wicker and a cheeky toss of the head at least assured him that the injuries were too severe. Standing back up, he tugged the hat away and set it back on his head. “I’ll take that as you’re feeling better.”

The horse shoved its nose into his chest, letting out a huff that tickled as it blew through his shirt. Sniper chuckled and let his hand rub the velvet like fuzz that covered its muzzle. “Friendly girl, aren’t you?”

“I turn my back for a moment, and I find you with a strange woman.”

Both Sniper and the horse jerked up, the horse stamping its tender leg lightly. Spy stood a good twenty feet away, cigarette in hand and a smile on his lips.

“Have you found a new friend?”

Sniper snorted and gave the horse a last pat before turning to face Spy. “She might be wild. Might not. She’s pretty friendly, though.” He added as he grabbed his rifle from where he’d left it.

“Is she alright?”

He hoisted the rifle across his back. “I think she’ll be fine. The injury wasn’t too bad, and I got it pretty clean. Short of a proper visit with a vet, I’ve done the best that can be done. Come on. Let’s get back to camp and get dinner started.”

“I do not think she would be a very good pet. A little big for the camper.”

“What?”

Amusement crept onto Spy’s face, but before Sniper could respond he was shoved forward by something from behind. He spun around to look into a pair of brown eyes and feel another hot breath across his face.

In the moments that his back had been turned, the horse had closed the gap and was once again nibbling lightly at the brim of his hat.

“You lothario.”

Sniper could hear the laughter bubbling in Spy’s words. Grabbing his hat before he lost it again, he took a step back with the horse following a second later. He felt a hand grab his elbow and he followed as it tugged him back towards the trail back to the campsite. Falling into step with Spy, he kept glancing back and watching as the horse fell in behind them. He felt a grin creep onto his face, and a giddiness fill his heart in a way he hadn’t felt since he’d been on the farm.

Once he was confident that the horse was intent on following them all the way to camp, he turned forward and gave Spy a nudge. “Guess we have a horse.”

Spy chuckled as he blew a fine plume of smoke. “Fine. But you are cleaning up after her.”

I Can’t Save Her: Part 15

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Nudity, FLUFFFFFFFFFF!

Word Count: 1663

Catch Up Here

Summary: You have been with the Avengers for three years and during that time you have developed a close friendship with Bucky. When you discover another woman in Bucky’s room you begin to question what your true feelings for him are.

Author’s Notes: Christmas <3. It’s so fluffy! I proofed/edited this without my glasses because I don’t want to get out of bed to find them (just in case I missed something weird, ha!) Tags are at the bottom!

I love your comments, messages, asks, likes, reblogs – all of it. <3

Originally posted by dailysebastiangifs

Originally posted by xxvampirediaries

“Buck?” I asked sleepily as I reached for his side of the bed. My hands came up empty and I slowly opened my eyes to find him. He was standing by the window with his back turned to me. His shoulders seemed tense – I could tell something was bothering him. I grabbed a blanket off the bed and held it to me as I crept up behind him. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him behind his ear. He seemed to visibly relax at the contact, and turned to face me. “Good Morning,” I said shyly as I smiled at him.

“Good Morning. I’m sorry – I couldn’t sleep so I went down and got us some breakfast and then I just sort of ended up here,” he shrugged with a sad smile.

“Is everything okay?” I was worried – whatever was bothering him had happened since I had fallen asleep last night.

“I’m fine doll – I promise. Guess what?” he asked with a grin. He was always good at deflecting conversations when he didn’t want to talk about himself.

“What?”

“Merry Christmas.” He bent down to kiss me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Merry Christmas.” I smiled at him as he looked at me intently.

“Since one of my presents is already unwrapped I think I’d like it now,” he said with a laugh as he swept me off my feet and carried me back to the bed. He laid me gently on the bed and laid down beside me. He kissed me sweetly –  the fierceness that he had earlier was gone. He broke away from the kiss to look at me. “Have you changed your mind?” he asked quietly.

“About what?” I wasn’t following his behavior this morning. He seemed to be completely opposite of what he was like last night.

“Do you still love me?” his voice cracked as he asked.

I paused for a moment. I wasn’t sure why he would think I would say something and take it back in the span of a few hours. I sat up a little and looked down at him as I tried to decipher where his sudden change in mood had originated from. “Yes – of course I do. I wouldn’t say something like that if I didn’t mean it, Buck. It’s all I could think about while you were away,” I whispered.

I was hoping my reassurance would lift his mood, but he returned my answer with a soft sad smile. “Can I give you your Christmas present?” he asked quietly.

“But yours is back at the compound,” I protested.

He put his hand up to stop me from continuing. “This is something that I just want to do when we are alone, doll. You can give me my present later. I have been thinking about this for weeks – and I just want it to be between us,” he said seriously.

I chuckled nervously. “What did you do… steal a baby for me or?” I asked. This did merit a small chuckle and shake of his head. He got up off the bed and crossed the room. After rifling through one of his bags he returned with a small box in his hand. He sat on the bed and fumbled with it nervously. It seemed as if he was suddenly uncomfortable with the thought of handing me the box. He kept looking everywhere in the room except for at me. “Buck…”

“I never talk much about my family. It seems like that was another lifetime ago… I guess because it was. Being ripped away from them the way I was and then finally waking up one day with my memories coming back to me in bits and pieces…. It was like losing them twice. Have I ever told you about my younger sister?” he asked as he finally turned to me.

“You’ve mentioned her a few times…” I answered softly.

“When Steve helped me get away from HYDRA I found out she was still alive so I tracked her down. She was in a nursing home that catered to patients suffering from dementia,” he scoffed and paused. “There were a few moments where she would remember me. She’d look at me and I’d know that she knew who I was. A few months after I found her she passed. When I went to the facility where she had lived to take care of everything they said she had told them to give me this box.” He paused and looked at it sadly. “You see… the day before she passed she had a moment of perfect clarity and she knew who I was and remembered enough of our talks during my visits to write me a letter. When she was done she tucked it in this box and handed it to her nurse and told her to make sure I got it. She went to bed and died sometime during that night.” He smiled sadly as he opened the box. He fished out a folded piece of paper and handed it to me. I unfolded it gently and began to read it.

Bucky,

I know you worry about me, but you shouldn’t. I’ve lived a long life and a happy one. So when I’m gone – don’t dwell on what you wish had happened for me. I want you to let go of the past. You can’t change it and you shouldn’t punish yourself for it. Don’t waste your life chasing ghosts. You deserve to be happy. Please be happy.

Find someone that loves you and don’t let go. When you find them know that you deserve every minute of it. I wanted to give you mom’s ring. I’ve worn it every day since I can remember. My hope is you will find someone special to wear it.

Be present. Be loved. Remember who you are.

Your Loving Sister,

Rebecca

 

I looked up from the letter to see Bucky holding the ring. I couldn’t formulate a sentence let alone a thought. “I’m not asking you to marry me…. I’m not saying this is one of those ridiculous promise rings that Steve will not stop talking about…. I just knew last night… after you said you loved me…. that you’re the person I want to have this. I want you to wear it… I mean if that’s okay with you… When Rebecca gave me this I never thought… but somehow she knew before I did that you would show up one day…” he trailed off and looked at me hopelessly.

I had tears spilling over my lashes. “Of course I want to wear it!” I sputtered as I threw my arms around his neck. He chuckled softly and slid it onto my ring finger on my right hand. It was a perfect fit. He smiled at me and kissed my forehead.

“Now you see why I didn’t want to do this in front of Stark and the others,” he chuckled sheepishly. “I want you to have it as a reminder of me when I’m not here…” he added softly. I pulled him closer to me on the bed and snuggled myself next to him.

“Hopefully you won’t be gone as often – so I can just wear it because I love you,” I added softly.

He sighed and replied, “Hopefully. We should sleep a little more – it’s really early and I’m sure Stark has a full night of events lined out for us.”

“Mhm…” I responded groggily as I began to drift off to sleep.

Maybe I dreamt it but I thought I heard him whisper, “Merry Christmas, doll. If I’m lucky maybe one day this ring will be more than just a reminder.”


I woke up to Bucky shaking me gently. “Doll – we should probably get back to the compound,” he said softly. I blinked at him sleepily as I tried to wake up. Suddenly I realized I had nothing to wear but the red dress that laid crumpled on the floor.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” I complained as I turned over to try to sleep more.

“I have a pair of sweats and you can wear one of my extra hoodies,” Bucky added as he rolled me back towards him to keep me from falling back asleep.

“Fine,” I sighed grumpily. He smiled at me triumphantly as I managed to slowly get up from the bed and put on the clothes he handed me.

It was a cold December morning and the sky threatened snow as we hopped into a taxi to head back to the compound. I nervously twisted Bucky’s ring on my finger as we sat in silence. The feeling of the ring felt like some type of promise – a promise that he would always come back to me. The feeling was amazing – my heart began to race and my palms started to sweat. “What are you thinking about?” he asked quietly – the sound of his voice caused me to jump. I looked at him sheepishly as he raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“I… um… I was thinking about you,” I responded shyly as I stared at my palms.

“What about me?” I could hear a hint of amusement in his voice – he always liked catching me off guard.

“This morning.”

“Oh…” he sounded a little unsure of himself suddenly.

“I was just thinking about how this has been the best Christmas I have ever had,” I added sweetly as I peeked up at him through my lashes. His face erupted into one of his rare smiles – the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Can I tell you a secret, doll?” he asked.

“Anything.”

“This has been the best Christmas I have ever had too,” he said as he put his arm around me and kissed the top of my head. “I love you,” he sighed before kissing me again.

“I love you too,” I whispered back and grabbed his hand and held it in mine.


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Not One, but Two

Rating: M/E

Summary: Everything was fine until his orders came down - not great but fine. Once he was gone, however, things really got out of hand. Erza didn’t know how she could possibly keep the secret but she needed to. Jellal didn’t deserve more stress and Erza couldn’t handle the thought of more loss.

Note: In the process of avoiding responsibility and life in general, I watched a video on Facebook of a couple who had twins but didn’t tell anyone she was pregnant with twins. They filmed a number of reactions and I was like OMG HOW CUTE and decided I could totally make a fic out of that. Somewhere along the way my brain got confused and this turned from fluff to angst. This won’t be too long but it will be multiple parts because I am a narcissist and require immediate gratification.

Also posted here:

FFN

AO3

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Norse Trolls

Although folk tales involving trolls of assorted shapes and sizes are common to Europe and much of Asia, they are undeniably a Scandinavian creature. The earliest legends refer to them as powerful spirits of the landscape who sometimes live in small groups. They had skins made of stone, avoided sunlight, and occasionally kidnapped or ate humans.

(Artistic rendering of a troll climbing on ice to observe it’s home territory.)

Later depiction would vary widely from immortal humanoids to giant monsters, and they were used in christian stories as symbols of paganism. Due to translation difficulty and unreliably narration, trolls are frequently confused with or mixed with the Jotunn, which were a race of humanoids commonly pitted against the Norse gods. This post will explain the truth, and advise a daring sportsman in the proper method of locating and slaying a troll.

The simple reason there are such varied myths about trolls is because trolls happen to be highly varied. They can best be described as semi-aquatic caniform (doglike) carnivorans, although most are opportunistic omnivores. The average weight is approximately 700kg (1500lbs). They have significant adaptations for swimming, but they can walk with a bear-like plantigrade gait. As it turns out, trolls are quite closely related to bears. They could be considered a subspecies of polar bear, but there is no confirmed interbreeding and they occupy distinct niches.

(This is a true polar bear for size reference. Children are behind a thick layer of safety glass.)

The primary differences between a troll and a true polar bear can be subtle or emphatic. Trolls have shorter faces, shorter and darker hair, and larger body mass. They have wider paws, longer claws, smaller ears. Critically, they travel much less than a polar bear and they are more tolerant of their own species. They are ambush predators who claim a specific territory and rarely leave. They commonly favor areas with good cover, such as caves, rock formations, and river banks. 

To hunt, trolls prefer sniff out an area with prey, then lie in wait and ambush their dinner with a burst of speed. If they are in water, they simply lunge forward like a crocodile and drag the prey into the water to drown. A motionless troll can have the shape and color of stone, and some are further camouflaged by algae growing on their coat. All possess a surprisingly solid layer of blubber. Unlike the soft fat of most land animals, troll blubber is stiff and dense like whale skin. The coarse fur and rigid skin can easily withstand a sword slash, and even a glancing blow from a spear. 

(Hybrid polar/brown bear shows the stone-like coloration and short face of a troll. A real troll has shorter hair, larger paws, a longer neck, and would hide from sunlight.)

The most dangerous aspect to a troll is underestimation. Some hunters unwisely dismiss them as “just bears”. They fail to account for the troll’s advantages: familiarity with their territory, outstanding camouflage, surprising speed, impressive intelligence, and the ability to pull prey into the water for drowning. It’s easy for a troll to lure an unwary hunter into a trap by doubling back on it’s own tracks, or snatching them from below a river overhang (such as a bridge). Because they avoid the heat of the sun, many trolls spy hunters from the water during the day and take them by surprise at night. If you are unprepared for troll hunting, you will disappear and your body will never be recovered.

In the author’s opinion, trolls are literally the most dangerous game animal in Eurasia, if not the entire world. Troll hunts frequently venture into caves and thick freezing marshes. They have the size and power of the largest bears, but they blend into their environment seamlessly and make no noise when charging. If the first shot is poorly placed, do not wait for the troll to charge and continue to fire until your run out of ammunition. Long range shots would be ideal, but trolls refuse to dwell in open areas and would be virtually impossible to discern from boulders at long range.

Use a rifle that would be considered overkill on a bear. The Browning BAR in .338 Win Mag is a safe choice because it offers a good balance of speed and power. A modern .45-70 lever action or .375 H&H double rifle are also acceptable for close-range ambush dueling with a slippery maneater. Baiting a troll can be effective, but they’re extremely wary and will refuse food if there’s human scent in the vicinity. 

DO NOT hunt alone.

DO NOT approach a “dead” troll without shooting through the skull first to confirm death.

DO NOT attack a troll in or near the water.

DO NOT sling your rifle while crossing water or approaching “rock formations”.

DO NOT sleep in troll territory without a securely bolted door and many miles between you and the troll. Remember King Hrothgar’s torment when Grendel returned nightly for human flesh.

…But hunting for moosemeat ain’t the same as some dumb hunter coming along with a rifle with cross sights thinking he’s Ernest Hemingway and shooting her bear through the heart when all he’s doing is sunning himself on the dock.
— 

Engle, Marian. Bear. 1976

Okay, so, so far we know that The Colonel (original) had a bear and now we know that Colonel Cary (they NAMED her Colonel, like that’s her name) had a bear that got shot

but what we don’t know is WHERE DID THE CURRENT BEAR COME FROM?!

THIS STILL COULD HAVE BEEN A GOOD HORROR STORY.

New Fic: Shaving, Smiles, and Shotguns

Title: Shaving, Smiles, and Shotguns (Ao3)

Fandom: Fallout 4

Pairing: MacCready/Sole Survivor

Rating: T

Summary: In which MacCready answers questions. So many fucking questions.

Notes: Set about a week after the Sole Survivor hires MacCready.

#

He should have asked for more caps.

So many fucking question. It’s like the boss expects him to know everything that’s happened in the world since the war. And not just that, it’s the little day to day shit she’s clueless about. The sooner he forgets their conversation about digging a hole to shit in, and making sure to cover it up afterward, the better.

At the same time, he’s making some decent caps. The boss wants to scour everything, looking for every last cap and mats. Between the two of them, they can barely carry all the junk she picks up. While his back might be sore, the beautiful sound of caps clanking together make things much more bearable.

The sun is just about to rise, meaning it’s time to wake the boss up and start their day. Lucky them, surviving another night in the Commonwealth. At least the sunrise is nice to look at. And if he’s being honest, so is the little park where they camped for the night. The cabin even had a bed with a decent mattress. Sure, the place smelled like ferals, but you can’t win ‘em all.

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anonymous asked:

Wincestiel getting tattooed

They all have tattoos already, but those are different. Those are practical. This is…not.

It’s the third time Dean’s lost his wedding ring during a hunt when they concede they need to do something different. Maybe hunters just aren’t meant to have wedding rings. There are other options.

That takes them a while to figure out. Cas suggests necklaces, but Sam and Dean remember the damage one can do on the hunt–one of Dean’s teeth is chipped from the amulet Sam gave him hitting him on the mouth after being thrown to the ground. Bracelets is a decent idea, but it’s Sam who finally stumbles onto the winning combination.

Tattoos. Simple, permanent, and on their skin, unable to damage them and unable to be taken away. Perfect, in short, for the three of them and what they do.

Then, of course, they have to settle on a design. Wedding ring tattoos apparently get missed up too easily, so they nix those. They each suggest a variety of designs, but names seem too big and showy, Cas doesn’t technically have initials. They each suggest various designs, but they all get rejected–too nerdy, too weird, too existential.

Dean stumbles on the design at four in the morning, waking up in the middle of the night and dragging everyone up with him to share his brilliant idea. They sit on it until morning, when they’ve had coffee and some sleep, but even then it still sounds good, so Cas gets to drawing a rough idea of it, just so they can see it.

It takes them a week to get an appointment somewhere, because while it’s a small tattoo, all three of them want to get it at the same time, and apparently that’s no so easy. But finally a shop about an hour away from the Bunker can fit them in, so they make the drive.

Dean whines about taking his shirt off and Cas and Sam share amused glances, knowing he’s worried about the pain–a tattoo gun, after everything, the tattoo gun bothers Dean–but too uptight to admit it. 

Dean goes first, so they can silence his whining faster, and they each hold one hand while the little mark gets inked over his heart, below the anti-possession tattoo.

Cas goes next, then Sam, and overall, the whole process is quick and easy.

When they’re all done, they line up in front of the mirror, examining the small marks surrounded by red skin. 

It’s two Winchester rifles crossed with an upright angel blade between them, “our own coat of arms,” as Dean had called it when he thought of it. 

The artist bandages them up and sternly tells them to keep the tattoos covered for a few hours, which they promise earnestly to do as they pay her. 

When they make it back to the Bunker, through dinner, and up to bed that night, they peel off the bandages and look. They don’t touch the inflamed, red, irritated skin, but they can’t keep their eyes off the marks.

“Better than rings?” Dean asks, looking at the both of them.

Sam grins. “Definitely,” he says, and Cas nods.

“An American soldier, who died in combat during the Allied invasion, lies on the beach of the Normandy coast, in the early days of June 1944. Two crossed rifles in the sand next to his body are a comrade’s last reverence. The wooden structure on the right, normally veiled by high tide water, was an obstruction erected by the Germans to prevent seaborne landings.”

(AP)