It was not unusual for Bucky and Sinthia to share pajamas. And this didn't usually mean that they simply swapped set of clothing designed for sleeping in, but rather that each of them usually ended up wearing half of the set; in regard for wanting to be able to leave the bedroom in a more-or-less covered state, Sinthia usually got the shirts. She was quicker, and while Bucky was pulling on the bottoms she could steal the other half and wrap up in it.

She doubted he minded it much, really.

Morning found her in the kitchen before dawn, though not by much, making coffee; she wore a ridiculously oversized shirt with some kind of cartoon mouse silhouette on the front, filled in with the words for 'magic' in several different languages. Not that she particularly had a favorite thing to sleep in, other than a bed, but she liked this shirt. It was almost downy-soft, and warm, and wasn't so brightly colored that she feared being easily spied through the kitchen window. (She suspected those sets were bought with the intention of her not leaving the bed more than absolutely necessary, and they usually succeeded.) It also left her legs entirely bare, but if the two men she was living with minded that, they never said it where she could hear it. Better that way, too, or they'd never find where she hid the coffee press.
 
 
02 January 2014 @ 04:12 pm
 
The weekends generally don't come soon enough for the BSAA agent. Not that he doesn't love his job, or training-- he does. But he also has the habit of running himself ragged during the week and collapsing on Friday evenings. Emerging only the next afternoon with a stretch, yawn and bleary stare. Piers tries to be a good roommate, generally, he cooks on his days off, does some of the dishes and other chores. Spends a few hours on Saturday doing what he can to make the living arrangements more comfortable. He knows it isn't always easy if there's a mission to be had, arriving home in the early hours of the day, exhausted and dragging his work bag with. Sometimes the middle of the night. All in all he tries to be quiet, but it's never exactly a sure thing. Sometimes he's just too tired and ends up collapsed on the couch a lump of uniform and the weird knitted blanket Claire had given him as a "apartment-warming" present. It's kind of ugly, but thoughtful, so he keeps it.

Saturday evening has finally rolled around and he's tossed himself into a pair of  track pants, not that he plans on going running but they're more comfortable than jeans and he hasn't done his laundry yet so any semi-decent pajama pants are out of the question. A grey, mildly faded gym tee seems to fit with the general lazy look he's got on this afternoon. Planted on the floor near the couch a remote half dropped under the table, the absent hum of the television crawling through the house. He wasn't much of a tele person himself, but on occasion it was nice to just let his mind wander-- away from the missions and work.

Not to mention it gave him something to do while he waited for his cup of coffee to cool off.

 
 
 
 
28 October 2012 @ 08:12 pm

[Tony screwed up. But that was all right: he was used to screwing up, falling down both metaphorically and literally, making people pissed at him--pissed enough to even try and kill him sometimes--but at least nine out of ten times when it happened, he knows what he did wrong. Or it wasn't hard to figure out.

This did not apply to anything to do with Loki. As it turns out, a trickster is a perpetual variable in the mythological world, and managed to twist everything in whatever direction he pleased. With this, at least, Loki was doing a piss-poor job of masking the fact that Tony had angered him somehow in the last few hours they've been at this evening gala. And though he wasn't gouging out eyes or blowing things up, he almost knows Loki isn't trying to be that subtle with the looks and snide remarks. Though he wasn't subtle, he wasn't being direct, either.

Honestly, Tony was starting to feel like he was in a sitcom chasing after his wife. Asking her what was wrong to get a resounding, fuming "nothing" each time.

Except Tony wasn't going to pursue him, and Loki wasn't his wife. On top of all that, the game was kind of pissing him off. So when he sees Loki wander off somewhere by himself, he follows him, waiting until they were estranged enough from the rest of the party to confront him.]


Gee, Rudolph, is that a new bee in your gilded bonnet? [With a squint.] Doesn't flatter you at all, really.
 
 
 
 
 
03 July 2012 @ 11:15 pm
 
[ Loki yawned, almost languid of nature under the bright shine of the dozens of stars in the sky. Even though they could view the outer reaches of space during the day it still had a proper cycle of light and dark, it was early evening, the clearing they rested in still brightly lit. It had been his plan to steal Thor away, if only for a moment, from that damned bunch of friends who seemed to be occupying more and more of his brother's time. A soft laugh passed his lips as he had settled into the opening, there was few people he could feel free around-- Thor was one, but that was even rare as they began to grow older and apart. Now he just felt jealousy and needed little moments for himself. Laying out in the grass he watched the light sparkle above before he rolled onto his side to give a long look to him. ]

I think a day away from training will do you good. [ He murmurs, head tilted to the side, his own hair falling loosely around his head and the ground, not as worried about it when it was simply the two of them. ]
 
 
30 June 2012 @ 12:30 am
 
stuff for thegames )
 
 
21 June 2012 @ 04:36 pm
[ It had been a hunt worthy of praise, he supposed, taking down the first Bilgesnipe in ages; felling the beast with a combination of his magic and their blades. Of course it was never really seen that way, Loki was hardly counted as part of the winning team, but he was more than used to it. He just wished he didn't have to attend the celebratory feast, watch warriors shove mead down their gullets and sides of boar larger than their heads while boasting about the battle. It would be a disrespect not to show up, to not wait till the thing was over, but he did not have to behave as Thor and The Warriors Three did. He would eat, albeit quietly, and drink of course-- he would not starve himself on their account but he did not join in the story telling. Even when his drunken brother had taken to elbowing him to participate.

If someone had enchanted his boar to grow little legs and wander away for Thor, and the ever gluttonous Volstagg, to catch than few were sober enough to rightly accuse Loki.

His attention rolled past the drunken lot, snorting as they clamored for another round of beers and fell to Sif, seated not too far across from himself. There was a questioning sort of brow raise, as he wondered how she tolerated them any better than Loki did. Not that she was less of a warrior, he did not believe that as others might, however he did wonder about her tolerance for stupidity and how it got so high. Though she was close with his brother, perhaps that was why. Not that Thor was entirely stupid, even Loki knew this, but his brother did have the tendency to look only after he had leapt and he was sure it has brought the others as much trouble in battle as it had himself. The favored son, who would dare argue with that?

He breathes a sigh and cocks his head to the side to get a better look at her, ever a Lady but more so a warrior. ]


I see you have decided to retain some sense for the evening. [ As she was one of the few who were not nearly falling from their seats drunk. ]
 
 
02 May 2012 @ 06:24 am
 
Bobby had been gone a month or two at most this time. He had helped fix up Evelyn's house with his brothers stayed for a week or so to make sure Jack was up and moving again before he left in the night, back to his mystery life. Same as he left he returned, a new car looking much like the one that had been destroyed in the car chase that had left two contract killers dead.

As he made his way inside he tossed his duffle bag on the couch closing and locking the door behind him. Starting up the stairs towards his mothers old room so he could crash awhile. Due to the time he didn't expect anyone to be up yet but stranger things had happened.
 
 
12 April 2012 @ 08:54 pm
 
It's a long trek into the kitchen, especially for someone quite literally pint sized. It took enough effort and a very inventive climbing method involving a grappling hook made of a shot glass and several shoe laces to get him anywhere near the fire escape where the birdhouse was located. IT was filled with seeds and things akin to that, but nothing quite suitable to his kind. So he had to make it along the railing, leaving his equipment behind in order to save balance. Finally he made it to the window, climbing onto the ledge and down into the bedroom. Scurrying along the floor he makes sure to keep under the tables and ledges so he could remain unseen.

Of course, once he reaches the kitchen he finds the challenge of getting onto the kitchen counter where he could smell the fresh scent of bread. It's not until he notices a broom that he decides it might be the best course of action. Gripping the sides he slowly begins to inch himself up, hugging it like a larger person might hug a tree-- dragging himself along toward the top. Reaching the counter top he finally sits himself down next to the plate, panting quietly as he tried to pry a corner off of the scone all the while watching the window for his friend.
 
 
05 April 2012 @ 12:54 am
 
It's awkward returning to an apartment and not even knowing if you're coming back to the right place... or the right people. He's been gone for a few months; not intentionally but doing what he did one had to learn to accept sometimes people would cause trouble. Old clients would cause him problems, didn't care to listen to him when he said he was slowly getting out of the game. He stands outside the door for a while, considering just leaving again-- how could he explain what happened? How much of an idiot he'd been and everything that had happened while he was gone? Pushing a hand through those short cropped strands he grasps the at the back of his head, giving a little tug and trying to clear his head. Thoughts too jumbled, painful. He knew what Evan must have thought, him just vanishing one day after everything... It caused a throb of pain in his chest. Maybe it was better to let him think he ran off or died? He could find someone so much better for him but...

But Aden is selfish, wants to see him-- he's come to know this place as home. He's got no where else after he gave up his own place to live with Evan, and god he missed him, he really did. It takes him a few more minutes before he finally knocks and hopes that Even still even lived here.
 
 
01 April 2012 @ 02:56 am
 
Charles had given into the pressures of his sister to 'live a little'for the evening of the school dance. While it wasn't that he wasn't good at faking social niceties and blending into the crowd so much as he was, as always, worried about his schoolwork. He needed to be the best of the best to go to the schools he had in mind, needed to be able to prove himself a dedicated student not just one when things were convenient. Still, little sisters are devilishly persistent and Charles knows if he stays home he'll probably have to deal with the rest of the family and he still wouldn't get as much done as he liked. So, here he was, without a date-- and awkwardly placed bright yellow flower pinned to the pocket of his black tux, subtly nudging people away from him (mentally of course) while trying to keep an eye out for his sister. He had lost sight of her perhaps ten minutes ago when he had stopped to get a cup, the pressure of the students minds attempting to wedge into his skull and give him (and those around him) quite a headache. 

As it stood he knew it was foolish to worry, and there was little that could happen to her at a dance, but he still paced the outer rim of the room. Eyes darting through the crowd, looking for that familiar smile or the shine of her blond hair. It couldn't hurt to check in, perhaps then, he could excuse himself to see if the library was unlocked and finish out the rest of the dance in peace. 
 
 
31 March 2012 @ 02:00 pm
 
 Charles always tried to prepare himself for the pain, for what he knew was coming, but each time it still served to shock him. Each time the burning was that much more intense. Like claws scraping along his skull, infecting his brain and leaving puffy infected flesh in their wake. The only actual painful physical actions was the insertion of the probes. Pressed down into his skull, digging through flesh in order to make that connection. To read the pulses in his mind and produce their own. Charles had always been a pacifist, even under Kurt's heavy hand and his mothers constant drinking but as things stood he found himself having moments where he would give anything, anything, to be free of the torture they inflicted upon him. 

He would be a great asset to the government. A great asset to war. 

But for all he could do for them, they could do nothing for him, he wasn't human-- he had no rights or hope of safety. They could test for as long as painfully as they liked, he was less than an animal, creatures who at least had laws to protect them.

The pain shoots like fire from his skull and down his spine, digging in and refusing to let go. The harsh pulse enough to cause convulsions, his body straining against the black straps that kept him form leaving the chair. Time and time again they pushed him, harder, further, testing the limits of his ability and their own to control his brain. Between the tests and the sedation Charles didn't stand much of a chance. After every session he was an exhausted mess, too weak to even walk once it got to this level. They'd hose him down and toss him back into bed-- a place he had hated so much when he first arrived that he longed for every evening he was dragged here. 

"Please..." He always uttered, almost pathetically, as they pushed the small tufts of hair to the side to insert the needles. He'd been shaved in patches, and then fully, only bits growing back now, uneven and no longer the full locks he had been so proud of in his youth. Please let him go home, please let him out, please make the pain stop, please don't do this.

But after that, the pain always came. 
 
 
10 March 2012 @ 06:41 am
Helix is a bugger )
 


Perhaps she will, perhaps she wont, I don't think there's any way to find out other than you joining me in bed as you should be doing. [ There's a bit of a laugh form him because he's only teasing and can understand Erik's apprehension. He doesn't mind it, doesn't take it as an affront or a dismissal of what he says because it's just in Erik's nature to think the way he does as the same could be said for Charles himself. ] If she wakes you up I'll do something about it, alright?

[ His voice softens at the end, his attention obviously drawn to each bit of exposed flesh Erik offered him. He, too, found no reason Erik should be shy-- all things included the man was handsome, disarmingly so, and quite something he found himself wanting to touch more often than not. Sometimes unwittingly distracted by a flash of flesh here or there-- be it during training or just the man grasping something from a high shelf when Charles was feeling less than inclined to locate his often-borrowed footstool. Just a bit of tan skin a easy reminder of the times he had ran his finger over that spot just above his waist band, traced the muscles and the dip of his hips and found himself in near delight. There was very little shyness in Charles' brand of sexuality-- once Erik knew that Charles fancied him he found no more reason to be embarrassed. He was an adult, as was Erik, and they were entitled to take pleasure in each other if they felt so inclined. ]

I would try. [ He teases back, turning once Erik as settled to land a light kiss to his shoulder. ]
 
 
17 February 2012 @ 07:58 am
 

Hey Guise!
(This is a link)

I'm trying to compile a list of all of my threads, so if you have any lists or records of threads we've done I'd be forever grateful.
 
 
 
14 February 2012 @ 01:35 pm
 


Happy commercialized holiday where we celebrate sweet poems, hitting on someone else's wife and getting your head chopped of!

Can't you feel the love?


1) Post with your character, name and canon in the subject line
2) Reply to other people, don't be a stingy ass, it's a holiday for giving!
3)?????
4) Profit

 
Some ideas for you indecisive types to RNG;

1) Chocolates: You couldn't think of anything more awesome, so you went out and bought your lover some candy. Hopefully they like chocolate. You made sure to check before hand, right? Hope so. 

2) Poetry: Some say there's nothing more romantic than a sweet little poem expressing all those feelings! Unless you're shit at writing in which case you might want to stick to...

3) Greeting Card: You are the lowest of the low. You ran to Walgreens ten minutes before you showed up at your lovers house and picked out the first card that looked good. Or maybe you just suck at Valentines day? Either way, hope you brought something good with it. 

4) Sex: You're either cheap or good in bed, but you've decided for valentines day you're going to give your significant other the gift of you

5) Wild Card: Make something up.