#redapt

dearest mother, 

      i went to recruitment last month and signed up,  last week i got the confirmation and it’s official mum,  i’m enlisted.  the training is exactly what i expected,  long hours on and off the field,  which i don’t mind but i never really was one to sit in a classroom and pay attention.  there’s just something about staring at a blackboard that really doesn’t appeal to me.  you know i prefer being outside,  having freedom and not being tied down with homework or academic studies.  being stuck in a room with one person talking is like being brainwashed,  it’s mind numbing.

      not to mention it’s a little bit daunting learning how big the world really is beyond brooklyn.  we spend at least four hours looking at these maps of europe,  all questioning inside exactly what it is we’ll be doing over there and we don’t get much clarity,  we have reports coming in every day and things change.  we jump tomorrow,  we don’t because of weather.  scrap that we’re being deployed on boats,  it’s unpredictable right now but having a daily routine is getting me through it.  and really i don’t mind,  i’ve always wanted this,  not war,  but to be part of something bigger.  to make a change in the world,  however big or small that might be and just to make it a safer place for rebecca to grow up.  and she’s doing really well mum,  maybe that’s what i should have opened this letter on,  to stop you worrying but she’s fine.  

      we write occasionally,  i haven’t told her yet that i’m going away for a while because she’s like you mum,  she worries too much and i just don’t want to burden her with that.  i will tell her before i go but saying goodbye to her will only make leaving harder.  plus it’s not really goodbye because i will be back.  maybe i’ll be like dad and come back a changed man,  perhaps a little less childish and more mature.  then dad might be proud of me,  i think he is now but he always did have a face made of rock,  his war face.

      anyway mum i know this was shorter than the ones previous but i didn’t have much time.  i’ve got a pt lesson in twenty minutes and i’ve made a bet with gabe that i can out run steve so i need to warm up.  you would have loved to have met them mum and they would have loved your homemade apple pie.

      i love you mum and there isn’t a day that passes where i don’t think about you.  i just hope that one day you’ll be proud of the man i become.  

      james.

AND THERE IT WOULD ROT.     ink upon paper to become the memorial of a man lost in the devastation of war.  reputation that unfolded within the decades as belongings passed between the un-wanting,  no desire to have connection to a monster created.  yet finally possessions were dumped within the hands of a museum curator,  filed away and letters left unopened for none to ever see.  UNTIL TODAY.

@redapt​​:     ❝ if i die, i’m gonna haunt your ass. ❞  

          𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖  𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃  𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌  𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑,   a  smirk  lifts  one  corner  of  clint’s  lips ;  sardonic,  the  irony  of  the  sentiment  doesn’t  escape  him  as  he  reads  bucky’s,  but  a  huff  of  a  breath  does.  it  could  be  mistaken  for  laughter,  but  mostly  it’s  the  accompaniment  to  the  shrug  of  his  shoulders  as  bowstring  is  drawn  back,  and  the  wire  tenses.  back  muscles  tighten  and  lock,  the  faux  feathered  fetching  of  the  arrow  tickling  the  wry  curl  of  his  lips.  slow  your  breathing,  in  and  out  in  counts  of  one  e – and – a,  two  e – and – a.    ❛ hold  very  still. ❜    not  that  it  would  matter  much.

           relax  your  hand.  as  if  in  SLOW  MOTION,  the  nock  slips  from  loose  fingers  as  the  arrow  is  fired  from  taut  string    /    as  if  in  the  BLINK  OF  AN  EYE,  the  apple  once  perched  precariously  atop  winter  soldier’s  head  now  sits,  pinned  to  board  behind,  shot  through  as  juice  drips  from  split  core.  clint’s  aim  was  dead  center,  and  he  does  believe  he’s  owed  a  semi-drunken  fifty  bucks.    ❛ so––– ❜    is  he  smug  right  now ?  he’s  totally  smug  right  now.    ❛ was  that  a  threat,  barnes,  or  a  promise ? ❜  

cue  the  angels  singing   because   tori,   aka   @nibelstrike​​     is   here !    i   have  adored  her   from  afar  since   her  zatanna  days,   and  truly:   everytime  i  see  her  on  the  dash  i   get   heart-eyes !    she  is  so  skilled,   the  graphics  she  does ,   her  writing   &   not  only  does  she  pour  so   much  love  for   tifa,   i  am  convinced   SHE  IS    tifa  !    the  way  she  comes  up   with  verses  and  is  able  to  look  into  little  details ....  ah  yes,   a  true   work  of  art !      not  only  that :  honestly,    she  is  so  kind!   i  know  i  can  always   talk   to  her  on  discord,   and  man  am  i  glad  i  had  the  courage  to  ask   to  add   her!     ALSO  ALSO :    she  gave  me  such  a  huge  compliment  by  saying   Marvel   should   hire  me  to  write   felicia  and    I  WAS  ON  THE  FLOOR !     she  makes  me  feel  at   ease,   and  she  let’s  me  know  she  is  there  when  i  need  her.   i  am  truly  always  looking  forward  to  talking  to  her  but  still  sometimes  i  am  shy  bean,   because  she  is  astonishing  in  so  many  ways!   &  when  i  do,  i feel  silly  for  hesitating  because  tori  is  indeed  so loving  &  welcoming!    she  wants  to  spread  positivity  and  she  is  so  skilled  at  giving  just  the  right  words !     thank  you  for  everything  you  do  tori ! 

dreams do come true ,,,

dark pupils follows the tempting, pulsing partition of his foe's throat and he lingers upon the blank space in thoughtful consideration. god, it would be so easy. too easy. the marquis thumbs a blade to test its ardour, before kneading the prolonged groove administered by the tool with his spongy fingertip. he had spent far too much time among the aristocracy, feigning courtesy when his head was filled with blood. vincent quickly learned it was rather difficult to rid one's self of the taste. who needed words when life was so tenuous? all of his problems could be snatched away with the reach of a blade, and that made his acclimatisation to a higher class rather difficult. he felt it only seemed right to muddy his hands once in a while, if only to temporarily quench this insatiable thirst.