heavenly looking Yvonne Strahovski 


heavenly looking Yvonne Strahovski 

Posted 1 day ago | Reblog | Via
21 Notes


 I want to do a Mass Effect AU, I don’t know why.

"You’ve become so damaged that when someone tries to give you what you deserve, you have no fucking idea how to respond."

(via fuckinq)

Posted 2 days ago | Reblog | Via | Source
210713 Notes

# about Red 

It’s really interesting that, in ‘The Avengers,’ the character that people relate to is The Hulk, and I think the reason why they relate to The Hulk is because he’s fragile and human and faulty.


Watching the displays with sharp brown eyes, Tendo’s fingers flickered across the keys as he input settings and calibrated it for Ripley. “Sorry about the drive suit — I know they’re not comfortable for sitting around, but we need the relays.” Tendo added, glancing at her and offering her an easy smile. 

Returning his focus to the screens, Tendo raised his hands to rotate the display of her brain’s feeds, his expression falling into a look of neutral concentration. For a few minutes, he worked in silence. “Alright, I’d like you to stand and imagine you are calibrating with a jaeger. To make this more comfortable for you,” Tendo moved a display to face her. “This is your ‘jaeger,’” he grinned, a small model jaeger glowed to life on the screen. “Of course, there will be no drift sequence, but that’s not where our potential problem lies.”

Sitting back down, Tendo’s lips pursed. There were definitely irregularities — whether they were detrimental to the neural bridge with the jaeger remained to be seen. 

"I checked your files — there was a note of previous trauma? Can you tell me a little bit about that?"

 Ripley seemed ready to comply, mild even, which was a miracle considering her typical bluster and bravado. “It’s fine, sir, nothing to worry about. Used to it, after all.” It wasn’t like the drive suits were uncomfortable to wear, just a bit edgy and difficult to sit in. She’d survive even if she had to stand for the entirety of the testing, she just hoped it wouldn’t last long. 

  Studying the lines worked into his visage as he concentrated upon the screen, she felt her heart palpitate nervously, but she quickly settled that with a few deep breaths. Her worry was that Tendo would find the reason for the anomaly, her being the reason, and that it would ground her. Standing straight before shifting into an easy, comfortable stance that she typically took when preparing for a drop, Ripley’s pulse slowed. This was easy, concentrating on work was easier than anything in the world because she could be methodical or senseless and still beat the ever loving hell out of a monster. “Cute, almost looks like Rush.” Ripley winked at Tendo and focused upon the screen before her.

  Focusing, going through the motions, Ripley observed Tendo from the corner of her eye before locking in on that screen as if it were reading the one that came up upon her Jaeger’s HUD. 

  “Ah yeah.” She gave a faint nod, actually looking up at him. “Got into a scuffle with a few rowdy patrons in a bar in Brazil.” She explained, trying to skirt around the specific details. “Banged my head, got a concussion, you know. Typical rabble rousing results.” 


"Maybe I’m too nice, then, huh? You’re still more confident. I wish I could be that brave.” 

  Ripley made a little sound, non-committing. “Wouldn’t say that at all. And I’m not confident, I’m loud.” 

shuffling the cards in your game // Riloh + Ripley 


He took the offered hand gently because it was something that Max would do (polite and earnest small-town boy that he was), even though Riloh would’ve liked nothing better than to break those delicate fingers in his grip. 

Do you really want to play this game with me “Sarah”?  I’ll fucking burn it to the ground, and give you the pleasure of watching, before I snap your fucking neck.

His eyes said what his voice couldn’t, and although it was lost on Molly, he knew the blonde read it loud and clear.

“It’s a uhm- beautiful university, isn’t it?  What are you tak-“

“Maaaaax please, are you SERIOUSLY going to talk about school right now?” Molly interrupted, swatting at his arm teasingly, before crawling a hand across his lower back and hooking a finger in the waistband of his jeans. 

I’ll talk about what I fucking want to talk about, you dumb slut, and don’t fucking interrupt me when I—- Breathe, Harmon, breathe. 

“S-sorry.” He smiled bashfully in response, despite the involuntary clench of his fists in his pockets.  Dragging a sneaker against the ground shyly (which in retrospect, seemed a little cliché, but Molly was eating it up like it was fucking pure gold), he avoided eye contact with either of the women before mumbling out, “So what should we be talking about?”

“We,” And here the college girl pressed a finger to his lips to shush him, voice dripping with deviousness and (horror of fucking horrors) innuendo, “shouldn’t be talking at all…  In fact don’t you think it’s time we introduced Max to some shots?”

Molly grinned and winked at Sarah, before hooking an arm around the both of them and dragging them determinedly to the bar.

The next forty five minutes were excruciating to Riloh, and he wanted to give himself a medal for every time he didn’t slam Molly’s face into the heavy wood of the bar counter. 

They played nearly every drinking game under the sun, with shot glass after shot glass of mediocre, neon colored drinks, Molly’s dumb jock friends jeering at him from the sidelines, and some fucking idiot requesting track after track of LMFAO until Riloh was nearly vibrating with hostility.

He was lucky he could hold his alcohol, although everybody ended up getting so blitzed that they hardly noticed that Sarah and himself were no longer drinking anyways.

She’s no amateur.  She’s fucking done this before.  Not that it matters, because I’m making my move now.

“Max”, first time binge drinker and all, decidedly COULD NOT hold his alcohol and Riloh played up that nervous, worried, giggly drunkenness - finally stumbling off his bar stool and weaving in the general direction of the exit, knowing that Molly would follow (if the way that her hands had become sloppily bold in groping up his thighs under the table was any indication).

"That nerd’s getting laid tonight." Somebody brayed from behind them, much to the amusement of every intoxicated idiot in the venue.

Yeah, but not how you think, you dumb motherfucker.

He held on to the thought smugly as they stepped out into the humid night air, and he was so close, he could practically taste Molly’s blood on his lips.

She was a hot mess, dragging him by his belt loops towards a cab, her lips sloppy in their progress from his mouth towards his ear as she whispered “Want to have some real fun now, cutie?”

Yeah, let’s start with cutting your fucking tongue out-

"Good, ‘cause Sarah’s coming home with us too."

He nearly swore out loud, he hadn’t even noticed the blonde had followed them out, and was standing behind them.

Ripley could feel the strained sense of gentleness in the palm she’d taken—not completely work worn, but not smooth either. She liked it, almost wanted to twist his wrist around and drag her index finger over the callouses present, but she didn’t because that’d be strange and likely drive Molly away. Maybe, the girl was a bit of a freak. Still she regarded that look with one of her own. They were having a conversation so indiscernible by any but themselves, it was amusing and almost relieving.

Yeah, “Maxxy” I really, really do want to play this game and I fucking dare you to try me. Just try me. Because if there was one thing she loathed more than drunken frat boys and sorority girls, it was people thinking she was easy, inadequate, and incapable.

She made to comment about the university but Molly was cutting in too quickly for her to voice her opinion—as usual. It gleaned a minor look of disdain that seemed somewhere between amused and frustrated, though the latter seemed not to bother the girl—probably because she was dumber than a bag of hammers. And when she smacked Max’ arm playfully, it made Ripley cringe faintly, a break in her facade.

Dumb cunt, don’t touch him like that. Wait, what? Fuck you, I’m going to slice you into tiny pieces anyway. It was a possibly a certain possessiveness knowing that she wanted—and damned if she didn’t get what she wanted—to kill “Max” and Molly, the fact that her “best friend” was hitting had frustrated her for no particular reason. Shaking off the thought, her attention shifted between the two. Mildly impressed by the fact that he’d managed to shake off the bossy command from the brunette, and even more impressed by the fact that Molly seemed to actually buy the shyguy act. Nobody said the woman was bright, at least. Going to college just looked good on paper, didn’t mean your ditzy ass had any potential in making you smarter.

“Mm? Yes.” Sarah smiled at Molly and then to Max, permitting her deviousness to slip through upon her expression now that there was a reason to do so. Introduce him to shots, this fucker probably lived on liquor.

As willingly as she went with the girl whose arm was looped within her own, it was only because she knew shortly she’d have her prize—and a world of serenity that did not involve the shrill, squeaky speech of the imbecile she’d endured for so long. Even if she was pretending to be excited about getting this poor sod drunk for the first time.

I swear to whatever deity is listening right now, whoever keeps playing that goddamned band is going to be the next victim I sacrifice for no specific reason. Although she kept her smile, kept her cool, Ripley was becoming more and more frustrated with each play through of what sounded like the same song, and each new drinking game. Especially frustrated with the people grinding, and pounding, and crowding them.

Max was never far from her sight, eyes careful, wary, curious. The competition seemed to remain steadfast and strong despite his facade that she managed to see right through. Eyes flicking toward him fully as he rose off of the stool, he brows knit only faintly. Oh no you fucking don’t.

Graceful, despite the heaviness of her limbs from the alcohol, Sarah followed loosely behind her stumbling friend, watched as she dragged, groped, and otherwise touched Max in a way that suggested her next course of action for the evening. Yeah right, drooling bitch, like I’d let anyone fuck you in this state, or another. Gross.

With a little wave, Sarah grinned when she realized he hadn’t noticed her behind them. It was a perfect way to kill two birds with one stone—fuck with his groove, ruin his night, and swoop in for the double kill.

  “Hope you don’t mind, Max.” 


"If you think ‘sweet’ and ‘kind’ gets you anything in life, you’re either spoiled or sheltered, Pretty Lady."

 ”Nope, I take what I need if I need anything. I’m being honest when I speak, from experience.” 

Posted 4 days ago | Reblog | Via
40 Notes

# Red 

rxbxllxxn said:

"Hey, you're Scott Hansen right?" The pilot leaned into the bar beside the man, observing him closely, openly.


Scott glared at the woman from the corner of his eye. He took a sip from his beer bottle before speaking.

"Who wants to know?"

 She glowered back, half satisfied with the look she’d gleaned from him. Ripley wasn’t exactly against opposition. She reveled in it after all.

  “Uh me, fucker, that’s why I asked.”