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videogemu

—When you have the shot, you take the shot.

#.reblogs #.photo #.mirror

rotwar-blog

💗

SEND 💗 TO KISS MY MUSE TENDERLY WITHOUT EXPLANATION.

their child sits on his forearm, grasping at the delicate chain around his neck. her round hands patting his collarbone, the toes of her feet digging into his soft sides. her voice rises in a high pitch when he blows raspberries into her full cheeks. a precious squeal ending abruptly in bubbling laughter that reminds him vaguely of his youngest sister. the sight of her two tiny, white teeth surrounded by pink gums make his heart soar. maria presses open mouth kisses sloppy with spit to her father’s cheeks, leaning backwards to laugh & marvel at her handiwork. his own laughter rumbling in his throat.

when his wife presses a hand to his chest to plant a tender kiss to his jaw, gabriel feels himself untether from the ugly & dirty parts that refused to wash away with the rain water. a detachment that unlocked his heart, allowed the air to rush into his lungs like a gust of wind. ❛ ━━━━━━ I LOVE YOU. ❜ he confesses suddenly, words spoken more times than he could remember. words spoken between pressed together lips, words admitted too quietly to be heard.

#.reblog #.asks #.au: he gave it up for me

💗

Send 💗 to kiss my muse tenderly without explanation \\ accepting

He kisses her when he doesn’t think she’s awake. It’s with the utmost tenderness, and he cranes his neck to press a kiss to her forehead without disturbing her or the two ( one not so much ) young children who wormed their way into the king bed sometime during that stormy night. It’s funny, how he tries to carefully peel back the duvet to find where the bedding ends and where she begins.

She’s careful not to disturb Maria ( who has plastered herself to her leg ), but she pushes the duvet aside allowing Gabriel to kiss her. He’s scruffy and smells faintly of fancy aftershave ( the stuff she can’t even get him to use on their bimonthly dates ). He’s gentle, a stark contrast to the sharp military image he exudes when he’s wearing his military uniform, the same square hardness that he held while he was the leader of Overwatch-- while he was the leader of Blackwatch. He rarely shows that stern side of himself, it fades away as soon as he sees one of the two girls who call him father.

They promised they’d leave those hard facades for work, never to bring them home.

He lingers for moment longer, fingers tangled in her hair for just a few moments more-- somehow have gotten lost in the intimate moment. A hand finds his and their rings connect for a brief moment, then she lets him go.She never questions these moments, she’s simply happy that they are hers.

#.au: he gave it up for me #rotwar

Gabe

every moment where he hungered for the normalcy – the vows eagerly spilling from his lips – had built the foundation they stood on. his fingers wound in hers until neither knew which digit belonged to which. there’d been a time they only felt the harsh bite of a weapon resting in the crook of an arm. those moments seemed so distant while they stood in the little room. a trio of hearts beating wildly independent of each other. yet, the universe knew how intertwined they were meant to be. ❛ ━━━━ SHE LOOKS LIKE YOU, AT LEAST. ❜

❛ good job on this one, amari. ❜ he laughs in a pathetic attempt to keep the swell beneath his eyes from spilling. tumbling over in hot droplets, disappearing before they reach his chin. fingers slide across the curve of her neck, pad of a thumb massaging circles along the top of her spine. his wife is warm against him, his child even warmer. the continuous thrum of heartbeats filling his ears till he heard nothing else but the sound of maria’s breathing. fast & fleathery like a bird dropping herself on a windowsill.

Memories and tokens of the past were not truly locked away, for they both bore the wear and tear their jobs had placed on them-- however, when they had echoed their vows to one another, there was a finality in that moment. Finality that they would not have to hunger and fight for their own well being again. Being here, with their newest addition, was an added and much unexpected bonus, however-- not an unwelcome one, for Fareeha was her greatest joy ( such the meaning of her name ) and she had wished for Gabriel to experience unbridled and unconditional love as she had.

Eyes turn to his form, at his breathy remark-- a peel of laughter begs to fall, but never comes. He looks better, healthier than he once had. He was never a man who had been out of shape, however, Blackwatch had taken something from him and she had seen the man she loved lose himself, however now with a babe tucked into the crook of his arm, he has never looked more alive or grounded. Touch pulls her from her observations, and careful ( and free ) hand untangles from the sheets to smooth the stocking covering Maria’s dark hair.

“It wouldn’t be terrible if she looked like you.”

#.reblog #.au: he gave it up for me #rotwar

PERSONALITY INVENTORY.

FOUR TEMPERAMENTS: Sanguine ( Tied with Phlegmatic ) | Melancholic | Choleric | Phlegmatic

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Gryffindor | Hufflepuff | Ravenclaw | Slytherin

DARK TRIAD: Psychopathy 14 | Machiavellianism 20 | Narcissism 24

LIFE PATH NUMBER: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 11 | 22

ROSENBERG SELF ESTEEM SCALE: 0 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30

BRAIN LATERALIZATION TEST: Left | Right

#.op #.text #.hc

rotwar-blog

Digits ghost over calloused hands, finding the crook of a rugged palm, losing themselves in smoke & ash. There is an urge to peel leather gloves from her hands, to press bare skin to his. Thumb bushes over the hook of a knuckles, voice hitches, word daring to fall from her lips; an apology, a plea for forgiveness, a reminder that she also aches. Free hand brushes leather, falling again not daring to linger on his arm, instead she brings his hand to her lips. 'I'm sorry' Ghosts over her lips.

to touch her was to admit that she had been real. living / breathing flesh inhaling the smoke of him only to choke on the dissipating molecules of his fingers. painfully aware of those moments he had dreamt of her & when he had opened his eyes he saw her still. except her mouth had opened wide to swallow him, her voice the hollow sound of the dead. ( ACCENTED ENGLISH HITCHING WITH THE QUIET SOUND OF SHORT SOBS, FLIES BUZZING AROUND THE EMPTY SOCKET OF HER EYE. ) the sound had followed him, nipping at his heels & gripping tightly to the stability that wavered in the waking day time. those memories of her had been stained by death / his death / their death.

❛ ━━━━ YOU’VE NEVER SPOKEN BEFORE. ❜ the only sound he had ever heard from the ghost of ana amari were cries, gurgled names between black lips. she had never touched him either. he had never felt the rough pressure of gloved hands, catching on the peeling ridges of his skin. threatening to come off the bone & crumble in her open palms. the tense muscles relax as his knuckles fall into her lap, the warmth of her seeping into cold fingers. the familiar feeling of the empty, cavernous hole in his chest threatens to consume him. ❛ it’s gotten worse. i can feel you, now. before you were only una phantasma. just a ghost, you’re only a ghost. ❜ denial, denial, denial. gripping teeth & eyelids tight enough to burst the orb underneath.

❛ ━━━━ PLEASE, LEAVE ME ALONE. I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! ❜

#.reblog #scREAMS #.save #.from others #.q

☀ to learn about my character’s hobbies

Being of a quiet nature ( and job ) in the field, leaves her to be more than boisterous in the war rooms. That also translates to her hobbies, such as shooting and playfully poking at her teammates. However, some hobbies come as unexpected to most, such as knolling, crafting, knitting and even gardening ( though the later is something she learned in Cairo, at her mother’s knee, after an unexpected import and travel ban in her youth ).

#.hc #rotwar

rotwar-blog

ANA AMARI & GABRIEL REYES - i will remember the kisses / our lips raw with love / and how you gave me / everything you had / and how i / offered you what was left of / me.

Happy ( late ) Birthday, Elisa! - December 27th, 2016. - @masdum. ♡

#.reblog #.photos #.gifts #.it all seemed to burn ( ana & gabe )#AHHH MOONPIE THIS IS SO GOOD I LOVE IT

iwantcupcakes

Visit Original Link

#.reblog #.audio

rotwar.

there are moments their lives feel as tepid dreams. curled around a child’s finger, ready to disappear by a small breath of air. these moments find him in the dead of night, where the drums of war are louder than his wife’s quiet snoring. a chill sweat at each temple grasping him as if death held his own skeleton fingers beside his eyes. this chill is warmed when she turns to him, her fingers finding his own. they were made of the same torn fabric. sewn together by divine hands & left to dry by the sun. her simple, little word causes the air to rush dangerously back into his lungs.

❛ ━━━━ YES, PLEASE… ❜ he is desperate to hold his own daughter. the dark head of hair pressed against her mother’s chest. when he lifts her, she feels as light as feathers against his finger tips. large palms contradicting their harsh nature, they are soft as he pulls the bundle towards his chest. he’s struck when he sees himself in her brow bone, the lips puckered in annoyance. ❛ que preciosa… she’s the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen in my life. ❜ heat wells behind his eyes, there’s no fighting them as there is no fighting the frightening beating in his heart.

They had said their vows in a courthouse, rushed and quiet, those simple words almost lost among the busy clerks not paying too much attention to the intimate moment shared by two former soldiers. They had made strides since that day, built a home-- with a worn blue door, and a rope swing that Gabe still hadn’t quite fastened to the tree. They had moved from being soldiers in arms to partners in life, the transition had been one with it’s sticky spots, never fights-- but misunderstandings and disagreements. Yet, they had gotten here, lost in the blinding light of a new tale to tell, lost in the moment of a mother passing her child to their father, an intimate moment for just them.

Tears pinprick, heat forming behind her eyes and nose. The base of her palms come to her eyes, daring to brush away the tears that haven’t come to fall just yet, swiping away the overwhelming emotion before it boiled over. Exhaustion seeps in and her brave face falls, crumbling at her husband’s words. Words fail her, emotions swell. She leans over, almost out of the bed, to lean against him.