extended suite

Spider-man home coming hopes

1. I hope the scene where tony says “I want you to be better” has further dialogue explaining why he doesn’t want peter to make similar mistakes that he has, listing some (ultron) Steve and him fighting, Rhody’s paralyzation, just so we can see Tony’s regrets at the choices he’s made and that he truly doesn’t want peter have to endure similar regrets. It would show he truly cares for peter.

Originally posted by marvel-is-ruining-my-life

bedannibal-lectaurier  asked:

Prompt: Hannibal notices Bedelia's freckles

Thank you for the prompt! You are such a wonderful and supportive friend.♥♥ I love writing stories for you!

Map of infinity

She has never liked them. Numerous small patches of light brown covering her skin. Her father had always told her they make her appear cute. Her mother had only lamented what she thought to be a long-gone gene coming back to life. It is hard enough to be taken serious as a woman without being seen as one of a fragile nature.

For most women, make up is a case of vanity, or social convention, but for Bedelia it is a part of her armour, hiding the feature that undermines her seriousness. The only time she had allowed herself to lower that guard was in privacy of her own home. Alone.

But she is no longer alone. She knew certain compromises would need to be made. Hannibal, however, has taken to the concept of them sharing a living space with an enthusiasm she has not seen on him before. She is still unsure what to make of it.

Now she sits at the lavish vanity of their Parisian suit, looking at her own reflection. A selection of jars and bottles is presented in front of her, only the most exclusive brands. He would only have the best for her, as he told her before.

Bedelia picks up a cleaning pad; she starts with her eyelids before moving to her cheeks. With each stroke, more cinnamon freckles come to light. Upon finishing, she gives herself a critical look. She feels like a little girl again, playing with make-up and pretending to be a grown-up.

Only then she notices Hannibal, standing in the doorway, looking at her intensely. She is used to his piercing gaze, but this one is different and she feels uneasy, suddenly naked before his eyes. Still she matches his stare, as she always did.

“Hannibal, you are staring,” she keeps her tone controlled.

“I am sorry,” he averts his gaze and Bedelia feels reassured. He appears shy, like a young boy caught looking at something forbidden. Perhaps that is what they both are: two children playing house for the first time. Except neither of them is playing, Bedelia thinks as the gleam of her wedding ring reflects in the mirror. She finishes her beauty routine by applying moisturizer and gets up from her seat.

Hannibal keeps his distance and only approaches her when she sets to leave. They stand in front of each other silently; her without her armour, him without his person suit. He extends his hand, but stops mid-air.

“May I?” he asks shyly, yet his eyes leave a burning sensation on her skin.

Her heart is rushing in her ears, she does not what to expect, as the words escape her lips. “You may,” her voice almost as timid as his.

His fingers move to her check and begin to gently stroke her skin, tracing the lines of her freckles, unfolding the map of infinity. No one has ever touched her this way; his feather-like brush travels slowly across her cheek.

“So beautiful,” he says as his hand moves to the other cheek. Heat rises to her skin and she cannot control the blush appearing on her face, only making the freckles more prominent.

A smile pulls at Hannibal’s lips and he leans forward, his lips replacing his fingers, softly kissing her cheeks, cherishing every spot. Bedelia sighs and closes her eyes, surrendering to the caress. She no longer feels like a little girl, but like a goddess worshipped. More heat rises deep in her core and she welcomes it.

“I think this one is my favourite.”

Much later, they linger in bed. Bedelia lays on her stomach and Hannibal’s fingers dance on her back, unable to refrain himself from touching her. With all the seriousness of a seasoned explorer, he finds a freckle between her shoulder blades and traces it with his finger, before sealing the discovery with his lips.

But once a new land is traversed and all its resources claimed, it becomes discarded. Bedelia tenses up at the thought.

“Am I a territory to be claimed?” she turns to face him.

“No,” he looks at her with all sincerity,” You are a paradise to be treasured.”

Hannibal kisses her lips and Bedelia blushes once more. But this time, she does not care to hide it.

faithful-grigori  asked:

For the prompts, maybe “You know, I would help, but making fun of you is so much more satisfying.” with Danny and Vlad?

ofc my pall also ive never written vlad so i apologize in advance




It starts when the doorbell rings.

Actually, he figures it started last night when his parents called him down to see their latest invention. In all honesty, he screwed himself over when in a momentary lapse of control he let it slip that he was late for his curfew due to a ghost attack. In an instant he had been dragged to the basement laboratory and shoved roughly into a chair, restrained for just long enough for his parents to slap some sort of bracelet onto his arm and, after a quick explanation, had been pushed back up the stairs and to bed.

He had tried all night to remove it, resigning only after receiving a nasty shock in response to the ectoblast he had glanced off the side. It was different from the spectre deflector in that way. It didn’t attack him for having ectoplasm, but for using it, and that was almost more cruel. He couldn’t fly over to Tucker’s, and any remotely human tactic to remove the device had failed.

That had left him with no option. Jazz didn’t have the skill or the know-how to remove it, and he certainly couldn’t ask his parents. That would only raise more suspicion, and he had noticed the way they whispered in the basement as soon as they had thought he was out of earshot.

In fact, maybe it had really started as soon as his ghost sense went off on his way home that night. He figures this is the most likely option as soon as his dad bolts out of his chair and rushes to answer the front door. He’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, his wife hanging slightly behind. Grabbing the doorknob, he swings it wide and crushes the man at the door in his arms.

Vlad.

Keep reading

yzzy-gggg  asked:

The kissing prompt with KnB Akashi and his fem s/o please??? 42, 47, & 51... Sorry if that's a lot lol I figured maybe you could somehow combine the threee into a scenario since they kind of go together? If you can't then just choose 1 of the 3! ^^ In need of some Akashi love rn, gotta love the emperor. Thank you!! ^^

Hi yzzy-gggg, thank you for the requests! I think you’re right and these string together well. I agree the emperor could use some love on this page and I hope you enjoy.


Seijuro Akashi – Kisses #42, #47, #51

#47: moving around while kissing, stumbling over things, pushing each other back against the wall/onto the bed

#42: Kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap

#51: hands on the other person’s back, fingertips pressing under their top, drawing gentle circles against that small strip of bare skin that make them break the kiss with a gasp

As you approach the Akashi Manor butterflies whirl about in your stomach. It’s not every day you enter the dwelling of modern day royalty. Smoothing your skirt for the hundredth time that morning, you stand poised at the door, reaching toward the doorbell.

Its clear tone sounds through the hallway, signaling to Seijuro you’ve arrived. Eyeing the clock, he’s pleased to note you’re early. Punctuality is something he appreciates.

Outside you fidget as you wait, palms slightly sweaty. It’s not just nerves of where you are, it’s who you’re about to see and be working with. Of all the people for your teacher to assign you to work with it just had to be the one boy in the entire school who utterly intimidates and captivates you. The door opens revealing a butler in full suit.

He extends a surprisingly friendly smile. “Ah, you must be miss ______-san, the young master is in the study. If you will please follow me.”

You enter, trying to keep your expression from showing the awe you feel for the beauty of Akashi-san’s home.

“May I take your coat?” the butler asks.

“Um, yes, thank you,” you reply allowing him to remove it.

“This way,” he continues after hanging it up.  

Your steps echo through the massive hallway, your eyes trailing over all the exquisite artwork. In little time, you’ve reach the double doors of what you presume is the study as your escort stops. He taps so gently you wonder if anyone could possibly hear but a firm, “Enter,” confirms he has been. He opens both doors, drawing back and ushering you forward with a bow and extension of his arm.

“Young master, miss _____-san to see you,” he announces. He stands again, ready at attention.

“Thank you, Tekkan, you may go,” Akashi-san says as he rises from his seat. As the door shuts, you bow slightly.

“Good morning, Akashi-san,” you offer, thankful your voice isn’t shaking.

“Good morning, _______-san, thank you for being willing to come all this way. Normally I would say we could meet after school but I’m sure you know I’m exceptionally busy preparing for the Winter Cup.”

You nod, working hard to maintain eye contact with him, the intensity of his gaze making it rather difficult.

During the ensuing silence, Akashi observes you, impressed by the way you carry yourself in what is most likely an uncomfortable situation. His home, he knows, is not the most welcoming and himself rather…intense. He just doesn’t know any other way to be; winners are focused. Partnership and group projects are the bane of his existence but when he heard he’d been paired with you, well, he knew two things. One: the work would be perfect and two: the company would be enjoyed.

A natural observer, Akashi was rather startled the first time he saw you. All day he couldn’t get you out of his head. There was, and still is, something about you that draws him in, keeps his attention on you. He wonders if you’ve sensed it, but figures probably not. For all his focus on winning and the pride of one’s worth, he finds himself admiring your humility. You’re kind to everyone, pleasant and respectful, your beauty radiating from inward out.

“Shall we get started?” you ask pulling him from his thoughts.

He smiles and you feel your legs shake. “Absolutely,” he replies heading to the French double doors. Looking over his shoulder he continues, “Forgive my rudeness, is there anything you would like? Tea? Water?”

“No, no, I’m fine, thank you,” you say hastily following him outside where you see he’s set up, or had set up for him, all the materials you need for your art project. Having a rather unconventional idea, your art teacher decided it would be a good idea to have her students combine their work on one canvas. Looking at the supply table, you see there are multiple paint tubes, brushes and numerous canvass.

“I thought it best to have additional ones in case something goes awry,” Akashi answers to your inquisitive look.

Of course, he would think that far ahead. Taking a deep breath, you set down your bag, extracting a few books brought for inspiration.

“We won’t need those.” Your red-headed companion’s words surprise you.

“I…I’m not very good at painting freehand,” you admit.

“In that case, allow me to guide you,” he offers. He steps to a docking station, turning on light instrumental music before looking back at you.

You tilt your head in confusion, but step in front of the easel when he extends his hand towards it. Moving around you, he gathers a palette, filling it with various colors. Taking a brush, he hands it and the palette to you. As you step forward, you’re startled when he moves up right behind you.

“Are you ok with this?” he asks covering your hand with his own, fingers grasping the brush. Throat dry and heart pounding you can only nod; truthfully, you’re a wreck but would be lying if you said you weren’t getting a thrill of having him so close to you.

“Relax your arm, that’s it,” he says lowly in your ear and you have to suppress a shiver. Slowly he guides your hand to the paint, selecting the color he wants, and then pulls back, placing the brush against the pure white canvas. With slow, deliberate movements, his breath fanning over your neck, he moves your hand in long sweeping motions.

“I find painting while listening to music to be the most inspirational,” he says gathering another color and moving back to the canvas. “It allows your mind to wander free but at the same time helps you focus on conveying the emotion of the piece, translating it from audio to visual.”

All you can focus on is the heat of his body next to yours.

Akashi has no idea what possessed him to try this, he barely knows you and yet here he is, his chest pressed into your back, his hand over yours, his face so near your skin he can smell your perfume and all of it is working against his finely tuned self-control.

When the paint runs low, he releases you, both of you missing the contact more than you probably should. You stand stock still, eyes focused on the work you’ve been creating together, though Akashi has been doing pretty much all the work. Unable to stop yourself, you reach a hand forward, the images he’s created feeling like their sucking you into their depths. Warm reds, yellows, oranges and pinks swirl together in a typhoon of color, darker purples and blues creating the impression of leaves dancing on a fiery wind and in the center of it all there is what appears to be a heart.

You turn your head at the same moment Akashi looks up from what he’s doing. When your eyes lock, it’s as if the rest of the world disappears. You have no idea what’s going on between you, but it feels intense and carnal and…the clatter of the art supplies landing roughly on the table snap you out of your haze just long enough to realize Akashi is heading towards you at a rapid pace.

A second later, you’re in his arms, his forehead pressed against yours.

“_____-san,” he breathes out, your name a statement and a question all at once. You barely nod and his lips are against yours. He kisses you gently at first, but it builds quickly, his arms wrapping around your waist tighter. He turns you around, pushing you against the closed doors, making you gasp when your back hits the handles.

Akashi curses inwardly; it’s not like him to make a mistake like that. Intent on rectifying it, he whirls you to the side, opening the door and pulling you inside. He lands on the chaise, tugging you down onto his lap, his head craning up to reach your lips once more.

He can’t get enough of your taste, the natural sweetness of your mouth, the intoxicating scent of your perfume and the feel of your body beneath his hands. He’s never felt so out of control in his life.

You’re sure any second now your heart is going to give out. Akashi is, like with everything else, excellent at kissing. A gasp escapes your lips, eyes flying open, when his hand, hot and confident, trails over the slightly exposed portion of your back between your shirt and your skirt. He pushes it up further when he feels you lean more into him, pleased you want him to keep touching you like this, his already bright eyes flashing with heat looking at your dazed face.

A hand on the back of your head pulls your lips back to his. He’s more insistent, more intense, holding you tighter and making your head swim. Sucking your bottom lip between his teeth, he smirks as you moan lightly, tongue dancing with yours as he enters your mouth and you let him lead.

“Askahi-san,” you whimper, knees shaking from the effort to hold yourself up.

“Hmmmm?” he mumbles against your skin and you tremble as his hand goes even higher.

Looking into his eyes, you hesitate, nervous about continuing. You don’t even know why you’ve allowed yourself or him to do this; you barely know each other! And sure, you have friends and acquaintances who hook up all the time, sometimes with complete strangers, but this isn’t how you normally are. The thought that you could have blown a chance with Akashi, of something remotely real…

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks pulling away slightly.

You don’t, but you will, because you’re not this girl. You only have to nod once and he’s helping you to stand back up, though you’re unsure if your legs will hold your weight. Thankfully, he keeps hold of you.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that…”you swallow once, finding it ludicrous that you could have your tongue down his throat thirty seconds ago but you can’t get it to work long enough to tell him how you feel. Shaking your head, you try again. Looking back up you finally breath out, “I really like you and…and I’m not usually this…this…” you can’t even say the words, looking away again.

He draws you back to his face, kissing the tip of your nose and smiling. “_____-san, please do not think that I think less of you because of this. Besides, I’m the one who put us in this position. It should be me asking your forgiveness for my complete lack of decorum.”

“Does that mean…do you regret this?” you ask fearfully.

He shakes his head. “Not at all, in fact,” he leans in again, kissing you gently before admitting, “I’d really like to take you out on a date some time.”

“I’d like that,” you whisper.

“Next Saturday?”

“Perfect,” you reply smiling.

“Good, then let’s get this project done, shall we?” he asks, taking your hand and leading you back out to the terrace.

Needless to say, you both received an “A” for your “stunning representation of the tumultuous storm of the heart”.

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A fan made trailer in support of Nathan McCree’s kickerstarter project for the live orchestral recording of the Tomb Raider Suite, featuring music from Tomb Raiders I, II & III  - David Carroll

Black Eyes - Imagine Request

Request: By @jeffry4ever : Could I get a fanfic of DeanxReader with a lot of fluff and maybe some angst. Can it be from possession and they like talking between them out of it?? But of curse in the end they end up making out or something.

Characters: Dean x reader, Sam (mentioned), demon.

Word count: 2,077

Warnings: Possessed Dean (duh), gore, physical and psychological violence, SLIGHT mentions of sex, language (?) Un-edited.

A/N: WHo doesn’t love a deanmon fic? Well, I honestly do and I hope you like it just as much. Feedback is highly appreaciated (positive and negative). Thank you so much for requesting.

How had it happen? Who had broken the symbol, the tattoo? Does it matter? Dean was… He wasn’t himself, or maybe he was, deep inside him.

“Dean!” She screamed, thick drops of sweet falling over her face like tears.

“Dean is gone!” He roared. He looked just like Dean, and his voice was the same, it was all him except for the empty black eyes that substituted his green ones.

“Dean, please!” She cried once more. Her voice was raspy and her throat was about to start bleeding.

The night was cold, a soft rain falling over and mixing with her sweat as she walked in reverse, trying to keep a good distance between his possessed self and her. There were bodies all over the ground, as well as puddles of blood that were slowly being washed off with the help of the rain.

“You stubborn girl, no wonder why he likes you.” The demon hissed through Dean’s body, “Why can’t you see? He is gone and he won’t come back.” He showed her the tattoo.

How many times had she traced that same tattoo with her cold fingers in the morning? How many times had she zoned out by the simple sight of it? She knew that tattoo by memory, and that, whatever she was seeing, wasn’t it. It had a huge red line across it, presumably drawn with a knife, and dark blood had most of it covered.

“Dean, you have to fight this!” She begged, crying. The demon had started stepping forward, closer to her.

Dean’s laugh rang on her ears, except it wasn’t his – at least not completely. The demon had taken full control of the hunter. What to do?

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…” Her words were clear, and her eyes were glued to the hunter.

The demon panicked, frantically looking for something in the back pocket of Dean’s jeans.

“Omnis satanica protestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversii…” The demon found what he was looking for and turned around, giving his back to (Y/N).

“Not gonna work, darling!” Had she ever heard Dean calling her ‘darling’? Perhaps not, but it didn’t matter right now.

“Omnis congregatio et secta…” What was he doing? “Diabolica, ergo, draco maledicte ecclesiam,” the demon roared and (Y/N) noticed there was blood coming out of his arm “tuam secura tibi facias libertate” she spoke fast, willing to finish before the demon could hurt Dean more, “”servire, te rogamus, audio nos.”

There was no black smoke, no more painful groans, no nothing except for a cold laugh she hadn’t heard on Dean before. The demon turned back to face (Y/N), flashing his black eyes cockily.

“I told you it wouldn’t work.” He grinned.

The huntress’ breath turned faster and heavier, her heart was beating so loudly she could hear it. What to do? She looked down at his arm, the one that had been bleeding; the demon had carved a binding link.

“Son of a bitch…” She whispered.

“Language.” The demon joked, “You’re already talking like this… scumbag.”

“Don’t dare to talk about him like that!” She cried. The demon tilted his head and gave her a fake smile.

“Aww, little girl is in love.” He pouted, “But I thought you two had agreed not to… You know, because it’s not a serious relationship.”

“Shut up, bitch!” (Y/N) roared, “Dean!”

“He won’t come to save you, not anymore.” Tears fell from her eyes, “Don’t cry, it’s not worth it. Trust me.” The demon smirked, “I know how he feels and truth is; he doesn’t love you that much.”

“Dean!” She begged once more, trying her best to ignore the demon’s words.

“He is only there for the sex; otherwise, he would’ve dumped you many years ago.” The demon hissed, “In fact, he thought the maid from the motel is even hotter than you.”

She couldn’t control it, not anymore. Burning rage grew on her insides, and it wasn’t even because the demon was pissing her off; no, it was raw jealousy.

“Demons always lie.” She mumbled, clenching her fists tightly as her criteria got clouded slowly by her getting jealous.

“You and I both know that’s not true.” The demon shrugged his shoulders as a mocking smile grew on Dean’s face.

Was it her inner rage? Was it the hunter impulse? She would never know, but one thing was sure: She had tackled the demon and now she was over him just the same way she had been over Dean that same morning; except she wasn’t kissing him, no, instead her fists were punching his face.

After a few punches, a force threw her away, slamming her body against the nearest wall.

“There it is!” The demon laughed as he stood up. If her fists had made any kind of harm, it was gone by the time he walked in front of her. “You know it’s true.”

“Dean, you better fight this or I swear to Chuck I’ll kick yours and the fudging demon’s ass!” She fumed as her eyes met the black ones.

“He can’t hear you.”

A strong fist punched her once, then twice and then a last time before she was dropped to the floor. The demon lifted her by the hem of the shirt as punched her again, breaking her nose in the process.

“Dean, please.” She mumbled weakly.

“Dean, please.” The demon mimicked in a high voice, “Dean is gone, baby.”

The girl managed to let go of his grip, falling instantly to the floor. She tried to crawl over to were her knife had fallen before. The demon laughed dryly as he turned her to lay flat back on the floor with a kick.

“You poor thing… Think you can beat me when I have this meat suit?” He extended Dean’s arms, showing of his body.

“Dean, please… Don’t do this.” The demon sat on her, causing her to lose a bit of air for a second. His face was right in front of (Y/N)’s. The black eyes were green back again, and although they were darker, she recognized them as Dean’s. “Dean…” She weakly cupped his face, getting a smug grin from the demon, “Remember that time we stopped in front of the Grand Canyon to sleep? Although only Sam slept because you and I got out of the car and…”

“Won’t work.”

“And we just stared at it for over an hour before we…” The demon put some weight back on her, again losing breath for a second, “We ended up on Baby’s hood, looking at the stars and…”

“You’re losing your time.” The demon chanted, although she could tell it was starting to panic.

“Remember all those nights on Baby’s hood, counting the stars and…” She coughed, “And telling each other stories? You loved them, remember?”

“Stop, it’s a waste of time.” The demon ordered, pulling her hair.

“Remember that time we celebrated your birthday for the first time in years?” She cried out as she felt her scalp giving up, “You were amazed by how many people showed up.”

“I said stop!” The demon hissed, ripping a whole strand of hair off her head. The huntress cried in pain, not willing to surrender.

“Remember all those morning cooking breakfast together, and the Netflix binges, or the road trips… Please Dean, remember.” She begged, “You can do this…”

The demon hissed, pulling a knife out of Dean’s pocket and pressing it against her neck. Small droplets of blood started dripping, but it was nothing compared to the amount of blood there would be if Dean didn’t take control.

“Last words?”

“Dean…”

“Awful choice.” And just when the demon was about to rip her throat out, his green eyes became light again, breathing in deeply as he managed to supress the beast. “(Y/N)…” Dean mumbled.

“Dean.” She whispered. Dean broke the binding link just in the same way the demon had broken his tattoo, nodding at the huntress for her to start the exorcism again.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…” Her voice was barely audible, but Dean could feel it working, “Omnis satanica protestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversii…” Dean roared, a fight for control taking place inside his mind, “Omnis congregatio et secta…” Cough, “Diabolica, ergo, draco maledicte ecclesiam,” his eyes turned black again as black smoke started to come out “tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audio nos.”

Dean fell over her, in the same way he had done before – breathless, sweaty, tired… Before he could do or say anything else, the beaten huntress became unconscious, drifting off to the dream world.

-

“Heya, sweetheart.” Dean mumbled, caressing her cheek as her eyes fluttered open. Although it took her a few extra seconds to adjust her blurry vision, she recognized Dean instantly.

“Dean…” She breathed out.

“I’m here.” He smiled, although she wasn’t happy. A soft punch hit his shoulder and Dean knew that, if it weren’t for her crappy estate, it would’ve been a lot harder. “What was that for?”

“I know about the maid at the motel.” She groaned, “And about why you stay with me… You lying piece of shit!” And although she was nearly voiceless, Dean froze at her intensity.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” Dean replied in a joking tone, although he was concerned as hell.

“The demon told me you liked the maid better, and he told me you only stick around for sex…” Dean huffed, not letting her insult him again.

“Demons always lie.” Dean mumbled, stroking her hair.

(Y/N) groaned again as she rolled to her side; they were still at the alley, among the rest of the dead bodies. She managed to get on her feet and struggled to walk away.

“(Y/N), do you really trust a demon better?” Dean asked. He sounded truly hurt.

“Maybe I do, considering the fact that you’ve been acting strange lately.” Her raspy voiced added some spice to her already pissed off statement.

Dean breathed out a sigh and pulled her, the pushed her to a wall, trapping her between his body and the cold bricks.

“Look at me, (Y/N).” He commanded, but the girl didn’t obey. Instead, she looked anywhere but him. “Please look at me.”

“You could’ve told me how you truly felt and…”

“Look at me, dammit!” Dean growled, finally getting her to look at him.

“Do you really think she’s hot?” She cried.

“Babe…”

“Answer me!” She cried.

“Want to know why Sam didn’t come? Because he’s back at the motel flirting… Possibly already in bed with her! Yes, I told Sam she was hot, but Heaven knows I would never consider anyone hotter than you.” Dean mumbled.

“Why have you been acting so strange, then?” Dean breathed out heavily. He licked his lips and looked away for a second before focusing back on her bloody face.

“I just… I can’t… It’s too early and…”

“And what, Dean? Why didn’t you just dump me?” She roared, taking off the last bit of patience in Dean.

“Because I love you! I love you, dammit! And I wanted to tell you but I was afraid that you wouldn’t say it back and…” Her eyes became as wide as possible considering the many impacts she received around them.

“Do you really mean that?” She interrupted him. Dean shut up and nodded.

“Look at me in the eyes, and tell me if I’m lying.” He spoke, cupping her face careful not to touch any open wound.

“I love you too.” She whispered, nuzzling in his hand.

“You do?” Dean sighed and she nodded.

Soon, her broken lips were over his. It wasn’t the kind of kiss they were expecting to get after they said those three words, but it was the best they could do without hurting her even more. Bloody or not, it reflected how much they loved each other, in good and in bad.

“Let’s get back.” Dean whispered over her lips, “That son of a bitch beat the crap out of you.”

She giggled. “I thought Sam was busy with the maid.”

“We can get our own room.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows flirtingly, causing her to giggle even more.

He held her hand tightly, a silent promise hidden in said gesture. They walked over to the black car and drove off to the motel room, where the rest of their lives began. They didn’t need a ring, or a big and fancy wedding, they just needed each other.

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Instagram photo by Henry Cavill • Aug 15, 2016 at 6:58pm UTC
See this Instagram photo by @henrycavill • 32.1k likes

Henry Cavill shares a peek at the black suit. Could it be from the upcoming Justice League movie or is it a flashback from Man of Steel?

Atmosphere - Raven/RedX, Chapter 1/?

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans. This is a work of fanfiction, and I am not making any money off of this.   

A/N: You asked, so I am attempting, keyword attempting, a multichapter RaeX. Do I know where this is going? Nope, not at all. But, this idea jumped in my head. Thanks xaphrin for the inspiration to write RaeX!

By the way, I had this ready to post last night, but I fell asleep while proofing! Sorry! Happy Reading! <3 

Atmosphere - Introduction 

It was hard for her to explain it.

Her team knew the basis of her psionic powers, but they never understood her empathy. 

Changeling thought that being an empath meant that she was able to read his mind. Raven gave up on trying to correct his understanding years ago; every time he brought it up, she simply told him he had no mind for her to read, so it really didn’t matter. 

Starfire had the hardest time comprehending what it meant. She thought everyone had the ability to an empath. She was sad when friends were sad, and was happy when her friends were happy. Wasn’t that meaning of being an empath? 

Cyborg and Nightwing seemed to interpret it as a combination of being able to read people’s minds and being able to sense how they were currently feeling. They thought she thought she was just feeling what they felt. 

They had no idea that she was able to see it and then some. 

Chapter One – Citrine 

“Shut this place down!” Nightwing ordered into his communicator, as he sprinted down the halls of the museum. “We can’t let Red-X escape with that sapphire.” 

“We still have civilians in the building.” Cyborg responded from his position at museum lobby. “I repeat: We still have civilians in the building.” 

Nightwing’s jaw tensed, as he weaved in between several patrons and staff. Of course, Red-X choose to break in and steal a very expensive sapphire during a reception. “We can’t risk him leaving. Cyborg, get into the mainframe and put this place on lockdown.” 

“Copy that.” Cyborg confirmed. 

“Starfire cover the entrance to the West Hall. Changeling I want you at the East. Raven, you take position at the South Hallway. I have the North.” Nightwing commanded over the communicator. “If you make contact with the suspect, do not engage alone. I repeat do not engage him alone.” 

Raven nodded, hearing the order fizzle from her communicator speaker. She calmly walked in between the museum patrons, ignoring the hushed whispers and wide-eyed stares. 

Normally, she would hover over crowds when pursuing a bad guy, but the low ceilings of the South Hall weren’t ideal for flight. Instead, she was forced to search amidst the crowd of Jump City’s elite. Two years ago, she traded her signature leotard for a neoprene black cat suit. Rather than the suit extending to her ankles, it stopped above her mid-thigh. 

She slipped her fingers underneath the hood of her suit, drawing it over her head as she stepped deeper into the sea of people. Raven clipped her communicator off her belt. “Raven calling Nightwing.” Her boots clicked after against the marble. 

“Nightwing responding.” 

“I think I have a lock on Red-X. Standby for confirmation.” She spoke softly, eyes following the dark figure at the entrance of a closed exhibit. 

“I want a report in three minutes.” 

“Copy that. Raven out.” She spoke, clicking the communicator off and placing it back on her hip. She moved faster toward the other side of the room. Her target was leaning against the back of a large vase. Though she couldn’t see a face, she highly doubted one of Jump City’s elite gentlemen would come to the reception in a black bodysuit. She slowly moved to the side, hoping to gain an advantage. “ 

The skull mask looked in her direction.   

“We can do this the hard way or the easy way, X.” 

“You forgot about the third option.” 

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Do you think the Overwatch soldiers who don’t have cool callsigns get really salty about it? Like Lucio, Zarya, Winston, Genji, they go by their names or nicknames and then Dr Angela over here with her fuckin valkyrie suit extending her giant angel wings and saying call me Mercy like tell me that you wouldn’t think that is a little bit unfair

Liability

okay so this is an add on to this headcanon about neil breaking up with andrew. a couple people wanted more, so i turned it into a one-shot. it does have a happy-ish ending because i can’t hurt my children. ((also i didn’t edit this, so please excuse any mistakes

word count: 2005

All the headlines of every major news outlet said roughly the same thing: Minyard-Josten Rivalry: Lovers Quarrel?

Neil sighed and put down his phone, looking over at Andrew who was stuffing his face with cereal. “Apparently, we’re headline news again.”

Andrew didn’t respond.

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4

A Red vs Blue Medieval/Fantasy AU: Welcome to Freelancia, a tiny kingdom ravaged by red and black clad barbarians and all sorts of scary monsters. King Leonard Church I seeks to solve this problem by building a team of highly trained knights to run missions and seek a mysterious magical artifact called “The Alpha”, all in an attempt to save his land. Or so he says….


ps: the guy in heavy armor is Sir Maine, forgot to put his name up there D:

anonymous asked:

You have a lot of interesting stories from work it seems like. What is your favorite?

okay so the view from the back of the hotel is this nice hillside pasture with cows and shit and people seem to really enjoy looking at that, so we get a crapload of people every day who request rooms facing the back. it’s the norm. so when this dude called in to make sure he got room #129 (he was adamant about it like “I HATE TO BE PICKY BUT I’VE STAYED IN THAT ROOM BEFORE AND I ONLY EVER STAY IN THAT ROOM AND I WILL NOT STAY THERE TONIGHT IF I CANT HAVE THAT ROOM”), i just assumed that was the case. he just REALLY wanted to look at the cows. nbd.

so like this nice, friendly old dude shows up and since i’m still fairly new i’ve never met him before, so my first impression is that he reminds me of my grandpa. i literally remember thinking “wow haha he looks like my granddad that’s so cute”. so anyways this dude checks in and gets all situated and we don’t see him for the rest of the evening and everything’s fine and dandy… but as i leave the hotel that night, i notice his privacy curtain is pulled back and his window’s wide open. 

see, the way this room is set up, the window is right next to the gate to the employee entrance in the back of the hotel. it is physically impossible to get to the employee entrance without passing this room’s window. so i think to myself “wow that’s awkward” but shrug it off because it’s 11pm and i’m tired and have to get up early so who cares. whO CA R ES. if this guest wants to feel the cool night breeze on his face then he certainly can. go nuts, dude.

the next morning, though, i pull into work and notice his window is still wide open. it’s super early, so a brief glance tells me he’s sound asleep in his bed. that’s how well i can see into this godforsaken room and, considering the window is wide open too, i could probably reach right in and swipe his wallet off the table if i were so inclined but i’m noT and that’s beside the point because I’M LATE so i awkwardly shuffle by this open window and sprint to the break room to clock in.

about an hour goes by before the housekeepers start randomly showing up one by one. i notice a few of them are either sporting horrified looks or a bright red tint to their faces. one even looks nauseated. but i dont go find them and look into it because mornings are evil and i’m tired.

it’s not long until one of them powerwalks into the back office and demands the guest in 129 be dealt with or kicked out of the hotel. we are all understandably confused until she explains what’s happening.

the dude in 129. the friendly old man who reminded me of my granddad. this guy is apparently standing in front of his wide open giant window right next to the employee entrance, greeting everyone who shows up for work with the sight of his wrinkly nude gross body. we’re talking full-on birthday suit here. as in his flaccid penis and saggy old man balls are hanging far enough out of the window to possibly brush against the arms of any unsuspecting passers-by. 

so like long story short, my favorite part of this story is that i had to call and ask this old man to shut his damn window or cover up or both and his reply hiS FREAKING REPLy was “i’m sorry just give me 10 more minutes. if I show my” (i think he called it his “willy” but i can’t remember) “to 4 more people I’ll get $40”

so basically he exposed himself and harassed/traumatized people for $40. forty dollars. and i know some people will look at this and be like “i get it tbh i’d do anything for money i’m poor lol” but listen. listen.

room #129 is an extended king suite. during the work week, our extended king suites cost roughly $144 + tax. that means this man spent $164.88 on a room so he could make $40. he lost his dignity. he lost $124.88. and the only thing he gained was a fine coating of both fresh morning dew and shame on his wrinkled little willy. 

… idk if i’d say that’s my favorite thing that’s happened but the second i saw this ask, my brain went “KAYLA, TELL THEM THE PENIS STORY” so here you go

Paris Men’s Collections SS15
Saint Laurent’s “Psych Rock’s New Rising" 

The 70s inspired lineup continued Slimane’s obsession with rock and fashion. Standing out against relaxed silhouettes proposed by the majority of fashion brands this season, Slimane stayed true to his waif slim lines with cigarette pants offset by the volume of printed ponchos. Paired with ankle boots, skinny scarves and jewelry, fitted shirts and striped tees were worn with impeccably tailored blazers. The sharp fit of suits was extended to essentials such as the denim jacket, a casual alternative to form-fitting leather pants and embroidered jackets.