One of my favorite things about overwatch as a whole is how much of their energy went into the character animation. Every single one of them has mannerisms that are all unique even down to their “Hello!” hand-waves. Seriously, there’s a difference between Soldier’s slow and minimal open-palmed wave and Ana’s salute, between Sombra’s curly-fingered long nailed wave and Reaper’s wave seeming more like he’s trying to grab something, between Bastion’s choppy finger-wave and the repair module waving in sentry mode and Genji’s short bow with a distinctive hand motion. It’s all completely unique to each character to express something about their personalities even with the same general motion.

This isn’t even the half of it. Compare EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER’S seated emote for example. Even if characters are in the same pose, like McCree and Bastion and Lucio? The way they ENTER those poses is completely different. McCree holsters his gun and sets his hand on the ground before seating. Bastion spreads their legs a bit, balances with their arms, and then PLOMPS onto the dirt unceremoniously. Lucio fuckin BREAKDANCES into his seat, how extra can you get, what a show-off, I love him.

And the guys who take a knee instead of sitting down??? Also completely different. Pharah does a little flourish with her weapon before kneeling. Soldier just sweeps into it, all no-nonsense and efficient. Ana sweeps her cloak behind her first and gently eases into the kneel. Reinhardt fuckin hefts his hammer murder-side down and kneels like a knight, gazing slightly upwards to some imaginary monarch he’s in the service of. Zarya clonks her whole gun on the ground and kneels beside it, and it really starts to make sense just how BIG and HEAVY that thing is when you see it beside her like that.

The meditators? Fuckin. Nothing is safe from the character quirks and differences. Genji makes some kind of hand pose on one foot and balances into meditation, keeping his hand near his face. Zenyatta hovers a little lower, bows his head, and his orbs spread out to chime like prayer bells. Hanzo sets his bow down and sits seiza, with his hands on his knees. On that note, Mei also sits seiza but doesn’t meditate, instead awkwardly looking around and glancing at snowball for confidence.

And the COMPLETELY unique poses are probably my favorites. Junkrat wants you to paint him like one of your French girls, fingers tapping on the ground and OOZING such misplaced confidence and insanity that I can’t NOT love him. D.Va reveals her stash of snack food and plays on her Future GameBoy for a while, completely uninterested in what else is going on. Symmetra’s too pompous and confident to sit on the ground, so she creates a seat for herself out of hard light to sit on instead.

Just. I fucking love this game.

  • (Soldier 76 standing in front of Doomfist while being flanked by Reaper, Sombra, and Widowmaker)
  • Doomfist: Kneel before your king
  • Soldier 76: I will never kneel to you
  • Doomfist: (pointing down) Your shoelaces are untied
  • Soldier 76: (looks down) Oh
  • (Kneels to tie them)
  • Soldier 76: ...AH SHIT
  • Doomfist: GOT ‘IM
  • Submitted by omega-orca
FMA Live Action Anime Expo Panel

Okay so we weren’t allowed electronics out for most of the panel so this from memory (and on mobile so rip formatting) but BASICALLY the panel started with showing us the first trailer, then an interview with Ed’s actor and the director, then they showed us this long montage of new footage with music overlayed (!!!!), and then there was a short Q&A (which we could video so there will probably be footage of that going around but I didn’t video bc I was in line to ask a question)
Ed’s actor’s first thought after being offered the part was “wow I guess it’s finally paying off that I was never tall”
Scar and Armstrong will both be in this movie, but probably moreso in Part 2
They’re definitely intending to make more movies
They read a letter from Arakawa that was very nice and sweet and said she had seen the movie and likes it
Oh my gosh when they said they had a message from Arakawa the message part got cut off at first bc when they started talking about her everyone thought they meant SHE was here and started screaming
Looks like it’s cutting off around the Lab 5 arc? I didn’t quite catch what he said but I think that was the idea
Al is done completely with CGI but Al’s actor would stand where Al would be during the scenes so Ed’s actor said that throughout the process of filming he was able to feel like he was actually working with Alphonse
Okay so most of the footage from the first trailer is from the Loire arc and specifically from Ed’s final fight with Cornello
Including that shot of Al that was going around
Also apparently Roy is going to be in the Loire arc bc?? Reasons????? And he really dramatically sets the fake philosopher’s stone on fire
Also when Roy picks up the stone we see his gloves and that’s the first shot of him and I started cheering but I was the ONLY one no one else cheered until we panned to his face it was embarrassing
Winry is going to be brunette (and I think she’s the only blonde character not dying their hair that we saw???) and had the CUTEST DRESS YOU’VE EVER SEEN in this one shot honestly she’s SO CUTE
More footage of Nina and Alexander than my heart needed
There was a shot of Lust confronting Hughes before his death and everyone screamed
REALLY COOL footage of Roy using Flame Alchemy and sending a ton of flames against a backdrop of fire
There was a confusing shot of someone before that who looked a lot like Envy running and being completely caught on fire so I’m not sure if they’re changing things around or????
Riza walked up in front of a bunch of soldiers and kneeled down with them and got ready to shoot and everyone was screaming I almost cried SHE LOOKED SO GOOD it was A Lot
Ed pulls off his automail at one point it looked intense as hell
That’s all I can think of right now asdfghjkl it looks so good guys I’m so excited

Marichat May Day 21: Akuma Marinette

Oh welp, this sucks, but whatever.

Chat suck in a breath as he watched the scene unfolding before his eyes.The many people caught in the akuma’s trance were quickly engulfed by flames and turned into soldiers kneeling down and swearing loyalty to her. So far he gathered she had mind control powers along with this trick of making a personal army.


He clenched his jaw. Where in the world was Ladybug? He had waited for her for half an hour now and it was driving him insane. She must have had seen n akuma was on the loose and a strong one at that. His tail twitches anxiously as he took another glance down. He couldn’t wait anymore. This was Marinette, he had to do something. He took a deep breath and jumped off the building, landing gracefully in the middle of the street. The many soldiers were ignoring him, not even looking in his direction. But the akuma stopped walking.

“Marinette.” he called, his voice echoing through the dead silent street.

He heard a snort. When she turned around, Chat bit his tongue to keep from gasping. She didn’t even have a mask on like other akumas. The only visible difference was that she was paler than usual. But that aside, one would never guess there was an akuma before them. Just Marinette in a beautiful red and golden dress.

“I have a title, Chat Noir. It is Princesse Phénix. Marinette is no longer here.”

Oh, I doubt that, Chat thought as he began walking towards her, slowly.

“Are you going to fight me?” the akuma asked, the red and black cape of her dress floating in the wind, making it look almost like she had wings. She was breathtaking, but he didn’t have time to write an ode to her beauty right now. She needed his help.

“I’m not here to fight you, Princess.” she raised an eyebrow as Chat got closer and made a curt bow. “I am here to declare my loyalty. After all, I was your first knight.” he got on one knee and bowed his head, hoping this plan will work. He tried to not tense up very much as she walked towards him, stopping only centimeters away.

“Stand up.”

He did as she ordered, not quite sure what to expect. He certainly didn’t expect the loving look. She cupped his face gently and began stroking his cheeks.

“Minou. My loyal kitten.”

There was a tenderness in her voice that surprised him even further. That was Marinette. Not Princesse Phénix. He needed to help her. His eyes scanned her fastly, trying to figure out where the akuma could be. Not the dress for sure. And she had no jewelry on, besides her signature earrings. Could those be? They didn’t look different at all. His eyes locked on the golden phoenix headpiece. More specifically, on a ribbon that had no place being there. He returned his gaze to her eyes, still glancing at him lovingly and he put on his best smile.

“Can this loyal kitty get a kiss, ma princesse?”

He tried to not get distracted when Marinette lips touched his. She tasted like vanilla and strawberries and he wondered for a second if that was the case when she wasn’t an akuma as well. But he didn’t have time for that. He wrapped his right arm around her waist, pulling her closer as he lifted his left to her hair, untying the ribbon as well as he could. She didn’t seem to notice, as she still kissed him. Bringing the ribbon behind her back, he broke the kiss.

“Chat?” she asked in pure confusion. He could have sworn it was as if the akuma effect wore off.

He snapped the ribbon open and to his surprise, a white butterfly flew out and a swarm of ladybugs engulfed Marinette, making her outfit and complexion return to normal before going along the street and turning everyone else back to normal. What in the world was that? How could this happen?


He glanced down to see Marinette frowning and looking around confused and even a little bit dizzy. She was back! He grasped her shoulders, making sure she won’t fall over. He gave her what could possibly be the biggest smile ever before pulling her into a tight hug.

“Welcome back, Marinette.”

kaavyawriting  asked:

Thilbo: every time Thorin reincarnates he always finds Bilbo too late.

Their first life, Thorin always remembers. Sometimes not the others, but always that first one, with his darkening rage over a jewel he never should have coveted, and losing himself beneath dragon fire and destruction.

When Mahal greets him and sends him to wait out his afterlife, Thorin languishes for a long time, filled with sorrow and hatred. He doesn’t know how long Bilbo lived after Thorin died, that first time, but he can only hope he survived that foolish war. He hopes that Bilbo went home to his little home in his Shire and planted his tree, read his books and smoked his pipe, free from Thorin’s fury.

One day, Thorin realizes that he doesn’t want to sit around and suffer his memories. He wants to absolve himself of his guilt – and so he begs Mahal to send him back, however he wishes. He wants to work until the deaths on his hands no longer crush his fingers.

Mahal grants his wish, and so Thorin closes his eyes in the afterworld, and opens them as a child, alive and confused in a time of war.

Keep reading

The Joker x Reader - “The Red Queen”

The Joker’s Red Queen is as dangerous and lethal as he is. Her heart is full of secrets and she is capable of unspeakable acts. The Queen of Gotham wouldn’t have survived for so long in his world if not for her perfect instincts and abilities.

“Hey, didn’t see you around before; what’s your name?” you address J, turning your head towards him.

“No talking!” one of the heavily geared soldiers warns, holding tighter to his riffle.

You ignore him, rattling your chains in order to get The Joker’s attention:

“Hey, handsome, are you single?”

“I said no talking!” and the van takes a sharp turn, making you lean on J for a few seconds. “Pardon me, sir,” you sniffle, “it wasn’t on purpose. Do you work out?”

“What did I just tell you, hm?” the guard snaps, getting annoyed with your crap.

The Joker has the most demented grin they ever saw on anybody’s face: he just keeps on looking straight, not saying a word. It makes all 5 of them uncomfortable, even if they’ve seen a few insane things in their line of work.

One of the guards quietly analyzes you:  he didn’t see you in person before and now that you’re right in front of him he can’t help but glare:

You are wearing a two piece red leather suit, pants and sleeveless top, red high hills and your very red and very long hair almost reaches your waist. You have “RED QUEEN” tattooed around your neck with red ink like a choker, the word “Joker” repeatedly going down from it about an inch apart, making look like a necklace. Your left cheek has “King” tattooed with green ink next to a red heart and your right cheek is tattooed with the word “Queen.” More tattoos on your arms, spelling “J+Y/N”, “Red Queen” and “Mister J’s Queen.”

You smirk and he realizes you’re looking back at him.

“You’re cute. Like what you see?” you wink, unraveling your perfect white teeth that stand out even more against the bright red lipstick.

No answer.

“Are you hitting on my woman?” The Clown Prince of Crime finally speaks in such an outworldly tone it almost manifests in physical form. Definitely gave you goosebumps and you love it. Your guardians, not that much.

“I wasn’t doing any…”

“Don’t engage, that’s what they want,” the one that seems in charge reminds the rest of them.

You giggle, then start humming and grab J’s arm:

“Anytime now,” you whisper and your hand gets slapped away by the soldier that was checking you out earlier:

“No touching you damned lunatics!”

“Calm down, we are only here to make sure they get to the destination, it will be over soon,” the guy next to him points out, trying to keep everybody’s temper under control.

“If you touch The Red Queen one more time, you’re dead,” J threatens, the psychotic smug smile returning on his face.

“Shut the hell up, you crazy son of a…” the warden starts his tirade but gets interrupted.

“I said don’t engage, it is exactly what they want!”

“Yes, captain,” the man straightens his back even more, taking a deep breath before regaining his posture.

“Wise words honey,” you agree, smacking your lips. “And if you talk to the King of Gotham in such a disrespectful manner one more time, you’re not going to live through the night,” you crack your shoulders, maintaining an eerie smile.

“Shut up!” you get yelled at once more.

“Nobody…” The Joker’s chest is going up and down faster and faster, “…tells my Queen to shut up except me!!” He’s beginning to lose control and you are very fond of what follows.

“Why are these two freaks so obsessed with each other?! I don’t get it!” the soldier that slapped your hand gets mad.

“Do not engage, don’t make me repeat it one more time!!!” the captain snarls, tired with tonight’s assignment. He was supposed to be in bed already, if not for this stupid late night secret mission.

“Sorry, sir,” the apology is fast to follow.

You tap your red painted nails on the metal bar that separates your seat from J’s, amused.

“This was fun, huh? I’m not bored anymore,” you snicker and the Joker is fast to laugh in such a strange way it makes them all cringe.

A sudden strong impact and the van being turned around at 360 degrees makes you grab his hand and mutter:

“A few minutes late; could be worse, right?”

*** Both of you were in the mood for some action and had to do something about it: you decided to burgle a fancy jewelry store and let yourselves be captured. Of course that once the cops were there they called the Special Unit Force to escort you in great secrecy to Gotham Police headquarters.

Frost and your henchmen were instructed to follow closely and stop them from fulfilling their objective. All was planned in only one day: when the adrenaline rushes through your veins, no need for more - just act on instinct and impulsiveness. Your goons faked a blockade and the unmarked, bullet proof van took a turn towards the less busy roads under the Bridge of Angels. No convoy of police cars, no sirens, no fuss: the point was to haul you without getting any unwanted attention.

Which you guessed will happen.

And it did. ***

“What do you want to do with them, Doll?” J aims his head towards the kneeled soldiers surrounded by about 25 armed henchmen.

“I don’t know, they were pretty entertaining, don’t you think?” you rest your head on The Joker’s shoulder as he’s holding on to your waist.

“Should we kill them?” he inquires, undecided. He’s starting to trace your neck tattoo with his fingers, purring with such intensity it sends shivers down your spine. How you love the sensation!

“Whatever you want, baby,” you bite your red lips, fluttering your eyelashes. “But I don’t want be here anymore since we already had our fun. Actually…I take it back…We can have even more fun since we’re still awake,” you change your mind instantly because you’re both so turned on by tonight’s events. “Just state your will and then let’s go, the boys can take care of the rest. I really want to get you back to the penthouse. Pleeassee…” you moan the last sentence in his ear and he closes his eyes, aroused with anticipation.

“You’re such a bad girl, Pumpkin,” he growls, brushing his thumb on your “King” tattoo for a few moments, fighting with himself. “Go in the car, I’ll be back shortly,” he urges you, spanking your butt as you turn around and walk away towards one of the SUV’s awaiting on the side of the road.


Early morning and you didn’t snooze for one second. You surely exhausted J and now he’s in a deep sleep. You carefully move your head from his chest, cautious not to wake him up. You snatch a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from the closet, not making any noises, and after finding your car keys you sneak out of the penthouse, avoiding being seen at all costs.

After about 20 minutes of driving, you get to the meeting point at the abandoned factory on Helssel Street. Your contact is already there. You approach, suspicions.

“Who are you?” you grumble, surveilling your surroundings, just in case.

“My name is agent Collins. Nice to meet you agent Y/N,” the guy tries to speak and you cut him off.

“Spare me! Are you new?” you squint your eyes, already uneasy and displeased.

“Yes, just started with the bureau 6 months ago,” he informs, holding his ground.

“Are you kidding me??!! They are sending someone new? What level are you, did you even get your clearance level A yet?!” you raise your voice, annoyed. My God, what the hell are they doing sending this newbie to talk to you?!

“Not yet, soon, this is one of my tasks in order to obtain it.”

“I only deal with FBI agents that are at least level C, this is unacceptable!” you strut towards him and he doesn’t seem happy at your rant.

“With all due respect, agent Y/N, you might be level E, but it doesn’t mean that…” Collins protests, aware his skills need improvement but he’s not incompetent, otherwise he wouldn’t have made it this far.

“With all due respect, agent Collins,” you interrupt with a gesture of your hand,” don’t speak about things you know nothing about. I am involved in a very dangerous and strenuous undercover mission as I am sure you are aware. I can’t risk having my cover blown off, not after 3 years. It was very hard work to get into his world and make him trust me. I can’t risk any mistakes, that’s why I am appalled they send a new agent for our little briefing.”

“I am good at what I do, I’m not a kid. Please don’t address me as such,” he has the nerve to reply.

You chuckle, wanting to punch his lights out:

“Do you know what level E is?”

Collins nods a yes, irked you treat him like an idiot when in fact he’s very capable of handling all this. You just have your opinions so you continue:

“Level E agents are trained to do everything it takes for their missions. EVERYTHING! And The Joker is one…” and you almost scream, ”…tough insane psychopath!!! And I have to fuck him, kill for him, do EVERYTHING he asks of me since I am his ‘girlfriend’. Oh, I’m sorry, am I offending your little virgin ears??!!!” you suck on your teeth when he flaunts that grimace all over his mug. “I do EVERYTHING to keep myself in his world, this way I can give the Bureau all the info they need about the corrupt officials he deals with, future plans he might have, names, locations and dates. The Joker will go down last, after we get all we need.”

He is clearly offended and you are losing your patience. You take a deep breath and finish the meeting:

“Tell them all is good, I will e-mail them more encrypted data soon,” and you start walking away.

“I will actually be the one decrypting it!” he notifies you and you just raise your arm, shaking it as goodbye.

“Tell someone that cares, honey.”

You walk a couple of blocks to get to the alley where you parked your car. You are furious they send an agent in training and keep on mumbling to yourself. You had more things to say but because you’re stubborn, you refused to. I guess you’ll just have to send all the stuff in your e-mail.

You are almost at your vehicle when you see a shadow emerging from behind the building and you realize is The Joker.

“Baby Doll,” he walks fast your way and you nervously gulp, halting in your tracks.

“J, what are you doing here? I was just…”

You don’t get to finish your phrase because he hugs you tight, crushing you in his arms.

“I am being a gentleman and making sure my girl gets safely to her car,” he whispers and you lose your breath when you feel the sharp blade piercing through your ribs, deeper and deeper. You push him away, wincing in pain, hardly being able to still stand, shocked.

Why are you so dizzy and why can’t you move? You attempt to say something but barely manage to open your mouth. You start coughing and lean your back against the car, sliding down to the ground, everything fading from your already cloudy mind.

“Something to remind you of me, Kitten,” J stops in front of you, kicking your leg.  “The blade has been dipped in a paralyzing substance, this way you won’t struggle. As a thanks for being an awesome girlfriend,” and he reaches his hand to close your eyes. You wish you could fight, but the numbness took over your body with an alarming velocity. And now that your eyes are closed, maybe they won’t open again.


“Welcome back, Y/N,” you hear Commissar Gordon’s voice and you blink a few times, trying to focus on his face.

“Hello, s-sir…” you manage utter, coming back to reality. You are in a hospital bed, hooked to IV’s. “Where…where am I?” you lift your head from the pillow and instantly drop it back, weak and feeling drained.

“FBI headquarters, ICU unit, I guess you’re not familiar since you’ve never had to use it,” he gets up from his chair and takes a sit on your bed.

“How long was I out?” you lick your lips, thirsty and still a bit out of it.

“Two days. You were lucky Agent Collins followed you and found you in time,” he sighs, grateful you are still breathing.

“That bad, huh?” you moan in pain when you try to turn on your side. You lift the sheet up and see you are patched up where The Joker stabbed you.

“Well, it wasn’t good either. I’m glad you’re still with us,” Gordon admits and you know he’s sincere.

“Thank you, sir,” you wince in pain. “My cover got blown up, do we know what happened?” you request to find out.

“No, not yet, I think we might have a moll, we are thoroughly investigating the problem.”

“3 years…3 fucking years, and all is lost,” your eyes get teary from frustration and he touches your hand, sympathetic.

“I’m sorry, you were unbelievably tenacious and did a lot of good work. I know you’ve been through hell…”

“I’m fine,” you lie, not happy at your present situation.

“They will want to talk to you as soon as possible, they need all the information they can obtain. You don’t get to rest even if you deserve it. They will expect a full report and you’ll have to go through all the required steps, there are rules to be followed.”

“I know, sir,” you finally manage to lift yourself on your elbow.

“They are aware certain…feelings and …emotions are involved after being with him for so long, they want you in counselling and therapy too.”

“I understand the procedure, sir, it’s OK,” you agree, obedient. All this shit that follows comes with the job. “I don’t know how he followed me, I added the sleeping pills in his water and watched him drink it,” you fret, puzzled on how it went downhill so fast. “I’m a level E agent, I know what I’m doing.”

The commissar gets up, taking his leave. He knows better than to let you continue to torment yourself at this point. It’s no use.

“I’ll let you rest, then, we’ll keep in touch.”

You point your finger towards your neck tattoo, no words are necessary.

“You’ll have those removed as soon as there’s time.”

“Sir!” you yell after him when he opens the door. “Can I please have somebody help dying my hair back to black today? I can’t stand this red anymore!”

“Of course,” he exhales, contemplating about a million things he needs to do after this total fiasco of your undercover operation ending so abruptly.


A few weeks go by and you are caught in the endless twist of briefings, meetings, reports and assessment sessions to assert your state of mind, while they are looking for The Joker with no success. You didn’t even have time to remove all your tattoos because it’s a long process and right now you don’t have precious hours to spare. You just cover your skin with make-up, burying your past under and the two accursed names that will forever be ingrained in your memory: The Joker and his Red Queen.  


**Three months after the incident the SWAT team was able to capture your former boyfriend at your suggestion that he might be hanging around certain places. After all, you knew so many of his secrets and were able to predict his moves because you got to experience firsthand on how he works. You are not a level E agent for nothing! You didn’t waste so many years on this task, so much of your life and expertise just to sit around and not counteract. When you got the call in the middle of the night, you jumped out of bed so fast you almost dropped your cell, shaking at the unexpected news. He will be transported in great secrecy to Arkham Asylum where he surely belongs.

You are appointed as one of the 4 agents to accompany him to his destination and you get ready in such a hurry it scares you. Can’t wait to face the jerk and strangle him yourself if you get the chance, that is. **

You are sitting right across from a handcuffed Joker, panting and trying to control your urge to act. He just looks down at his shoes, avoiding eye contact for once. The other three agents are sitting to your left in perfect silence and alert.

J decides to move his blue gaze from the floor to your face, a total deranged smirk flourishing on his lips.

“Hi there Princess,” and he snorts, rolling his eyes.

“No talking!” one of your companions warns.

“What is it with you guys and no talking, huh?” he moves his jaw sideways, his eyes burning with madness.

The van stops at a red light and then continues its itinerary.

He winks at you, delighted in his lunacy.

“I’m glad to see you’re alive and well, Doll,” he yammers, disregarding the rest of them. “Daddy missed you!” he purrs and you clench your teeth, really straining to keep it together.

“Cut it out or you’re gonna get it!” the threat comes and he laughs, excited.

“Ahhhh, promise?… Don’t interrupt while I’m talking to my woman!!” he abruptly changes his voice to such a low tone it’s uncomfortable to hear.

You indifferently begin to wipe the foundation covering your tattoos on neck and cheeks with the sleeve of your suit, still quiet.

“Shut it down, Clown, I mean it!!!” the guy closest to you loses his patience, aggravated.

You instantly decide to verbalize your feelings:

“If you talk to the King of Gotham in such a disrespectful manner one more time, you’re not going to live through the night,” you tilt your head towards the man, chuckling and they all instinctively reach for their guns. “Thank God I was in charge of loading them, right?” you kiss the air, satisfied they fell for it. “Nahhh, I wouldn’t do that,” you pucker your lips when they still try to do something about it, getting ready to fight. “Don’t do anything stupid, you know what I’m capable of. Might I remind you I’m a level E agent?”


You kick the limp bodies at your feet, uncuffing J in the process.

“You’re mad at me?” he checks, inhaling your perfume.

“I thought we agreed you’re not going to stab me, yes?!” you snap at him, and he kisses your wrist, euphoric to touch you again. “You really took me by surprise!”
“I changed my mind, it was the best plan in order to achieve what we wanted, Pumpkin. And I used the paralyzing substance so you won’t feel pain. Am I nice to my girl or what?!” he praises himself, high from all the excitement of seeing you in action again; it’s been a while. 

“I have a scar, you know I hate scars!” you complain, pushing him away when he tries to hug you but then yank him back in your embrace, infatuated by his presence.

“But it was fun, wasn’t it? We were sooo bored, at least it was entertaining for a while. And you got me all the info I wanted right from the source,” he impatiently kisses you and it makes you weak in the knees. “How come my Red Queen has black hair, hm?” he tugs on your long locks, his hot lips kissing your shoulder up your neck. “Unacceptable!” he growls and you smile, enjoying having him so close again.

“It will be back to red again tomorrow,” you agree and you sense the van stopping. “I think we’re here,” you happily announce, relieved you’re back where you belong and don’t have to pretend anymore.


Your treachery was a strong blow to the bureau; they didn’t expect that to happen in a million years. Commissar Gordon was heartbroken at the news, he completely trusted you and had high hopes. He even saw you in a high rank within the organization as a future perspective. He would have vouch for you and supported you all the way.

But things turned ugly and it pains him to add your name to the FBI most wanted list. He took it upon himself to update your online file:

Agent Name: Y/N

Code Name: The Red Queen

Clearance Level: E

Status: Inactive

Special instructions: Extremely dangerous, approach with caution

His fingers are hesitant on the keyboard as he types in the final note:

Grade A Warning: Rogue


CLF: Pas du Tout H

A/N: The first of three things I’m publishing today. If I don’t respond, it’s probably because I’m back in bed.

A/N: I have reorganized my tag lists, so if you asked to be tagged and you don’t see your name on here, let me know. 

A/N: I fixed Nat. Seriously, I never got why she did that great speech in Winter Soldier and then ended up on Tony’s side in Civil War, so I moved some things around.

WARNINGS: Swearing, battle scenes



SONG TRACKS: Just Like Fire by Pink and R U Mine by The Arctic Monkeys

Keep reading

Home Part. VI


Word Count: 2800

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death and violence, also it kinda sucks.

(A/N): I’m gonna post the last chapter in a couple of hours, cause I’m going on vocation and won’t have WiFi there.

Part. I , Part. II , Part. III , Part. IV , Part. V

Originally posted by xesoteric-extraterrestrialx

As many times as you saved her life, you never actually thought she’d get shot.

You never actually thought you’d have to see the exact colour of her blood or feel it’s sticky texture on your skin.

You never thought you’d be the one to shoot her either, but then again, you didn’t like to think, there were too many things you’d rather avoid considering for you to like it.

So, you focus on her instead, let the initial shock wear down and the curses that you spout in your mind, in a language that would be foreign to her young ears fade into tense silence instead.

You’re disappointed. Not with her. Never with her. But with you, your blind believe that they wouldn´t catch on. That the plan would work out.

That you could save her.

That she could handle it, because clearly, now that she is lying on the cold ground, gasping for air, she couldn’t.


She´s shaking, but so are you, feeling her strength fade slowly as she reaches out to grasp at your hand.

You don´t let her, focusing your gaze back onto the frightened redheaded girl that stopped dead in her tracks upon hearing the bullet tear through the cold air.

You want to let her go, want to see her run, start a normal life. You want to see her live, but the programming doesn´t let you. And no matter how hard you attempt to break yourself out of the mess of blurry faces and strict commands, you can´t.

Her green eyes are glazed over with unshed tears, back hitting a tree, while you align the barrel of your gun with her head.

A gunshot rips the silence in tiny pieces, her tears finally falling, while numbness takes over you.

Strength leaves your body in a rush, your legs giving up under you and you fall, dropping down next to your blonde girl, while your partner in crime steps over your body with his saddened blue eyes.

The redheaded girl is running again, no longer hesitant, yet even more scared, while the soldier kneels to inspect the blonde on the floor.

You can only guess that his fingers encountered a pulseless neck, for the moment he touches the girl his eyes close and a shadow hardens his face into one of regret and guilt.

You do not snore. It’s an odd thing to notice but Natasha does so anyway. You sleep in absolute silence; not a mumble or a sigh. She wonders if it’s a habit that carried over from your childhood, assuming one could not afford to be loud in the Arena or even HYDRA to begin with, even in your sleep.

You also sleep on your side, now that she took to dangling her arm from the side of the bed so you could actually lie down, curled up in a ball.

Natasha silently and carefully sits upward, the bed dipping some at the movement. Your face is turned in her direction, back facing the window, the glow of the street lamps outside smoothening your features some.

She finds it rather strange. You had seemed far taller and a lot more imposing at first. Still do when awake and loudly complaining about the 5B or the world in general. But like this? You look terrifyingly small.

She watches you jerk, just a little and your eyes blink open.

She observes as your [E/C] eyes gaze blankly at the wall for a couple of seconds before fluttering shut once again.

That was one of the things the redhead learned about you.

You aren’t a peaceful sleeper. You´d sometimes seemingly wake up and fix her or anything in your line of sight with a steady, cold gaze before blinking back to sleep.

It had been rather creepy at first, but soon Natasha realized that you had no conscious memory of whatever you saw in those moments of wakefulness.

On rare occasions your eyes would wander, in obvious search for something, anything really it seemed, yet upon not finding whatever it is you’re seeking, you would fall back into peaceful slumber.

Only that it isn’t peaceful at all.

One more thing she managed to gather, from the small handful of quirks and mannerisms that you have absolutely no control over, is the fact there isn’t a night where you aren’t plagued by nightmares.

Though much unlike her, you never seemed to be able to wake up.

You would jerk once or twice or your eyes would open to survey the room, but other than that you remained chained to whatever it was that was haunting you.

You knew the Arena to be a gnarly place. Between the rumours about man-eating animals and the merciless wardens that pitted prisoners against each other and let them beat each other to death, no room remained for thoughts that could possibly contradict that fact.

All the more startling was the realization that the fearsome Arena was no Arena at all, merely a seemingly endless, sewer-like labyrinth, filled with cages barely big enough to contain humans and icy water that reached your ankles and soaked your boots.

The whole facility seemed to be flooded, the water both unpleasantly still and strangely coloured, reeking of blood and rotten meat.

What bits of floor you could make out underneath looked cracked and old, made from the same material the plain, grey walls consisted of.

You were jammed into a cage slightly larger than the rest, gaze falling and meeting a human like hand right beneath the metal bars on the floor.

“That’s Rick’s”

A voice rasps and you turn, meeting the gaze of a young, brown haired boy.

“They chopped it off yesterday”

There’s a bandage right around his right eye socket, soaked in blood and yellowish from the boy’s sweat. And you avoid your gaze to the strangely formed hand again.

“The water does that to you.”

You nod in understanding, quietly muttering your name in introduction before the boy answers with a disarray of nicknames that he earned from the wardens and his fellow prisoners.

“I don’t really remember my name anymore”

He admits after a while, then, as if suddenly realizing something, he grins, bringing his face closer to the bars.

“But don’t worry, you will forget yours after a while too. And then you’ll get cool nicknames like me!”

She watches your face scrunch and narrows her own pair of eyes in return, intrigued by the sudden display of emotions.

There’s something startlingly familiar in the way your nose wrinkles and the edges of your mouth curl down just slightly.

So, she remains watching, silently, waiting with bated breath for you to reveal something else.

Winter, that’s the nickname they stick with and you play along and let them address you as such, although you still have conscious memory of your very own name and the reason for your questionable stay here.

Same cannot be said for the rest of the prisoners, or even guards to begin with.

They have nicknames though, Cyclops for the brown haired boy, Griever for the woman who screeches all night long, her voice shrill and unbearable and loud enough to ring through the entire labyrinth, Hollow for the guard that picks a new victim each night, tears him out of his cage and beats him senseless for the fun of it, Rat for the youth across from you who’s swallowed one to many gulps of the water bellow and has gained some of the animals attributes, though the guards still stick to the affectionate term freak.

They don’t feed you. Not enough at least, half a bottle of water and some charred bread is all you´re given once a day.

And the fights, as you have discovered mere days after your arrival, are battle royals for a bag of food that the guards offer every three days.

They pick names on random, weapons to fight with too, and sometimes, when they feel especially merciless, the bag that you fought for so hard will wind up empty just because they desire so.

Your battles are quick and easy, you’re a trained killing machine, a lethal, fast, relentless person. And that without any sort of objective or weapon.

You aren’t known for showing mercy, so when you bash in the skull of a ten-year-old with the heel of your boot, they give you the name Winter. Because you’re just as cold and unforgiving.

Your lips set into a small sneer and she tilts her head, watching with childlike curiosity as you turn your head away from her ever so slightly.

Had you been awake, she muses, the look you would be sporting would be not unlike the one of disappointment. A look she received many times before.

Especially from the Madame after her attempted escape.

Yelena Belova

The girl’s name comes to mind as suddenly as the cold eyes of the Madame do, her blonde locks of hair and her piercing, wide, delusory blue eyes that always seemed to be sparkling with unspoken desire for insurgency.

She was one of a kind

And now, while she is gazing upon your sleeping form, she is unsure whether she means it as some sort of compliment or perhaps an insult after all.

She remembers the first and last time she saw the blonde.

The first, mere 24 hours before her attempted escape, was during a sparring match, a cover for the meeting between their handlers.

The last, during said escape, when the blonde was shot by her handler and bled out on the floor.

Her handler

You look alarmingly similar to the Soldier the Madame always seemed to be the proudest of, although she had absolutely nothing to do with neither the Soldier´s training nor skill- or mindset for that matter.

Still, that never stopped her from comparing the others to the seemingly mute tutor, raising standards that everyone had great trouble meeting and keeping expectations that no one in their right mind could ever fulfil.

Natasha forces herself to rethink the hasty escape and hazy day of training, trying to remember the face of the Soldier that attempted to help her and Yelena escape, and when she manages to make out a face and compares it to yours, they do look frighteningly alike.

The fighting style would match

Brute, lethal and quick, the almost completely faded bruises on her shoulder and chest were an attest to that.

Would explain the Arena, too

You did after all only manage to stall her escape, not stop it. They had your partner in crime, James, go back into Winter Soldier mode specifically for this task.

тварь и предатель

The disdain and the traitor, she lays back down and turns to face the ceiling, gently tearing her wrist from your hold to place her hand over her aching chest.

It certainly makes sense.

“You don’t look as surprised as I thought you´d be”

Your nonchalant confession makes her shrug in response, her green eyes focused still on the whipping rain outside.

“I thought you looked familiar, but I couldn´t quite figure out why until yesterday”

“While you were watching me sleep”

There´s a certain edge to your voice, one that borders amusement yet not quite crosses the line, given the circumstances.

“Pray do tell, ginger, what part of my sleeping face gave me away?”

She offers you another shrug and slowly settles on the windowsill, unfazed by your radiant pair of eyes as they follow her every ever so little move.

She can tell that you are curios, chained to the couch that you sit leaned against by surprise.

You expected a different reaction, so much she can tell.

And if she´s honest she expected something different too. She believed to be met with denial and laughter, not with calm acceptance and admission.

“What now?”

Your voice breaks the silence softly once more and yet again all she can do is shrug, simply because there´s nothing to say.

Nothing but a genuine and heartfelt “Thank you”

She watches your eyebrows as they rise in confusion and you sit up slightly straighter.

“For what? I was responsible for your capture, wasn´t I? I stalled your escape.”

“You tried to get me out, [Y/N]. That´s more than what most have done for me.”

You want to respond, tell her that she´s being ridiculous by thanking you, yet before you can do all that the doorbell rings and Natasha springs to her feet, opening the door for a drenched Maria and Clint with an amused quirk of her lips.

“We come bearing gifts!”

He grins at you both and reaches into his jacket’s pocket to retrieve a box of chocolates and a cramped manila folder, adding a no less excited “And a new mission on Monday!” while Maria simply smiles.

And as you chastise them for leaving a trail of water on your floor, you decide that while your apology may long since be overdue, you can, at the very least, make sure that all the suffering she went through will be redeemed in the end.

“I hate Mondays.” She groans, burying her head in her folded arms. “I could totally live without them.”

You chuckle softly from your spot at the stove, taking two cups from the cupboard to pour the two of you some coffee.

“But then Tuesdays would turn to Mondays.”

You butt in, turning and placing the cup in front of her.

“And Tuesdays are good. Better than Mondays, anyway.”

She hums in agreement and you smile, taking your first sip before turning to look outside the window.

It’s still raining, the raindrops loud but soothing as they pelt the glass and the drainpipe just outside.

You catch a glimpse of ginger scurrying outside, it’s quick, but the bright colour contrasts it’s grey surroundings beautifully and your smile only widens at that, [E/C] orbs trailing about the kitchen until they reach the silently eating redhead.

“So, I’ve noticed that the stray has taken a liking to you.”

You state bluntly, watching her green eyes leave the pancakes to face you instead.

“Wouldn’t be cause you’re feeding him, while I’m at HQ, would it?”

She shakes her head in denial, moving to take a sip of her steaming coffee, only to choke on it uncharacteristically instead when a cat’s meow resounds outside your front door.

You teasingly raise a brow at her and she sighs, nodding begrudgingly while wiping away some of the coffee that spilled on the table at her jolt.

“Maybe so…”

Another meow, this one slightly louder, and the sound of claws scratching at the front door drags a chuckle out of you, the light-hearted cackle accompanied by you gesturing towards the door with a knowing twitch of your lips.

“By all means, go ahead. I’d hate to keep him waiting.”

Your gaze follows her as she saunters towards the door, reaching for her jacket along the way to pull out a can of cat food and a couple of treats.

Any other day you would have at the very least raised a brow at that, but seeing as to Clint took it upon himself to spend more time with her, and the archer himself always carried at least two cans of cat and dog food with him at all times, the action didn’t surprise you as much as it probably should have.

Natasha, for her subtle part, already sat crouched at your door step, petting the cat that now lay purring on your doormat, the food that she offered momentary forgotten as he focused on her gentle ministrations.

“As immensely happy as I am to see you’ve found an at least somehow sane friend, you should get back inside, ginger.”

Both cat and female turn at the nickname and you laugh at that, genuinely amused at this turn of events, while Natasha merely huffs and watches the cat finish his meal before he struts away once more.

“Now that you have fed ginger, ginger. You should finish your own breakfast. We’ve got a mission in a couple of hours and I’d be best if you didn’t take it on an empty stomach.”

She looks like she might object, but you beat her to it with a mockingly stern face and a wiggle of your finger.

“Don’t even think about talking back, young lady. I’m the elder in this house and I know best.”

Her snort strikes you as highly amused, even though her face hardly strays from its usual blank expression.

The silence that overtakes you after that brief exchange is comfortable, lacking the tenseness and poise that could be found lingering mere days ago.

It’s nice, you muse, smiling wider when the doorbell rings and Natasha stands to her feet to open the door for a fully dressed and to the bone soaked Clint.

“Pancakes before the mission, sweet.”

And in a moment of strange content, the trail of water puddles that he leaves behind on your clean marble floor doesn’t even bother you.

anonymous asked:

Just imagine Bucky, in full Winter Soldier clothes, kneeling over you and watching as you struggle to keep your excitement hidden. He takes out a knife and slowly trails it over your cheek, down over your neck, across your breasts, and slowly down towards your clit, where he flips the blade, holding the blade end, and slowly pushes the grip of the knife into you, fucking you with it until you come. Now that is good knife play

You my friends win dirtiest headcanon of the day and it’s fucking great

Sinful Sunday™

jhaernyl  asked:

Fight Me, Cody and Obi-Wan post order 66

I could have gone with the fight with me part of that phrase, but how could I forego angst for a prompt by Darth Lucifer ? :p

Written for this meme

Obi-Wan pants, exhausted, as he plasters himself against a wall, hidden by the obscurity as troopers ran past him.
They are inconveniently competent, for once. He can’t manage to lose them, they’ve found him every time he thought he had managed to shake them off his trail.
Their aim is true, as well, he muses as he rubs his injured shoulder.

He only gets a few minutes of respite before another trooper, that went slower than the other to check hiding places, spots him and calls all the others back for the chase.

They manage to corner him out of town and that kind of professional effiency, combined with the stormtrooper’s armor design is a bitter memory for Obi-Wan.
He was once the one that great men had given their loyalty to, before the Empire ruined everything and killed them all.

With a soul-deep sigh, Obi-Wan retrieves his lightsaber from its hiding place. They obviously know who he is, at least what he is, or they wouldn’t have been that persistent.

While he tends to avoid killing as much as he can… this time, with datachips for the Rebellion in his pockets, he can’t afford mercy and capture for a latter escape.

The stormtroopers offer way more of a fight against a force-wielder, lightsaber-user, than they should. It’s almost like they know what to expect, know his fighting style and what to do to counter it. Obi-Wan has to use old Ataru forms and channel his exhaustion, frustation and the growing, awful, angering doubt in the back of his mind into the Vapaad moves Mace taught him a lifetime ago so he can keep the upper hand.

He kills them and avoids looking at the corpse, afraid of what he will see.
Obi-Wan knows that An… Vader sent them. Would the Sith be that mindlessly cruel, that resentful to…

A last, low swipe of his saber and the trooper in front of him crumples to the ground, legs cut off, and of course, that only prompts more memories about Anakin, about Mustafar, about the hate shining in those eyes and the terrible realisation of what Obi-Wan had done when he saw that Vader still lived, what life Obi-Wan had condamned him to…
He kneels next to the soldier, wrenching his helmet off, because he needs to be sure

Seeing that face once again after so long is a stab right into his heart. The familiar lines of the clone’ faces that served him so faithfully, that he loved more like brothers and sons than soldiers, hundreds of hundreds of men that died for him out of loyalty…
That he just cut down himself.
And this one… The scar in his brow, around his eye…

« Cody… » Obi-Wan whispers, horrified.

And he is horrified even more by what he can see in the clone’s eyes. Pain, of course, resignation, acceptance, soul-deep fatigue and worst of all, an unending fight, as humanity flickers in and out of his gaze, overcome by the order, by what a chip is screaming inside his mind even now.

Obi-Wan understands too late what the hands holding his in a death grip are doing.

« NO ! » he yells, as Cody presses his thumb against the switch, the lightsaber held in their joined hands igniting through the armor’s chest plate.


Darkness rolls across the galaxy and, far away on Mustafar, Darth Vader understands, too late, that sending the remnants of the 212th to track and kill Obi-Wan was probably the worst choice he could have made.

Chapter 16 Part 1

A/N: Here is the next chapter! It is a big one! I have split it into two parts and will be posting the second part tomorrow, monday at the latest to not keep you guys waiting too long! I apologize for the wait, but it has finally turned out the way I wanted it! Happy Reading!

Harry’s feet kicked away the sand, separating it apart as his boots stepped into the ground. The heat of the dessert barred down on him as the beads of sweat trickled down his face. Releasing a hot breath he tried to cool himself down. The sand, the insurmountable heat made him vow to never miss this place.

Glancing up ahead he saw Kane looking back over his shoulder his rifle in his hand at the ready. Their unit had been on high alert after the previous days attack on a school by a suicide bomber.

The streets that once were swarmed with life stood barren. The women with their traditional Afghani clothes that sold goods in the market were gone. The children whose laughs filled the streets as they ran through the crowds were gone. The storeowners boarded up their livelihoods in search of a safer home for their families.  Even the birds were silenced; the only serenade was the rumbling of the artillery tanks that moved amongst the deserted village.

Keep reading

Jade & Sapphire: Fathers

 Rating: M                                                                                                        Pair: Annie Leonhart & Eren Yeager                                                                    Words: 10,349 (I split it into three parts so stop your groaning!) 

[Ao3]   [FF.Net]

So basically I’ve wanted to write a Marley Annie AU for AWHILE after I made this sketch, and I wrote this long ass one shot based off the theory that the amputee guy we see in ch. 94 is really Eren. ALSO SEE @erenecatombe‘s own version of the au! 

 Here is a bit of Part I

Falco ran to the nearest whimpering soldier, kneeling to pat him reassuringly on the back. “Are you okay?” The man jolted in response, Falco frowned. “Please calm down…” He turned from the wailing man to Krueger, who was sprawled haphazardly on the ground. Goosebumps pricked at the amputee’s skin, Krueger felt another pair of eyes watching him, and it wasn’t the kid’s.  

“Your band is on the wrong arm.” Falco pointed out as he stood, walking near Krueger to kneel by the veteran’s side, Krueger remained silent, still as a living statue. Falco gently took him by the arm, loosening the Eldian band, switching sides so he could tie it around the right arm. All the while murmuring comforting words to the older man, “It’s okay, I’m sure it’ll get better… you don’t have to fight any longer.”

Once the band was tied tight around the correct arm, Falco patted him on the shoulder, “Everything will be alright from now on.”

Krueger almost believed the boy. But then, he heard her voice among the noise of screaming soldiers.

“Falco.” It was her. The cause of his paranoia. He never felt so naked than he did now. Krueger bowed his head, allowing a curtain of his hair to fall over his eye not wrapped by bandages. He wasn’t religious, but he did silently pray to any false god that he had grown to be unrecognizable to the Vice Commander of the Marley warriors, Annie Leonhardt.

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hamilton characters and what they see in the mirror of erised
  • burr: a room full of congressmen unanimously rise in attention and fall silent as the president enters and takes his seat at the head of the room
  • jefferson: a crew of well-dressed men rest on the front porch of a grand plantation, discussing philosophy and admiring the fields of wheat stretched out in front of them
  • angelica: a sharp-eyed young woman eagerly counters her fellow classmate in debate, surrounded by endless shelves of gold-leafed books holding knowledge and secrets
  • washington: a silver-haired man leans down to rest for a moment under the shade of his own vine and fig tree, secure in the paradise he helped build
  • eliza: a family enjoys a pic-nick along the shore of a lake-- as the kids take off chasing each other in the grass, the husband pulls his wife closer, and she rests her head on his shoulder
  • hamilton: a troop of young soldiers kneel to pay respects to a marble tombstone, inscribed with the legacy of "a martyr, a founding father who gave his life for our freedom"
Where Do the Flowers Go Chapter Two

Chapter One

Summary: You meet Steve and Bucky by chance, but your past with Natasha frightens you away
Warnings: Language

Wind whipped your hair into your face as you stared at the building across the street. You had been there all day, trying to convince yourself to walk inside. It didn’t surprise you when he joined you. He hadn’t tried to be subtle as he watched you.

“Hello, soldier,” you said, not looking at him as he leaned against the wall next to you.

“I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Well, I did say I’d come and say hello,” you said, turing to face him. He laughed and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face.

“Do you want to come in?”

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Bound By Chains - Chapter 14

Pairing: Eric/OC
Fandom: Divergent
Rating: M

She’s bound to a monster. And he has personality issues.

A/N: Mahoosive thanks to @dauntlessmetalmom for putting up with me and for loads of others hearing me ramble on and on. Prepare yourselves ;) 
@equalstrashflavoredtrash @badassbaker @red-diary @pathybo @murmelche @insertamazingwords @jaijacked @halefiresurvivor @suchlonelymuchsoul @elaacreditava 

Snippet: "Were you thinking about me?“ he asks quietly in a husky voice. His fingers keep her head tilted so she turn away. Her cheeks blush a pretty shade of pink and she keeps her eyes focused elsewhere.


Eric brings her hand up that is still clutching the apple, shaking it from her hand and it bounces across the graveled walkway.

“A little,“ she confesses.

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anonymous asked:

can i make a request for the 5 sentence thing? your short stories are soooo good! if you can will you do "dominate" with gratsu? (you can make it nsfw too, i'm sure none of us will mind *wink wink*) if not that's okay too. have a good day! :)

You know the drill, pretend the 5 sentence thing isn’t a thing.

Not nsfw but I might make a mini series of this. Demon AU

* * *


It was the one word Natsu’s instincts were screaming at him.

Gray staring up at him defiantly only fuelled his need to conquer the ice devil.

The demon fruitlessly struggled against his restraints, snarling at the soldier kneeling at the foot of Natsu’s throne. “A gift from your nephew Larcade, Master E.N.D. You’re free to do with him as you please.”

Arousal thrummed through Natsu’s veins. Silver eyes bored into his own and the etherious’ tail flicked in excitement.

“Take him to my chambers.”

Zeref grinned at his brother as the soldiers hauled the devil off to his sleeping quarters. “It’s been a while since you’ve had a… slave,” he hummed, his amusement poorly concealed. “I can deal with your meeting if you wish to go have your fun.”

Tempting as it was, as badly as he wanted to savagely take the demon he suppressed those instincts, Natsu shook his head. “I’ll take my time with this one.”

Natsu wanted something different with him. He wanted to break the defiance radiating from the demon. He wanted him to take pleasure in what Natsu had planned.

He wanted him to want. He wanted Gray to want. He could wait to have him. After all, Natsu had nothing but time.