look-at-their-hands-in-the-first-one

anonymous asked:

Imagine Steve bargaining his freedom with General Ross in order to get amnesty for the members of Team Cap to go home to their kids/families

“I’m confused, Captain.” Steve didn’t have to turn to watch General Ross swagger into the room; he could hear it in his tone.  “Why add escaping a maximum security prison to your compatriots’ list of troubles?”

Steve finally turns to face Ross so the man can see how serious Steve is about his proposal.  “Because I’m willing to make a deal.” 

“I’m not sure you understand how the legal system works. Which is astonishing for the man calling himself Captain America.”  

It was Steve’s turn to look smug.  “It’s an offer you can’t refuse.”

General Ross merely raised his eyebrows and waited.  

“You grant them –all of them- amnesty, and I’ll not only turn myself in for disciplinary action, I’ll sign the Accords.”

Ross’ eyebrows raised only a fraction; his only reaction for several long moments before: “Barton, Wilson, Lang. They go free and pardoned.”

Steve cracked his jaw.  “Wanda is granted the same pardon and freedom, or you can spend the rest of your career trying to hunt us down and explaining to your committee why you can’t find us.”

“Maximoff is—“

Wanda is a kid.  And acted under my authority.  She gets the same pardon as the rest of them, or I walk.  I won’t make this offer again.”

Another voice joined before Ross could respond: “You’ll get me, too. But only if Wanda is pardoned, too.”  

Bucky.

“You can’t—“ Steve started.

“I can do what I want.  End of the line, pal, remember?”  Bucky clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and shifted his gaze to the General.  “So?”

Ross barely hesitated.  “Done. You both turn yourselves in.  You’ll sign the Accords.  You’ll be charged and appropriately punished.”  He smiled again, self-satisfied and victorious. “Now if that’s all, let me show you to your cells.”

Sparing a glance to Bucky, Steve followed, Bucky falling in a step behind and to the left of him.

au-lola  asked:

Can you do a fluffy 40 with Dean Winchester? :-) If you don't do SPN can you do 28 with the Joker? :-)

I can do both for ya :) Thank you for the requests. 

40 - I’m sick. I feel like I died then got run over.

28 - Don’t tell me what to do.

Prompt List


You opened up the hotel door and hurried in first aid kit in hand. “I’m here what’s wrong??” You looked around wide eyed expecting the worst. You had just got a message from Sam Winchester saying to hurry over because Dean was dying. You had never drove so fast in your life and you’d be surprised if the old piece of crap you drove didn’t quit on you next time you tried to crank it. “Hey… Y/N what are you doing here??” A fresh out of the shower Sam blushed as he secured the towel around his waist. “Whoa… Too much Sam…” You covered your eyes. “And what do you mean what am I doing here?? You texted me saying Dean was dying… I just got here.” You peeked through your fingers to see his puzzled face. “Dean is in the other room with a major head cold…” Sam explained as you ran your hand over you face in exasperation. “Figures.” You march over to the next room and open the door to find a dark hotel room. “Marco…” You called out into the darkness as your hand groped the wall for a light switch. “Polo…” A weak gravely voice called out. “Did you text me with Sam’s voice telling me you were near death??” You grouched finally turning the lights on. Dean lets out a unsatisfied noise as he covers his head with the bed covers. “I’m sick. I feel like I died and then got ran over.” Dean whined through his blocked nose. Sitting down beside him on the bed he puts his dirty blonde head in your lap and snuggles against your warmth. “You are one spoiled rotten brat…” “And you’re the best girlfriend ever.” 


“Don’t tell me what to do…” You snapped with fake bravery towards your boyfriend The Joker. “What did you just say??” He snapped dropping the glass of champagne from his hand. The glass shattering everywhere on the ground at your feet. Slowly the Joker walked closer and closer to you. Stepping back you kept your distance until you met the wall behind you. The Joker grabs you by your face and forces you to stare into his blue eyes. “Have you forgotten to whom you belong??” He growled down at you grabbing your wrist to be at your eye level. Your tattoo of his signature on your skin mocked your last phrase. “You’re mine little lady. You have been since the day I laid eyes on you… I don’t tell you want to do to be an ass… I tell you what to do for your own good… If you want to get hurt go against my word… If you want to remain pretty and happy… You better do what I say…” He yanked your hair making you yelp. “Your words hurt my feeling… I think I deserve some spoiling what do you think??” He purred down at you with a hungry look in his eyes.

Back Again

Summary: Spencer has been missing for 6 months, and he’s finally back. 

Warnings: The death of several close friends/family members. 

A/N: This one is sort of dark, and it’s the first angst I’ve done! Sorry this took so long to get up, things have been pretty hectic lately. I hope y’all enjoy :) Feel free to send me any requests!

______________________________________________________________

“I need a little more time Spencer.” I say sadly, looking away and closing my eyes to keep the tears from spilling.

“I’ll wait.” He reaches out for my hand. “I’m so sorry, (Y/n). I didn’t think it would go this far.”

“I know you’re sorry. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. But you did.” I pull my hand away and turn around, trying to keep him from seeing me cry. “I can’t just forgive you that easily.”

“You think I don’t know that? I haven’t slept in months. It’s been so hard without you. It was so hard just leaving you like that. You know I didn’t have a choice though.”

“You didn’t have a choice?” I turned around, his comment angering me. “You could have said no! You could have told them that you had a life, that you had other priorities!” Tears were streaming down my face, but I didn’t care at this point. Too much pain had built up inside of me in the past year.

“Your life was at stake, (y/n)! If it was me at stake, you would have left in a heart beat and you know that.”

“I would have at least said goodbye, Spencer! You just left!” I sobbed. “You didn’t even leave a note. I had no clue where you were or if you were okay. I thought you were dead, Spencer.”

*Flash back*

The team was sitting in the conference room waiting on a new case when Penelope and Hotch walked in, both with grim looks on their faces. Penelope looked at me with apologetic eyes and a chill ran through me. A friend of mine had gone missing a few days ago, so I knew something was wrong.

“This is going to be a rough case,” Hotch starts, looking at me with the same look Penelope had. “6 people were found this morning, 3 women and 3 men. (Y/n), you might want to prepare yourself for this.”

I look at the two of them shocked as Penelope handed out the case files. I opened it up and gasped. Immediately shutting it again, my hand flew to my mouth as I tried to hold in my sobs. Everyone else opened their case files confused as to why I was crying. When Spencer saw what they had handed us, he immediately wrapped his arms around me.

“Victim #1 is (B/F/N). (Y/N)’s childhood best friend.” Hotch spoke up. I could feel my coworkers looking at me with sympathetic eyes, but it only made me cry harder.

“(Y/N)” Penelope spoke. “There’s more.” I tore myself away from Spencer, my face stained with tears before looking up at her.

“There’s more?” I weakly spoke. She nodded as tears welled up in her eyes at how much pain I was in. I shook my head before opening the case file and looking at the second victim. Another wave of tears came as I kept flipping through the victims, all friends and family members of mine.

“I didn’t even know they were missing.” I stated in a shaky voice.

“That’s because none of them were reported missing. They were all killed within  46 hours of each other. I’m sorry, (Y/N)”

*End of flashback*

“I had just lost so many people that I loved. I can’t believe you would just leave me like that.”

“Don’t you understand? I left so you didn’t have to lose anybody else! He had taken your sister. I was protecting you.” Spencer screamed as he begun to cry.

“6 months, Spencer. We caught him and got her back 3 months ago. Where the hell have you been since then?” I yell back, my voice becoming raspy and weak.

“I had reason to believe he had a partner. I had to stay undercover to find him.” I shook my head, not understanding what he was telling me.

“He had a partner? Then why didn’t you tell anyone? Even Hotch thought you were actually dead!”

*Flash back*

“(Y/N). We need to talk.” Hotch said as I walked into his office. “Have a seat.” I came in and shut the door, worried about what he had to tell me this time. I had already lost so many people. I didn’t know how much more I could take. Spencer had just been in an accident and died 3 months ago. The only good thing that has happened in the past year is that we caught the unsub and brought my sister home. It turns out the unsub had been a guy I knew in high school that had been obsessed with me, but I rejected him. Spencer and I had run into him at the grocery store about a year ago and it had brought back his obsession, except this time it turned deadly.

“Reid isn’t dead.” He states as I sat down.

“Excuse me?” I say, confused. Hotch takes a deep breath before proceeding.

“Reid is alive. As you know, when your sister went missing we had reason to believe he was going to be the next target. We sent him undercover. We staged the car crash to throw the unsub off his game, and it worked. It got him to stop killing because we had gotten in the way of his initial plan.” My head was spinning. I had been grieving for months now, and I was finally starting to move on. I had finally gotten up the nerve to clean out his desk and pack up some of his stuff, and now I find out he’s alive.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice breaks as I speak.

“It had to be believable. We needed you to actually grieve his death. The unsub is constantly watching you. He’s seen you lose a loved one before. He would know if you were faking it.” I quickly stand up and began to pace around the room.

“Why are you telling me now?” I say, tears threatening to spill.

“He’s dropped off our radar. No one knows where he is. He disappeared soon after we brought in the unsub.”

“So now you’ve decided to tell me? You wait until he’s missing, and then you drop this huge bomb on me?” I scream, not caring who heard.

“I just wanted to prepare you in case he came home.” Hotch spoke carefully.

“But what if he doesn’t? What if he’s actually dead now?” I storm out, not able to truly process this new information.

When I come out, everyone is staring at me. My makeup in ruined, I’m frantic, and I’m running through the FBI building. I quickly grab my bag from my desk and the box of Spencer’s things and practically sprinted to the elevator. Penelope and Morgan ran after me, slipping in before the doors close.

“What happened?” Penelope asked as Morgan wrapped an arm around me. I curled into Morgan’s side as I sobbed, not able to actually form words as my two friends comforted me.

*End of Flashback*

“I brought him in right before I came over. I told them I would tell you, though. It was the unsub’s brother. He’s the one that drove the unsub to start killing. I couldn’t tell anyone because I thought his brother was onto me. I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” Spencer’s voice broke as he said the last sentence, tears running down his face. I immediately kissed him, not able to hold back any longer. He had done this for me. He had sacrificed everything for me. I loved this man more than anything in the world, and I finally had him back in my arms. After 6 months of thinking he was dead, he was finally here, and I wasn’t getting ready to waste another second.

“I love you, Spencer Reid” I say against his lips. He smiled, pressing another kiss to my lips and wrapping his arms around my waist.

“I love you too.”

And Do You Belong? I Do

The tone.

It’s the same one that says to your friend, “BOY…. go on over there and hand me my bag” at the airport, assuming he’s a porter.

It’s the same one that tells you, “m’am, go into that other line over there” when you are checking in at the airport at the first class counter before you even open up your mouth.

It’s the same one that yells and screams at you and your mother in your sleep when you’re on the train from Milan to Basel “give me your passport NOW.” You look around to see if anyone else is being requested this same thing only to see a kind Italian woman actually confront the agents on your behalf and ask why you are being treated this way.

It’s the same tone that the officer has when she tells you your neighborhood is blocked for residents only as you and your friends drive home from a Mardi Gras parade, when you have a residents tag on your car. You’ve been in the car line for 10 minutes and watched them let every one else pass without stopping them at all.

It usually does not include “please.” It does not include “will you.” It does not include “would you mind,” for you must not even be worth wasting their mouths forming these respectable words. Although, you usually see them used seconds before or after you.

You don’t feel that most of the people in these incidents do not like black people, but simply are a product of their white supremacy and are exercising it on you without caution, care, or thought.

Many times the tone just simply says, “I do not feel you belong here.”

Imagine.

Telling your son and his friend Rasheed about a band you love and one that played a pivotal role in the history of hip-hop. Something that as a family you all feel very connected to.

Imagine, although the kids are interested, they are still 11, unfamiliar, and would rather be spending their Friday night differently. You and your husband are always talking to your son about expansion and being open to other things and experiences, so you guys make the Kraftwerk concert a family Friday night.

You get there about 10 minutes late, but lucky for you, as soon as you walk to your box seats, the song that you just played for your son in the car is on! It’s a song his uncle sampled, ” The Hall of Mirrors.” You haven’t even sat down yet because you just walked to your seat and you’re so excited to dance to this DANCE MUSIC SONG.

Simultaneously, a much older black venue attendant comes over to your son and his friend and yells “No electronic cigarettes allowed, you need to stop doing that now!”

You are too into the groove and let your husband handle it and tell the attendant that the children are 11 years old, and it’s actually the two grown white men in front of you guys who were smoking them.

You are annoyed and feel it’s extremely problematic that someone would challenge their innocence, but determined to stay positive and your husband has handled this accordingly.

About 20 seconds later, you hear women yell aggressively, “Sit down now, you need to sit down right now” from the box behind you. You want to be considerate, however, they were not at all considerate with their tone, their choice of words, or the fact that you just walked in and seem to be enjoying yourself.

You are also confused as to what show you went to. This is a band that were pioneers of electronic and dance music. Surely the audience is going to expect you to dance at some point.

You were planning on sitting down after this song, as long as it wasn’t one of the four songs that you really connect with and plan on getting down to.

You feel something heavy hit you on the back of your shoulder, but consider that you are imagining things because well….certainly a stranger would not have the audacity.

Moments later, you feel something again, this time smaller, less heavy, and your son and his friend tell you those ladies just hit you with a lime.

You look down only to see the half eaten lime on the ground below you.

You inhale deeply. Your husband calmly asks the group of women did they just throw trash at you. One woman says, “I just want to make it clear, I was not the one who yelled those horrible, nasty, things at you.”

Loud enough for you to hear.

This leads you to believe they were saying things way worse than what you heard, but you are not surprised at that part one bit.

You’re full of passion and shock, so you share this story on Twitter, hands shaking, because you actually want these women to face accountability in some kind of way. You know that you cannot speak to them with out it escalating because they have no respect for you or your son, and this will only end badly for you and feel it’s not worth getting the police involved. So, you are hoping they will hear you this way.

You know when you share this that a part of the population is going to side with the women who threw trash at you. You know that they will come up with every excuse to remove that huge part of the incident and make this about you standing up at a concert “blocking someone’s view.”

You know that a lot of the media will not even mention the trash being thrown at you with your 11 year old son being present.

You feel that the headline would be “XYZ Goes To A Concert And Gets Trash Thrown At Them,” if it were some of your other non-black peers in the industry.

You constantly see the media having a hard time contextualizing black women and men as victims every day, even when it means losing their own lives.

You do not care in that moment because you understand that many of your followers will understand and have been through this same type of thing many a times, and if it means them hearing you say it’s ok, you will rise again through out these moments, then it means something bigger to you.

You realize that you never called these women racists, but people will continuously put those words in your mouth.

What you did indeed say is, “This is why many black people are uncomfortable being in predominately white spaces,” and you still stand true to that.

You and your friends have been called the N word, been approached as prostitutes, and have had your hair touched in a predominately white bar just around the corner from the same venue.

The statement you made makes headlines funny enough just days after it comes to light that Air China warns their flyers not to go into Indian, Pakastani, or Black neighborhoods in order to stay safe, while Texas schools are fighting to have textbooks calling Mexicans “lazy” removed from classrooms, and while Native Americans are doing everything they can possibly to to protect their sacred land from an oil pipeline being built on graves of their descendants. You know that people of colors’ “spaces” are attacked every single day, but many will not be able to see it that way.

This also comes during a time when the Housing Authority of New Orleans has declared a federal mandate plan to assist with helping to protect black neighborhoods, stating that “previously black neighborhoods on higher ground are now majority white or moving in that direction.” And not too long after an announcement is made that a former Klu Klux Klan leader is running for Louisiana senator. You also know where you live.

You are also fully aware, now that you use your platform consistently to speak out on social, racial, and feminist issues, that people who have no awareness of your work outside of gossip sites and magazines, some of which who are most likely voting for Donald Trump, have been starting to engage and/or target you in public and social media in regards to race.

(And yes, having white people constantly call you the n word, or say you and your people are degenerates that need to leave America, or zoo like animals, surely does not help you feel more comfortable in predominately white spaces)

You read headlines that say, “Solange feels uncomfortable with white people,” and want to use the classic “I have many white friends” or “Half of my wedding guests were white” line to prove that you do not dislike white people but dislike the way that many white people are constantly making you feel. Yet you know no amount of explaining will get you through to this type of person in the first place.

You have lived a part of your life in predominately white spaces since you were a kid and even had your 3rd grade teacher tell you “what a nigger is” in front of your entire white class. You watched your parents trying to explain why this was wrong to her and learned then it can be virtuously impossible to get your point across.

After you think it all over, you know that the biggest payback you could have ever had (after, go figure, they then decided they wanted to stand up and dance to songs they liked) was dancing right in front of them with my hair swinging from left to right, my beautiful black son and husband, and our dear friend Rasheed jamming the hell out with the rhythm our ancestors blessed upon us saying….

We belong. We belong. We belong.

We built this.

This, my first ever real Cabin Pressure story (this doesn’t really count although I’m claiming it for the same universe) is dedicated to @artbylexie for inspiring it (from an email exchange earlier today): I’ll bet she likes how small and cozy Martin’s flat is (“Cozy?” Martin asked looking around at the 500 square feet studio flat. “No one’s ever called it cozy before.”) and she would rather stay there than any fancy hotel.(I HAVE A LOT OF MARTIN/THERESA FEELINGS TODAY)

Cozy

The first time he brings her to his flat he’s nervous, so very very VERY nervous. It’s an attic. It’s 500 square feet of slant-roofed, flat-white-painted, mostly second-hand-furniture- cluttered nothing. And he’s bringing a woman to it - a woman! - who lives in a castle. A castle. What’s he thinking? He must have gone mental, bringing Princess Theresa Gustava Bonaventure of Liechtenstein here, to his tiny little nothing of a flat. Even though she knows the truth about his non-paying job at MJN, and that he makes his real living with a van (a van!)…knowing something and being forced to confront the reality of it are two entirely different things.

He opens the door and steps inside, squishing himself against the wall to give her room to enter. “So, um, this is it.” He laughs, a high, nervous laugh, incredibly uncomfortable with the whole situation, mentally kicking himself for agreeing to bring her here after their third date. Oh, the date itself went well - Croydon Airport’s Visitors Center is top of the line and she seemed to enjoy it - but now they’re ending the date here in his tiny little miserable splotch of a flat and she’s…

Oh. Actually she’s looking around with a smile on her lips. Not a forced smile, not a condescending, oh-my-isn’t-this-quaint kind of smile, but one of her lovely bright real smiles. The ones that make his toes curl and his heart pound like an overworked jet engine. A General Electric GE90, not some piddling little TJ100 Turbojet engine. She turns that smile on him and he dares to find it…approving? “It’s lovely, Martin. So cozy!”

“Cozy?” he echoes, brow scrunching in confusion. He darts a quick look around to make sure nothing’s changed in the thirty seconds or so that have passed since she stepped inside. “No one’s ever called it ‘cozy’ before.” He feels a flush forming on his face - God he hates how red he gets when he’s embarrassed but there’s nothing he can do about it - and blurts out, “Not that I’ve ever brought anyone here before. I mean, well, yes, my Mum and my sister came to help me move in, Simon was too busy of course but that’s Simon for you, never around when there’s actual work to be done and Douglas and Arthur have been here, they helped me back up the stairs after we delivered that piano and I…”

She stops his unstoppable stream of nervous babbling in the most wonderful way possible: she steps over to him, takes his hand in hers, and leans down (just slightly down, she’s only ten centimeters taller than he is when she’s wearing flats like she is today) and kisses him.

It’s their first kiss. He’s wanted to kiss her ever since she saved him from Carolyn’s wrath over the whole fuel misunderstanding, but he hasn’t quite been able to nerve himself up for it. He’s grateful to her for being the one to kiss him, in fact. So grateful that he goes a bit numb, his mind fizzing into nothingness, and it takes him a few seconds to start kissing her back. But she doesn’t pull away, so she understands and doesn’t think he didn’t want her to kiss him. Because God knows he wants her to kiss him! So he finally gets his brain and body coordinated enough to kiss her back and she lets him and it’s just…it’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect.

When she finally ends the kiss he opens his eyes (oh, he closed them, when did he do that?) and sees her smiling at him again. She’s still holding his hand, and she reaches up with the other and cups his cheek. “It’s lovely Martin, your flat. And I just want you to know that I would rather stay here than any fancy hotel. Maybe the next time I’m in Fitton? Maxi has a concert in six weeks. Would it be all right if I stayed here?”

Once again he’s grateful to her for taking the lead, because of course this is their third date and he knows the old rule about third dates, even if he’s never personally experienced, well, THAT. Not on a third date. Not at all with his first girlfriend, not for six months with his second, and only the one time with his third (rather disastrous) relationship. But Theresa’s reassuring him by letting him know that she’s interested in…THAT…with him, but isn’t expecting anything this time around. Which is good because he doesn’t have any of the necessities on hand (note to self: buy condoms) and he hasn’t had time to fix things up in any kind of romantic manner, which he absolutely will do. Candles, flowers, maybe spring for a fancy set of sheets and a new duvet cover…

“Martin. Breathe,” Theresa advises him with another small smile, and he gulps in some air.

“Sorry,” he says weakly. Then he does probably the bravest thing he’s ever done in his life: he leans forward and kisses her. And she tastes lovely and feels lovely and his free hand slips around her waist and she’s kissing him back and he knows - absolutely, positively knows - that he’s in love with the most perfect woman on the face of the earth.

He doesn’t tell her that, however, until their ninth date, which is still in the future. All he does now is tell her yes, of course she can stay here in six weeks (six weeks isn’t long enough and it’s too long at the same time) and offer to show her around the 500 square feet of cozy flat he now surveys with pride. It ends with him making her a cup of coffee on his one truly expensive splurge - a Keurig coffee maker. He’s pleased that he can offer her a variety of flavors and proudly shows off the device with an enthusiasm normally reserved for all things aeronautical. She’s suitably impressed, selects a blueberry coffee for herself while he has hazelnut, and they spend the evening talking about so many things he can’t even remember them all. He walks her back to her rental car when it’s close to midnight, and has the courage to be the one to initiate the good-night kiss. He knows he’ll never taste blueberries or coffee again without thinking of her, and watches in a daze as she drives off.

Six weeks, he thinks to himself, knowing he’s grinning like an idiot, feeling the tips of his ears turning red at the thought.

For the first time in his life, Martin Crieff finds himself looking forward to something even more than flying…and he’s never been happier.

Once in a Roadtrip- FFXV Halloween AU Part 2

Saddle up its a long one!

After a good hours worth of driving the sun was finally setting for day. “We have some options” Iggy adjusted his glasses, “We can either stay at a hotel or one of the caravans by Hammerhead”. Noctis twitched his nose and sat up in his seat “Caravan, there’s less people”. Gladiolus mumbled something under his breath that not even the human ear could detect. Noctis chuckled and settled back in the carseat. “Is there something I’m missing?” Prompto looked side to side from Noctis is Gladiolus. “It’s nothing trust me” The prince swatted the idea with his hand as if it was in the air. Ignis pulled into the Hammerhead Garage, at first glance you could tell business was booming. People pulling in and out of the garage’s and gas pumps. Some people were even hanging out at some of the tables and plastic chairs dispersed around the property. Where they were staying was a slightly beat up old caravan at the leftmost side of the lot. It was located towards a small diner that workef hand and hand with Hammerhead to insure guests kept coming. Noctis immediately jumped from his seat. Ignis turned his head “Hold your horses Noct, we still have to reserve the key to it”. Noctis complied and let out distressed sigh. Prompto took notice to his best friends behavior. Why was Noctis being so compliant?, normally he would have just brushed what Iggy told him and done it anyways. He also noticed Noctis’ mood had done a complete one eighty since they left, “Hey Noct everything okay?”. “I’m fine” Noctis snorted. “Someone’s hungry” Gladio chuckled and got out of the vehicle. “Hey Prince Charming, come with me to get this key”. Noctis groaned and got out of the Regalia. Gladiolus and Noctis walked into the diner, leaving Ignis and Prompto by themselves. Meanwhile in the diner Gladiolus located the owner of the diner and pulled Noctis along with him. Noctis had a special gift as a vampire he could trance humans into doing whatever he pleased. Considering they were flat broke, this talent was going to get them the caravan free for the night. “Excuse me sir, is the caravan for rent this evening?” Gladio set his hands on the counter. “I don’t know if this’ll work, my tank is exactly full” Noctis muttered, “You mean to tell me you didn’t feed off any of the maids while you were leaving?” Gladio whispered back. “No I dont do that anymore” Noctis sighed. The owner walked in from the backroom, “Alright boys, the caravan will be 35 gil for the night”. Noctis leaned in slowly and planted his palms on the counter. “Are you sure we can’t have it for free, just this once?” Noctis locked eyes with the owner. “N-No I’m afraid we have to…charge a fee” The owner was slowly slipping into a trance. “Please, may I have it for free?” Noctis smiled showing his teeth, he was finding joy in this. “I-I don’t know”, The owner stuttered. Noctis held out his hand prompting for the keys. The owner lifted the keys “You know what you boys can have it for free, On the House!” He set the keys in Nocts hand. “Thank you” and with that he turned around and began walking to the door. Gladio followed behind laughing, “Showoff” he snorted and off they went. When they got back to the caravan Ignis and Prompto were already sitting at the table and chairs as if Ignis already knew Noctis would just compel the owner. “We got em!” Noctis jingled the key. “I had no doubt” Ignis’ tone sounded unamused. “I’m sure you must be hungry Noct” Ignis was teasing. Noct’s throat was starting to feel horse. He’s held his thirst in for quite sometime now. “I’m fine” Noctis winced, even talking was a strain to him. “I need to go lay down”. He quickly went into the caravan and pulled himself under some blankets. His mouth began to ache, he knew this feeling all too well. “Noctis are you okay” Prompto stuck his head in the van. Noctis could hear his somber heartbeat. He could feel his fangs starting to spurt from his gums, he resisted and gritted his teeth. “Prompto go…pleased” Noctis winced almost trying not to cry. Prompto came closer. “Prompto” Noctis groaned. Prompto set his hand on the arm of the couch Noctis was laying in. “I’m sorry…” Noctis lunged from out of the blanket pushed Prompto to the ground. All Prompto could do nothing but gasp. Above him was his best friend who had the face of a monster. Sharp teeth bared like a daemon that they’d once encountered. Noctis lowered his head to bute Promptos neck. Ignis walked into the caravan not one bit surprised by what he saw. “Noct! compose yourself!” He snapped his fingers. Noctis winced grabbing his head and rolled over next to Prompto. “Stop! I’m sorry, I’m starving!” He shouted looking like a spoiled child. Ignis was bursting brain vessels in Noctis’ head, due to his accelerated healing they would just repair themselves and burst again. Ignis released him and Noctis pulled himself up and laid against the lower cabinets. His eyes were dark, and his canines still poked out the corners of his mouth. “Noctis?” Prompto managed to leap across the room after Noctis unpinned him. Prompto crawled back toward his friend and extended his arm out. “Here, I’m not exactly sure what you are, but considering you were drooling over my neck” he chuckled. “Thank you” Noctis grabbed his wrist and bit down slowly. He let out a relieved sigh and pulled Prompto closer. “Ok Noct…” Prompto started going cross eyed. “Noctis…stop…I…can’t”. Noctis came to and let go of Prompto. His fangs slowly receeded and his eyes returned to their bluish hue, He looked human again. He slouched, “I’ll tell you everything…tomorrow”

anonymous asked:

c, o, and w for mephisto please?

C - Compliments| “You look so good riding my cock~” “Hmm~ Can you take more? Will you take more for daddy?” “That’s my precious little one. Always so good to daddy.”

O - Orgasm| Hands down, you will cum first. He will tease you mercilessly and draw it out as much as possible but somehow he always manages to turn you into a quivering mess while he didn’t even pull a sweat. 

W - Wedding Night| No matter how tired you would be, you will sleep with him after you’ve been legally wed. If he could he would draw you away from the crowd as soon as possible for a quickie.

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Jopper first kiss and/or drunk sexual tension (either is good, and btw i love your writing and fuck your anons)

Drunk sexual tension is my jam nowadays SO

It startled him. It startled him so he reached for his gun, but his better judgement made him put that away and answer the door mildly annoyed.

She was there, looking up at him, shrugging with a bottle in one hand and there was nothing he could do but sigh and let her in. 

She looked around the mess of a place he lived in but made no comment (he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t because he’s seen the mess of a place she lived in) and settled on the comfiest spot on the couch. He sat on the coffee table but soon changed his spot to right next to her, a good, respectful distance but one that still let his eyes roam over her, her figure, her skin, her smile and her smell…

He was losing his mind, he was sure of it.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” she states after a moment of silence that stretches long enough to become uncomfortable. And she knows how to make it worse.

“I never said you did,” he answers, foot on the coffee table but his whole body turned to her, and she chuckles and looks down, having the decency of looking embarrassed, but soon enough picking up the courage to look him in the eye.

And then his legs started shaking.

“Good,” that’s all she said.

“Good,” he repeated, lost for words.

She took the bottle from his hand to her lips. Her eyes never left his. And when she handed it back to him, he never knew how strong he could be until she got up and said “Jonathan will be getting home soon,” walked to the door and he just followed her and whispered, “anytime”.

shineestyle  asked:

I have a Wacom Intuos tablet, I have been using it with Photoshop cs6 and I cant seem to draw smooth lines. I have adjusted the pressure/stroke but the strokes come out looking choppy/rugged as if my hand was shaky. (I know I'm not) What tablet do you have?When you first started using a tablet did your art look strange. How long have you been using a tablet?Do you have any tips for me?(you are one of my favorite blogs and reason I bought a tablet. (I have digital art experience but on a cintiq)

Getting use to your tablet is probably the most frustrating things to experience because a lot of popular digital artists use them and if not own the most expensive versions (or nice alternatives for it). Sadly, you were spoiled by the Cintiq haha. Which isn’t necessarily bad but having your first experiences through a touch screen drawing tablet feels ten times more comfortable and familiar to drawing right on paper than drawing with a non-touch screen tablet. 

I’ve been using a drawing tablet for about….8 years now? My first tablet I got was in middle school right after I moved to New York. It was also a Wacom tablet but the small pen and touch version (which soon became the Bamboo Manga Tablet I believe? It’s the smallest one out of all the products.)

This is the same product (just a different name now) and the tablet I’ve been using for about 3 years now (I’m sorry about my desk. It’s mostly books of animation production design, Art Deco and foreign language books). Unfortunately, earlier this year one of my housemates stepped on my tablet and slid across the floor a bit on it. So, lately the controls have been wonky and as you can see the cord was frayed as well and is being held up together with painters tape. I’m looking into buying a touch-screen tablet soon for both school purposes and personal projects.


But as for tips to help your pressure and pen control issue:

1. Always make sure your tablet software is updated.

Believe or not updating your tablet software can affect the pen pressure and sensitivity. One time I got so frustrated that my pen pressure was chunky and laggy and I spent an hour in a rage fit. Turns out that my tablet software had an update and all I needed to do was press that update button. After that, everything was fine.

2. Practice makes better.

Now I know the phrase goes “practice makes perfect” but in reality no one is ever perfect. You have to practice a lot in order to execute in the way you see the idea in your head. And since you got your first experiences through a Cintiq (which is basically a dream come true for most digital artists I must say) you’re gonna have to take more time into adjusting and drawing in order to get the feel of how the pen strokes of a non-touch screen tablet works. And to be honest, your first drawings are going to look crappy. I managed to find some old relics when I started using a tablet back in middle school. I had the same problem with shaky, rigid pen pressure too (along with other issues involving anatomy and color theory).

I would show more but just looking at them makes me cringe so much haha. But the point I’m trying to make is that you’re not gonna start out super good because you have to learn the new medium (in your case Photoshop and your new tablet) and practice more, which ends up building muscle memory. A lot of the digital drawing (and even traditional) I do nowadays may seem effortless but it’s because I’ve practiced for so long that my body does it from memory 90% of the time. I’m going show these two pictures next to each other because they sort have the same feel and color palette.There’s no way this Chen lightning piece could have happened,

If I hadn’t made some pretty shitty versions beforehand and kept practicing and toying with the tablet and drawing program.

Don’t always feel like you have to execute a DaVinci piece every time you draw. DaVinci didn’t become DaVinci in a day.

3. Experimentation is key!

In the words of Picasso: “A good artist borrows, but a great artist steals.” This is quote is so true and helpful when it comes to worrying about styles and such. Personally, sticking to one style makes me feel trapped so I often experiment with different things both digitally and traditionally.

Cute Xiumin animation and the style was inspried by an anime I watch called New Game.

Color theory inspired by one of the Korean artists I follow on Twitter (I can’t remember which one at the moment).

Iconic disgust meme face from the first Excalibur episode of Soul Eater.

Probably my most common style, but most of it is inspired by shoujo mangas or slice of life mangas with female leading characters (like Lucky Star, K-On, etc.)

And lastly this color style was inspired by a recent KDrama I was watching called W (which is about the real world and comic world coming together and creating chaos).

In conclusion, take the time to experiment with different styles and brushes. It’ll not only help you get comfortable with your tablet but you can become a pretty versatile artist if you can change your style on the fly (and even revert it back if needed).

4. Test out brushstrokes as one feel swoop rather than a slow contour line.

Trust me, if I had practiced doing one swoop brushstrokes sooner I properly could have saved three years of my life. A lot of people who start digital art want to have really great line work but for the most part you feel kind of uncomfortable, so you end up making these slow but long strokes that end up looking really shaky and rigid. Most of my line work is done with big, broad brushstrokes and then is edited down later. Practicing broad brushstrokes helps you get a feel of how the tablet registers the pen stroke and displays it (along with lagging-time) in your program.

5. Adjust your Stabilizer

Now, I don’t think Photoshop has this feature but programs like CLIP, Sai and MediBang do and basically a Stabilizer feature stabilizes your brushstrokes to make them smoother. The settings are usually 1-15 (at least in CLIP if I remember correctly) and 1 is the lowest setting so your lines aren’t smooth. 15 is the highest can probably make all your strokes straight (I haven’t tried that). Adjusting and testing out different Stabilizer modes to see which one feels more comfortable can also help out with your pen pressure/strokes.

6. Customize the default brushes to your liking.

Now, I actually don’t do this because I’m a fan of simplicity and never knew you could customize default brushes until towards the end of high school. So, for the most part all the brushes I use are default brushes on default settings. Again, I just practiced a lot with them and now can make them do as I command haha. Customizing your brushes allows you to understand your drawing preference and drawing program more. In fact, some of the greatest artists these days have their own Photoshop brushes they customized from default brushes (and now are selling them to people who are too lazy to customize their own). And again, it’s another way to get use to your tablet without the frustration of wanting to be like one of your favorite online artists but not being able to execute as well. 

7. If all else fails, restore tablet settings to default mode.

Yes I’ve actually had to do this quite a few times in the case it wasn’t the program or my computer but the tablet itself was just acting wonky for a day. You can usually restore and customize tablet setting for Wacom products right on your computer through the Wacom Desktop Center (which is also where your tablet updates are). It might sound crazy to restore your tablet, but then again I mostly use default settings to begin with so I don’t worry too much about losing specific settings. Also, the restore doesn’t affect your drawing program whatsoever. You’re just basically rebooting your tablet.

This was a super long post but I wanted to make sure that I was able to help you with your problem. I hope that my answer helped you and don’t forget to practice and experiment! Everyone starts out bad, but that’ll only mean you’ll get good later!

A,

I’m sorry. I lead you on and I lead myself on. I thought for once something would work out. Now I have to tell you the mess I put us in. I like you. I thought I liked you a lot. I guess I was wrong.

The moment that I heard that R had asked her, my heart dropped and that was when I knew we could never work. I’m to hopeful and scared and in love with a dorky saxophone player that only looks my direction to see that girl who sits next to me. Everyone does. L is enchanting and no one can blame her.

I guess I’m writing this just to tell you that it can’t be you. Ever. We can’t. Ever. You were my first date, my first time holding someone’s hand. My first real crush. But, I just can’t. I’m sorry and you deserve someone better than me.

K

p.s. my dad is scarier than you think

Prove It by Got7 English Lyrics

Jackson:

Look at me for a sec, don’t be too awkward

Don’t worry, your heart wants me so be honest

You knew since you saw me first

I hope that you become sure of yourself, that’s all

Yugyeom:

That the background picture in your phone is me

That you will hold my empty hand

Mark:

It’s just that you are the only one, out of many things

It’s just your heart you know you know I’m all about you

Youngjae:

I hug you tightly so we can be closer

So we can’t be apart

Jaebum:

I hope we can be closer to each other

I hope that you can understand my heart

All:

Little more little more

Jinyoung:

I want you baby

All:

Little more little more

Jinyoung:

One more step

All:

Little more little more

Jinyoung:

I want you baby

All:

Little more little more

Jinyoung:

One more step

Bambam:

I don’t have to worry that you see us more casually

Jinyoung:

Forget it

Bambam:

I think I’m way more serious

I can see you once and just walk past but

No I want to keep you by my side and see you

Jinyoung:

I want you to be the one to pick out my clothes

That when I walk this path, you’ll be next to me

Mark:

It’s just that you are the only one, out of many things

It’s just your heart, you know I’m all about you

Youngjae:

I can hug you so tightly so we can be closer

So we can’t be apart

Jaebum:

So we can be closer to each other

I hope that you can understand my heart

Mark:

I keep wanting to go, just you and me

Jinyoung:

Just you and me

Yeah yeah yeah

Mark:

I want to do everything with you and me

Jinyoung:

My head is full of you, I want to hug you now

Yugyeom:

So we can be closer to each other

I can hug you so tightly so we can’t be apart

Jinyoung:

I hope we can be closer to each other

I hope that you can understand my heart

All:

Little more little more

Youngjae:

I want you baby

All:

Little more little more

Youngjae:

One more step

All:

Little more little more

Jaebum:

I want you baby

All:

Little more little more

Jaebum:

One more step

at five years old, james potter managed to get himself stuck in a tree for nearly two hours after sneaking into the shed and stealing his dad’s old quidditch broom

at five years old, sirius black waltzed with his cousin andromeda around his family’s ballroom in his four piece suit,afterwards spending the rest of the night trying to sneak sips of chardonnay while adults werent looking 

at five years old, peter pettigrew tried to steal one of his mum’s famous tarts, but was instead rewarded with a swift slap to the hand as his chubby fingers reached towards the sweets

at five years old, remus lupin experienced his first transformation locked alone in his room. he listened to the quiet sobs of his mother from outside the door whilst playing with his toy car before the sudden sharp pain left him rigid with fear 

see that’s the thing about heartbreak. it doesn’t hit you instantly. it takes its time. first you feel a little hurt, a little broken, a little lost. but you think you’ll be okay.

then you hear a song that reminds you of him. maybe it’s a song that you heard one day and the first person that came to mind was him. maybe it was a song you sang along to in the car with his hand on the wheel and your head on his lap. or maybe it was a song about losing him. but it’s a song that makes you cry until the end; while still trying to sing along to it, still trying to remember his voice.

after that, you’ll see a picture of you two. it may be one that someone else took and you guys are both smiling. he’s looking at you like maybe he loves you, and you’re laughing because of something he said. or maybe it’s a picture you took of him without him knowing it; one where he’s caught completely off guard but he’s still absolutely beautiful. or it may be a picture that he took of the both of you, one where right before the picture, you told him to give you a few seconds to make yourself look nice and he rolled his eyes. but it’s a picture that makes you stare at it until the tears in your eyes blind your vision.

you’ll be in the car and you’ll pass by one of the spots you guys went to. it might be something small, like where you went to get coffee that day after work or where he bought hot dogs and ate them in the car. it might be the place you guys walked around for hours, talking about anything and everything. it might even be a street you had to pass to get to your destination; because with him, it was never about the destination and always about the journey. but you’ll be driving by or riding in the car with someone else and a single tear is all you’ll let fall.

you might go through your closet, hoping to find a shirt or a sweater that he left; trying to grasp something physical. you’ll remember how you told him you were going to steal his hoodie, and how he tried to hide it from you because it was his favorite.

you’ll be sitting somewhere and a small breeze will bring what will appear to be his scent towards you. you know it instantly, and you’ll find yourself turning every which way to see if he’s around.

he is everywhere. every turn you make, you’ll find yourself thinking of him.

and that’s the worst part of heartbreak; because even though the person is gone, the memories still remain.

Horror Movie Characters

Aries: The one that thinks they can out-strong the killer/vampire/zombie/whatever in a direct fight. Somewhat recklessly confident, which sometimes works, sometimes doesn’t.

Taurus: The one that goes into denial and repeats “it’s okay” to comfort people, but is actually comforting themselves because they cannot stand the chaos and lack of stability.

Gemini: The one that opens the book of the dead/plays with the Ouija/ goes down into the cellar even though warned not to out of sheer curiosity. 

Cancer: Jumps at everything, every shadow, every creak of the door. That character that is burdened by the first thirty minutes of a horror film where nothing actually happens yet but they are setting up the creepy atmosphere.

Leo: The one that cannot take the nuance and secretive nature of the situation so just shouts “SHOW YOURSELF.” 

Virgo: The one that looks for clues and solutions. Everyone else is sobbing in the corner and they are on their hands and knees reading a map using a torch.

Libra: When there are only two people left, and they know they are going to die, Libra are the ones that initiate into a meaningful conversation for their last moments.

Scorpio: The ghost that is scary at first, but actually just needs a listening ear, settling on no longer throwing your belongings arout the room but rather just keeping you company. (See The Sixth Sense)

Sagittarius: The one whose instinct is to run all through the film, so nothing gets solved but they evade physical danger for as long as possible. After all, there are a lot of people slower than them. 

Capricorn: The one that actually uses logic in a film often full of dunces. The audience roots for them.

Aquarius: The one that out-weirds the supernatural creatures, taking them by surprise and winning the battle.

Pisces: That one that intuitively “Knows.” They just know the nature of their torments because of some vague thing they once read in some random book or forum somewhere.