some sensitive matter

“Taako’s Fuckin Pissed, The Fanfiction” 

Something like a cover page for one of the best dang TAZ fanfics I’ve read to date, written by @lsunnyc
Luster has been violently killing me for the past few weeks and I couldn’t not draw something for it. There’ll be more stuff in the future (hopefully) but I just wanted to get this one out first. 

HEAD’S UP, the fic has spoilers for the entirety of The Adventure Zone: Balance, and contains some sensitive subject matter but it is SOso damn good.

Don’t Touch Her (Wade Wilson Award)


 Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Violence
Notes: Here is the last Bucky award request. I only have two more award requests left after this one, a Steve one and a Thor one. Anyway look out for those, enjoy! Thankyou to my beta readers: @nerdgirl78 and @supernatural-pants.

HYDRA was very good at stamping out any light in the world. That was all they did. Took something beautiful and pure and broke it down until it was twisted and dark. They seemed to take joy in destruction, and that was exactly how they created their most prized possession. Darkness was all the broken soldier knew. It seemed to encompass his entire being, blackening his soul and shadowing his every move. Wherever he went, darkness would soon follow. However, there was a small beam of light in his otherwise dark world. You. You’d been brought to HYDRA a few months ago, after they discovered your powers of telepathy and mind control. Apparently, they believed you to be of some use to them, so they took you in the dead of night and threw you into a cell in what looked like an old abandoned bank vault.

The first time you met the soldier, two guards came in with his arms slung over their shoulders, dragging him along as his chestnut hair fell over his face in waves. Pushing yourself back into the corner, you stared out at the new people in the room, frowning as you heard only static from the brunette’s mind. “The director is on his way.” One of the guards barked in Russian, barely glancing in your direction as they dropped the soldier on the cot and marched out of the room. In the silence that followed, you could hear the laboured breathing of the soldier, watching as his broad chest rose and fell as he struggled to catch his breath. Shifting your weight, you noticed the piercing grey eyes of the brunette snap over in your direction, fear clear in his gaze. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” You whispered, knowing exactly what he was thinking despite your powers not working on his frazzled brain. Brow furrowing in confusion, the soldier pushed himself back against the wall, looking a lot like a startled animal. Suddenly, the steel door crashed open, causing you both to jump back. A tall, greying man strode in, flanked either side by an armed guard. “Soldier.” The man spoke, raising his chin as the soldier jumped to attention. Eyes flickering down to you, you noticed the quirk of the imposing man’s lips as you glared back. “And hello to you too sweetheart.” He cooed, squatting slightly to be closer to your eye level. Snarling, you went to move towards him, before being struck with an electrical baton, leaving you curled up on the ground, whimpering in pain. “Enough.” The greying man barked, standing back up to his full height and gesturing for the guards to back off, “We need Miss L/N’s cooperation, in some… sensitive matters.” The man spoke, the order clear in his tone.

After your first meeting with the Winter Soldier, you quickly learned that Pierce’s intentions were for you to further improve their mind wiping system, ultimately taking control of the soldier’s mind and cementing his place as HYDRA’s puppet. However, you weren’t planning on just complying to their wishes. You’d been kept in the dark cell with the soldier for what seemed like weeks, but was more likely only days, and despite the fact that he hadn’t spoken a word to you, you refused to be the person to take away his last shreds of humanity. Of course, refusing to adhere to HYDRA’s demands did not come without its consequences. Every few hours either Pierce or one of his cronies would march in and drag you out, subjecting you to beatings and various other methods of torture, trying to make you break. But you refused. Retreating into your mind and trying to close yourself off to the agonizing pain they were administering.

What seemed like hours of torture later, two guards dragged you back into the cell, dropping you unceremoniously onto the hard floor and quickly retreating. Whimpering softly in pain, you tried to stay as still as possible, as not to strain any of your new injuries. Too focused on the pain tearing through your body, you didn’t notice the dark haired soldier move from his place on the cot, and make his way towards your slumped form. “They hurt you…” The soldier murmured, his voice hoarse from disuse. Startling slightly at the sound of his voice, you groaned as another flash of pain ripped through you. “Yes, they did.” You choked out, eyes locking with the soldiers confused grey ones. “Why didn’t you… just do what they asked…” He spoke softly, dropping down to his knees by your side, finger ghosting over your injuries, as if testing for any more serious damage. “You don’t know what they want me to do.” You whispered, cringing as his fingers touch a particularly deep cut. “They want you to take control of my mind.” He said matter-of-factly, a crease forming in his brow. Nodding, you frowned at his acceptance of the fact. “Yes, they do, don’t you understand why that’s wrong?” You asked, pushing yourself up slightly so you were closer to eye level. Shaking his head, the soldier just opened and closed his mouth as if trying to form words. “I’m not gonna do it, no matter what they do.” You whispered, your eye sight going a bit blurry as the pain finally caught up to you. With a shake of his head, the soldier hooked his one flesh, and one metal, arms beneath you, moving you over to the cot and placing you down gently. With a watery smile, you traced the outline of the soldier’s jaw, watching his eyes flicker down to where your hand touched his skin. “Sleep.” He murmured, turning away from your touch and taking a seat on the floor, facing the door in a guard like fashion.

You and the soldier quickly formed an unlikely friendship, if you could call it that. Every time you were brought back from whatever torture they decided to inflict that day, he would scoop you up from wherever the guards had dumped you and place you gently on the cot. He would then check your injuries and make sure they weren’t too intensive. Over time, he started putting up more of a fuss when they would try to take you away, standing in between you and the guards, and even occasionally lashing out. Of course, this didn’t go down particularly well with the heads of HYDRA. The torture only got worse when they did manage to get you out of the cell, actively trying to make you suffer now, instead of just trying to get you to do their bidding. After a particularly nasty set of beatings, a guard you now knew as Rumlow, dragged you back into the room and dropped you just inside the door. “Here’s your bitch back, Soldier.” He spat, retreating as soon as the soldier started stalking towards him. “It’s getting worse.” The soldier growled, picking you up carefully and cradling you against his hard chest. Only able to let out a small whimper in reply, you gripped onto his black vest, the bite of the material against your fingers distracting you only slightly from the pain in the rest of your body. Laying you on the cot, the soldier took a seat by your head, letting your fingers curl in his brown hair. “When are you gonna give in Doll.” The soldier murmured, knees pulled up to his chest. “Never.” You said forcefully, linking your fingers with his. Sighing he just shook his head disapprovingly. “You’re the only one I can remember who’s never tried to get in my head, even though you had the biggest chance to.” He whispered, thumb running over your knuckles.

The next time Rumlow swaggered into the room everything felt different, you were still weak from your previous beating and you could barely move. Sensing your dread, the soldier practically jumped up from his position on the floor, snarling at Rumlow like a wild animal. “Stand down.” Rumlow scoffed, arms folded across his chest. “No.” The soldier retorted, for the first time speaking up against one of the guards. “No?” Rumlow parroted, confusion clear on his face. “Do. Not. Touch. Her.” The soldier growled, metal arm shielding you from Rumlow. Retrieving his radio from his side, Rumlow quickly ordered for back up, just as the soldier launched himself in his direction. The two grappled for a minute, before what seemed like hundreds of other guards stormed in, some pinning the soldier down by his arms and legs, while a few others forced you to your feet and hauled you out. As you were being dragged from the room, to the sounds of guard’s yelps and the soldier’s grunts, you heard Rumlow sneer, “Wipe him.”

Two Can Play The Game

Fandom: Sherlock

Summary: A meeting with a person who makes money from selling information can be more dangerous than one can suppose. Even Mycroft.

Word count: 1,347


Originally posted by reichebach

If Mycroft was one thing, he was an observer.

He would never consider himself a man of action, which was an obvious opposite to his younger brother and his rather dangerous and ill-considered lifestyle he has chosen to lead. Mycroft prefered to examine and discern whoever he had to work with first and that required time and patience. He had both, and also the money needed to make spying on his employees much less demanding. Mycroft was immensely proud of his connections and how useful they were at times.

But the sad truth was, in some very sensitive matters, outsourcing was still the best option. Controlling the needed information from all the people working for his web of spies and cameras has proven its importance in some past cases. Every time Mycroft was forced to choose this form of gaining information, he felt like going back in time to the good, old days now only seen in movies. The era of private detectives and freelancers was coming to an end and nothing could stop the progress. Thankfully, not everyone seemed to give up yet.

Keep reading

Aftermath Part 1

(Inspired by a prompt given by @ofcoffeeandunhealthyobsessions: imagine some dorky Garrus cooking sheps favorite meal but fucking it all up??? I dunno I just finished the third game and I need some fluff. the second part will feature the cooking but I was rly inspired! so its going to be longer than most prompts I do!)

“Eyyo Lola—er, Councilor! ”  

Shepard lifted her gaze from the data pad, lifting her gaze to James as he walked through the doors to her office. “Please, James. You’re my friend, no need to switch to the formalities just because I have a new job.”  

James came to stand at her desk, fidgeting awkwardly. “Yeah, okay counci- Lola.”  

“what did you need Vega?” Shepard stood from her desk, bracing her hand on the desk as a sharp pain shot through her leg, phantom pains and a dull ache from the synthetic limb. James immediately offered his hand, which she took. He helped her steady herself, giving him a grateful smile.  

“Thanks James.” She sighed, stretching out the cramping prosthetic leg with a pained hiss.

Her friend shook his head, looking irritated. “It ain’t right, Lola. The council should let you rest before giving you all this work.” Shepard shrugged and pat his shoulder reassuringly.  

“Yeah, well. A hero’s work is never done, as they say.” Letting herself stand on her own, she walked over to the large window overlooking the rebuilding Citadel.  

After the war, the citadel was… almost beyond repair. Once the Mass Relays were repaired, the reconstruction on the citadel had begun. It was… eerie being on the space station once more. Knowing all that happened here… Javik and Liara worked with the Prothean VI to get the basics of the station on blueprints, and while most of the residential buildings and such were destroyed, within the first few months over half the citadel was back to normal.  

Shepard was in charge of overseeing the reconstruction efforts on earth, coordinating heavily with the quarians and the geth to get the proper technology, and even enlisting the help of the Krogan for the heavy lifting. Athena Shepard had not had a day off in weeks. The closest thing to a vacation she had after the war was when she was in a coma for three weeks, not as Athena Shepard but as Jane Doe. If Jack hadn’t given her that damn tattoo… she didn’t like thinking about it.  

“Hey, Lola, you there?”  

Athena was shaken from her thoughts, her gaze refocusing on her friend. “Yeah, yeah, I’m… I’m good.” She sighed heavily, running a hand over her face. “just tired.”  

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?” He questioned, leaning against her desk.

Shepard shook her head, staring at the bustle of activity out the window; construction on the lower wards, new apartment complexes… “I dunno… A few days?”  

James shook his head. “I guess it’s a good thing I checked up on ya. Buggy wanted me to give you him and the docs latest report on the installation of the Prothean VI up in the council towers. Your office up there is almost done by the way.”  

James had been a big help in overseeing repairs, he acted as her arm of sorts, having been promoted to commander after the war. Shepard snickered at his nickname for Javik, the grumpy Prothean always bristled at the endearment. “You know Javik hates when you call him that.”  

James shrugged. “He hasn’t said anything to my face. Also, your little girl is terrorizing him.”  

Athena laughed softly, picturing her daughter chasing Javik around Liara’s study was humorous and lifted some stress form her shoulders. “Takes after her father. Isn’t she supposed to be with Joker?”  

James shrugged. “Yeah, he was up there too, but EDI was doing most of the work. Oh, you got a message from the Turian Primarch by the way.”  

Shepards head snapped back to him, her eyes widening and her breath catching in her throat. “What did he say?”  
James laughed at her expression. “well don’t you look like a blushing schoolgirl, Lola.” Shepard punched his arm with a scowl. “What did he say james?”  

James rubbed his arm, shaking his head with a laugh. “I’m not a secretary. he’s downstairs. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”  

That was all the motivation she needed to leave her office. Thanking her friend, she quickly walked out of her office, anxiously twisting the black gold ring on her left hand.  

She hadn’t seen him in almost a month… the thought of seeing him again made her heart swell. She hardly ever left her office, only when things were dire did she leave and make an appearance. She was just lucky that reporters weren’t swarming outside, especially after the wedding.  

She couldn’t move as fast as she may have wanted, her synthetic leg giving her issues, but she ignored the pain and pushed on. Moving through the newly rebuilt presidium and through the embassies when she saw him.  

Her breath catching in her throat, overwhelming relief flooding her veins. Her voice barely a whisper. “Garrus…”  

His head turned, his gaze meeting hers. It took everything in her to not break her image and just run to him, but she was carefully aware of the reporters surrounding them, each eager to capture the most popular interspecies relationship in a tender moment.  

Carefully making her way towards him and keeping her posture professional, she greeted him warmly with one of her rare smiles. “Primarch Vakarian.”  

Garrus met her halfway, his entourage lagging behind, unsure whether to follow. “Councilor. It is good to see you again.” He clasped her hand in his, his grip familiar and grounding, the rumble of his subharmonics speaking his feelings when his words couldn’t. Letting their hands fall, resuming their professional demeanor and ignoring the flash of cameras on the other side of the embassy.  

“Likewise. How are the reconstruction efforts on Palaven?”  

“It’s going well. The alliance with the krogan is holding.” Garrus’ mandibles flared slightly, his gaze flickering to the reporters whispering behind them. “There are some sensitive matters we should discuss.”  

Shepard nodded, keeping her demeanor professional. “Of course, if you would follow me.”  

She led the way to her office, Garrus sticking to her side as his guards followed behind him. Luckily the reporters didn’t follow. Once reaching her office, she entered the key code and Garrus ordered his guards to stay outside. Once the doors shut behind them, Shepard let her resolve drop and she let out a heavy sigh.  "have I mentioned how much I hate politics? Because I hate politics.“  

Garrus’ laugh made her heart swell, she couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips. "Isn’t that why you gave Anderson the job before? Because that made him perfect for it?”  

Athena shook her head with a laugh. “I guess I’m eating my words now.” She feels his arms wrap around her waist, a content purr rumbling in his chest. “I’ve missed you, Athena..”  

Shepard hummed softly, turning in his arms to face him and press a soft kiss to his mouth plates. “I’ve missed you too Garrus..” Taking his face in her hands, she looked him over, worry beginning to shake her. “Have you been sleeping?”  

Garrus’ mandibles flexed, his silence was her answer. Shepard sighed softly, her fingers gently brushing against his scarred mandible. “neither have I…” she pressed another kiss to his mouth plates before she pulled away, their foreheads resting against one another.  

“Where’s Solana?” Garrus murmured, rubbing his thumbs over the back of her hands. Shepard laughed softly, enjoying their tender moment. “Terrorizing Javik. She’s hanging out with Joker and EDI up in the Council towers.” Garrus snorted out a laugh, shaking his head. “sounds accurate.”  
Shepard and Garrus had adopted the little girl after she had been found amongst the rubble on earth, just a small infant crying in her dead mother’s arms. Shepard had assisted with the excavation efforts and had found the poor kid. It was impossible for any of the doctors to get the child to stop crying unless Shepard was holding her. After she was nursed back to health, Shepard and Garrus signed the adoption papers and named her after Garrus’ sister.  

Shepard reluctantly pulled away from their embrace when a ping went off from her datapad.  


Get this child of yours before I eat her.  


Shepard sighed softly. “Javik is threatening to eat our daughter.”  

Garrus snorted. “Well, knowing him he’s not bluffing. We should probably intervene.”  

Shepard nodded. “That would be best.”  

anonymous asked:

Wait, I'm a little new here.... What did you mean by "I came too close to losing him last time", Black? What is this "last time" your refering to?

“…. I….. Well, what happened was…… er…….”

“……………… It….. It is not open for discussion. And I will skin anybody alive who dares to pry Flug about it. Do not ask again.” *leaves*


(To answer your question, he’s referring to some…. uh…. sensitive subject matter about halfway through this fic.)

I always get into franchises through characters first and foremost. doesn’t matter the setting, doesn’t matter the story, doesn’t matter the mechanics (if it’s a video game), I will ALWAYS care about the characters above all else. this is what got me watching RWBY. this is what interested me about Destiny and Overwatch. this is why I obsessed over Battle Force 5 for two years straight. I see a group of characters that I love and latch onto them. doesn’t matter where they they go or what they do (as long as it isn’t immoral or anything like that), I will love them and stan them and hold them close to my heart. 

does it hurt when the story doesn’t treat them well or ends up just downright bad? you better believe it. this is why I look on things like Battle Force 5, The Legend of Korra, and the 2012 TMNT show with such disdain cause they took a group of characters that I loved and treated them like TRASH. honestly? I prefer things like Destiny and Overwatch that keep characters backstories and stuff in the dark cause then I don’t have a chance to get hurt by what comes out of the story regarding those characters that I care about so much. I love learning more about the characters that I love, but I don’t always love what I hear. especially in regards to the characters that I relate to on a personal level (don’t even get me STARTED on Mako from TLoK, it honestly hurts to talk about…).

why am I making this post you ask? idk. that Destiny post I just reblogged started a fire inside of me I guess. I’m getting fed up with seeing characters handled poorly by their creators, and subsequently, stirring up discourse in the fandoms they belong to. I know there will always be discourse no matter what, but as someone who gets extremely attached to fictional characters, it hurts seeing them mistreated in any way, whether through the fandom or the creators themselves.

tl;dr make the characters of your story good… but also treat them with care and respect. and that last part goes for the people involved with fandoms as well.