Wooden-Floors

thesilvermenace asked:

8 with Nudoc?

“Stop! Please don’t! Take me instead!”


“Ah, Niccals, you’d think after close to twenty years, you would have keyed onto how these sorts of things work.”

Murdoc was hastily drawing chalk marks on the wooden floor of his bedroom, trying his hardest to remember the markings, the sigils, the Latin phrases, and the configurations to make this work. He’d seem it in an old decrepit book years and years ago, but he’d spent so much time memorizing it in case anything ever went wrong. Really wrong. This was one of those moments, and he really needed his memory to get its shit together. 

The laughter was coming from the back corner of his bedroom, but it sounded like it was echoing through a looming cave, sounding from all sides, enveloping him with a frigid sort of disease that sunk all the way down into the marrow of his bones. It made his writing falter, and it made his mind completely freeze and stop whatever desperate thoughts it was trying to process. Murdoc was familiar with demonic mind tricks, but he couldn’t let them get the better of him this time. There was far too much at stake. 

“You actually think this is going to work, don’t you?” Beelzebub’s voice was coming from a miasma of pestilence that was buzzing infuriatingly in the corner of his bedroom, thousands and thousands of flies making the room full of noise and heat and disease. Figures the bastard would take pleasure in every single moment of weakness in Murdoc’s life until the time he had with his soul finally expired. Demons knew how to do nothing else. “You’re not that powerful. No human is.”

But Murdoc was already fumbling around and lighting candles, flipping through the pages of the old tome he’d laid out in front of him. The words on the pages were jumbling around in front of his face – why couldn’t he concentrate, this was important, he was running out of time – but he was slamming his fist into his temple, as if by knocking around the noise in his head, he’d be able to ground himself and actually do this ritual properly. 

The only thing he was able to scrape out of Noodle’s room was an old guitar pick that he’d given her when he went out and bought her her very first Telecaster, back when she was only 9 years old. She never used it, but always kept it in her pockets or slipped into the laces of her trainers. For good luck, she said. Maybe she’d forgotten it, maybe it’d fallen in her rush to leave, maybe she never had time to come back and get it. But it was the only thing of hers he had, and Murdoc was hoping it was enough to pull her back out of that cesspit and into his arms again. It had to work. It had to. 

“Please,” he was muttering to himself, trying to clear his mind enough to read the words he was meant to be reciting. “Please don’t….take me instead. Poor doll doesn’t deserve this…”

But Beelzebub’s laugh was making the walls shake and was making the buzzing of the flies louder. “She’s not coming back, my friend. No part of whatever’s left of your soul is enticing enough to pull that off.”

There was no room for doubt. No room for mistakes. Murdoc pulled the book closer to him, stared desperately at the little guitar pick sitting in the middle of his configuration, and started the spell. 

Darkside Bar

The bar stood for more than just looks and drinks. It was a safe haven for all types of supernatural beings. That included aliens, dimensional lost beings, werewolves, ghost, hell- even goblins. It was also known for its multiverse paradox, where it appeared anywhere at anytime to certain individuals. Not just anyone was allowed into Darkside Bar. The place did have a mind of it’s own with all due respect to the place.

The outside had a western like feel. Made completely of wood, two stroies tall, and with a giant neon sign that read Darkside Bar. A smaller neon sign read, ‘smoking allowed again’.

The inside had a similar layout. Wooden floors; six wooden pillars with carved intricate art of monsters, demons, and angels; three ceiling fans that hovered above and not working; there was a jukebox in the corner connected to speakers that played old jazz and blues music to keep the patrons calm; and there was a large oak bar counter with three people behind it.

On in particular had long black hair, pale alabaster skin, ocean blue eyes, and stood about five feet and ten inches. She had angular features, but her body tone was muscular and fit like an athlete. There was scars that littered her forearms where the button down sleeves were rolled up. Her hair tied behind her in a braid as she wore sunglasses inside. Yeah, she did that from time to time, the whole sunglasses are cool kind of thing.

She noticed the newbie who wondered into the bar.
“Oi! Whatcha standing around for? You can come over here for a drink. We even have food if you’re interested. Or, are you lookin’ for a side job?”

Darkside Bar was also known as the Bounty Bar. Bulletin board on the wall had papers tacted to the board with bounties of all sorts from all reaches of the galaxy, earth, or other dimensions.

“Or maybe you’re just here to chat. In which case, I’m more chatty when I have customers buy drinks.”

@abandoned-xerxian

4

This literally just happened to me and the sound of a fragile tablet pen hitting a wooden floor clear across the room at max speed is the most soul-shattering, you-done-fucked-up feeling you will ever experience in your life…

Well, right next to jabbing a wood carving tool into your pointer finger on accident, but y’knoooow

(That comic that I laughed about is going to be about Papyrus and Sans and it’s going to be amazing.)

Wellsprings -- Chapter 1


Note: also posted on AO3 if you would rather read it there.

Chapter Navigation: Prologue | Chapter 1 | [coming soon]


Marinette suppressed the urge to anxiously smooth down the silky fabric of her dress yet again.  The room around her was full of familiar people in fancy attire, with the girls showcasing bright, multicolored dresses and the boys begrudgingly draped in black coats and ties.  Most people were gathered at the tables to one side of the wooden dance floor in the center of the room.  

Marinette was sitting with Alya and Nino, and periodically the three of them would glance at the empty chair at the table.  Adrien was late often enough for them to save a seat for him out of habit. Marinette pouted internally.

“So you’re sure he’s coming?” Alya asked for the second time.

“Yes,” Nino sighed.  “You get used to it.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

#18 #20 with v

#18: “I thought you loved me.”
#20: “I swear it was an accident.”

Silence surrounded the room as you stared at the wooden paneling of the floor, your body completely numb. Tears seemed to continuously fall down your cheeks as you sniffle quietly, your hands shaking as you try to calm yourself down. From across the room Taehyung stares at you, his face completely crestfallen as he watches you cry. There was not one but two hearts that were breaking; yours because you were hurt in the worst way you had always feared, and his because he had hurt the person who mattered the most to him – you.

Inhaling sharply, you hastily wipe away the tears that falling from your eyes as you finally lift your head, your gaze meeting Taehyung’s. The moment your eyes met you felt another fresh batch of tears form and you suck in a breath as you shake your head.

“I thought you loved me, Tae…”

Your words were whispered but Taehyung caught them, He’s immediately clambering to your side, his eyes filling with tears of his own as he falls to his knees in front of you. His face buries in your lap and you watch as his shoulders shake with every sob, muffled apologies spilling from his lips as he clutches your legs.

“I do! Jagi please – I’m sorry,” he whimpers. “I’m sorry that this happened – I swear, it was an accident! She kissed me first, (Y/N).”

Your jaw clenches at the thought of her, your eyes squeezing shut as another tear rolls down your cheek. You want to reach down and hug him – you want to tell him that it’s okay, that you knew it wasn’t him who made the first move. You knew he had pushed her away the moment her lips touched his, but even with knowing that, it didn’t hurt any less.

“Jagiya,” he whispers, his head slowly lifting so he can look up at you. “Please… Please don’t leave me.”

Your gaze meets his, his usual brown eyes filled with glints of happiness and love were replaced with something you had never expected nor wanted to see when it came to the boy who was literal sunshine; sadness, despair, pity. Your bottom lip quivers and you let your fingers slowly caress the outline of his jaw, your touch somewhat relaxing him as his eyes close, his head tilting and leaning towards your hand.

“As hurt as I am,” you say quietly, biting down on your lip. “I still love you – and I’m not… I won’t leave.”

A sigh of relief escapes the broken boy then, his hands coming up to rest on the sides of your face as he pulls you down to him. Soft lips are pressing kisses all over your face, his hands finding yours before he’s clutching you tightly, afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. Your face buries in the crook of his neck as he murmurs ‘I love you’s’ over and over again, the two of you slowly beginning to mold back the pieces of your broken hearts.

**Tumblr ate the ask and I’m pissed off because it didn’t post, so here’s the drabble request for whoever sent it in.

#45: “Baby, pay attention to me!”

Your pen scribbles aimlessly against the loose-leaf paper as you jot down notes, your eyes drifting every now and again from the paper to your textbook as you write down the required material. Your hand was starting to cramp as it skirted across the lines, the pain a clear sign that you should stop and take a break from studying – but instead you were determined to get as much done as you could. Heaving a sigh, you rest your cheek against the palm of your hand as you write down more words, your head starting to pound from all the information intake.

The sound of the chair scraping against the wooden panels of the floor echoes around the room and you lift your gaze to find a smiling Jimin sitting across from you, eyes shining brightly as he leans forward, his elbows resting on the table.

“Hi beautiful,” he greets, and you merely nod at him before turning back to your work.

Pursing your lips, you tilt your head to look at one of the questions, eyebrows casting downwards when you can’t comprehend what it’s asking. Your eyes feel heavy, fatigue resting in your body as you blink repeatedly, trying to get your focus back on your textbook – but that’s kind of hard to do when you see a face peeking from underneath it.

“What are you doing?” Jimin asks, looking up at you. He’s sprawled across the table, his head resting on your textbook as he grins up at you. Pressing your lips together in a tight line, you give him a pointed look as you gently nudge his head, trying to get it off of your book.

“Studying,” you reply curtly, eyes drifting down to graze over the notes you written. Jimin pouts when he realizes he lost your attention again, plush lips pushed out as he reaches up to poke at your cheek.

“Baby,” he whines. “Pay attention to me!”

Squeezing your eyes shut you inhale sharply through your nose, frustration and annoyance filling your body as you cast a downwards glance at the pouting orange haired boy.

“Jiminnie, please,” you plead. “Please let me study, okay? I really need to pa–”

“You’ve been studying nonstop for the past two weeks, (Y/N),” he chides. Sliding off of the table he places his feet on the ground before he’s coming towards you. Grabbing a hold of your arm he throws it around his shoulder, his other arm wrapping around your waist.

“Wait – Jimin what are you doing –?!”

Chuckling, your boyfriend kisses your cheek, his grip on you tightening.

“I’m taking you to the bedroom, honey. You need a nap.”

And with that, he’s hauling you up and over his shoulder before effortlessly carrying you into the bedroom for a well earned nap.