everywhere he went

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Fallout 4 Permadeath and the Preston Garvey Terminator

This Kotaku article brilliantly chronicles the efforts of Kyle Hinckley, who tried to complete Fallout 4 without dying and accidentally ran into a glitch that made the game actually interesting

Basically, he accidentally pissed off Preston Garvey, who the game has deemed unkillable. For some reason, Garvey’s rage at the player never reset back to its normal level, which caused Garvey to stalk Hinckley EVERYWHERE HE WENT across the entire wasteland. Hinckley had to spend his entire permadeath run knowing that at any minute, Garvey – an unstoppable killing machine – could show up and end his run.

bellarke things i just sometimes like to think about are

bellamy’s completely lack of rationality when it comes to endangered clarke like

in 4x01, when bellamy comes charging through the crowd to confront echo about threatening clarke

Originally posted by blyedeeks

like if kane wasn’t there to hold him back, what would bellamy have done? literally would he have just gone up to echo and punched her in the face? or try to shove her? or try to grab the sword or something?? even though echo has like 30 ice nation soldiers behind her??

Originally posted by aaronwarner

what on earth was his plan for this 😂😂  he is impulsive by nature but as soon as clarke is in distress it’s like 1000x worse and he basically loses all sense??

Originally posted by stiles-and-lydia-tho

i mean he’s lucky he got her back in one piece in this situation but like?? only because kane started talking echo down. and he’s still so triggered he’d go after echo anyways but then the ambassador butted in

and i mean here too in 3x02:

Originally posted by fyeahbellarke

wtf was his course of action going to be when he would’ve had a billion ice nation scouts chasing after him had pike not stopped him? like he gets so stressed to the point he’s almost dysfunctional

Originally posted by hisstericallypawesomesleepurr

he is literally losing his damn mind and so he comes up with another incredibly stupid idea and this time no one stops him

Originally posted by fyeahbellarke

Originally posted by thedailyhundred

the boy literally dressed up as a member of a hostile army and then infiltrated through its ranks while it was on a war march to get to clarke i mean? stop and think for a second bell?? what’s your contingency plan if you get caught??

Originally posted by bellarkeskebab

and so then he finds her but is so shook just by being in her presence again he doesn’t even check the room for her kidnapper?? excuse me?? bellamy ‘always be prepared’ blake?? bellamy ‘eyes sharp, they could be anywhere’ blake?? he doesn’t do the most basic action in a rescue mission bc clarke is right there in front of him?? i s2g i’m already so done with him

Originally posted by hisstericallypawesomesleepurr

and so then obviously roan gets the jump on him and makes sure he injures him in a way that bellamy would not and SHOULD NOT be able to follow them but he’s so obsessed with clarke’s safety that even after sustaining a serious injury he goes after her anyways??

Originally posted by merdok1993

again, wth was his plan supposed to be if kane and monty hadn’t found him?? literally bleed out to death in the middle of the woods?? on one leg?? with no weapon?? where’s your sword or knife or gun dude?? 

Originally posted by hundredgifs

and then not one but TWO people need to talk him down from this manic/obsessive compulsion to get to clarke,  but not before he literally explodes and yells “I/WE CAN’T LOSE CLARKE!!!” like

bellamy blake, you are whipped af

  • Freed: What did you just pour on my head?
  • Bickslow: Glitter!
  • Freed: Why?
  • Bickslow: Why not?
Smokes - Jughead Jones

Pairing : Jughead Jones x Reader

Word Count : 1,002

Warnings : none

This isn’t my best so sorry if it felt rushed…

Requests are open


It had been a while since you had your suspicions about Jughead smoking. Lately, his beanie and hair would leave a terrible smell of cigarette everywhere he went. Even his old jacket, which usually had the scent of his cologne , now reeked of tobacco.

You felt like your boyfriend was drifting away. Usually, Jughead said everything to you and never kept a secret to himself. It ached your heart a little that maybe your boyfriend didn’t fully trust you to tell you about his new “hobby”. Even if you were repulsed by the idea of smoking you would’ve preferred your boyfriend telling you than keeping it a secret.

It was a ravishing morning when you decided to go on an early bike ride. The wind was blowing through your long hair and the fresh breeze was soothing on your face. The birds were chipping which made a smile appear across your lips.

Ever since your younger years, you had always loved spending time outside. Whether you were jumping in a lake or pitching a ball with your father, the outdoors was like a second home to you.

As you were making a right on the main street, an idea popped inside your mind. Since you hadn’t seen your boyfriend during the weekend, you thought paying him a visit would be a kind act to do. You knew that he loved getting up at early hours of the morning. He once told you that those precious hours were his favourite of the day. He loved the peaceful atmosphere and isolation of the morning. Your vaguely remember him telling you that his favourite color palette was the painting on the sky during dawn.

You fastened your pace and quickly made your way to Jug’s house. Arriving in front of his house, you stopped beside your bicycle and took a second to catch your breath. When you finally felt your lungs full again, you turned your attention to the boy sitting on his porch. He obviously hadn’t seen you since he was still looking down at his phone.

What you hadn’t seen, was the cigarette that was lying between his lips. Your mouth was opened, dumb-founded as your boyfriend took a long drag of the round stick before blowing out heavy white smoke. His eyes looked up and saw you, only standing a meter or two away from him.

“Hey (y/n).” He said nonchalantly,

“Hey (y/n),” You air quoted with your fingers, “That’s all you got to say to me?”

Jughead only watched you and shrugged. You sighed angrily and laid your yellow bike on his green lawn.

“I can’t believe my eyes. Out of all the people, you’re the one smoking?” You crossed your arms across your chest. “It’s really disgusting. I hope you realize that.” Your boyfriend stayed silent, resulting in you rolling your eyes. “You’re throwing your life away! Did you know that smoking is the main cause of lung cancer, heart disease and stroke? You can develop asthma from tobacco. My cousin has a respiratory disorder and let me tell you that she would give anything away to get rid of it. Is that what you want? To have asthma?” You sat next to your boyfriend, exhausted from your sudden outburst.

“You’re over dramatizing the whole situation (y/n).” You rested your head in your palm, starring worriedly at him,

“Well, ok then- just tell me how it started. Please? Maybe I could help you.” Jughead rubbed his eyes tiredly with his palms before putting down the cigarette in the ashtray that was already full.

“Yeah, okay sure. ” He took a deep breath. “My dad was out for the week, and I guess I was just prying around the house before I came across a pack of Marlboros. I smoked one or two and I just got used to it. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Hey,” You said suddenly more sweetly. “I’m sorry if I came across as mad or irritating, I’m just trying to look at for you.”

“At least it eases all the stresses, you know? Everything that’s been going on in Riverdale is crazy. Jason Blossom’s murder, the guys in the football team’s morbid notebook, the list goes on.” You fondled his soft brown locks. “To add on to it, Betty wants me to be a part of the Blue and Gold this year.”

“That’s some good news!” You tried lifting up the mood. Jughead frowned and fiddled with his fingers. A usual sign of frustration for him.

“It should be. The thing is, I don’t get any more time to work on my novel. And that’s what I like doing and want to do. Betty expects me to exceed on the school’s journal, but I don’t know if I can do it.” You studied his figure and noticed one of his legs slightly shaking.

“Juggie, are you sure you’re fine?” Your eyes tried finding his but it looked like he was avoiding your gaze.

“I keep saying that everything is, but then I find myself anxiously waiting for you to text me back when you get home. I get worried sick when you’re not with me. I’m scared that something bad will happen to you. Ever since it was announced publicly that Jason was murdered, I can’t stop looking at people differently. What if I came face to face with the killer and I don’t even know or realize it? To continue on there’s my writer’s block, my parents never being around- I can’t get a grip and that’s why I’m doing it.” He motioned the black ashtray with his chin.

“I’m here for you. Call me instead of smoking. Whenever you fill like picking up a cigarette, pick up your phone instead and dial my number, all right?” In answer, your boyfriend sheepishly smiled at you.

For the rest of the day, you spent your time with Jughead. Ever since, you sometimes get random calls in the middle of the night from a very familiar caller ID.

Lance keeps a very in depth journal of his thoughts and feelings. It includes dates, ages, times, and sometimes context snippets to help him remember. He does this in hopes that all his insecurities get transferred from himself to his little leather bound book. It usually only works for a few minutes before he just gets washed over with his feelings again. At home, he’d gradually stopped using it after he’d been getting promoted in the garrison, but he still took it everywhere he went. He’s realized that soon after becoming a paladin, he started writing in it again. He didn’t realize how bad it became until he wet from once every few days, to every day, to multiple times for the day. 

He writes in it after a particular hard day with Voltron, but Pidge finds him writing in it while alone int he training room and makes fun of him for keeping a diary. Lance feels embarrassed, so he quits it cold turkey. Soon he’s itching to write in it ll the time but stops himself. He stays up all night more often, paces his room more often, works alone in the training room. He’s health starts to deteriorate and no one really notices. Hunk asks a few ‘are you okay’s?’, but lance just pastes on a fake smile and sends him on his way. The stress of not writing and getting his feelings down on paper ends up affecting him on a mission and he gets badly hurt trying to protect the other paladins.

He wants to recover on his own, much against Coran’s and Allura’s wishes. He barely makes it to his room and passes out. Shiro and Keith come to makes sure he’s okay because Shiro’s the leader and Keith feels bad for snapping at Lance pre mission. They find him knocked out. Lance’s journal is open on the headboard. Shiro looks it over and Keith just thinks it’s dumb scribbles. The words are scratched along the 2 pages in circles, ovals and spirals. The pencil is almost down to nothing. Shiro an only make out a few words here and there. ‘I’, ‘help’, ‘can’t’, ‘worthless’, and ‘weak’ make the most appearances. 

Shiro closes the book and flips it in his hands. There’s no title. The leather is worn and the pages are old. Keith takes it from him and opens it. He flips a few pages scanning it. Shiro tries to take it back. He reasons that it’s Lance’s property, but Keith reasons that it was left open. Keith stops fighting against Shiro and looks at him with wide eyes. He hands the book over and Shiro glances over the page in confusion. He flips that page back then forward. Pages and pages of Lance’s writing. It looked much different to the page that was left open. Very elegant and slow strokes across the papers of a book filled with words that Shiro cursed himself for not realizing sooner. 

Lance had felt inferior to them, like he didn’t belong. He’d been feeling that way for weeks because of how they treated him. How they joked about him. How they pushed him off to the side for their own missions. He knew Keith was feeling the same way. They had been unconsciously pushing him away lately. Shiro had been noticing that Lance spent more time alone with the Blue Lion instead of having meals with them or training with them. 

“Sh-shiro, I- How did we not see this?” Keith hisses, guilt dripping from his words. 

“Lance, obviously has had experience with putting on an act. We’ll help him. We’ll all help him. We have to.” 

Sound of Silence

Characters: Klaus x Mute!Reader

Prompt: Can you do a klaus x reader one shot please? Where the reader is maybe mute but klaus still loves her. And it’s such a surprise and even his siblings are confused but they see how gentle and affectionate he is with her

A/N: italics are things the reader signs

Originally posted by eventhedevilwasonceanangel

Klaus speed over to your side of the car, opening the door for you and offering you a hand.

You placed your hand in his and let him help you out of the car with a grateful smile.

It came as a surprise to everyone when Klaus started to take an interest in you. You had tried to stay out of his way, but he appeared everywhere you went, silently keeping your company until one day you couldn’t take it anymore and scribbled down a note on a napkin – What do you want?

Klaus had scanned the note before leaning back in his chair.

“You are intriguing, love. I know you don’t like me right now, but you will.”

You had raised your eyebrow, but Klaus only smirked. The next few days Klaus showed up even more often and you found out that he was able to understand sign language. You were surprised at fist, but considering his age it wasn’t unlikely that he learned it.

You were still wary, but you found yourself enjoying Klaus’ company more and more – he was charming, a gentleman and you were able to have deep conversations with him.

Once he asked you out on a date your fist instinct was to decline, but he seemed so genuine you just couldn’t.

Letting Klaus take you out on a date was probably the best decision you ever made. No matter what people said about Klaus you never had such a loving boyfriend and the deep connection between you both was undeniable.

Klaus led you towards the mansion, holding the door open for you. He offered you a place on the couch before he poured himself a glass of whiskey. Setting the glass down on the table he vanished, appearing only a few seconds later with a glass of wine for you.

“Here you go, love.” He said, handing you the glass.

Thank you.”

Klaus sat down next to you and effortlessly pulled you on his lap, one of his arms curling around your waist while he held his glass in his other hand. Content you leaned into his hold, resting your head on his collarbone. You had been so excited during the art exhibition Klaus had taken you to that you now were exhausted, but it was so worth it.

Klaus chuckled when you yawned, his warm hand slipping under your shirt to gently trace your skin.

“Seems like someone was a bit too excited today.”

You lifted your head so Klaus could see you roll your eyes, “Don’t act as if you didn’t love it. You bought 5 paintings.”

Klaus laughed, lightly squeezing your hip, “To be fair, I bought 3 of them for you, love.”

You didn’t?!”

“Oh, I did.”

Knowing that it was no use to fight with Klaus you let your head fall back on his chest.

Thank you, but you really have to stop buying me stuff.”

Klaus pointedly ignored your words, pressing a kiss on top of your head instead.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Rebekah strode into the room, flashing a grin at you.

“Ah, y/n. Has my brother finally brought you back? I still want to show you the new dress I bought, but my dearest brother never seems to let you out of his eyes.”

Klaus groaned, pulling you closer to him, “Sister, can’t you see y/n and I are spending time together right now?”

You hit Klaus’ chest, glaring at him for being so rude before you turned to Rebekah with a smile.

Why don’t we have a sleepover tomorrow, Becca? You can show me the dress then,” You signed, making sure your movements were slow and distinct since she just recently learned sign language.

Rebekah’s face lit up, “Perfect! You can sleep in my room and no sneaking to Niklaus in the middle of the night!”

Klaus groaned again and dropped his head on top of yours, “But I wanted to take you to dinner, love.”

“Too late, brother. Y/n and I made plans first.” Rebekah sassed.

Knowing that they would be bickering for a while you took a sip from your wine, only half listening to them arguing about who would be spending time with you tomorrow.

Their argument was cut short when Elijah walked into the room, loosening his tie with a sighed. You waved at Elijah from your spot on Klaus’ lap.

He nodded at you politely, “Good evening, y/n.”

“Ah, Elijah. What is troubling you this time?” Klaus asked, placing his whiskey glass down on the table.

“There are some witches in town. I do not know what they are up to, but it can’t be anything pleasant.” Elijah explained.

Klaus placed his hand on your thigh, rubbing small circles across your skin. Rebekah and Elijah started to discuss if they should pay the witches a visit, but you soon blocked out their voices focusing on the feeling of Klaus’ arms around you.

Klaus didn’t seem to pay attention to Rebekah and Elijah either, instead he randomly placed kisses on your head or nuzzled his nose in your hair.

Roughly 20 minutes later the front door slammed open and Kol came strolling into the room, a bottle of whiskey dangling in his hand.

“Brothers, Sister,” Kol greeted nodding towards the rest of the Mikaelsons, “and the lovely y/n,” he added, walking up to you and lifting your hand to press a kiss on top of it.

You smiled at Kol, but Klaus gracefully pulled your hand from Kol’s grip, glaring at his brother.

“Can’t I have any peace in my own house?” Klaus complained, holding you a bit tighter.

“I see. Still trying to hog y/n all to yourself?” Kol joked.

“As always. I still wonder how she managed to turn him into such a softy. I saw him opening the door for her again today,” Rebekah chimed.

“He’s definitely very intrigued by her, but I have to admit that I’m enjoying this changes. Klaus is a lot easier to deal with when y/n is around. If she wouldn’t be here he would already have left to kill the witches,” Elijah added.

Klaus snarled at his siblings, flashing his eyes. Suddenly the room around you blurred and when you opened your eyes again you were laying on Klaus’ bed. A pair of arms sneaked around your waist, turning you around to face a smirking Klaus.

“Now I finally have you all to myself.”

Smiling you lifted your head and gently pressed your lips to Klaus’. Klaus reacted immediately, pulling you closer until you were unable to tell where your body ended and his began. His hand cupped the back of your head, his lips lovingly working against yours. No words were needed, the kiss revealing all your shared feelings.

Sometimes silence spoke louder than words.

alright time to learn

if you guys don’t know who “mad jack” churchill is then you’re really missing out on some pretty wild stuff here and I really wanna share this with you guys ok

let’s start with the fact that everyone was fighting with guns yet mad jack thought that only having a claymore sword, a longbow/barbed arrows, and bagpipes with him everywhere he went while wearing a kilt (despite not being scottish in any way) was a fucking grand idea and managed to make it through WW1 and WW2 alive without a scratch like a G

here’s a picture of him leading his crew with a sword in hand ready 2 fight like a bad ass

  • when he wasn’t fighting in the war he was a professional male model, a newspaper editor, a movie extra, and decided to devote a deep passion to playing bagpipes everywhere
  • he rode his motorcycle all over india and stopped when he crashed into a water buffalo
  • he rode a motorcycle while at war like it was no big deal or w/e
  • he gave 0 fucks
  • nothing got in the way of him and his bagpipes which he was constantly playing even during battle because mad jack’s pipes stop for no one
  • he lost his sword during a hand-to-hand fight and walked all the way back to that specific town to find it but ended up just getting pissed at a group of confused americans instead
  • he inadvertently saved a german commander’s life by inviting him to dinner with his wife after being released from capture like ??? 
  • the germans thought he was related to winston churchill so they put him in a VIP camp full of VIP people guarded by SS troops dear lord how is this guy still alive
  • and finally after the wars he retired to australia where he found a passion for surfing and scaring the shit out of australians every day just for a laugh because why the hell not

to conclude this long post this guy deserves his own movie by now so @ hollywood get on it

Notice Me [Chapter 6]

Originally posted by oompa-oppa

Chapter 6 of Notice Me

Ch1  Ch2   Ch3  Ch4  Ch5

Series Genre: AU/Smut/Fluff/Angst at Times

The party was even more packed than you expected and you felt your nerves starting to kick in. You hardly knew any of Jackson and Mark’s friends, but EVERYONE seemed to know who they were, especially the women.

They couldn’t take a step without someone looking at them like they wanted to rip their clothes off right then and there. You were getting looks from them too, just not the good kind.

Jackson, being the social butterfly that he is, slipped off almost immediately, loving the attention he seemed to get almost everywhere he went.

Mark gave you a soft smile and disappeared to grab you all a drink, leaving you alone and vulnerable. You tried to act normal and pretend like you belonged there but you stuck out like a sore thumb.

Keep reading


The Seven Deadly Sins - Part 2

Originally posted by hugbin

Pairing: Reader x Seokjin

Word Count: 3.1k

Genre: Smut, Angst    

Series: 1. Lust / 2. Gluttony / 3. Greed (1) / 4. Greed (2) / 5. Sloth / 6. Wrath / 7. Envy

Description: Seven men helped shape you into who you are. Whether they were friends, enemies, or lovers, they all left a long lasting mark on your life, for better or for worse.


         It was impossible not to let someone like him in. He was confident and kind, cracking jokes everywhere he went in attempt to make you and everyone around him laugh. He was wonderful. We loved a lot of the same things and enjoyed doing them together. We both loved to play video games, playing together into the night huddled close together on the couch as we fought to beat each other. I loved to learn and he loved to teach, and we spent evenings with a cookbook in his hands and ingredients in mine as we made dinners together. He told me about his life, about his family and his friends, about the beautiful memories of his childhood and the vacations he took. We shared, laughed, and cried, to our past memories and went on to make more together. Like I said, he was wonderful. At least he was, most of the time. After weeks of getting to knowing him, getting closer and closer by the day, he let you see parts of himself that he didn’t share with others, both the good and the bad. It didn’t take long to figure out he wasn’t always as perfect as he liked to present himself.

           With a drink in his hand, he crept towards you clumsily. Every night he drank. He drank until he forgot about his life, about who he was, and about who you were. Normally, him forgetting you was a good thing because it kept him away from you, letting you stay within the safety of your home to pretend he wasn’t getting drunk out of his mind and to pretend that that part of him didn’t exist. However, tonight was different. He sought you out tonight, flagging down a taxi to your apartment building. A couple of drinks in him and he was quiet funny, letting go of some of his inhibitions and easily becoming the life of the party. Triple that amount and the worst parts of him showed. His wounds opened up at night, painful and fresh, as he sat in the silence of his thoughts, and he did whatever he needed to mask the pain.

          It was the alcohol that made him like this, you told yourself. You know what he’s really like when he’s sober. However, as you looked up to meet his gaze with wide eyes, there was not a trace of the person that fondly lived in your memories.


           “Hey, get back here!” He shouted over to you playfully as you ran from the couch and into the hallway. Giggles fell from your lips as you ran away, his fingers meeting your sides as he managed to tickle you down before you could reach the door to the bedroom. His arms linked around your waist to quickly twirl you away from the door, delighted screams erupting from you.

           “Baaaahh!!! Stop, stop, okay, you win!!” You yelled in between fits of laughter, falling to the floor and trying to squirm away, desperate to move away from the hands that were determined to tickle you to death. He sighed happily, victorious, letting his guard down as he removed his hands from your sides. Before he could say anything you began to attack him in return, a couple of shocked laughs leaving him before he had your hands pinned up above your head.

           “That’s not fair!” You whined playfully, looking away as he towered over you. You waited for him to release your hands so you could both make your way back to the living room but his hands held their grip. The mood in the room had changed and you began to feel vulnerable under his gaze the longer he held onto you. Nervousness began to build in your stomach as you tried to ignore the heat that was growing in you. You were trying to come up with a joke to break the tension that was growing in the room as he held you in place, but your mind stopped as you met his gaze. He was looking down at your hungrily, his face serious but sweet. His eyes were darker than normal, his pupils dilated. He pressed his body against yours, allowing him to feel how quickly your heart was beating in your chest. You could feel heat make its was up your neck and onto you checks in embarrassment, your previous words caught in your mouth. You two had been flirting for a while and had shared a kiss or two, but you had yet to take it farther than that.

           He boldly pressed his lower half against you, causing you to release a gasp as your felt the hardness of his length press against your body. You moved your body against his instinctively, pressing yourself harder against him as you stared at his plump lips. Taking your reaction as a green light to continue, he smashed his lips against yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth on contact. The kiss with deep and slow as he began to grind himself into you, his hands letting go of yours as he moved one down to caress your hips. With your newfound movement, you wrapped one arm around his neck to deepen the kiss even further, while the other began to travel down his chest to unbutton his shirt. When you were half way down the buttons he lifted your shirt above your head, going back down to place a quick peck on your lips before kissing down your neck.

           A low moan escaped your throat as your hands went up to tangle themselves in his hair. The heat in your body grew, the need for him beginning to surpass any embarrassment you may have had. You could feel his smile against your skin as he kissed downwards, taking off your bra as he sucked at your skin softly. He moved his hand to cup your breast, flicking his tongue against one of your nipples teasingly before bringing it to his mouth. Your breath hitched in your throat, but before you could lose yourself in the feeling of his mouth on you he continued downwards.

           He grabbed onto your shorts and panties at the same time, pulling them down slowly to allow him to continue his kisses down your body. His kisses were small, sweet, and slow. It was almost frustrating how slowly he was going, kissing down your hips and then down your thigh, ignoring the only place you wanted him to be. Half way down your thigh he began to slowly spread your knees apart, his kisses traveling upwards, up the inner part of your thigh. He dragged his tongue along your skin, stopping before he reached your folds. You moaned in frustration, a hand coming down to grab a fistful of his hair.

           “Jin, please,” you whispered, speaking for the first time since your encounter had begun. Your voice sounded breathless and needy, causing a smirk to come to his lips. He lifted himself further away from you, your hand releasing his hair.

           “Tell me what you want me to do,” he replied, his hand going up to rub at his bulge through his pants. Before you could reply he pressed it against you, your hips meeting his hungrily as your body begged for friction. You moved your arms up to wrap around his torso, pulling him into a messy kiss.

           “I want to sit on your face,” You whispered against his mouth, the words rushing out before you could lose your courage. He pulled back, cocking an eyebrow.

           “Yes, please,” He said, lifting himself off of you to lay on the floor. You got up shakily, crawling towards his head to place your thighs on either side of his face.

           He held your thighs in place, taking the image of you in.

           “You don’t know how often I’ve fantasized about tasting you,” he whispered, his hands moving up to rub your ass. Impossibly, the heat in your grew even further and with a whine you lowered yourself on his face. His tongue met your folds greedily, grabbing onto your hips as he flattened his tongue onto you. Your moans began to fill the room, and before you let him make you forget the rest of the world you leaned down over him, your hands quickly undoing his belt. His applied more pressure on you, stalling your movements as you undid his pants and pulled them down to his thighs.

           You took in the sight of his cock, hard and throbbing. You reached out to grab a hold of it, feeling his heartbeat through his length as you watched precum begin to leak from him. You swirled your tongue around his head, his movements beginning to slow as he fought between concentrating on the sight before him and enjoying your tongue on him. He attempted to regain his focus, bringing up his hands to circle around your opening.

           You slid your mouth down his length, flattening your tongue to follow down his shaft slowly, allowing your mouth time to accommodate his length and girth. The movements between your legs stopped all together, the breath of his moan fanning itself against your wet folds. When you reached the base of his dick he slid two fingers into you, giving him a new found pleasure as your moans began to vibrate against his dick. You slid back up, beginning to find a rhythm as he went back to you, attempting to balance bringing you pleasure and enjoying his.

           He curled his fingers further within you, your hips beginning to rock more frantically against his face. He began to move his hips upwards to meet your mouth, a stinging sensation running down your throat as he thrust himself deeper into you. You began to reach your high, trying to keep your mouth tight around him as you moaned. You closed your eyes as you allowed the orgasm to run through your body, your nails digging into his thighs. You could feel his cock twitch as he thrusted harshly into you, his seed shooting to the back of your throat as your vision began to clear.  

           You stayed in that position for a minute as you tried to catch your breath, unsure if your thighs were strong enough to lift you form this position. You laughed tiredly, resting your forehead against his stomach.

           “Jin?” You called to him, trying to forget that you were fully exposed to him, so close to his face.

           “Yes?” He replied breathlessly, his fingers running across your calves.

           “You think you could help me up?” You asked, feeling his stomach tighten under you as he laughed.

           He kissed your thigh lovingly before helping you off of him.


           “Jin, how did you get over here? Why would you go out this drunk?” You asked him, your voice colored in concern.

           “I kept thinking about you and I wanted to see you,” he slurred out, walking over to sit on the couch. Your heart softened as his words, some of the tension leaving your body.

           “Give me a second babe, I’ll go get you some water,” you told him, walking over to the kitchen. You grabbed a cold water from the fridge and some juice for yourself before heading over to sit across from him. His eyes were closed, his head against the back of the coach. You stayed quiet for a moment, wondering if he had fallen asleep. Seeing him drunk wasn’t an unusual sight. In the past month you had probably seen him drunk more often than when you saw him sober. Thankfully, he seemed to be calmer this time.

           He smirked suddenly, opening his eyes and looking over to you, as if he could read your thoughts.

           “I tried to go about my night,” he began, placing his elbows on his knees, his hands now supporting his chin as he leaned in closer. “But for some fucking reason, you wouldn’t leave my mind.”

           You stared at him quietly, your lungs freezing up as they processed his tone.  

           “And you know what I realized? If you actually made me happy, maybe my nights wouldn’t be like this,” he said, shaking his head.

           “If I was with a girl I really loved, she would be able to pull me out of this.”

           You didn’t move. He hadn’t moved an inch, but his words felt like a slap to the face. The anxiety in your stomach felt heavy, swirling around in your stomach like butterflies. You opened your mouth to say something, but words wouldn’t come out.

           He’s putting this on me? You thought, trying to wrap your head around his words.

           “You don’t even try to help. You just turn the other way and pretend it’s not happening,” he continued after you failed to respond. You closed your eyes, letting the guilt that you always pushed away envelope you.

           “Do you even care about me? About us?” He asked, raising his voice. His words no longer slurred, but sharp and serious.

           “Of course I care about you, Jin. But what am I supposed to do? I can’t control what you do when you get home,” I replied, opening my eyes to meet his.

           He shook his head, chuckling to himself.

           “Bullshit,” he said, his anger creeping into his voice. “You’re fucking useless. You can’t help me and you can’t help yourself. No wonder Namjoon—” You rose from your seat, quick to cut off his words.

           “You better stop right there!” You shouted, shocked that he would bring him up.

           He rose as well, taking two steps forward to close the space in between you two. You stared at his beautiful face and messy hair, wondering how he managed to look so good even when he said such hurtful things.

           He leaned his head closer to you as if to kiss you, his lips coming dangerously close to yours. Like your heart, you stayed still.

           “I understand why he went looking for more.”


          “We probably should have moved over to the bed,” you laughed, shakily lying down on the floor next to him.

           “Nah, it’s hotter this way anyways,” he replied back, sitting up to lift his pants back into place. He grabbed your shirt, lifting it over your head to help you put it on, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

           “For a while there I was afraid I was never going to get passed just being your friend,” he commented, smiling down softly at you. You understood what he meant. You had opened up to him about different parts of your life, and he knew more than anyone the difficulty you had with getting over Namjoon. It wasn’t like you were hung up on him or anything, but it was just taking longer than you had thought to get over.

           “To be honest, I don’t know how I kept myself off of you for so long,” you said, pushing the thoughts of Namjoon out of your mind. You had come to trust Jin. For the last couple of weeks he was there for you, to make you laugh when you need it and hold you when you cried. You couldn’t deny how much you had come to like him, and despite your mind telling you to proceed with caution you let yourself fall deeper within. You got up, offering your hand to help him up.

           “Do you have anywhere to be tonight?” You asked, making your expression as innocent as possible.

           “No, why?” he asked, intertwining his fingers with yours.

           You smirked, looking over at the bedroom door.

           “I have an idea of what we can do tonight,” you whispered to him, planting a kiss on his neck.

           You lost yourself in him, letting him take in every part of you until there was nothing left to take.


           It was the alcohol talking, you lied to yourself. A lie you told yourself day in and day out until you cracked. For a while, it had been true. When he was sober he was perfect, always so sweet and caring. He would never mention his drunken nights, leaving you wondering whether or not he remembered the things he said to you. It always ranged in severity, sometimes he attacked your looks or you opinions, cheap blows like calling you stupid or ugly. It wasn’t until he attacked the most vulnerable parts of you that you knew you had had enough. Soon enough, his perfect shell began to crack, and he was the same sober as he was drunk.

           Gluttony. He let his love of alcohol take over, until his anger and frustration started to become present even when he was sober. He always needed to take in more, gulping down every drop and still wanting more. Like with his drinks, he wanted there to be more of you, but there was never enough to satisfy his thirst.

The string that connected you two had grown thin throughout your last weeks together but snapped completely in that moment. He’s the reason you don’t drink, and you would be lying if you said he didn’t come to mind anytime someone offered some to you. He showed you the ugly that came with over consumption, leading you to a clearer path.  For that, you would forever be grateful.


           Expensive. That’s what he looked like. His face was gorgeous, holding eyes that bore into those around him and either intimidated or excited them. When it came to you, they definitely left you intimidated.

           You knocked on the door softly before entering, walking over and placing his coffee and bagel on his desk. He looked up at you, nodding an acknowledgment to your presence. You began to make your way out of the room when he called your name.

           “Y/n?” He said, making your name sound like a command. You turned around quickly, making your way back to him.

           “Yes, Mr. Park?”

           “Cancel my next appointment and tell them I’m not interested,” he said, handing over the folder you had prepared weeks in advance.

           You stared at him in shock, trying your best to control your expression. He had agreed to meet with one of the biggest charity organizations in the country two months prior, the appointment creating a buzz as the first charity organization to meet with his company. You wanted to hold your tongue, but failed.

           “Are you sure sir? The charity support a lot of amazing causes, from cancer research to helping—” he raised his hand, cutting your off.

           “Why would I want to spend my money helping other people?” He asked sharply, his dark eyes flashing up to send daggers your way. You stared at him, eyes wide, surprised by his response.

           “I understand, I’ll go cancel it right away,” you said, bowing before excusing yourself.

How could someone be so greedy?

i remember watching an interview where billie talked about how he had just gotten a new pair of chuck taylor’s right before the woodstock show and he was so happy with them and didn’t want to get them dirty so he was tiptoeing EVERYWHERE he went the entire day before green day went onstage. those poor shoes and poor billie joe didn’t know what was coming.

Friedrich Schiller - Emma Körner, 1812


Francis Albert Sinatra was much more than a singer or actor. Very rarely are singers praised for so long since many singers end up being swept under the rug by newer, more hip artists. Sinatra stands out from this crowd because he put every aspect of himself into his music and movies, but that’s not all he did. No. In comparison to the compassion and kindness that he spread throughout his life, his talent is almost minute. His charitable spirit towards children was a large part of that compassion, along with the love he had for his fans and his close friends especially. He brought style and class everywhere he went, even when tabloids and gossips columns tried to tear down his image. He was a fighter of segregation and racism, a man who refused to play in any outlet that treated anyone else different. He was hurt a lot too, the losses he suffered in love was enough to drive him close to the end, and with every loss of his close friends he carried that sorrow forever. I find my life parelleling with his sometimes, so I look up to him with great respect and compassion. So Happy 101st B-Day Frank, I know you’re having a swinging time.

Story time! The story of the Blackbird is one of my favorite automotive stories, i’ll talk about it for a little bit but correct me if i’m wrong on some info. Alright the basis. back in the day the Mid Night Club’s head, who was also the fastest member, always took racing seriously. He was a practicing surgeon and always kept his serious demeanor everywhere he went. His car, now known as the Yoshida Specials 930, was originally black and his skill behind the wheel and ability to fearlessly speed through the expressway earned him the title “Blackbird”. From here is where the manga Wangan Midnight was inspired, the ongoing rivalry between the 911 Turbo and the ABR Hosoki S130 rattled the wangan’s late nights with them going head to head in top speed battles. The impressive thing is night after night these machines stayed at top speeds reaching 350 km/h for atleast 15 minutes at a time without overheating or breaking down. The black 930 and red Devil Z’s rivalry lasted for years but this is where the Yoshida Specials 930′s story ends along with the Mid Night Club (which is a tale of it’s own that can have an essay of it’s own). It’s legacy and story of the Blackbird continues in spirit with the vehicle used in the Wangan Midnight movie. The manga was heavily based on the real world men that drove these cars, down to their professions. As the Porsche was upgraded and tuned to match the specifics of the manga’s vision of the 930, the owner found it too difficult to drive when he got it back. The immense power radiating from it scared him so he ended up selling the car to a friend who continued upgrading it. It was torn apart to now recreate the final version of the Blackbird from the manga. Now with a tube frame and racing aerodynamics, it was fitted with one last thing. The turbocharger from Aryton Senna’s winning McLaren MP4/4 F1 race car. The turbo doesn’t even kick in at it’s maximum output since the Honda engine in the MP4/4 had an obvious higher redline. But this 930 is built with top speed in mind. The owner’s final goal is to achieve 400 km/h on the wangan with this set up. While it’s not the original Blackbird. the spirit of it continues in this car as it one day will stalk the expressways again to dust off and sit back on it’s throne as the fastest on the C1 loop. 

Moodboard for Mafia Sehun

When it comes to danger, explosions, car chases, and the best drifting talent on the track, there is only one man for the job - Sehun. Until he joined the mafia thanks to Chanyeol’s suggestion, a trail of fire and ruin followed him everywhere he went and he was already being watched by mafia hierarchy. His specialty is creating car bombs and making anything else go up in smoke without leaving a single fingerprint. If you end up on his bad side, you simply disappear without a trace and he disappears in a squeal of tires and a cloud of smoke coming up from his back tires.

- Admin J