face shake

2

└ If this is how they like to play with contrasts, light and dark, I’m all 😍😍😍 

Cr: “未完” MV from 「Untitled」 album

The following is a rough transcript of my own recorded video footage (which I’m still trying to convert since I lost the USB cord and am currently looking for it lol). 

Q&A: If you guys could do, like, any kind of movie genre, what would you do? Since I personally think Jared – er, Jensen and Misha should be in a romcom.

Jared: [pause] [smirk on face] …I’d direct that.

Jensen: [holds back a laugh-snort, schools expression] You’ve never directed anything.

Jared: That’s my point. I’d direct that.

Jensen: That’s what it’ll take. The scenario. You’re like - “No, okay, I can’t pass up this opportunity”

Jared: [folds hands, begs] Please please please please.

[Jared provides a serious answer]

Jared: In the meantime it [inaudible] – I’d be directing a romcom with this guy. And wherever Mishkavich is.

Jensen: I’ve said it before. I’d love to do a Western…slash romcom with Misha.

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I’m really hoping Magnus dancing is the aftermath of him and Alec having a fight and Magnus calling Cat over to get drunk and just relax and then end up drunk dancing in his living room because my boy needs a break.

Alec arrives to apologize or sort things out then and does that face. You know the one. The 17k face. He’s 50 shades of shook and 100 shades of aroused. Cat notices him first and she doesn’t stop dancing but she looks at Magnus and says, “I think your Shadowhunter is here to apologize. Does he dance?” because if she can have an opportunity to tease a Shadowhunter, she’ll take it. 

Magnus just smirks and twirls around to face Alec, who shakes his head, his eyes widening.

“I don’t think he does,” he sighs, waving his hand to switch off the music.

Cat stages an affronted gasp and gives Alec a very disappointed look.

“Shadowhunters… Always so serious, so eager to follow the rules…”

Alec frowns, now almost offended himself. “I stopped my own wedding to make out with the High Warlock of Brooklyn,” he argues.

Catarina lifts an eyebrow, surprised, and this is the story of how Alec Lightwood and Catarina Loss become friends by the only but groundbreaking power of sass.

DEADLIGHTS

One | Bloody Introductions

Summary: It had endured centuries on earth, indulging selfishly in Its desires, never once blinking at Its monstrous ways. Your arrival into Its existence warped the both of you into an emotional chaos of white-hot lust and desire, throwing the both of you into never a ending poignant rollarcoaster of longing and unattainable sensual tranquility.

The clock was ticking. It couldn’t bring Itself to leave you, yet It couldn’t bring Itself to stay either. It hated this love, It hated this lust, It hated this desire, and most of all, It hated that It didn’t hate you.

Author’s Note:  Critique is welcomed. This is the first fic I’ve written in ages. Apologize for any typos or grammar mistakes, I swear I proofread this three hundred times. Typos will be the death of me. I tried. The next two chapters will be posted within a couple of hours. I may or may not have accidentally written 20K+ words of this fic before posting. Whoops. Enjoy!

Words: 5.1K +

Warnings: Very gory. NSFW content. Very sexual. Lots of clown sex. You know, the usual.


The first time It had tasted you was where it began. It had sunk Its teeth into your skin, every intention of getting a quick, juicy meal out of your body. Its eyes rolled to the back of Its head, the endless row of gums and fangs spilling out from Its deformed excuse for a mouth, becoming more monstrous by the second. Your ears were ringing rapidly in your head and you were convinced your heart would burst from fear sooner than you would die from this grotesque being; the organ pounded against your chest like it was a cage, a desperate animal fleeting to escape, your breathing impossibly quick. It had you cornered, there was nowhere to run, and even if there was, the monster had made it clear that It was more than capable of using Its strength to stop you.

You knew one thing on this night; you were sure you were going to die.

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Unbearable || Peter Parker Imagine

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Request:  Could you write an imagine where the reader is Tony Stark’s daughter and is dating Peter Parker and something happens between them, either like assuming the other one cheated and idk one or the other is hurt and idk i wonder what the situation would end up being like? Thank you!

Word Count: 1752 words

Originally posted by fuckyeahtonystark

(i think I’ve used this gif before but there aren’t many left)

For a couple of weeks now, Y/N has noticed how her boyfriend, Peter, has been getting closer and closer to her best friend Liz. He used to always eat lunch with Y/N and sit next to her in classes. Now, he’s doing that with the perfect Liz Allen. Sometimes, the young girl thought that Peter was dating her for her last name. Stark. Y/N wasn’t jealous of her friend, just envious of the attention she was getting from Peter. Y/N wanted to get closer to her boyfriend again, and she didn’t know what to do.

One day when she went over to Peter’s house, he was being awfully distant. Y/N knew about his alter ego Spider-Man because his relationship with her dad. She knew that was part of the reason why he was bailing on dates but, he would always try to make time with Y/N at least three times a week. That all changed the day he started hanging out with Liz more. The couple only hang out once a week now. So, while she sat on his bed, all she could think about was how he was most likely cheating on her.

“Peter?” She asked quietly. He was on his phone, by his desk, barely paying attention to the girl who was breaking inside. “Hm?” He muttered, smiling at his phone. He tapped the screen lightly to, what Y/N could gather, text someone back.

“Who are you texting?” She asked softly again, looking down at her legs hanging off the edge of the bed. Peter stuttered, “It’s n-no one.” He put his phone down to give his girlfriend his full undivided attention.

“We need to talk Peter.” She forced out, looking him in the eye. “Isn’t that what we’re doing now?” He chuckled at his own statement.

“I mean about us Peter!” Y/N said, angrier than before. This surprised Peter. She was never normally…. angry. Y/N exhaled, trying to keep her cool.

“W-What about us?” He stuttered, “I thought we were doing fine.”

“You’ve been ditching me Peter but, not to protect the city. To hang out with my best friend. And don’t try to deny it cause I see pictures of you guys on her Snapchat all the time.” She sniffled. Peter sighed, “Y/N,” he said shaking his head slightly, standing up to go sit next to her. Before he could complete his statement, she interrupted, “Are you cheating on me with Liz?” She asked.

He shook his head yet again, grabbing her face with both of his hands, turning her towards his. “No, it’s…..it’s not like that.” Y/N got out of his grasp by standing up. Tears started to escape her eyes.  

“Then what’s it like Peter?” She demanded, crossing his arms. Peter sat there on his bed, trying to think of an answer. “It’s just,” he couldn’t continue. He didn’t know what to say.

“It’s just what?” Y/N questioned, getting loud again. Peter looked at his hands.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Y/N.” He couldn’t tell her his plan. Not yet. She’ll forgive me though, he thought. She scoffed, uncrossing her arms to grab her stuff. Before she left his bedroom, she turned to look at him. “You know what Peter,” she scoffed, “Liz is all your’s now.” she spat, slamming his bedroom door.

Y/N scurried towards the front door of the apartment. May was sitting on the couch, watching the girl leave. She smiled sadly, “Bye May,” she opened the door but stopped at the sound of his voice. “Y/N,” He said from across the room with a sad look on his face. “Goodbye, Peter.” She slammed the door not looking back.

School the next day was awful for both Peter and Y/N. Peter had no girlfriend to constantly boast about and Y/N had no one to kiss or greet by her locker in the morning. At lunch, Y/N sat with Liz, not saying anything to her with her friends not speaking as well. Liz broke the silence, “I heard you and Peter broke up.“She said sympathetically. Y/N scoffed, “Let me guess, he told you? Did he tell you why?” Liz nodded her head, “He isn’t cheating on you Y/N.” She said looking at the girl honestly.

“Well obviously he isn’t cause we aren’t together, which means he can date anyone he wants. Including you.” Y/N said, grabbing her lunch and moving to sit somewhere away from Liz, and away from Peter. He saw Y/N stand up, angrily and move away from her best friend. This was all his fault.

Later that day, when Peter arrived at the Avengers tower, Tony was furious. Tony walked with Peter into his lab, grabbing the boy by the color of his shirt viciously. “I’ll give you ten seconds to explain why you cheated on my little girl.” He said with venom lacing his voice.

“That’s not what happened, Mr. Stark. I swear.” Peter expressed with a worried tone.. Tony let go of his collar glaring at him. “Then why has Y/N been crying her eyes out?”

Peter rubbed his face with his hands wanting all of this to just blow over. He hated the fact that it was HIS fault as to why the love of his life wasn’t smiling. “Liz was helping me with something…” Peter trailed off, making the genius confused. “Is that a euphemism for sex or something?” Tony grimaced.

“No! No, oh god no. Nothing like that.” Peter said in shock and slight disgust. “What was it then?” Tony crossed his arms, just like Y/N did last night.

Peter sighed, “Liz is Y/N’s best friend so I went to her for advice.”

“For what?” Tony asked, less agitated at the young superhero standing in front of him. Peter looked at his shoes while bouncing on his feet. “I needed help for asking your daughter to Homecoming, so I thought, who knows her better than she knows herself and I thought Liz. That’s all we were doing Mr. Stark.” He said sadly, realizing that all the help he was getting didn’t matter because he wasn’t with his girl anymore.

Tony was still confused, “Couldn’t you have Googled ideas?” He asked,knowing now that it was all a misunderstanding between the juvenile lovers. Peter shook his head.

“It’s not that easy Mr. Stark. I thought maybe Y/N wanted a subtle way to be asked to the dance. But what if she wanted something completely extraordinary. That’s why I went to Liz. But I wasn’t with her constantly. I was with her handful of lunch periods, and we went to Starbucks to talk about it once. Only once.” He explained. Dropping his backpack on the floor.

“How do you plan on asking her?” Tony questioned walking around his lab.

“We’re not together anymore…..” Peter said as if Tony wasn’t listening to the conversation, following the man around the lab. Tony turned around to face Peter. “I don’t care, You were good for her. And I don’t want her dating some idiot. Now, how are you going to ask her?” He questioned Peter yet again.Peter had a big smile on his face, ready to tell him.

That night, there was a knock on Y/N’s window. It wasn’t too late at night, but she knew exactly who it was. “Go away.” She said, loud enough for him to hear her through the window. He tapped on the glass again, “Go away!” She said slightly louder. The tapping continued much to her dismay. Y/N groaned and got up off of her bed to open the window.

She looked through the glass to see Peter Parker, or Spider-Man, hanging upside down on a web, holding a huge teddy bear and roses in one hand with a poster in the other that said, “It would be unBEARable to go to Homecoming without you” in red letters. Y/N froze, looking at him with wide eyes. He flipped over and let go of the webbing.

She opened the window, helping the boy through it and into her room. “Peter, what the hell? We aren’t a thing anymore, remember?” She said a bit agitated. Peter put the poster down, grabbing his mask off of his face, shaking his head to fix his hair. “I swear that I didn’t cheat on you with Liz, alright? She was just helping me with ideas to ask you to Homecoming.” Peter admitted, wanting her to know the truth. Y/N had a more understanding look in her eyes.

“Then why were you bailing on all of our dates?” She asked.

“Crime rates have gone up in New York, despite everyone’s effort to stop it. Trust me, I wanted to go on those dates with you, it’s just- someone needs to be there for the city after the whole hero versus hero thing.” He rushed. “Please, you have to believe me.” He said sadly.

Y/N ran to him, wrapping her arms around him. Peter let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I’m such an asshole,” the girl in his arms mumbled against his shoulder, “I should’ve listened to you. I’m so sorry.” Peter rubbed one hand on her back reassuringly holding his gifts for her in the other. “There’s no need to apologize. I would’ve done the same thing though.” He stated honestly. The two pulled away from each other.

Peter moved to pick up the poster to show her again. He had a cheesy grin on his face as he held everything. “Will you go to homecoming with me?” He asked. Y/N nodded her head, “Of course I will.”

Peter went to hand her the teddy bear and the roses. “You know what you should name him?“ Peter asked rhetorically. “What?” She asked with a smile on her face, smelling the flowers.

“Spider-Man.” He said with a smirk on his face, “So that I’m always with you.” Y/N chuckled, examining the bear. “I think it suits him.” She mimicked his smirk, leaning in to kiss the real Spider-Man

anonymous asked:

What if Stiles and Derek's first kiss is post-nogitsune? Would he feel like a thief? Would he mourn the body that Derek never held? Would each brush of fingertips or kiss to his temple be a betrayal? They'd probably talk about the scars too. Derek would understand-- to an extent. But he grew up not without his history on his skin so he'll never understand how it feels to have that ripped away.

Their lips brush and Stiles turns away a second later, breaths shallow, hands twitching against the folds of Derek’s shirt. There’s warm breath on his cheek, the ghost of beard still so close and all Stiles can think is that he wants this. He wants this. And…

It’s wrong.

Those fingers, twitching against Derek’s shirt, smooth and uncalloused. The scar that used to live above his third knuckle just a burn-hot memory in his mind.

Everything still feels off in his body, out of balance, and he remembers the way Derek used to look at him. All tension and frustration in ways he couldn’t start to make sense of. And now Derek’s lips are in reach, a short turn away, and he’s murmuring out “Stiles…?” and all Stiles can think is…

“Do you want me?”

He can feel the stall in Derek’s thoughts like a physical reaction, and he wonders if there was a subtle tell or if… if he’d just felt it, inside, the confusion a flicker of chaos in Derek’s chest. Can he do that? Feel chaos? The Nogitsune drank it in and Stiles…

“Stiles,” Derek breathes again, a quirk of amusement in his tone. Thumbs smooth down his hips and Stiles fights the urge to rise into the contact. “Thought I’d just answered that question.”

And Stiles could leave it at that, asked and answered. Except…

There should be a scar on his hip, long and thin, from a fence he’d scaled once and dropped down five times faster. Derek should be feeling that right now, that piece of Stiles’ history, that stupid ten year old adventure laid out across his skin. But the skin’s smooth. Blank slate.

He shivers, gripping tighter into Derek’s shirt.

“No, I––” He can’t think of how to explain it. The thoughts are a choked feeling in his throat, a twist in his gut. Something like guilt and fear and he doesn’t even know what answer he wants when he leans back enough to find Derek’s eyes and say: “Since when? Did you… I mean, before…”

He’s not sure Derek knows what he means, but there’s a hint of flush under that dark beard suddenly, and Stiles gets a little bit lost in the contrast.

“Last summer.”

“Last––?” It pulls Stiles back, his eyes startling up. That was… most of a year, that was before…

A sick lurch sets him falling back out of Derek’s grip. Too-smooth fingers (uncalloused) slip too easy from Derek’s chest. His sneaker-covered feet might as well be walking over glass and he’s being dramatic except that he’s really not. Because if Derek wanted him last summer…

“That wasn’t me.” It sounds wrong as he says it, stupid, because… he was there that summer. He remembers every moment spent with Derek, researching the Alphas, searching for hints of Boyd and Erica. Charged smirks and snark and quiet moments that felt more comfortable than they should. He remembers the moments before summer too, when the thought of Derek made his heart pound and his body thrum in a way that could have only meant fear, except it hadn’t only been fear. He’d been scared of the Alpha too, and the hunters, and that coil of electric heat only sparked through his gut for Derek. He remembers that, like he remembers the scars that aren’t there anymore, and he can’t help running his too-soft fingertips over the smooth flesh of his knuckle as he breathes out, faint and lost, “…Was that me?”

There’s a too long pause while the question burns back into his throat, buzzing through his limbs like a current until he realizes he’s shaking from them. Was that him? Helping Derek track the Alpha pack? Helping Scott learn to control his wolf? Sitting by his mom’s hospital bed, watching her lose the long war to her illness, pieces of her flaking away like old scars, like a whole identity, like––

A warm hand closes over his, large and gentle, grounding.

“It was you,” Derek says, simply. Like there’s no question, like nothing’s changed. Like Stiles hasn’t changed. 

But that’s wrong. He’s not the same person he was before the Nogitsune, and he’s not talking in the experiences change you, huh kind of way. He’d had scars before. He’d had… a whole life written on his skin. And then he’d crawled out from inside his possessed body’s throat, spawned out like some alien parasite or… clone and––

“My body died, back there.” Four months past, and he still can’t wrap his head around it. That he’d watched himself bitten and impaled, spasm and cracking and shatter to dust.

The scarred body. His real body.

And he was left in… this.

Long fingers uncurl, stretching out slow. Thin, pale digits fitting strangely perfect between Derek’s, and Stiles can only wonder what it would have looked like before.

“…What if I’m not real?” He watches Derek’s fingers twitch, barely perceptible, tightening like they’re fighting to hold onto him. And Derek’s lost enough in his life, too much. It’s a dick move to say this, to take anything else away from him, but… “What if the guy you wanted last summer… what if he died inside the Nogitsune, and I’m just––”

No.”

The sureness of it has Stiles’ throat clenching. He tilts his head, challenging. Finds Derek’s eyes again.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you.”

Which is just… it’s stupid how that makes Stiles’ heart jump. Flutter around like it’s fighting to leap the distance between them and plaster itself all up against Derek’s stupid, muscled, secretly sweet as hell chest.

Which… yeah, that’s nearly a gross enough visual to stomp his fondness boner in the bud. He sets his jaw.

“Did you know I used to have a scar on––”

“Your right hand? Just above the third knuckle, a burn.”

Stiles’ argument stalls out. He blinks, finger shifting to rub over the space, but Derek’s is already there, soothing the phantom mark over his skin.

“I… was eleven.” Because silence has never been safe for him. Because noise distracts from the too-easy pleasure rippling up his arm. “First time I tried cooking dinner for me and dad. Mac and cheese, it… didn’t go great.” He wets his lips. Looks away “Or… the other me did, I don’t––”

You did.” And Derek still sounds so damn sure. Stiles wants to believe him. He parts his lips, can’t. Because––

“Stiles, I’ve never had scars on my skin. I… can’t relate to what it’s like to lose them. But the things that have happened to me… they’re not any less real because I can’t see them. Every bullet, cut, punch I’ve taken…” He might sense the wince forming on Stiles’ face, and shakes his head, shrugging that off like it’s not important. But that’s an argument for another day. “Every scar life gave you… they’re still there. You’re still carrying them, inside you.” He flits his eyes down Stiles’ frame, then away, finger soothing over the ghost burn. “There are plenty no one would have ever seen anyway. But they made you. Who you are, and who you are…” He shakes his head, looks back to meet Stiles’ eyes squarely. “You recognized me when I was a teenager. That’s the same person who recognized me in the preserve.” Stiles feels his face heat because… even knowing Derek’s a werewolf now, he’d never put together that Derek would have heard his fangirl moment to Scott after Derek had walked away.

Before he can speak up, though, Derek’s going on. “You tracked me to Mexico. Faced down the Calaveras to save me. That’s the same person who stared down the Argents, drove a Jeep into a kanima, who hit an Alpha with a wooden baseball bat––”

“Two Alphas,” Stiles cuts in, because props, ok? “Two, that were…” His free hand mimes squishing, and Derek’s lips twitch.

“Two,” he agrees, and Stiles can’t not smile back. Just for a second –– fond, helpless –– then he’s ducking his head. Derek sighs, catches his chin. Guides it up until their gazes lock again.

“That was you,” he says, so firmly Stiles can’t help believing this time. “Was the man who clawed his way out of his own possession. Followed Scott’s howl back to the real world. And whatever happened to your body, whatever… magic gave you a new one, Stiles came out with it. Your scars are still there, just…” His fingers trail to Stiles’ chest, and something thumps out eagerly to meet them.

“Inside,” Stiles breathes, and the way Derek’s eyes warm makes him shiver with a proud ripple of pleasure.

“Inside,” Derek echoes. Runs a thumb light along Stiles’ lip. “You could have come out of the Nogitsune looking like anything. Wouldn’t change who you are.”

And damn, Stiles has fallen for a goddamn poet in a grumpy wolf’s body. …But then, Stiles is pretty sure he’d known that already.

His fingers go up, curl gently into Derek’s shirt.

“But… you like this body,” he prompts, and Derek gives an exasperated huff, pulling him in.

“I like this body,” he confirms, and it doesn’t feel wrong to hear that.

When Derek kisses him this time, Stiles doesn’t pull away.

Did You Just... ?

Originally posted by poptartcalum

Imagine: Tom can’t get over how you pronounce the word ‘croissant’. 

A/N: I’m supposed to be packing for a music festival but i just love me some good quacksons !!!! :~) I h9 myself for this ENJOY!! PS i love this gif a lot thank Q ALSO SORRY IF ITS A BIT SHIT

Word Count: idk it’s short (maybs 800??)

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Lie to me - Dean Winchester x Reader - Chapter 2 (French Mistake AU)

Title: Lie to me

Pairing: Dean/Jensen x Reader x Sam

Word Count: 4,342

Warnings: None

Imagine: Imagine Dean and Sam getting transported to the French Mistake universe. Only for Dean to realize he is married to you, his best friend, love of his life and… Sam’s girlfriend.

Great thank you to @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo for being an amazing beta!

Read Part 1 here!

“Well, talking about awkward huh?” Dean laughed nervously as Sam only looked at him with a hard look.

“Yeah, very.” he said through pursed lips and Dean cleared his throat, avoiding looking at him in the first place.

“Honey?” it was your voice that broke the silence that had set between the two Winchesters “Can you come help me?” you sounded a little too eager and at your question Dean’s body stiffened and he felt his heart beat harder inside his chest. Gosh, how every fiber in his body just screamed for him to find you.

But he knew he had to keep himself, much less something from showing. He cleared his throat and shook his head “Well, this is gonna be a whole lot of fun.” he huffed.

“Definitely.” Sam mumbled and Dean instantly looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“You know I’m just joking, right?” he asked with a deep frown but Sam wouldn’t even look him in the eyes.

“Yeah, when are you not?” he stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and prefered to look at the things that were in the house instead of pay attention to his insanely increasing jealousy.

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