i know that feel karen


Not only was [Lily] a singularly gifted witch, she was also an uncommonly kind woman. She had a way of seeing the beauty in others even, and perhaps most especially, when that person couldn’t see it in themselves.

*Lottie Tolhurst as Lily Evans.


Deborah Ann Woll (ft. Jon Bernthal) slayin’ Google’s Q&A   [requested by: @theserpentgod]

Peter: I was just trying to be like you

Tony: I wanted you to be better.

Karen, faintly from the mask in peters hand: *big time rush voice* UH UH u-uH ohhHHHH


“It’s a difficult thing, isn’t it? Taking a life… feeling of the weight and responsibility of all the years the person you murdered has lived… moments that they’ve cherished… the dreams that they’ve struggled towards, gone… because of you. I want you to know something. Something important that I’ve learned. That it gets easier… the more you do it.”


daredevil >> modes of persuasion

anonymous asked:

"I need you to scream. You're Karen Page he's the Punisher, he will come for you." in which Karen hurt and taken by a villain and Frank is enraged. (I was inspired by the Tarzan trailer)

Hey, so today I actually cracked 1000 followers and I cannot believe it! I’m so happy there are so many people here that like this ship as much as me and I’ve had so much fun reading the stories everyone has written and reblogging the edits and the wonderful amazing fanart. I have so little to offer fandom sometimes, and I’m way too broke to do a giveaway, but I thought if I sat down and really concentrated on filling a prompt that might be enough to commemorate this little milestone. :D I hope you like it.


The last thing she remembered was the smell of violets, dainty petals pushed against her nose, the sweet scent invading her sinuses. She’d closed her eyes for half a second to lose herself in the scent, to imagine that he had been the one to leave them on her fire escape. How stupid could she have been?

Now the only thing she could smell was the dank mildew of an underground dwelling. Poorly ventilated and even more poorly lit. The back of her head throbbed and she knew without checking that there was rather large knot underneath her yellow hair, perhaps even a gash if the moisture dripping down the back of her neck told her anything. Her sight was the last sense that came into play, an errant thought passing through the back of her mind as she wondered if this is how it was for Matt.

Her pupils adjusted to the dimness, faint far off light filtering down into her cell, the bars casting shadows across the dirty floor. It wasn’t the first time she’d been locked up, but she had to admit that the clean yet stark cells downtown were a lot more preferable than where she was now.

Keep reading

when A Straight™ says, “oh, you’re gay now?”

anonymous asked:

15. “You betrayed me!”

Angst prompts to make your heart go 😭

On Broken Wing

It was a mistake, all of it. Frank knew from the beginning, from the very moment he locked eyes with her in that dimly lit hospital room.

And yet, he’d failed to push her away, again and again. At some point he’d stopped trying, falling into a tense partnership with the determined woman, watching as she put her neck out again and again for him, for herself. Hell, he shouldn’t have even told her about his latest mission, should have shook her off when he’d realized she was tailing him.

But he hadn’t… He liked seeing that gleam in her eye when he gave her a juicy lead, liked watching her dig into some scumbag’s life like she was excavating buried treasure. He liked being the one she came to when she uncovered what she was looking for. Seeing her once in a while made his self imposed solitude bearable.

But fuck if things hadn’t gone completely to hell this time. And it wasn’t anyone’s fault really, just a string of shitty coincidences that left the both of them wanted and on the run, Karen’s face plastered alongside his in the salacious rags littering the streets. Speculation abounded as to whether or not she was a willing companion of the Punisher or some poor damsel in distress, a hostage kept at gunpoint. He supposed it was a good thing no one else really knew Page like he did, or they would have found it impossible to believe that she’d let someone kidnap her without fighting tooth and nail every inch of the way.

He knew the way it ended for him: die or disappear. Two choices that he didn’t mind picking for himself, but not for her, not when there was still a chance she could come out of this with her reputation unscathed.

He’d already failed her on one account, the bullet lodged in her shoulder an incessant reminder that they needed to end this escapade soon. He was a split second too slow, the distinct click of a rifle only registering in his brain after the trigger was pulled. He’d reached out, yanked her out of the line of fire l, but not quickly enough.

He could still hear her sharp gasp of pain, feel the way she had crumpled against him, see the crimson bloom against her silk blouse. Thinking about it too much made it hard to clean his gun, fingers shaking… so he tried not to.

She was lying not five feet away from him on an old army cot, brow glistening with sweat, mumbling feverishly in her sleep. The situation was untenable, something had to give.

But Karen had snarled at him when he’d suggested dropping her off at the ER, the pain in her shoulder making her eyes wild. “And then what Frank? Tell them that a ruthless murderer kidnapped me and I instantaneously developed Stockholm Syndrome?”

“It ain’t that far from the truth.”

That had pissed her off, earned him a couple hours of silent treatment. But really how far off was he? There was no logical reason that she should so vehemently insist that he was a good man. He was bad, evil even, parts of his soul shorn off a long time ago, the bullet track in his brain running through the centers for impulse control and empathy. It didn’t matter if he had a code, if he only murdered bad men. It was still murder, and he still took very real pleasure in it, the only feeling left in his inky heart. If you asked him, he was barely human.

Barely… the only time he questioned that assessment was when she touched him, her hands cool against his bruised skin, soft as they traced the lines of his back, his face. She lingered longer than necessary, they both knew it. Neither said a thing. In those moments he wondered if there were other things that could make him feel again. All he had to do was close his eyes and see his family lying dead on the ground, and he knew feeling was a bad idea.

Karen whimpered, twisting in the blanket wrapped around her. Frank was at her side in a second, fingers instinctively brushing across her forehead, pushing away damp strands of blonde hair. It looked like her fever had temporarily broken, the meds he’d swiped on the way up to the cabin finally doing their job.

He dropped his hand to her neck, checking her pulse. It thrummed faster than normal, a somewhat worrisome sign. The fever reducers did nothing for infection, and she would no doubt slip back as soon as they wore off.

Her eyes opened, somewhat glassy, but missing the feverish glow of hallucination. Without a word he withdrew, moving to get a bottle of water, holding it for her as she drank. Weakly, she reached for him so he couldn’t move away again. “We have to go, Frank. We’ve been here too long, someone’s bound to find us.”

Struggling, she sat upright on the cot, fighting the covers tangled around her legs. One wrong move and she put all of her weight on her injured side, white hot pain taking her breath away.

Gently, Frank righted her, softly shushing her efforts to speak again. “We’ll leave soon, don’t worry.”

It was a lie, at least partly, and Frank felt a sharp twinge of guilt as she settled back down to rest. You never lie to me.

Neither of them had the energy to argue about this, so he made an executive decision. This was the end of their partnership. He couldn’t figure out why it felt like he was cutting off a limb, why it seems he was shearing off another piece of his soul, why the fuck there was a dull ache in the back of his throat when he looked at her.

Eventually she fell asleep, and Frank began to pack up. All of his weapons neatly reassembled and lined up in his duffle, extra ammo weighting the thing down. He collected the remnants of their supplies, food and medical, tucking them in a ratty backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. Quietly he went back and forth from the tiny cabin to the battered little pickup hidden in the trees until almost no sign of him remained.

The handcuffs in his hand felt like they weighed a thousand pounds as he approached the little cot. He didn’t want to do this, but he knew Karen Page wasn’t the type so wait around to be rescued, and in her condition wandering out into the cold hills would mean certain death.

On his knees beside the cot he checked her temperature one last time, still cool, and let his touch wander down to her wrist. He’d noticed before how finely boned she was, the silhouette of her long willowy arms and legs imprinted on his memory. He traced the bones of her wrist, hating that she would probably jerk against the cuffs, purple the pale skin in an effort to escape, to follow him.

The cuff clicked shut around her wrist, and still she didn’t wake up, not even batting an eyelash as frank moved her arm toward the wall. The other cuff clicked shut around a piece of exposed pipe, and that’s when her eyes flew open. “Frank?”

She jerked just like he thought she would. Frank winced. He should have cuffed the hand on her injured side so she would move as little as possible, but he couldn’t bear the idea of her in pain.

“Frank? What the hell is this?”

He didn’t answer, moving to stoke the fire. “Repeat after me Karen: ‘Frank Castle is a piece of shit and he kidnapped me.’ ”


“Frank Castle is a piece of shit and he kidnapped me.”

Her nostrils flared, anger coming out of every pore. “God damn it Frank, uncuff me right now!

He moved back to her, brushing the hair away from her face. “Say it, Karen. ‘Frank Castle kidnapped me.’ “

She shook her head in refusal, angry tears spilling out over her cheeks. “You lied to me!”

“I kidnapped you. I got you shot. I can’t be responsible for your death. I kidnapped you..” His fingers trembled against her skin, long forgotten emotions bubbling up through his chest. “Please. Say it.”

She twisted away from his touch, spitting out at him, “This is bullshit, Frank!”

Abruptly he let go of her, turning to the door. Hand on the knob he stopped one last time. “When I get down the mountain I’m going to call the cops and let them know you’re here, injured. You’ll tell them I kidnapped you. Everything will be fine. You’ll be fine.”

She yanked at the cuff again, hot tears streaming down her face. “Look at me! You betrayed me, Frank!”

The door shut on her words, and Frank disappeared into the night, leaving behind the last shred of feeling left in his battered body.

Drabble Tag

Hasta provocar tus gritos, y que olvides tu apellido (Despacito Part 1)

Inspired by Despacito! There’s a part 2 coming soon, so stay tuned!

Warning: Smut ahead!

“I can’t believe you! Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed, frowning, looking at my boyfriend who would look adorable if it wasn’t about the fact that he has been overreacting the whole day.

Shawn pouted. “He flirted with you and was talking a lot and was saying all those sexy Spanish words and-“

I held my hand up. “Shawn Peter Raul, stop! First of all, he wasn’t flirting. Secondly, he basically said hola que tal and donde eres and this translates to ‘hi, how are you and where are you from?”

I sighed, shaking my head. “You need to calm down”

Keep reading

I’m watching a bunch of fanvids for Frank and Kastle and it’s got me thinking: just how much responsibility could Karen - in a way - TAKE for creating the Punisher as he became? He had a relatively specific goal in the beginning, when he was only interacting with Matt. But then he gets taken by the Irish and gets tortured and then at the graveyard scene with Matt he says “This is it Red, I think I’m done” (or something to that effect) and if you notice(!) it’s only after Karen (and to a lesser extent Matt) push back against the death row decision/plot and after Karen brings up his family again with the picture that Frank is set on a different path. 

Frank was tired and finished and ready to lay his head down on the block at the graveyard scene. It was only because Karen thought she could absolve herself by saving Frank and proving that he wasn’t just a monster that Frank became ‘died’ and became the Punisher as we’re going to see.

wild speculation dot com

but does anyone think this is to do with karen? taken from the punisher facebook page

like who the hell’s gonna be telling frank or micro to leave town when everyone thinks they’re dead?

“ look at me, i’m a sea, i’m your sea
i’ll shut out what’s destructed ‘round you ”

wor·ship | noun | the feeling or expression of reverence and adoration for a deity.

Original art here by @wehavekookies.

black sails theme — bear mccreary // the drunken whaler — copilot // cities in dust — everlove // buried in water — dead man’s bones // my sweet prince — placebo // boat turns toward the port — soap&skin // deathbeds — bring me the horizon // here with me — susie suh x robot koch // holiest — glass animals // in the sea — ingrid michaelson // i shall rise — karen o // flickers — son lux // once upon a dream — lana del rey //  sea castle — purity ring // empire — alpines // don’t mess with me — temposhark // stop a bullet — black light burns // man overboard — puscifer // consensual worlds — delerium  // 


Keep reading

Your Savior - 16

Link to Chapter 15

Thank you all so, so much for reading! Please feel free to leave comments or send messages regarding this (or anything else!); I love hearing everyone’s thoughts and am open to constructive (polite) criticism! Every like, re-blog, and comment gives me life. I love you all!

Originally posted by grungedaddykinks

Chapter 16

Warnings: Swearing, Negan being Negan, some gore, mentions of past sexual assault, PG adult consensual intimacy 

Thank you all so, so much for reading! Please feel free to leave comments or send messages regarding this (or anything else!); I love hearing everyone’s thoughts and am open to constructive (polite) criticism! Every like, re-blog, and comment gives me life. I love you all!

You woke to a throbbing pain in your upper arm, groaning as you sat up in your cot. While your arm was definitely the worst, a good portion of your body was sore from yesterday’s altercation. You could have easily gone back to sleep for the rest of the day if it had been allowed, but you begrudgingly put on your shoes and nudged Matthew’s arm to wake him up for your early fence duty shift. 

“Wha- huh?” He mumbled sleepily, some drool crusted to his chin. You’d never been awake before him to see this side of him, he looked like a teenager and it made you giggle. “What’s so funny?” He whispered, rubbing the sleep from his face and sitting up across from you. 

Keep reading