practically everything was green or dark

Syndicate of Fallen Angels | TAEYONG

Genre: spy/mafia!au | fluff | angst

Member: Taeyong / Reader

Word Count: 12,600+

Warnings: language, graphic violence, imprisonment, mild(?) torture

NOTE: The incredible art accompanying this piece was created by the absolutely wonderful, talented @4chengs, thank you from the bottom of my heart for collaborating with me on this! 

Also, the premise for this fic was heavily inspired by a manga I read years ago, but I can’t for the life of me find it and link it. 

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Imagine Dean coaching your daughter’s soccer team.

Characters: Mechanic!Dean x Teacher!Reader

Warnings: mild angst, super fluff, daddy! Dean (yes, it’s a warning because *swoon*)

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: 6k Celebration and One Year Fic-i-verary Celebration Fic TEN. The line requested was “The whistle makes me their god.” It was requested by @pinknerdpanda​ . It will be highlighted in the fic. Thank you so much for celebrating with me. I didn’t get to add in the smut that you requested because the story in my head just didn’t lend itself to it. Hope you aren’t too disappointed with the outcome. I personally had tears of joy in my eyes as I was editing it. I LOVE daddy! Dean. 

Feedback Appreciated

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Coffee shop AU! Mortal AU! Soloangelo

             Will loved Ra-Ra’s Coffee, it was on the way from his apartment to the collage campus. Ra-Ra’s was almost always empty, and the atmosphere was perfect. Each morning Will would get a medium coffee with cream and sugar and muffin. After a few weeks in to the school year his order would be ready for him by the time he walked threw the door, and all he would have to do was pay. He also learned the morning employees’ names, Grover and Juniper. Will had no idea if the two were together but he hoped they were. They were both super cute and seemed to agree on practically everything. Will liked them Both and were one of the reasons he liked the little place so much.

         Will walked in to the coffee shop and called out “hey Grov-” he stopped mid sentience because it wasn’t Grover at the the counter. The boy at the counter was thin and pale, he had long dark hair and deep brown eyes.

        “Grover’s out today,” Juniper said, Will blinked a few times before placing his order. Will caught a glimpse of the name tag attached to the green apron the boy was wearing. In messy hand writing was the name Nico.

       Will talked with Juniper and he hoped he looked interested in her story and not like he was freaking out over the new and cute barista. Nico got his coffee while Juniper rung him up, the little smirk on her lips made it clear that will was as flustered as he felt.           

        Nico wasn’t happy when his phone started ringing at five in the god damn morning. He was even more upset when he figured out that the call was from a guy from work. Normally Nico would have chewed out that guy and gone back to sleep but he sound so freaked out and so desperate that Nico agreed to cover his shift.

        Ra-Ra’s was completely set up by the time Nico got there. The other girl who shared this God early shift had all ready taken care of everything. The morning was deadly silent except for the soft music playing over the speakers. Juniper wasn’t much for conversation. Nico wasn’t used to this slowness, Normally he worked in the evening. Then Ra-Ra’s was full of collage students studying at one of the small tables or reading and listing to  poetry by the tiny stage. The whole place buzzed with life, Nico had a bigger staff at night too, he had his coworkers and friends, Jason and Percy as well as others he didn’t know as well.

          Nico sat behind the counter and started working on a project that would be due soon. He was lost in the pages of work when the bell by the front door jingled

           “hey Grov-” Nico looked up and saw a tall blond boy with tan skin and freckles. The boy looked confused obviously not expecting to see Nico there.  The boy shook off his shock soon enough and placed his order. Nico turned away from the blond in an attempt to hide how hot his face was getting. Nico hated how he could never stay calm around cute boys.

        After the boy left Juniper turned to him with a sly look on her face. “his name is Will” she said

       “I don’t care,” Nico snapped

     “Just thought you might want to know,” she said insolently. Nico didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of letting her know she was right, he did want to know about him. He turned away from Juniper and back to his project.

   “Will,” he thought with a small smile on his face, “he looks like a Will.”

Cinderella, She Seems So Easy

Prompt: Requested by Anonymous. “can you do one where like you go to school with gee and patrick? and patrick ends up winning you over bc gee just wants you for ur body (like,, I’m thinking desolation row gee and teenage patrick, but both are in high school) idk if this made any sense”

Word Count: 1,587

Pairing: Patrick x Reader, Gerard x Reader

Gerard Way is hot, like really hot, you could kill me and I’d say thanks hot, and he’s smiling at you. Your entire face burns and you bite at your lip, Gerard making fuck me eyes at you from across the class room. It’s like something out of a dream and you don’t know what to do besides hope your makeup isn’t messed up. He winks-actually fucking winks!-at you before turning around in his seat and you’re left reeling, only jolted back to reality when the boy beside you taps your shoulder. You turn and look at Patrick and your blush dies down but butterflies erupt in your stomach, flowers blooming from inside and wrapping tightly around your heart. Patrick smiles softly and the entire world is slow, bright, and loving for the few moments it takes you to catch up.

“You wanna come over after school?” He asks and you nod quickly, making him smile even wider and the butterflies are trying to break out of your stomach.

You smile back at him, unable to help it, never able to help it, before turning back to the front of the room. Gerard isn’t looking at you, he’s throwing things at the teacher when he isn’t looking and making his friends laugh. He’s an asshole, well and truly, but your heart picks up its pace anyway and you bite your lip at his dark hair and sink a little in your seat. You can still feel Patrick beside you, always aware of his presence like he’s another part of you, but you can’t help but be completely focused on Gerard. He’s magnetic, electric.

The bell rings just as the teacher catches Gerard throwing things and the red haired boy bolts, laughing so hard he almost trips. You’re grinning as you watch him go, amused and in love. He’s gone when you get into the halls and Patrick is taking you by the hand and leading you to your locker, talking and making you laugh. Patrick is hand holding, 70 degree weather, and blooming flowers, he’s happiness and first loves. Patrick is your best friend but he’s also that boy your other friends tease you about.

But he’s not Gerard.

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Ben descended down the cold dark echoing steps towards the dungeons. Even though Auradon prep was a school it was his parent’s castle at one point, the one they lived in before he was born. No one was technically allowed in the lower underground levels of the school but that never stopped the rebellious students from sneaking down there to do whatever they would do in some secluded underground threshold at their boarding school. That wasn’t really Ben’s scene, he couldn’t imagine what they’d even get up to; well he could, but just not see it.

He finally reached the lowest level of the dungeons. This was where his parents first met. It was so dark; he could only see the silhouette of his hand in front of his face. He reached for his phone and turned on the back flashlight to find his way through the maze of cells. He should have brought a jacket, it was so cold. But there wasn’t enough time to.

He had come here straight after dinner to be able to make it back before curfew and anyone could really notice that he was gone. Ben felt guilty for lying to his friends about coming down there, especially Mal; he had said that he had a study group meeting at the library to buy himself some time alone.

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In which Dean and Cas buy their daughter 7 dresses.

The first time they buy her a dress, they haven’t even met her yet. Dean is touching every tiny little garment he can possibly get his hands on, marvelling over how tiny everything is and how “d’you think she’d like pink? Or maybe blue? Ohhh, Cas, look at this orange one, it’s got pockets!”

Cas, meanwhile, is too busy fawning over the miniature patterned-socks to pay any real attention.


The second time they buy her a dress, she’s four years-old and is skipping between them, practically vibrating as she swings on their arms and thanks them profusely. “Thank you thank you thank you!” she gushes as the store clerk scans the large poofy white thing. Her dark brown hair is tied in a messy ponytail and her green eyes are bright behind her small glasses, freckled nose scrunching up as she smiles, toothy and wide.

“Can I wear it now pleasepleaseplease?

The tiara she’s wearing falls into her eyes and she pushes it up, one of the straps of her overalls falling with the movement. Cas looks at Dean expectantly and the latter sighs. “’Course, bug.”

When they emerge ten minutes later, Chevy Marie Winchester is dressed in an over-the-top poufy taffeta number, black clunky boots on her feet and tiara on her forehead. She launches herself into Castiel’s arms and her papa helps her into her tiny leather jacket.

“Our kid is a total badass,” Dean murmurs to his husband as she sleeps in her carseat on the drive home.

Cas grins back.

She really is.


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Fashion time with EXO


  • The one who knows what he wants and doesn’t hesitate. 
  • One of the boys who looks carefully the price before buying. 
  • Likes basics colours like black, white, grey, dark blue, or emerald green etc. 
  • Tends to like sport shorts or joggings. 
  • The one who cleans his sneakers like twice a week. 


  •  The one who isn’t really aware about his style. 
  • Just wear what is the most comfortable at home and practice. 
  • Tries hard to be fashionable tho. 
  • Steals Chanyeol’s masks. 
  • Wears warms shirt on summer. 


  • King of fashion
  • Everything looks good on him. 
  • Likes to wear light materials for practicing. 
  • The one who cleans Suho’s dressing. 
  • Secretly buys dog’s clothes for Vivi. 


  • One who doesn’t really care as long as it’s comfortable. 
  • Likes large pants with light materials. 
  • Same for tops. 
  • Loses his items almost every time he’s out. 


  • Classic style. 
  • Irons his own shirts AND the others’. 
  • Likes denim
  • Carelessly fashionable. 
  • The one who repeat all the time to the others not to borrow his underwear. -but nobody really care-


  • The tallest from EXO, one more size than the others. 
  • The biggest shoes. 
  • Likes rare items and hats. 
  • Cosy and sporty fashion. 


  • Classic style
  • Lazy to put his clothes correctly in the dressing. 
  • Easily cold, so he has a lot of warm clothes. 
  • the one who has too much underwear. 
  • Lose his socks in his room. 


  • King of fashion n°2. 
  • Look sexy when he wears shirts and tight pants. 
  • Sleeps only with his underwear on. 
  • Actually, he would wear a trash bag that he would still be sexy. 


  • Has perfect hips that he can wear everything.
  • Likes to show off since he’s working out, so he buys more tight clothes. 
  • Has a lot of funny socks. 
  • Likes pastels colours with captions. 

“ℰver since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted to see inside your house.”

Inside the house there were no clocks and no mirrors and three locks on each and every door. Fifteen different sorts of wood had been used for the window seats and the mantels, including golden oak, silver ash, and a peculiarly fragrant cherrywood that gave off the scent of ripe fruit even in the dead of winter, when every tree outside was nothing more than a leafless black stick. No matter how dusty the rest of the house might be, none of the woodwork ever needed polishing. It was dark in every room, even at noon, and cool all through the heat of July. Anyone who dared to stand on the porch, where the ivy grew wild, could try for hours to look through the windows and never see a thing. It was the same looking out; the green-tinted window glass was so old and so thick that everything on the other side seemed like a dream, including the sky and the trees.


Everyday Holtzmann

How to create a Jillian Holtzmann inspired capsule wardrobe

When I saw Ghostbusters: Answer the Call for the first time earlier this year, I fell in love with Jillian Holtzmann very quickly for a number of reasons. One of these reasons was her sense of style; she always looks so incredibly interesting and cool, and I knew I wanted to try and absorb some of a her quirky choices into my own wardrobe. I’ve posted a few ‘Holtzmann-inspired’ outfits and so far the response has been pretty positive. I’ve been working on creating a ‘capsule wardrobe’ in the style of Holtzmann - a capsule wardrobe is a collection of around 25 items of clothing which follow a similar style/colour scheme, and so can be combined in many different ways to create multiple different outfits. I know there are a lot of fans out there who have similar goals, and so I’ve decided to post my own collection as a kind of guide, which you’ll find under the cut below.

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This is a photograph I created a few days ago.

Now, I’ll not be talking about the story about it, but I’ll discuss some technical aspects.

I’m a newbie regarding compositing images, so with every single new composite, I come across obstacles on my path.
Resolving these (purely technical) problems that arise is a means of learning more, and learning on my own mistakes, which is why practice is SO important.

You could watch a thousand tutorials and believe you know EVERYTHING, but once you actually start shooting, you’ll see how much knowledge you won’t get unless you DO something.

Anyway, this photograph was taken in my backyard with one dried-out Christmas tree (my mum bought it in a pot, but it apparently didn’t make it).
I wanted the mood to match the overall ‘deep in the woods’ dark theme, so I also chose the clothes accordingly (I’m wearing my lacy dress bought for my Bachelor’s promotion in December, which I completely adore).

Then there’s also the green 'wall’, a certain halt, which makes the pose meaningful. Why the halt? What is going on? Is it a secret passage behind it?

Compositing is so much fun!
I wasn’t into it before, but as my imagination started creating this stories that would cost MUCH more to have all props actually created/bought, I’ve decided I should take advantage of Photoshop and digital technology.
In this way, my stories can become surreal, dreamy, almost whatever I want them to be (depending on my current Photoshop skills).

anonymous asked:

Hello! I never written any of these before so sorry it's weird but I love your art style and you are really good with colors, I fell in love with your "Gathering flowers for a funeral." I also enjoy drawing but I am terrible with colors, I know this sounds silly to ask but how do you work with your colors?

hi there! thanks so much for saying so! i answered a similar question here, but i’d like to expand on it. (also your question is definitely not silly!)

i think the first thing you should ask yourself is why you think you’re terrible with color. take a look at some work you’ve done and identify what you’re unsatisfied with. speaking from experience, it’s not a lack of technical ability or just being inherently “bad” with color, but rather a lack of goal. 99% of the work i see where people struggle with color, they’re just using way too many colors. if you jump into a piece without having a goal in mind, you’re probably going to just throw colors around because nothing is influencing your decisions. and the goal can be anything! but it helps if there is a narrative reason. in the early stages of this piece, i wanted the pink roses to be the focal point (first goal: just draw pretty roses), then the piece got creepier on accident, and i wanted to turn pink into a dangerous color (second goal: show the viewer that the statue is evil and the statue’s color is pink, therefore pink is a color coded to mean evil in this context). this influenced my decisions, like having the possessed boy flooded with pink light while it doesn’t hit his friends at all. since pink is the focal point, all other colors should be subordinate to pink. i picked shades of greyish blue for the rest of the image because the human eye is not very sensitive to dark blue, so it will stimulate the eye less and give a calm/still sort of mood to the piece. the viewer sort of glosses over it and focuses more on the pink.

using color narratively is super fun because you can basically “teach” the viewer what colors mean. this was the basis for how i approached my little shop of horrors color script. i gave myself very specific constraints on what colors represented what, and when i could use them. for instance, i decided gold would be a color that represented desire, whatever that meant for the different characters. for instance:

gold light is hitting both seymour and mushnik. for seymour it means a desire to have a father figure. but for mushnik, it’s a desire for some sweet ¥ ¥ ¥  by keeping seymour around.

i also made green audrey II’s (the plant) color, and it basically means “something bad is happening or going to happen.” another example combining this and gold:

on the left, audrey II is using seymour’s desires to manipulate him. in the middle, the gold light is cast on orin (an obstacle to seymour’s desire) and audrey (part of seymour’s desire). however, they also have green rim light on the opposite side, to hint that orin’s actions will have consequences. and on the right, seymour’s desires (love, fame, etc) are now swallowed up by the will of audrey II (hence why everything is green), and very bad things transpire.

i dont have much advice for the practical side of color. as i’ve mentioned, i’m not rly good at color theory and i can’t tell you which colors to pick or where to put them, beyond the basic rule of opposites (saturation vs desaturation, light vs dark, etc). but, giving color a job, a goal, a task, putting it to work, helps me keep it in check. it’s much easier to solve problems when you have a reason for why you picked a color, rather than “well i guess i’ll make this flower purple.” and the goal can be simple! the goal can be “i saw a really nice purple flower today, so i want to paint a purple flower”, but if you’re not sure what color you should make the sky behind the flower, then that’s a problem to solve and not a decision to be arbitrarily made. you have to force yourself to edit and simplify. dont forget to study photographs or art with colors you like, to build up a personal taste profile for color! i tend to like warm, saturated colors, so they find their way into my art a lot.

IN SUMMARY: edit your color choices and simplify them, focus on opposites, think of how to use color to push a narrative, be cognizant of your own tastes and preferences. hope this helped, and thanks again for your ask :)

anonymous asked:

please make a super fluffy harry x fem reader imagine where they're already dating and it's just super cute xx love your writing btw!

AN: Hey, hope this is okay!! thank you for requesting :)) xx

“For the umpteenth time, Harry, I can’t dedicate a fraction of my time to you, let alone kiss you right now. I’ve got to study. You know, open a book or two, and read the words of text on each line? It’s a hell of a strategy - maybe you or Ron could test it out sometime.”

For the last hour, you’d been sitting on your bed trying to focus, while Harry was spread out beside you, flicking the pages of your book with annoying incessancy. You wanted to slap him. You loved him, but you were beyond ready to slap him. Oh dear god, he deserved to be slapped.

“It must’ve been easy, right? Easiest decision you’ve ever made?” Harry continued to bug you, jabbing his index finger into your hip, wandering his way to your thigh, trying to coup a feel.

He wanted to throw you off your game so badly - sick of the Hermione games you were playing. It was nice that you were studying; he found it undeniably attractive when you bit your lower lip in concentration, and the like. But it was Christmas break - you had all the time in the world to study, except for Christmas break. That’s when he was supposed to get you, not the books.

“What?” You answered monotonously, before flicking his hand away without so much as a glance up at him. “Was what easy?”

“Saying yes to going out with me. Easy, huh, love?” He stretched his legs out to play footsie with you under the comforter, but given that you were waist-deep in your herbology textbook, it was rather one-sided for him.

You loved Harry -you swore, you loved Harry Potter more than life itself- but good Godric, he was such a little shit sometimes. “And just why do you assume it was so simple and easy?” Although, H and you both knew it was anything but easy.

Much like James had with Lily, Harry fell into a hopeless, desperate sort of love with you. Being a fellow Gryffindor, you had each and every class with him, and a few weeks into first year, you caught him making constant googly eyes at you. More than twice a class period, there was practical drool running from his mouth. You had to admit, he was cute, but you guys were eleven. What were you going to do - hug?

Over time, it didn’t get much better. With him veering off course to fight the Dark Side, girls started lining up to date him. Despite his woefully awkward ways, he was the talk of your year.

The chameleon green-orange eyes, the scar, the cheeky grin, and innocent complexion. He’d always been adorable, but the older he got, the more attractive he grew. It wasn’t just a cute face sort of thing anymore, it was everything about him. You were such a sucker for his half-mature, mostly-boyish humor in class, and whenever you worked on a project with him, you went weak at the knees.

But, of course, you would never admit that to him.

For the first four years at Hogwarts, he pined for you. Finally, when you returned for the fifth year, you approached him in the Gryffindor common room. Gathering all your moxie, you strutted toward the fireplace where he sat by himself, deep in the middle of the night, and told him in as serious a tone as possible, “You mustn’t tell these delusional lies about Cedric. It’s in your best interest to listen to Professor Umbridge - she’s such a wise woman.”

He sat there in silence for a solid ten seconds, surveying your lips and eyes and every last inch. Eventually, Harry blinked. “What the fuck rubbish did you jus-”

“I’m kidding, Potter. Apparently you’re choosing not to get jokes, Chosen One.”

“I only choose to get jokes that are actually funny, Y/L/N.” But he said it with such a wicked grin.

It had been history ever since.

Back in present day, he continued to fuss about studying. “Y/N, do you not love me anymore?”

You inhaled; counted to five. He was right - even if you didn’t want to admit it. You needed to stop studying. It was Christmas break, and knowing him, sometime during the second semester, he’d run off and do something ridiculously preposterous to fight the Death Eaters. Time with Harry (especially time where he wasn’t gabbing about Malfoy) was precious. It needed to be cherished while it lasted.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know, my Green-Eyed Dearest,” you sighed, tucked your quill inside your book to page mark it, then closed the cover. In one motion, you collected all your books and parchment, then set them to the floor. “You want to cuddle?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Harry erupted into his notorious fit of laughter, tugging at your shirt to pull you closer to his body. Now that he had you away from your studies, all he wanted was you you you. Your skin, your touch, your body. You. His. His. His. “C'mere, I just want you against me.”

Obliging, you allowed him to draw you as close as he wanted, but to tease him, you slipped his glasses down the bridge of his nose, then put them on yourself. “Lookie, I’m Harry Potter! The Chosen One! Dumbledore and McGonagall’s favorite!”

With all the sunshine in the world in each eye, Harry glimmered and gleamed and looked at you more lovingly than a boy had looked at a girl before - even more loving than the way James had looked at Lily. He laid in awe of you for a minute, chewing his lower lip, with deep imprints of where the nosepiece of his glasses usually sat.

“I am so in love with you, Y/N Y/L/N, it’s sickening.”

“And to think,” gently as possible, you returned the glasses to your boyfriend. “I didn’t even have to slip you amortentia.”

“Or so you say.” Harry bantered back.

And as the castle lights twinkled, the garland hung, and the halls ran quiet, you felt all the compassion a girl could feel, from the fluttering-heart and sugary-smiling love of your life snuggled beside you.

Imagine #13- Tell Me A Story

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Plot: The reader it seriously injured during a hunt, and Sam tries to keep her awake.

Words: 1,260

Warning: Slight blood, near-death-ish situation.

The last thing you remember clearly is the searing pain as the werewolf’s claws rip down your chest and the sudden spurt of warm liquid gushing from the wounds. From there, everything’s a jumble of black and pain and yelling.

You hear Sam yell your name, his voice a mix of terror and anguish. You feel his arms picking you up, gentle but shaking. He cradles your head on his shoulder, your arm drooping down and the other curled against his body.

Your head spins and with it, the world.

The next thing you know, is lying in the back of the Impala and  a panicked conversation between the brothers.

“Faster!” That’s Sam.

“I’m trying, dammit!” Dean snaps, and you feel the vehicle swerve violently. “Five minutes!”

You crack your eyes open, your squinting against the minimal light. Sam, who’s been looking at you desperately, instantly perks up.

“Y/N!” He whispers, his hand reaching to caress your cheek. You manage a small smile, dizzy from blood loss. You can feel the blood, sticking your clothes to your body, coating his hands and body, where he’s held you close. You’re sprawled out on the back seat, your head in his lap as Dean speeds you to the hospital. “We’ll be there soon.” He promises. “Just hold on!”

“I’m so tired.” You whisper, “I want to go to sleep.”

“No!” He says, “You have to stay awake, alright? Focus on me.”

Everything is so blurred yet the colours are so intense, so bright, despite the darkness- both literal and trying to drag you down.

His face is suddenly close to yours, his nose practically touching yours. “Look at me.” He tells you, and you try to focus on his eyes.  Hazel eyes, like a touch of autumn. Brown with hints of greens and yellows, maybe a touch of blue sky.

Suddenly, you feel warm. Like…an inviting warmth, and your eyelids droop. The pain is ebbing away.

“Stay awake!” Sam demands, giving you a small shake. With great difficulty, you force your eyes back open.

“Tell me a story.” You beg, needing something to focus on. He nods, his hand on your bloodied cheek again.

“Alright.” He pauses, his eyes flickering away again as he thinks. His hand reaches for yours, squeezing tightly. You offer a small squeeze back, making him smile. “Stay with me.”

“I promise.” You mumble, unable to force your mouth and throat of form the words properly, it probably sounds like a mangled mess.

Like my chest. You laugh internally as he begins to speak.

“So we’re working a case, a while ago,” He begins, “And we go to this diner in the evening. It’s nice enough, but there’s something special about it.”

You know this story.

“You see, while we’re there, we meet someone. She’s a hunter too, but she’s so much more than that. She’s smart and beautiful, and to tell you the truth, I had no desire to end up on her bad side.”

It’s getting harder to focus, but you keep trying.

“She’s just stopping by, not realizing there’s a case. But soon, she’s in on it and with her help, we get done in doubly quick time.” He’s whispering and you feel a warm tear land on your face. “She’s brilliant. When I’m with her, the world is so much brighter. I thanked whatever deity there is when she agreed to travel with us.

“Of course, I managed to fall in love with her. I fell so far, so hard, the breath was knocked from my lungs and I thought my stomach had exploded. I was so mad at myself, whenever I love someone they die. It’s always been that way.” He’s desperately trying to hold back tears, and you give his hand a pathetic squeeze. Your entire body is throbbing, your heartbeat amplified a million times. You can almost hear the blood rushing around and out of the wound.

You close your eyes for one single, relaxing second, then force them open again.

“God, I’m so lucky.” He goes on, more and more tears hitting your face. “But I realised, I can’t lose her. I’d lose myself too. I need her to go on, it’s like she has the key to my life and if she goes, it goes with her.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N. Not now. Please, you have to hang on.” You feel the car stop but he keeps talking as he carefully takes you from the seat. “I love you too much; you have to stay with me. I need you. You complete me. Stay with me.” He says again. The blackness is near overwhelming. “I love you, Y/N. So much.”

You manage a small, “I love you too.” Before the dark warmth envelopes you.


Your head pounds and your whole body aches. Breathing is hard, and there’s something attached to you. Actually, you realise, as you slowly gain consciousness, there’s lots of somethings attached to you. In your nose and at least two in each arm, a monitor on your finger and something on your chest. There’s a hand clasped around yours, and you can feel that someone’s leaning on the side of the bed.

When your eyes open, they’re greeted by a painfully sterile, bright room. You turn your head.

“Y/N!” Sam’s voice is excited. “Oh, God, you’re awake! They weren’t sure…”

You merely look at him, willing your voice to work. There’s things you want to say but apparently, your voice box isn’t working today.

“You do know who I am?” A look of panic crosses his face, and he pulls back a little.

You laugh, your voice scratched and barely working.

“I remember you, don’t worry.” You whisper, each word carving another graze into your throat. At least, that’s what it feels like.

He passes you a glass of water, which you eagerly gulp down. You hold it out, silently asking for more.

After three glasses, you’re done.

“Oh, God, I love you so much.” He says, relieved. Tears spring to his eyes, “I thought I was going to lose you.”

“Where am I?” You ask, “What happened to me?”

“Some Saint’s Hospital. A werewolf got you. It could have been worse- head trauma, even.”

“What’s wrong with me?”

His spare hand moves to your cheek as he tells you, “Three broken ribs, severe blood loss, punctured lung. Probable concussion.” He adds, “You’ve been out for three days.”

“That long?” You ask, surprised. “I always was a heavy sleeper.”

He laughs at that, “Haven’t lost your sense of humour, then.”

“Nope.” You smile, looking accusingly at the needles in your arms. “Are these really necessary?”

“For now, I think so.” He smiles.

You catch up, talking for a while. You joke around, trying to avoid anything serious. After a while, the nurse comes in and gives you pain meds, which makes you incredibly drowsy.

“Listen, Y/N.” Sam suddenly. You, trying to stay awake, nod. “I need you to promise something.”

“Anything.” You tell him honestly.

“Never leave me alone, please. I need you with me. Everything I said was true. I don’t know if you believe in marriage or whatever, and frankly I don’t care, but I need you with me for the rest of our lives.” He says, his words totally heartfelt and honest.

“I promise.” You squeeze his hand and he leans in and kisses you softly.

“Get some sleep, Y/N. I’ll be here when you wake up. I love you.”

You’d answer, but you’re too far into the realms of sleep.

ponypickle  asked:

I want a teen wolf ship too. So hey. Blonde kinda wavy hair, green/hazel eyes. So introverted. Reads fanfiction religiously. Is a spiritual practicing catholic witch (I know it's a mouthful). Favourite colour is purple. Gimme any!!! 🤡🤡

@ponypickle Your Teen Wolf Ship is: Erica Reyes

Originally posted by teenwolf--imagines

You and Erica were trouble in paradise. At first, you both saw each other as intimidating, but once the two of you opened up, there was no going back. She fell hard for you. You both had a dark side, but it brought out the best in you both.  She saw every side of you, all your quirks and insecurities. She saw everything you thought would be too ridiculous for anyone to handle, and she loved every inch of it. She fell in love with the person you were on the inside and out, because she knew that you were her trouble in paradise. 

On his watch p2

The first part can be found here: 1

With a loud bang, Matt jolted up from his resting position.

His heart was beating fast, way faster than usual and panic was in his eyes.

He frantically looked around until he spotted it. His eyes widened drastically as he discovered the door was broken up, and a dead arm on the ground.

It looked awfully green.

Matt rushed in through the door, gasping as he looked around.

Everything was dark, and crimson handprints covered the walls, and the dark red color was practically covering the ground.

The couch was torn up, tints of blood on it too, and the TV looked as if someone had smashed it with a hammer from behind, and landed on the screen.

There was even handprints and gunshots up in the ceiling.

Someone must have stood there while trying to defend themselves, and he knew just who.  

Matt was breathing faster, almost hyperventilating.

He swallowed, trying his best to find something to ease his worry and fright.

He quickly ran into the kitchen, but there was nothing there but the same, torn down look.

Blood was smudged across the counters, handprints on the cabinets, and the fridge was absolutely smashed.  It had hits on the sides, the front, and the door was handing.

It was as if someone had stood there while trying to defend themselves.

As he looked closer, he spotted a familiar hand, and a half-eaten head.

It groaned softly.

Matt immediately rushed out of there, his eyes starting to water.  

This had been his house. His wonderful, lovely house. He had so many memories here, so much fun, so much anxiety and so much fright he couldn’t help but cry.

Tears began flowing down his cheeks as he looked across the living-room.

One by one, they ran down in silence.

One by one, they all hit the edge of his chin and stopped, not wanting to go further.

The voices echoed through his mind. The subconscious screams he had heard.

The yelling, the pain, the agony, it was all flooding back.

As if they were memories, they started to play in his mind.  

Misty figures now stood before him, crying, screaming and begging for his help.

More tears slipped from his eyes and down his face. He couldn’t help it either, knowing they were all dead now.

Knowing it was his fault they were.

Suddenly, the figures started acting out certain roles in certain positions.

Tom ran to his room, a couple of zombies following him there.

He had screeched as the zombies took him.

Matt then knew, he was the first one to go.

Edd had gone to the kitchen to try defending himself, hoping to find something better suited to help him, but… He too had passed, and he had gotten eaten too.  Only his arm and half his head had been left, still groaning in the kitchen.

Tord was still in the living-room, knocking down the TV and shooting zombies, tears in his eye until…

He was gone too.

A soft hiccup escaped the ginger as he quickly covered his mouth to quiet himself down so no one would hear him.

He didn’t need to die too, he needed to stay alive.

He walked back into the kitchen, wiping away a thousand sorrows as he got there.

He stood there, in front of the head at a safe distance.

He was quivering, shaking as he stood there as he watched the zombie eye him.

Then he began hearing the voices again.

They were quiet at first, talking to him, saying things until one of them started screaming.

It was Tom once again, yelling at him for doing this.

”You should’ve been dead!  Not us!  Not fucking us!”

The ginger whimpered, covering his face as he sank down onto his knees as his legs couldn’t carry him anymore.

“It should’ve been you!  Not us!”

As the other joined in, along with the distressed voices of men, women and children, he couldn’t help but sob.

One voice broke through the many.

One specific, familiar voice he hadn’t heard in years

The distressed, tired voice echoed through his mind, lingering painfully as it filled his body with guilt.

“Its all your fault”


Originally posted by alataleir

Request: Hi Sweetheart! Would you write an imagine in which Derek and the Reader share a common past, and Derek idk plays the piano and the Reader stumbles upon the bar he’s playing in, and at the end of the song, Derek notices her in the crowd (for the first time in years), but as soon as that happens, the Reader turns around and makes a beeline for the door only to be stopped by Derek’s voice calling out her name. The Reader agrees to drink something with him to talk, but when it turns out Derek (pt.1) (pt.2) wants to reestablish what they used to have in the past, the Reader (with contradicted feelings) stands and leaves so that she won’t have to break down in front of Derek. Then Derek calls her a lot of times, but only manages to contact her after a lot of attempts and she tells him that she already has someone else. Then Derek goes nuts over it and visits her flat and they end up together. You can make it smut if you want, I let you decide :) Thank you! The blog is astoundingly great <3333

Author’s Note: This is a really old request, but I am in love with it!!! It is an AU story, just so you don’t get confused. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you enjoy it! :)

Warnings: Language; slight drinking; emotions; smutty smut


I pulled the jacket tighter around my body as we walked toward the bar. My friends and I had never been to this place. It was fairly new, only having opened a few months ago, but we had heard good things from others that had visited, so we decided why not head there for girl’s night out? The wind was vicious tonight, so we picked up our pace, making our way through the front door in a fit of laughter and giggles.

There were flyers advertising live entertainment tonight. We had heard that this was becoming a popular place for talent scouts, so it wasn’t surprising to hear the deep voice and twinge of guitar strings as we made our way to find a table that would seat all of us. My friend volunteered to buy the first round, disappearing into the crowd as she made her way toward the bar.

This was good, getting out like this. Having fun. Not thinking, over-analyzing.

Keep reading

Choking. A dead weight on his chest, a sharp hand… no… a rope? No… Something else entirely around his neck. Kadaj struggled to breathe, struggled to open his eyes, but for what felt like an eternity, he was just dying.

And then it stopped abruptly. Everything stilled as light green eyes blinked open.

A void…? Where is this?

It was like staring up at the night sky with hues of dark purple and blue decked with a dusting of stars in the distance. The remnant looked around and found that he was in his armour, practically floating in thin air. Just what was going on? It was completely peaceful.

Until a voice pierced through the darkness, one he didn’t think he’d want to hear ever again. It faded in and out of his consciousness.

Want to return… A different… Way… Again.

Kadaj clenched his fists tightly.

“It’s you.”


summer-days21400  asked:

Hi was wondering if you could make me a male 'bad boy' type sim? Young adult with dark hair and preferably light eyes like blue or green. Lots of tattoos. Dark clothes, y'know. Whatever traits you think fit a bad boy (: ty

This sounded so fun and I needed more practice with boys too lol thanks for requesting!

Aaron Ryder - Romantic, Non-commital, Loner

He’s lowkey on his way to becoming a crime lord but he’s still got that bad boy charm if ya know what I mean

hair - skin (Ultraviolet) - eyes - piercing (everything else is basegame)

He is available on the gallery by searching Aaron Ryder or my username alfalphadog

Tray files are located here (sfs - no adfly)

Togrutan Soup

Anon said: Ahsoka makes Rex food she thought would be better than clone grub but it’s worse. Rex eats it anyways
(Apologies; there are some things even Rex isn’t cut out for.) 

Era: TCW
Characters: Rex, Ahsoka
Words: 1,120

To Rex, seeing a clone transition into domestic life—owning land, integrating into a family with a wife and kids—seemed so foreign and natural all at once. Yet it was something Rex could imagine happening after the war, if he could imagine an end to the war. After all, kids weren’t much different than shinies, who still got into trouble no matter how much Rex had warned them otherwise, and a wife basically held the rank of a general.

Rex had meant it when he’d told Cut Lawquane “my family is elsewhere.” The hearty reception his 501st brothers and Cody gave him when he rode straight to their location on a lumbering eopie was proof enough that Rex was right. He grinned and bore the rough slaps on plastoid and the hugs that squeezed his injury a bit too tightly.

Men still counted on him, still looked up to him.

Jesse and Kix hovered the most, attempting to make up for the whole situation on Saleucami as if it had been their fault to begin with. Kix pulled rank again and forbade anyone else from touching Rex. That worked right up until they landed on Coruscant.

Keep reading

asorrycanadian  asked:

Have you done any wedding/honeymoon headcanons? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) because I am all for that, SG. OR married life headcanons!?! >:o !!!!!


  • when victor wakes up, he’s whiney af, and once, he looks for his slippers but they’re “too far” from the bed so yuuri messes with him and kicks them farther away. victor pouts. 
  • yuuri sings in the shower. victor records him one time. yuuri only finds out bec victor set it as his ring tone. 
  • deciding how much room they needed for a closet was… interesting. in the end, they didn’t have much choice but to make it a walk-in closet with three different sections bec victor has so many goddamn costumes and suits. and the exact same kind of trench coat in like 15 different colors. 
  • victor is the impulsive, indecisive shopper. he buys random furniture bec it looks nice and will buy it in at least three colors bec he can never decide. yuuri always gets exasperated explaining to him that it’s not practical to buy SEVEN LAVA LAMPS so victor ends up picking two and the rest become christmas gifts for the other skaters
  • CHRISTMASTIME IS THE BEST TIME. it’s also victor’s kissy time: he likes taking advantage of his birthday. while they decorate the house, he hangs mistletoe EVERYWHERE when yuuri isn’t looking. they might be putting the star on the tree when victor taps yuuri on the elbow with a mischievous smile and points at the mistletoe he’d expertly hidden in the branches. 
  • “that’s not fair, victor,” yuuri groans
  • “there are rules to this?”
  • yuuri just rolls his eyes and leans down from the stepladder to give victor that kiss
  • the one time victor insists on eating natto, yuuri does everything he can to stop him. later, yuuri treats him to green tea opera cake and a movie because natto was a terrible experience. 
  • they both practice jumps in their sleep. victor has videos of yuuri doing it and yuuri has photos of victor doing it. neither of them know that they do that. neither of them know that the other knows. 
  • VICTOR WANTED TO PUT TEN THOUSAND LAMPS AROUND THEIR BED BECAUSE HES AFRAID OF THE FUCKING DARK. yuuri obviously doesn’t want to, but after seeing victor’s face as he recounts how, as a child, he’d never liked dark, lonely nights, yuuri decides that a lamp or two wouldn’t be too bad. he also has several night lights placed around the house in case victor gets up at night.