screams this part though


Some tododekus from @pitviperofdoom‘s Summer Stars fic! Aka the fic that has been killing me with every update  _(:‘3」z)_

*Grabs a mic*

bOys aND GIrls oF Every aGE 

*puts on witch hat*

WON’t yOu liKe tO SEe SometHinG StranGE

*climbs on table*

ComE WITh uS ANd yOU wiLL see THIS Our toWn Of HallOWEEn

*rips open t-shirt*


*burns down a patch of pumpkins*


*viciously burns down house while pouring blood on myself*


*runs down street screaming dressed as a monster*


Here’s the first drawing that I did that ever really got any attention from people.

I was actually really thinking about quitting art, but after I made this and I got so much positive attention from my friends and peers I really felt encouraged to keep going and trying a little harder.

This was originally made for the #SepticArt event, but sadly it didn’t make the cut and Sean didn’t seem to see it. It’s fine though because it was great practise and it still got plenty of positive attention!

(BTW CaitlinIsADork is my Twitter handle)

hero ☾peter parker

summary : peter can’t save everyone. he knows that. he just never anticipated one of those people being you. 

word count : 2.7k

author’s note : i wrote the word heart so many times it lowkey makes me wanna die lol goodnight hope you enjoy

  Head in his hands, Peter’s chest felt tighter than it ever had before. He could feel his heart, heavy as it was, beating slowly, reluctantly, behind his ribcage. The gentle shattering of it was all he knew how to feel at this point, and he figured the sheer pain was bound to crush him eventually, if it hadn’t already. He’d felt this agony before, twice in fact, but his identity as Spider-Man made him confident that as long as he continued to fight the way he did, he would be able to protect his loved ones for quite sometime, never having to go through this sort of suffering again. 

   Yet there he was, his head resting against the wall of his messy bedroom as he slumped against his bed with his eyes closed, wishing it was him that had almost bled out instead of you. 

  God, how he wished it had been him instead of you, the one good, pure, beautiful thing in his life. His heart was aching at the thought of you lying in that hospital bed instead of him, comatose for three days before you woke up, your ribs on the mend and twenty three stitches scarring your cheek. And it was his fault, all of it. 

    He wasn’t there to walk you home that night, the way he did every other night. If only he’d been a bit more stubborn, more determined to get to you. He did, in the end, but he hadn’t been fast enough. Not even nearly fast enough. He’d been two blocks from you when it happened. If only he had ran faster. He called you to let you know he was on his way, not to move until he was there because he was going to be there and he was going to walk you home no matter what even if it meant missing curfew- curfew didn’t matter to him that much as long as he knew you were safely sitting in your apartment. 

   “Hey my love,” he had greeted you, “I’m on my way. Don’t move until I get there. Please. Be safe, I love you. I’ll be there in five minutes.” You had picked up your phone to reply to the voicemail, but your phone ended up smashed on the ground before you could, knocked out of your hand. There was a tight grip on your hair, tied back in a ponytail because of the summer heat, and you barely had time to register what was happening. 

  Peter arrived three minutes after. He was confused. You always answered his calls back relatively quickly, and while he understood that sometimes you just forget or were busy, he was worried. It was ten o'clock at night, he knew you had your phone on you- 

    He stopped short when he saw your phone, open to his voicemail, lying there on the ground with the screen cracked and no sign of you anywhere. He could feel his blood running cold as he picked it up, staring around the empty street. Then, he heard the agonizing screams, exploding in his skull. And though each part of him was pleading to every higher power he could think of that it wasn’t, he knew it was you. He ran toward the sound, and he could feel his heartbeat in his throat and in his ears and in his head. He heard footsteps rounding hurriedly rounding a corner behind him but didn’t bother to look back. He didn’t give a shit about the attacker, not right now. 

   It was you that mattered. You, who he dropped to his knees beside. He cradled your head in his arms, the way he had done so many times before except this time the side of your face was gushing blood in a way he had never seen. “Y/N, Y/N, oh my god, oh my god,” his voice broke. “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be fine. I swear, you’re gonna be okay, baby. I promise.” 

  “Peter? Oh, hi Peter,” you smiled weakly up at him, your eyes drifting between open and closed. “My- my head hurts, Peter, it hurts really bad-” You must’ve hit your head on the concrete.

   “Just keep your eyes open, baby, okay, just keep them open for me.” He fumbled around for his cell phone, dialing 911 as quickly as his clumsy fingers could manage. He was still holding you in his arms, trying to quell the bleeding with a ripped part of his t-shirt but you were bleeding everywhere and it was so hard to keep up- “I have an emergency, please you need to get here as soon as possible please I have a person here who was attacked we’re on- Y/N? Baby, c’mon, c’mon- stay with me?” He repeated the address to the operator and hung up. “Stay with me, Y/N, please stay with me, don’t die on me, you can’t, don’t leave me, please.” 

   He didn’t know what else to do besides wait. He could hear the faintest sounds of the ambulance in the distance but he couldn’t hear you breathing and that was the only thing he wanted to hear. He gently shook your shoulders, his vision blurry, “C’mon, my love, please don’t leave me just yet- you’ve gotta stay with me, please, Y/N.” And he was crying, crying, crying into your hair and clutching you so tightly he was afraid of suffocating you. Your heartbeat was barely there. “You’re gonna be okay. You have to stay here.” The rest of the night was a blur from there. He rode in the ambulance to Jamaica Hospital, sat in the waiting room with tears streaming down his face and snapping at people who gave him pitying looks, even if they were trying to be sympathetic. 

   Aunt May arrived there, too, because Peter had been questioned by the police and they had called her to be there. They knew the Parkers. Uncle Ben had been attacked, too. When she got there, Peter had collapsed in her arms in the middle of the lobby, crying harder than she had ever seen, blood soaking through his shirt. Your parents got there next, your little brother so terrified at the sight of your boyfriend standing on wobbly legs. They told him that if Peter hadn’t found you, you might not have made it. That he saved you. 

   But as he walked into your hospital room hours later after your surgery, he felt like the most pathetic excuse for a hero the world has ever seen. He had never felt like less of a hero. What sort of savior was he, if you were lying there, eyes closed and hooked up to a heart monitor? What type of hero was that? 

   He wasn’t one. That was the end of that.

   Peter hadn’t been to visit you since, not even when your brother had texted him that you were awake. He couldn’t. He didn’t deserve to. It should have been him. Never you. Everyone tried to convince him otherwise. Ned pleaded with him to visit, Michelle had confronted him in the middle of the cafeteria and made him cry, Flash told anyone who would listen that Peter was a terrible boyfriend- and Peter couldn’t bring himself to disagree. He just hung his head and accepted the torment and did everything in silence from then on. He kept his earbuds in for most of the day, just so he didn’t have to listen to anyone ask him about you. 

  “Honey, you know she’s asking for you,” May said, leaning against the doorframe of his room. He turned his head away. “You can’t hide from her, Peter. You love her. I know you blame yourself for this-” He didn’t reply, but he turned his music up louder and threw his comforter over himself. 

   She was right, as she usually was. He still didn’t want to listen. May sighed. He’d come around eventually. Peter felt a slight vibration next to him, opening his eyes to see a message from Happy. 

   Tony wants to see you. Now. 

   Peter texted back, I’m busy. Can’t.

   Another text came in. He says it’s urgent. 

   With a groan, Peter got out of bed. His legs were shaking from lying down so long. He couldn’t imagine how it would feel for you once you were able to get out of bed. He locked his door so May couldn’t walk in and see that he had left. He put on his suit, slipping the mask over his face even though he knew he didn’t even deserve to hold the title of superhero right now. He knew he would meet Tony at the roof of Peter’s building, peeling the mask away from his face as he waited for him to arrive. 

   His Iron Man suited landed him behind with a soft thud. Peter didn’t look. “Are you really here or is it just the stupid suit again?” He asked, harsher than he meant to. The metal creaked. 

   “I’m here, kid,” Tony said, his hand resting on Peter’s shoulder when he came up behind him. 

   “Happy said you needed me. What is it?” Peter wanted to get right to the point so he could crawl back under his covers and listen to the saddest playlist he could find.  

   “You should really go visit Y/N.”  

   “Who told you about that?” He turned to look up at Mr. Stark, confusion flashing across his face. He brushed his hand off his shoulder. “I can’t, anyway.” Peter looked back toward the city, Manhattan just beyond reach. 

   “Your aunt called me. She thought you’d listen to me more than her. Which is wrong, by the way. She’s a very wonderful woman and you should listen to her often.” Tony was only joking, trying to get the kid to exhibit some sort of emotion other than sadness. 

  Peter glared. “Stop hitting on my aunt.” Well, now he was angry. Close enough. “I don’t want to visit Y/N, okay? It’s my fault she’s in there, my fault she almost died. If I had just gotten there sooner, this never would’ve happened. You should just take this suit away from me again, because I don’t deserve it. I’m an awful person. I’m not a hero.” 

   “Kid, you can’t save everyone. That’s part of the job. But one thing you did do was save Y/N. Even if you don’t think so. You think she’d be alive right now if you hadn’t found her? Probably not. You’re lucky you did. I know that she knows that, too. You can’t beat yourself up over this. Y/N is alive, Peter. You have to go and see for yourself.” Tony walked away, stepping back into his own suit. “No one blames you. So stop blaming yourself, and stop being so damn self deprecating. That’s my thing.” 

   He left Peter there, with his legs dangling off the edge of the building. Finally, he swung back down through his window, put on regular clothes and pulled sneakers onto his feet. He brushed his hair, he splashed cold water on his face. He unlocked his bedroom door and walked out into the living room where May was sitting on the couch with a book propped open on her lap. 

  Clearing his throat, Peter gave her a shaky smile. “Do I look okay?” 

  May clasped her hands together, beaming at her nephew. “You look great. Y/N will think so, too.” Peter nodded, walking over to give his aunt a kiss on the cheek. 

   He walked out of the apartment with his hands shoved in his pockets, got on the E train, and tried to remain calm. You’d been awake for nearly three days now, he should’ve been there sooner. A week in the hospital and Peter had only been there beside you when you were passed out, and even then, only once. He showed up at the hospital a good ten minutes before visiting hours were over, thank God. He would’ve stayed in the lobby all night if he had been forced to, but this made things so much easier. 

  Your door opened slowly, and you sat up in bed. Your family had just left a half hour ago, there was no way they were back yet. Then, you saw that familiar, hesitant stance, the messy honey colored hair, the Midtown sweatshirt that he practically lived in, and breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s about time, Parker.” 

   He shook his head as he laughed, sitting down at the chair next to your bed and taking it all in. You looked perfectly fine, healthy even, but you would have a scar marring the side of your face for the rest of your life and he knew there was a gash deep in your side, which was how you had almost died in the first place. He knew your two of your ribs had been practically kicked in and that you had bruises covering your torso. But you were still radiant, grinning at him. So happy that he was there. 

   “I know, I’m sorry,” he held out his hand, and you held it. “D’you hate me?”

   “For what?” You furrowed your brow. 

   “For not getting there in time to walk you home.” He let out a long, slow breath, his voice hitching. “I- I should’ve ran to be with you. I knew something like this would happen and you almost died. I suck at everything. I even suck at the one thing I thought I was good at. I’m a shit boyfriend and a shit Spider-Man. Your parents kept telling me that I was a hero. But if I was, I would’ve gotten there in time to strangle whoever did this to you. This wouldn’t have happened to you at all if I was really a hero.” 

   He rubbed his eyes with his sweater sleeve. “I don’t deserve-” 

   Without thinking, you pressed your finger to his lips. “I never thought I would say this but Peter, my love, please shut up. Right now.” He gulped, then nodded. “You are worthy of a million great things. You deserve to be a hero, to be Spider-Man. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have that suit that you put on every night. You wouldn’t go out and save people every day. You not only deserve to be a hero, but you are one. If not in your eyes, in mine.” 


   “No,” you said firmly. “You are a hero, Peter Parker. You saved my life. I don’t care what you think about yourself because that’s what I think. And I-” You stopped. You didn’t want him to think you were just saying it because he rescued you. That was the last thing you wanted. People said crazy things after they were saved by someone, and if he thought that was the case here, you’d feel awful. 

   “Y/N, you don’t have to say it…” He raised his hand to your face, bringing you closer to him. Your foreheads touched lightly and your eyes closed. 

   “I mean it, though.” You pressed a kiss to his lips, mumbling it against him, “I love you. I mean it. I love you and your heroism and your intelligence and your kindness and the way that you think you’re funny even though you’re not. I really love you.” 

   He grinned against your lips, a weight lifted off his shoulders. He felt feather light. He pulled away just slightly, so he could look at you as he said it. “I love you, too. More than anything. If you had died, I don’t know what I would have done. I would have been a wreck. Thank you for staying with me. Thank you for holding on. I love you.” Now that he had said the three words that set his mind spinning, he didn’t think he would ever stop saying. 

   “You wanna know how I held on?” 


    “I listened to the voice of my hero, of my Peter. I heard you.” You rest your head against your pillow. “I wasn’t about to leave you just yet. We still have a long way to go together.” You moved over, leaving room on the pillow for him. “There’s no room on the bed, can you just sleep on the pillow? I don’t want you to leave.” 

   “Of course.” He didn’t care that it’d be uncomfortable. “Anything for you.” 

   His heart soared when you squeezed his hand, saying quietly, “My hero.” 

bungledramblingsofalesbianmind  asked:

Supercorp prompt! I've always had this headcanon that if anyone asked Kara to name her favorite physical feature about herself, she would say the tiny scar on her eyebrow b/c it happened to her as a child on Krypton and it's a lasting physical reminder of the life/planet/family she used to have. She gets to look in the mirror every day and see it. I'd love to read (if you're interested in writing it!) you take on that convo with Lena...

Kara is not mysterious.

She’s not, though she makes a valiant attempt at it. She’s secretive and brilliant and more than talented at putting on an act, but she’s not mysterious. While there are dozens of things that don’t make sense about her, she has a refreshing habit of wearing her heart on her sleeve, consequences be damned, and even if Lena doesn’t understand what Kara does, she certainly can follow why.

Which is why the eyebrow thing is so…confusing.

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Hands Off (Part 2/3)

Summary: The reader is the boys’ new hunting partner and omega. A witch with a thirst for vengeance curses her and the boys are not able to be near her without causing her pain.

Pairing: alpha!Dean x omega!reader x alpha!Sam

Warnings: touch deprivation, implied smut, canon typical violence, language, nightmares, angstttt (If everything goes according to my evil plan)

Words: 1555

A/N: Oh my god this got a better reaction than I thought thank you to everyone that followed and reblogged and liked and left feedback I cried like three times that day I love you all.


Mobile Masterlist

Part 1

Originally posted by moonshinerose

(Chapter is in Dean’s POV)

“Sweetheart?” He finds it strange that you would call so soon after they arrived, it had only been a few hours since they had last seen you. And even though he was happy to see you call, a twinge of worry twisted his gut. He heard a choked gasp of relief and instantly sat up in the bed “Dean” you gasped, and then he heard a clatter like the phone had fallen from your hand and onto the floor.

Dean felt the color drain from his face and the tips of his fingers felt cold and numb with the force of his sudden panic.

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Better This Way (Chap Thirteen)

So, I almost deleted this chapter, but I thought it was important that they spend some time together talking and being honest and (ahem) naked after finally working through their angst. Also I believe in realistic relationships (as real as ABO can be anyway) and just having sex doesn’t solve a relationships problems, so this entire chapter is them working through things with light smut mixed through.

LONG CHAPTER almost 4000 words.

TAGS ARE CLOSED– theres only two chapters left!


Enjoy :)

“We have a lot we need to talk about.” Peter said quietly, and Wade paused halfway into the bed to nod hesitantly.

“Yeah. We do.” He clicked the lights off and slid beneath the covers. “Um, where do you want to start?”

“Turn the lights back on.” Peter kicked at him. “It’s like seven in the morning.”

“And I need to sleep, so we can go back out on patrol tonight.” Wade argued. “Lights off.” Peter started to argue, started to insist but then he felt the unsure, nervous coming from the Alpha and changed his mind.

He could see in the dark anyway.

“Will you hold me?” Peter asked instead, and Wade grabbed him close without even hesitating, urging Peter up and onto his lap, pulling him down to snuggle. Peter huffed a laugh– freaking Alpha’s with their weird cuddling positions– and straddled Wade’s waist, hugging him with his legs, pressing his nose into the side of the Alpha’s neck.

“Smell good, Alpha.” he murmured and relaxed even more when the insecurity faded from Wade’s scent. He rubbed their chests together, sighing as Wade’s rough skin sent shivers down him. “Feel good, too.”

A shaky sigh from Wade, then big hands on his back, rubbing soothing circles into the muscles. “You feel good, too baby boy. How are your bruises?”

“Haven’t thought about them in about an hour and a half.” Peter teased and nipped a little bite onto Wade’s ear. “Apparently it’s not just your non stop talking that’s distracting. You’re pretty good at being distracting in other ways too. “

“Well, as long as I’m good for something.” Wade laughed and turned his head to brush their lips together. “Pete, um—”

“Will you tell me what happened?” Peter urged, running his fingers over Wade’s side, pressing against the raised scars.

Grateful for the dark, for the chance to close his eyes and try not to think too hard about it, Wade took a deep breath. “Okay, short version. Um—cancer happened. Everywhere. So I went looking for a cure because I was in love and–”

“In love?” Peter interrupted, sounding surprised and maybe more than a little jealous and Wade squeezed him lightly.

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the promptis disney date nobody wanted

bleh okay so i told myself no more @promptisfanweek prompts till i update my fics, buuuut… well. you know how many times i’ve threatened to write a promptis disney date? IT HAPPENED. nobody will appreciate this, nobody, but i’m gonna post it anyway. written for day 3: promptis date~ 

Noctis hates a lot of things.

He hates crowds, and really, he kinda hates people in general. He hates lines, and waiting around for things, and he really hates being awake early.

But more than Noctis hates all those things, he loves Prompto, and so he’s here, hand-in-hand with his boyfriend, walking down Main Street. Prompto is grinning ear-to-ear, their twined fingers swinging back and forth between them. The smile is worth it, Noctis tells himself, even though he’s quite sure he looks rather grumpy. Prompto has gone all out, as he always does, and it appears that Disneyland is the one place where that is entirely acceptable.

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Prompt Number 50: “People are staring.” Requested by @burningupasunjusttosayhello aka @lux-i-fer ! Omg, I LOVED writing this! Just a warning, it’s so long it’s basically its own little fic. Sorry it took so long for me to write love! I hope you enjoy it! Oh, and if you’re one for listening to music while reading, this song is the one at the end of the fic. ;) You’ll know which one I’m talking about once you read this! Thanks so much for making this request!

Chloe glowered at the small invitation sitting on the top of her desk, silently willing it to burst into flames and vanish into a minuscule pile of ashes. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been expecting the annual LAPD ball, it was the same month each year; but rather, she had been expecting to already have a date to take to it. However, no such luck abounded. Marcus had decided to end their relatively short-lived relationship only a week ago, and to add insult to injury, rumor had it that he’d already asked the cute rookie to the ball. Perhaps she could ignore the ball this year, just as she had the year before; she could attempt to feign sickness at work the next day or make up a story about how she couldn’t find childcare for Trixie. She let out a grumpy harumph as she realized that a room full of cops and detectives would be able to see through her lies like they were nothing, and then the pitiful glances she’d been receiving lately would only increase tenfold; at least last year she had an actual, legitimate excuse for missing the event.

No. She was not going to make up some elaborate story that half the department would be able to see through. She was going to suck it up and go, regardless of how potentially awkward and uncomfortable the event could become considering her lack of a date. She didn’t have long to imagine all the ways that the night could go wrong before a bubbly, british accent cut over the soft drone of the precinct. “Detective!” Lucifer greeted her with an ungodly amount of enthusiasm that, of course, only he could muster up on a Monday before eight in the morning. He offered her one of his trademark smiles that was really more of a smirk as he placed a ceramic mug down right next to her keyboard. “I brought you coffee.” He explained needlessly, and Chloe couldn’t help but smile at the hazelnut colored beverage now sitting before her; if anything could fix her already lousy day then it was plenty of liquid caffeine.

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A Viking’s Vow: Part V

Originally posted by whenimaunicorn

A little longer chapter for those of you who have been kind and patient enough to wait. The fires are partially contained and the chaos is beginning to die down, so hopefully more regular updates will be in the cards. Love you guys!!!


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Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader (y/n)

Genre: angst, future smut, threats, dancing,  

Song: Infinity by Jaymes Young

Words: 2.1k

Summary: You were supposed to be dead, so no one should find you. No one can see you dance, they will recognize you. Forced to flee from your past life 2 years ago, you were prohibited to do the things that defined you. For 2 years, you’ve had managed to restrain yourself to give in to your burning desire to be one with the beat and surrender yourself to the song, until one day, you were holding a poster for this year’s Hip Hop Ball, eyeing its theme: “A night oblivious.” Studying the masks that designed the poster’s borders, you found smiling again.

           “No one can see you dance, they will recognize you”

But not if you wear a mask.

Originally posted by miwtae

[2 years ago]

“Please, you know I can’t.” you reasoned with your mother, trying your best to not let your sobs overcome your capability of speech. You spent your last day with Jimin, doing what you two loved the most, dancing. He showed you the new choreo he was working on and you sat, content on watching him dance, memorizing every detail, loving the way he moved, the way he looked at you with that little smirk when he does a perfectly sexy move, and the way he carries himself after –panting, his chest rising and falling with every shallow breath, his mouth slightly open as he tries to regain his breath, beads of sweat trailing down his forehead.

“This isn’t a matter of choice, y/n. This isn’t something negotiable and you know that.” Your mother said sternly, though her eyes were a little soft. You know she was right. Still, it doesn’t make the situation hurt any less.  When you kissed him goodbye, it was long, and needy as if it would be the last. He was chuckling when you broke the kiss, said he would miss you and wished you a safe trip. Your heart sank, and everything felt heavy. Still, you managed to fake a smile and promise him it would only take two weeks. “It would break him mom –“

“Would you rather have him dead, then?” She cut you off, sighing deeply after. She doesn’t want any of this to happen either. You took in your mother’s form, she was still beautiful, even in her late 40s though dark circles formed below her eyes. She looked tired, and lines are starting to form in her face. You sighed heavily, times like this makes you wish you had a simpler family. Wishing your dad would stop associating himself with the wrong people.

Your dad was a loving man. He loves to spoil you and your mother. However, you were not oblivious as to where those riches came from. Although your parents decided to detach you from the “family business”, you know too well that your father is not at all the loving, kind-hearted man you’re used to. He does illegal business, smuggling drugs here and there. God knows what happens in between the process.  

You wiped your tears and sighed deeply, telling yourself you are doing the right thing. Today, all of your friends know you were going to LA to visit your Grandparents. Tomorrow, they would all think you are dead.

“We should go, y/n” your mother held your hand as she ushered you to the car, leading to your death, the face of the boy you last kissed painfully engraved in your heart.

[2 years later]

You sat there remembering, as you examined the paper you were holding. After leaving the town you were previously in, you continued with a new identity. Of course, your father kept in touch but other than him and his most trusted colleagues, everybody knows the daughter of one of the most influential mafia man, along with her mother was dead from a plane crash on their way to LA.

Your mother told you to give up everything that previously defined you. “This is for extra protection” she would always say. You were not allowed to be seen dancing, and you never attempted to, other than in your own dance practice room. You avoided dancing, even though every part of yourself screamed for you to get lost in the rhythm, to perform as if you own the stage with your dance moves. Other than that, life here is good. A little dull, but well enough. Soon you gained friends and acquired new hobbies, though there are nights where you miss him so much, the pain was almost unbearable.

You always tell yourself that someday, you will learn to let go. You never did. Biting your lip, you considered the risk of attending the ball. Hip hop Ball is an event that happens every winter solstice, where the nights are longest. Hip hop enthusiasts, as well as other dancers, dressed with elegant evening attire laced with hip hop themed clothing statement comfortable enough to dance, attend the party. Incorporating Hip hop in a traditional Ball setting intrigues you, though the ball also includes slow, contemporary dances, they say. You eyed this year’s theme: “a night oblivious.” As far as you know, people are not supposed to talk about what happens during the ball. All you know is that, each year, the Ball comes with a theme and a set of rules. However, rumor has it that it comes with a unique surprise too. You read them carefully, scrutinizing every detail. Everyone should attend the ball masked, and is not allowed to reveal their identity within the ball’s premises. Your heart raced, this is a chance for you to dance again without the fear of your past life haunting you. You regarded at the ornate masks that designed the poster, your thoughts swirling as you allowed your passion to ignite something inside you again. Even just for this night.

Right. Even just for this night. You started to walk home, your steps determined, and for the first time in a long time, you found yourself smiling broadly.

From a distance, Kim Taehyung watched you examine the poster, your eyebrows are scrunched, contemplating. He had his suspicions about you for a while now, but the ball might actually confirm who you are. Or rather, who you were. He watched you slowly make your way home as if still in a reflective mood. He took in your determined strides as if you suddenly found a purpose. Taehyung moved from his spot to get a better view on your expression and it took him a moment to register the look on your face. He let out a breath of disbelief.  Y/n y/l/n, the girl who looked as if she sees the world in black and white was smiling broadly, every part of her filled with vibrancy.

She was supposed to be dead, he thought. He saw how he mourned her empty coffin, and he knows he mourns her still. He quickly fumbled for his phone, dialing a number of an old friend.


“Jimin-shhie, it’s been a while”

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After Seven Years, Does “Jigsaw” Pick Up the Halloween Tradition?

“If it’s Halloween, it must be Saw.”

It’s been seven years since that tagline has been heard in cinemas. In 2004, Saw hit theaters and created a whole new subgenre of horror. It became an annual tradition. Every Halloween brought more death traps, more mystery and an ever growing web of mythos. For seven years, Lionsgate and Twisted Pictures harvested huge profits from these low-budget, box office hits. But when Saw VI hit theaters, it was the first movie in the series to earn less than $100 million. That made Saw 3D, the seventh movie, the last in the series. That’s changed this year with Jigsaw, directed by Michael and Peter Spierig, and written by Pete Goldfinger and Josh Stolberg. After a seven year hiatus, Jigsaw’s trailers boast “he [Jigsaw] returns to take back Halloween.”

Now, I have to make a confession: when I was in high school, I thought the Saw series was the best series of movies ever. They were some of my first R movies, and I obsessed with decoding the often-sprawling storylines. Over time, I became a little more discerning and realized they had more than a few problems. Yet, they were still my introduction into horror and they remain a guilty pleasure of mine. So I was curious to see where Jigsaw fit into the series.

Jigsaw hits the ground running with a police chase, which ends in a suspect getting apprehended and shot. Before he’s shot though, the suspect screams out that it’s all a part of “the game” and that more are going to die. Afterwards, grisly bodies begin popping up around the city, reminiscent of the Jigsaw murders of the previous movies. A dwindling group of people find themselves struggling to survive twisted traps, desperate not to become the next victim, while also finding out the crimes that led to them being targeted by Jigsaw. The police have to determine if it’s a copycat, and if so who it is; or, as it begins to appear, the original Jigsaw Killer himself.

Now, as you’d expect from a Saw movie, there’s blood. A LOT of blood. It was a problem that began to affect the later movies in the series. While the original Saw was indeed brutal and gory, it was selective in how much blood showed up on screen. More was implied than shown. In a way it was a gift of a tiny movie budget; with less prosthetics and effects, cinematography had to do more. In Jigsaw, you have autopsies sitting in full view, often with horrific injuries. You have the nasty results of the traps. It shows up on screen for extended times, and it becomes less shocking and more disgusting. Much like some of the series’ later movies, Jigsaw leans too heavily on blood and gore as a crutch.

Now, how about the characters? Jigsaw throws an awful lot of people at us, and the storyline shies away from actually focusing on any one of them. We know that this police chief is corrupt, and that guy really loves his daughter, but these kinds of things aren’t established well. That being said, there are still some interesting characters. There’s an autopsy assistant who’s also a member of a dark web cult that honors the Jigsaw Killer’s work. Odd, but definitely not boring. There’s also this one guy in the “main trap” of the movie who has the best reactions to everything, and some good sarcasm. Tobin Bell also reprises his role as John Kramer, the original Jigsaw Killer, and it’s great. Bell’s sociopathic and detached mannerisms make his scenes some of the best in the whole film. Everyone else ranges from okay to bland.

Weak characters hamper any film. When the film is a whodunit mystery, though, that problem multiplies. It’s hard to lean towards any suspect in particular when hardly anyone stands out to us. So, while it’s somewhat interesting, we don’t get that invested in the mystery. I do have to give the movie credit though for at least building SOME mystery for us, something that got eschewed in the later series.

We need to be honest though, everything I’ve just described takes second-stage in almost any Saw movie. No, we go to a Saw movie to see bad people navigate deathtraps. So, how Saw is Jigsaw? Well, you have the characteristic plot twist. It’s a twist that leaves a lot of loose ends though, and afterwards I thought “Wait, but what about that one thing? Or that event there?” You have some good tension here and there, and the movie manages to set us on edge at several points. You have the traps, outlandish and deadly as ever. Some of them get overly complicated, which again is part of the goofy charm of Saw.

One trap really captured my imagination though. The original Jigsaw Killer locks two people in a room, addressing them and recanting their sins, telling them exactly why he chose them. Then he takes a single shotgun, places a single shell inside, and states “The rest is up to you.” No other instructions. Even the cinematography seemed to improve, showing a lot with haunting visuals. It’s the kind of mind game that made me love the original Saw, and my only complaint is that the scene didn’t get to linger as long as I would have liked. But in that one part, I felt like I was watching the original movie again. It was a stroke of inspiration that I loved.

Jigsaw doesn’t quite top the original Saw movie. There are so many people running around that it’s impossible to really develop anyone. Plus, the movie tends to lean on gore and shock value instead of actual mind games to create horror. That said, it’s also not the worst Saw movie. It’s a return to form for a series that went out on a whimper in 2010 with Saw 3D. If audiences are kind at the box office, I think Jigsaw might just win back Halloween.

like one of your french girls

Clexa Week Day 6 - Friends to Lovers

Summary: Ever the queen of procrastination, Clarke has left the assignment for her life drawing class to the last minute and found herself without a model. Enter Lexa, because apparently posing naked for each other is something that best friends do…

Read on AO3.


Glancing up from the screen of her laptop and tugging one of the earbuds out from her ear, Lexa finds Clarke leaning on her doorframe, looking into the bedroom where Lexa lounges lazily on her bed.


“You know that I love you?”

Lexa shuts the lid of her laptop and sets it aside on the nightstand beside her bed to give Clarke her full attention. Knowing Clarke as well as she does, she tilts her head to the side, raises a single eyebrow questioningly, and asks, “What do you want?”

Clarke’s face drops and she rolls her eyes at how well Lexa knows her.

“Okay, so hear me out,” she begins, “but you know my life drawing class?”

Shuddering at the memory of the one time that Lexa came home from her own classes to find a large painting of an incredibly naked man leaning against the couch in their shared apartment, Lexa replies with a grimace.

“How can I forget?”

“Well,” Clarke explains, “we were supposed to work on a project outside of class but you know what I’m like – procrastination is my middle name.”

“You haven’t done it,” Lexa concludes.

“And I need to do it by Monday,” Clarke says with a nod. She bites at her lower lip nervously, then continues, “The thing is, I haven’t been able to find a model at such short notice. And well … you’re right here and you said that you were just going to be watching Netflix all afternoon so…?”

Clarke trails off, the tone of her voice rising at the end as she looks at Lexa with a question on her face.

Lexa is embarrassingly slow to pick up on what Clarke is asking her. In fact, it is only after a good five seconds of racking her brains to see if she knows anybody who might be willing to pose for Clarke, five seconds in which Clarke’s face gradually moves through pink and to a deeply flushed red, that she realises that Clarke is asking if that person can be her.

“You want me to…? Oh, right. Um, wow.”

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Got Me Some Pizza And a Hot Guy || KakaSaku

“Order 342, please. Two veggie pizza with extra cheese and garlic bread.”

Sakura sighed for the fifth time in the past half hour and watched as a dark haired boy with unhealthily-pale skin stepped forward to take his order.

Her order was taking forever although all she had asked for was a medium sized pepperoni pizza and potato wedges. Now it was only her and another man waiting on the stools under too-bright lamps hanging too low from the ceiling.

A sigh sounded from the man next to her. It was quiet, barely audible but it caught her attention anyway. She was, after all, so bored she felt like she might die. Her phone died a while ago, leaving her with nothing to do but fidget and stare miserably at the cashier, who she was pretty sure could here her stomach grumbling all the way from where he stood.

She turned to look at her companion and her jaw nearly dropped. How had she not noticed she was sitting next to an exquisite member of the male species?

He had very distinct features, ones you’d expect to see in a magazine, not in a Pizza Hut shop at the corner of the street. His hair was pale and messy in that ruggedly handsome kind of way; all over the place and curling slightly at the edges. His arm flexed as he reached to run his fingers through it, mussing it up even more.

She was pretty sure his chiselled jawline could cut glass.

Abruptly, twin charcoal irises locked with her emerald ones and she nearly recoiled. Had she been caught blatantly and shamelessly ogling this beautiful stranger? Better remedy the situation and quickly, “it’s taking a while, huh?”

The corner of his mouth lifted up in a small smile and she nearly swooned, he even had a small freckle on his chin, “it sure is,” he drawled, tone low and absolutely delicious to the ears and then reached to cover his mouth as he yawned, “been here for forty minutes.”

“Sucks.” She muttered distractedly. How could someone look good when <i>yawning?</i> The hunger must be messing up with her mind.

As if on cue, her stomach grumbled loudly. The rosette felt her cheeks flush and she looked away, wrapping her arms around her middle.

His chuckled rang through the empty shop, much to her horror, “quite hungry aren’t you?”

“Shut up.” She said on reflex, her cheeks undoubtedly burning.

He quietened abruptly, prompting her to look over at him to check if she had by some miracle, offended him. Instead, she received an immediate apology, “I’m sorry, did I embarrass you? I didn’t mean to.”

“N-no, no it’s okay,” she stammered, waving her hand dismissively in hurried efforts to assure him and simultaneously change the topic. “I’m Sakura by the way, I didn’t get your name?”

His face relaxed back into the same charming smile where his mouth lifted just at one corner, hinting at a dimple, “Kakashi.”

“And what are you doing at Pizza Hut at eleven, Kakashi?” She wondered, slightly entranced as she watched him lean forward to rest his head on his upturned palm and tilt his chin cutely, fixing his half-lidded gaze on her.

“I’m having a… sleepover of sorts, and the fridge is understocked.” He admitted, yawning again. “Genma—my friend—he wouldn’t stop whining about being hungry so here I am. What about you?”

“I just got off from my hospital shift and I’m too lazy to cook.” She said sheepishly and his eyes widened slightly.

“You’re a doctor?” He whistled, causing her cheeks to flush again. “Nice. If I had previously known there are such pretty doctors at the hospital I wouldn’t have minded it so much.”

Was he… hitting on her? She picked her jaw off the floor, hoping her cheeks didn’t match her hair as much as she feared, “shush,” she stammered, flattered and scrambled to change the conversation again, “you… you hate hospitals?

He made a contemplative sound at the back of his throat. "I’m not saying I hate them, I’m just saying if I were terminally ill and dying I’d rather sleep it off.”

“Wow,” she let out a startled laugh, “do I want to know?”

He squinted cutely as he gave her a tight lipped smile and shook his head, “nope. Nope you don’t.”

The conversation drifted into silence, and Sakura searched her brain for anything to say, “I used to dislike hospitals too, ” she informed, hoping conversation would pick back up, “I hated shots.”

He laughed, and it held a strangely musical lilt, “how cute. Not gonna lie, I used to get dragged there kicking and screaming to get them. Not much changed about the being dragged kicking and screaming part though.”

Sakura had to bite her lip to hold her laughter, “I’ll have to make sure to be there to witness it next time it happens then.”

He flashed her a downright sexy devious grin, “oh boy, now I’m not sure if I want to avoid the hospital even more or visit it more often.”

There he goes again, she felt her cheeks warm once more and diverted her gaze. “I’ll show you the restricted wing if you come over.” She offered, her voice dropping to a whispered, “truth is, we murder tough patients there and sacrifice them to the gods.”

“Terrifying,” he gasped, “will I be sacrificed too?”

“Haven’t decided yet.” She pursed her lips to hold back her smile, “might hold on to you.”

“Well, this humble human being has no objections whatsoever.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her and <i>goddammit Sakura, since when are you so easily charmed?</i>

“Order 343,” called the cashier.

Kakashi straightened suddenly, “that’d be me.” He stalked off to receive his order, leaving Sakura’s eyes to trail after him with obvious disappointment.

He returned two minutes later, one hand stuffed in his leather jacket and the other holding a bag. “I’ll be going now. It was nice meeting you, Sakura. Will you be able to make it home safely? I can wait for you if you want.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” she hurried to assure although she wanted him to stay, “I live just down the street. Don’t keep Genma waiting.”

He grinned lopsidedly at her and began to walk backwards, “well, as you wish, good night Sakura.”

“‘Night Kakashi.” She said, trying to keep her disappointment from leaking into her voice.

“You’re not gonna ask for her number?” Sniggered the blond man behind the cashier, causing Kakashi to grin and wink at her as he opened the door to exit.

“Nah, I’ll just have to visit that dreadful hospital and find her sometime. You can’t miss someone with a hair like that.” And then he was gone, leaving behind a gaping Sakura and a giggling blond.

John's Always Right?

I know everyone is probably tired by now of all the speculation; I know I’ve crumpled my tin foil hat and thrown it into the recycling bin several times now. However, I came to a realization that made me dive back in and rescue that hat. If it’s too much for you to keep considering, I understand, but I can’t help but offer this small reminder: John is always right.

TAB was the first episode to really clue us in to the fact that we’re dealing with the show on a completely meta physical level now. And if John Watson gave Mycroft 5 years before his demise from consumption, then we can’t really expect any kind of real resolution before Series 5 airs. Sherlock thought it would happen in 4 years, and so did we, but we should have listened to John because he (according to Sherlock himself) is always right.

And when can we expect Series 5 to happen? Who knows, but Sherlock made a deal with Mycroft to change his bet to 3 years flat if Mycroft ate another pudding, a deal Mycroft readily accepted. This would place the first episode of Series 5 on January 1st, 2019, 3 years to the day that TAB aired. It’s gonna be a long hiatus.

(submitted by Julie)

Hey Lovely!

I feel ya on the crumpled tinfoil hat; heaven knows how often mine has been thrown out and then begrudgingly pulled from the garbage and crookedly been replaced on my head, LOL. 

Perhaps this is a positive way to look at it, and could help support their claims that “TAB must come out NOW” that they were so adamant about before S4. The negative part of me, though, is essentially screaming “then what was the point of TAB if S4 is our result???”. I try to stay skeptical just a teeny bit, if only because TPTB were so smug about how great S4 was and how amazing TFP was and… it wasn’t. :p And the fact that they didn’t even submit “their favourite episode” in for an Emmy speaks MOUNTAINS to me.

My thing is though that if John’s always right, then shouldn’t his 5 years be the correct one then? I dunno. I enjoy all these deductions, so I’ll post anyway, but I’m not making any more airdate speculations. The only thing I can see being a plus for 2019 is that it is the year that ALL the copyrights on all the remaining ACD stories expire, so they won’t have to jump through any more hoops to get to tell the story they want (should) to tell.

The Meme and His Tutor

Part 7:  The Time The Tutor Got Mail

Recommended Song: Q by GOT7

|All Chapters|


Jungkook had gone and done exactly what you had told him not to do as well as making your melt a little.

Genre: Fluff, comedy

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1121

Length: 7/?

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sweetapple01  asked:

I love Doctor bf but consider this: Dark manipulates Host into a "relationship" with him and Doc is just like "... this is not okay YOU'RE NOT OKAy"

(Hoo boy!!)

Dark’s arm around his shoulder is always possessive, each kiss carefully placed, on his cheeks, in his hair, over his bandage where his eyes would be. He whispers sweet things into the Host’s ears, tangling him in his web.

And normally, the Host with his power of Knowing, would be aware that Dark is manipulating him into something he won’t be able to escape, but Dark’s mental walls are powerful and the Host can’t read him. He doesn’t want to though because even if some tiny screaming part of himself says it’s a lie, the rest of him wants to believe that Dark really does care.

And why would he doubt Dark’s embraces and gentle touches when he saved him?

Dr. Iplier, one of the few who see through Dark’s act, is infuriated buy it. Because there are still bruises and there’s still flinching and for all the Host’s incredible power he can’t seem to escape his fate as Dark’s puppet.


Request: (13) Don’t worry, I’ve got you.  (40) I’ll keep you safe. Colour: Grey

Requester: Anon

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Platonic!Companion!Reader

Warning: None

Words: 1329


You speed around the corner and rested your back against the cool metal wall as you tried to catch your breath. Closing your eyes, a tear escaped down your cheek. You and he had planned on a relaxing day in modern Paris when a hoard of Cybermen decided to attack the city. With only a glimpse and scan of the surroundings, they had remembered who The Doctor was and chased both of you through the streets. The Doctor disappeared when you had run into the warehouse.

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anonymous asked:

Here's a prompt for you my bean: Arin makes an unexpected visit to Danny while he's showering and starts touching him

(Sorry this took so long)

“This is bullshit,"  Dan mutters as he gets out of the bathroom, hair soaking wet. "You only get like two seconds of hot water.  Dude, it was so cold I thought Excalibur was gonna shrivel up and die.”

Arin couldn’t help but laugh at Dan, who was cupping his junk protectively at the very thought.  They had deffently stayed in nicer hotels while touring but this one was a little last minute.  It was bad enough they were only able to book two rooms.  Ross and Brent voted on sharing a room, leaving Arin amd Dan alone in their own.  Before they seperated, Ross had to be a butt and give a knowing wink to Arin.

It was no secrete that Arin had the hots for Dan.  Well, everyone but Dan seemed to know.  The whole night, Arin couldn’t sleep, but stare at Dan as he dozed off.


Another show, another late night.  They didn’t get back to their room till around midnight.  Both of them were so sweaty and tired but knew they needed showers first.  Dan grabbed hia pajama pants and raced to the bathroom before Arin could even sit down.

The water felt great against Dan’s skin, the warmth just relaxing every muscule. Thar was until the shower got thrown open wide and scared the shit out of him.

“Arin whatthelivingfuck?!?!” Dan sgouted while trying to cover up and not fall at the same time.

“You said it your self, the water heater here sucks.  So why not share?”

“You just wanna look at my dick.”

“That is one of many reasons.”

There was no give with Arin.  When he’s set on an idea, theres no talking him out of it.  Dsn let out a long sigh and made room Arin in the already tiny shower. 

“No staring at my dick though.”

“You’re no fun."Arin pouted, which was a little too sexy at the moment.

The tension in the cramped space could be cut with a knife.  Dan was directly under the shower head, trying his hardest to wash his hair as fast as he could just to get out.  It was as if Arin wasn’t there.  Well, until a cold wet hand placed itself in the middle of Dan’s back making him yelp.

"Relax, I’m just cleaning ya.”

“Because if that I can’t relax.  Gez, can’t keep your hands off me.”

“You’re not running away.”

Even though every part of his brian was screaming to jump out of there, Dan’s body leaned into the touch.  Maybe it was because he hadn’t been with someone in a while, or good it felt to be touched.  Arin’s hands were soft and how they mapped out his back made Dan’s flutter shut.  Before he knew it, his bsck was pressed up against Arin.

“Fuck, dude.” Arin breathed out.

At this point, Dan was gone.  His head rested back on Arin’s shoulder, his hands tangling themselves in his long hair. 

“Can I touch it?"Arin whispered as his hands traveled down Dan’s stomach.

Dan turned and whispered, "Just this once.”