stained cement

You’re My World.

Originally posted by v-writings

Peter Parker x Reader

Request: Yes

Summary: Peter gets hurt during a mission and the reader is there to help comfort him.

Word Count: 2,265 (I got carried away)

Warnings: Language, fight, blood, injuries, knives, hurting!Peter, comforting!Reader, fluffy fluff, sad stuff, so much cheesiness. (Let me know if I missed any). 

A/N: For the anon that requested this, here you are m'dear! I hope you like it! I’m shit at bad ass fight scenes (really everything), but I tried. Feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy reading!


Walking into the conference room to discuss the mission a few hours ahead, the team is already seated.

Noticing a chair between Wanda and Peter, you sneakily take a seat.

“Nice of you to join us, Y/N” Tony points out, rolling his eyes.

“You bet, Stark.” You replied, saluting and smirking.

As he continued talking about the mission ahead, you drifted away in your thoughts.

This better be a quick mission…

HGTV ’s got new episodes of house hunters calling my name.

Keep reading

it’s two a.m. - Haechan

*it’s two in the morning, you don’t know how to say no to a bet, you forgot your gloves outside, and there is something moving behind you.


Characters: Haechan, Reader, Mark

Pairing: Haechan/Reader

Genre: Fluff 

Word Count: 4K


Somedays you needed to sit yourself down in front of a mirror and have a serious, personal conversation about your impulse control. Sometimes it worked out fine for you, ending with an ultimate face off with your fear of heights on a cliff edge (you didn’t even flinch on Ferris Wheels anymore) and other times it landed you in situations much like the one you were in now. The kind where you were by yourself in the middle of the night, in somewhere clearly housing a poltergeist, while your idiot friends laughed safely and decidedly not located inside an abandoned mall.

Really, you blame Mark for his stupid comments and his stupid way of knowing how to push your buttons. He always knew how to make you do something, and he was especially motivated when it would almost guarantee you being pissed or scared pissing. This was one of those times.

Keep reading

Nudge Theory

Characters: CastielXReader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2516 (Act IV - Part II)

A/N: A five-act miniseries. The reader and Castiel must work together to solve the curious case of the missing Winchesters. Fluff, smut, and a plot for kicks. Is adding a second part to the fourth act of a five act mini-series cheating? Cause if so, I’m guilty! Act V got long…really long. So here’s Act IV from the reader and Castiel’s perspective to tide you all over until the conclusion!

Previous chapters:   Act I,  Act II, Act III , Act IV - Part I

Originally posted by winchester-novak

Nudge [verb] –

·       “Coax or gently encourage someone to do something.”

“Dean?!” the angel’s deeply concerned tenor was a contained thunder clap which sent you bolting upright.

“What do you mean, where am I? Where are you?” Cas pivoted to face you, “I’m in bed.” Speaking to you, he tilted the phone from his mouth and lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper, “It’s Sam and Dean.”

Even groggy with the withering vestiges of sleep you’d managed to surmise as much on your own. In the split second before your temper flared, you acknowledged it was kind of adorable how the angel stated the obvious with such gravitas. But what you really wanted to know was where the hell the brothers had been all this time, and why they didn’t touch base until now.

“I’m being too specific?” with a roll of his bright blue eyes and a deep sigh, Cas directed his attention to the conversation with Dean, “Earth…well, you said…fine, we’re at a motel in Clifton Springs…off Elis Road near the former site of the sanatorium…yes, following up on your case.”

Keep reading

I Caught Fire: Part 2 - A Roan x Reader Imagine

Originally posted by caryled

Summary: Driven away from yet another home, you run into an old flame but will you be able to rekindle the love that was lost?

Words: 7,106

Warnings: Mild violence

Rating: T


You eyed the sky as you trudged home with a woven basket full of ingredients, the overcast sky seemingly darkening into a stormy gray. You weren’t sure if this was a bad omen or if you had just spent too much time absentmindedly perusing the marketplace, but the sudden change made you shudder.

Your eyes fell on the castle just in the distance.

You hadn’t heard from Roan in two weeks. There was no sign of him or his planned wedding procession. There hadn’t been any mention of the great alliance between Azgeda and Trishanakru or the induction of a new Ice Nation princess, though, the ceremony date had come and gone.

Your intuition told you that something had gone wrong, not because of the obvious evidence but because Roan wasn’t someone who went back on his word. You weren’t sure if he had been caught and his plan foiled or if the wedding date had simply been postponed. You just wanted him to show up, and that’s why you waited.

You entered the small hut that you shared with your new healer friend and called out to the elderly woman, “Faye, I’m back. Sorry, I took so long.”

The woman didn’t respond. She hated when you were late which is probably why she was ignoring you.

Keep reading

An Animal

Summary: After years of staying off the radar Y/N’s first misstep has everyone watching for their next move. A Peter Parker Fic

Trigger warnings: blood, death, swearing, violence, gun shots

Word Count : 1674
Part 1 / ? of The Vigilante Series based on this request

               Walking at night with the chilling breeze and only a thin sweatshirt would cause any person to be freezing, but not Y/N. Y/N instead had adrenaline coursing through their veins to warm them up. The buzz from helping the people more than the police could fulfills Y/N. Each time they draw their claws to a criminal, seeing them scurry away in fear satisfied them nearly as much as saving those in need. The excitement that comes with every time they bear their claws outweighs nearly all the fear that Y/N won’t be able to save anyone in time. For once in their life, Y/N knows that what they’re doing is right. For once they understand why they are the way that they are: driven, broken, and unpredictable.

Keep reading

1st day of Port Mafia Week // prompt: then and now || first mission

{ Chuuya Nakahara/ Kouyou Ozaki } { Words: 848 }
{ Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Character Study, Relationship Study }
{ a/n: this is written under the pretense Chuuya joined at age 12 }


Nakahara Chuuya
Year 02, Day 145
               


            Silence is unnerving. There’s nothing else to focus on when the environment is frozen, soundless, vapid. Fragmented details multiply by the hundreds, by the thousands. Blood pumping through his ears, a shrill ring several decimals too high for comfort. Under a starless sky surrounded by empty woods Chuuya fights to exhale. Crumpled bricks and torn branches pile over him, scarlet ribbons of tangled hair dyed cherry red scarcely visible among the ruins.

             Grass climbs beneath his fingertips. He pushes against the weight on his torso until speckled lights buzz over his head like star-struck fireflies. Charred flesh mixes with the natural dewy scent of the forest. Given the chill rolling up the exposed skin of his neck Chuuya knows the sun will rise soon. This isn’t a terrible place to die, he thinks. Tears prick the corner of his eyes. Karma works quickly, apparently.

             Had the bomb not malfunctioned he wouldn’t have been this close to the mission point. Buried under remains with enemies (or victims) and brick and cement and all the little things it takes to build a church. Stained cement hovers an inch over his chest, silken red pushing the brittle pieces off his chest. But, there is a time limit and the sand is running quickly to the bottom. At random, bricks and chips of heavy scaffolding crash around him (or on him). Fresh scrapes block out old wounds for a millisecond before they fall into a pool of excruciating pain.

            The temperature suddenly drops and goosebumps ravish his pale skin. Fear jolts a spark of energy through his body. But it’s not enough. It feels like it’s raining but the only thing he can smell is blood. Air catches in the center of his throat; bottled up emotion mixed with soot. Fire-hot trails scratch down from his throat to his chest. A second brick falls and knocks a thicker crack into his rib cage. More rain falls, heavy drops, but he can’t find a single cloud in the sky.

            They’re tears. How childish.

            Four men, that’s all it was supposed to be. But there were six and the timer wasn’t working and fuck if had only practiced more. Debris was not an issue when he was hidden behind a mass of trees. Knocking back three or four, hell even five, chunks of brick and debris was simple. Simple.

            It would have been simpler if he died in that alley of starvation and pneumonia.

           There was nobody to give a shit if he made a mistake. If he fucked up and disappointed those who took him in and spent hours training him. Feeding him. Giving him clothes and a bed and all the things it takes to build a home.

               His legs have turned to stone. Shivers rock through his spine and what he can feel of his left arm. The taste of blood has long become a familiar tang. Cloudy vision makes the sky vibrate. Brilliant streaks of silver melding with violet and tangerine growing like a sunflower from the bottom of the earth. He catches the silence again, but this time he listens.

            To the way his throat scratches when he whimpers out of nature over desire. To the softened rhythm of his lungs pulling in and pushing out as brick after brick slowly descend on to his chest. To the hum of a bee plucking at flowers somewhere. To the birds rustling in trees. His eyes flutter shut.

            He deserved this.

            He misses the flash of dazzling gold. Inhaling catches him by surprise. Chuuya’s eyes widen, lungs caught off guard by the ability to inflate again. Her fingertips brush over a patch of blood dried to his forehead. Kouyou grits her teeth as he coughs a mix of relief and unintended sobs that fill the previous silence. She never realized how small he was, how thin and childish he still looked with his hair a mess and clothes absolutely tattered. How frail his arms and legs were compared to the gnarled branches scattered over the field and the red bricks tossed carelessly in piles by her demon.

            The rumbling of an engine and footsteps cascade over them. His head remains cradled on her lap; he apologizes for the stain to her kimono. She beckons him to stay awake, polished nails dragging patterns over his cheek still flush with baby fat. When he recovers she’ll have to tease him about it. He mumbles a second apology; she says nothing for now.

            She refuses help and carries him to the car. Mori is already waiting she presumes. He’ll be able to survive in the Port Mafia once he learns to think before feeling. But, to be truthful he did succeed in his mission. The boss will be happy about that. She smiles at him, hazy blue eyes gleam back as she wipes the blood off his face with a handkerchief. He looks tranquil; guilt buries itself in her chest. This is not the first mistake she’ll make with him.

           This not the mistake she wants for him.

Soul Alight [Sam Winchester x Reader]

Author’s Note: Took my last midterm last week and you think that’d be it but noooo now I’ve got three papers and finals to study for! That’s how you know the end of the quarter is approaching–you’re drowning in homework. Sorry for typos. Hope this is okay. It’s late. I need to sleep.

Word Count: 1,379

Keep reading

nona-inc  asked:

KatsuDeku - 35. As a goodbye.

35. the way you said I love you: as a goodbye


Chaos surrounds Bakugou. Buildings and structures are burning to the ground, glass and shattered materials littering the streets. He hears the sound of police sirens somewhere not too far off, but he knows that, well, the police probably won’t be able to do shit. Blood stains the cement sidewalks, from heroes and villains alike.

There’s a yell behind him—it’s a familiar voice, one that Bakugou doesn’t want to hear, shouldn’t hear now.

“Deku!” Bakugou shouts. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

There is no response for a few seconds, except for a faint mumble. Bakugou turns around, scanning the vicinity, until his eyes land on a body lying on the ground.

“Deku?” Bakugou opens his mouth to say more, but the words won’t come out.

He walks over, almost moving mechanically. Izuku is still breathing, but it comes out slow and sharp. Blood, thick and red, stains through the center of his shirt.

“K-Kacchan,” Izuku says weakly. “I came to save you.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen at this, and he wraps his hand tightly around Izuku’ s wrist.

“Save what?” he chokes out a laugh, but there is no humor in it. “ You can’t save anything, Deku, look at yourself, you…you’re…”

“I’m sorry,” Izuku whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“Just stop apologizing,” Bakugou snarls. “All you ever do is apologize for shit, and it’s…it’s fucking annoying, okay?”

“Don’t—don’t apologize for this,” Bakugou’s voice breaks. “I’m…I’m gonna fucking kill you if you die, Deku.”

“I’ll be dead either way,” Izuku smiles faintly, coughing. “I-it’s for the best, isn’t it?”

“The best what?”

“I’m sorry,” Izuku repeats. He tilts his head back, a tear sliding down his cheek. “I’m sorry, Kacchan, I-”

“Shut up,” Bakugou shakes his head. “Shut up, shut up, shut up, you’re not dead, you’re not fucking dead, you’re not going to die!”

Izuku pulls back so his hand rests in Bakugou’s. Their fingers, rough and callused and covered in fading scars, intertwine.

“I have one more thing to tell you,” Izuku mumbles.

“Stop it,” Bakugou furrows his eyebrows together, tears staining his cheeks. “You’re so fucking-“

Izuku squeezes his hand, and Bakugou stops.

“I love you,” Izuku whispers. “I-I’ll always…always…”

Bakugou stares.

“Deku? Deku, you’re not done, you—keep talking, Deku! YOU’RE NOT DONE!”


Izuku doesn’t finish his sentence.

Tell The Truth

Hello Lovelies!!! I haven’t written Kastle in sooo long. I’m so sorry. I been involved in writing other things and I’m trying to get finished with a couple of before November, because I know where my muse is going in November. 

WARNING violence! Sorry Karen. Just a little piece. I have no idea where this came from but here’s a little bit with Karen, Frank and an ex-con named Grindle… don’t put your money on the ex-con, fyi



Tell The Truth


She wasn’t giving this asshole the satisfaction of seeing any fear. The man dressed in all black was locked in a damn cage, no way to get to her.

Grindle dragged the blade’s blunt edge across Karen’s collarbone. He’d already stripped her of her top, leaving her in her purple bra and black skirt. Her lip was split, blood drying on her chin, but her blue eyes flashed angry; no fucking fear.

The ex-con turned the blade and poked her flesh with it just enough to draw a few drops of blood. “He’s not even saying anything. You’d think he’d come to your rescue, instead of sitting there like you’re not going to die under my blade.”

She spit out a mouthful of salvia and blood next to Grindle, staining the cement pink.

“Not much of a lady are you?” He jerked on the flex cuffs that restrained her and flicked the knife against her bicep making a thin red line trail down her arm.

She didn’t whimper; she didn’t cry out; and the man in the cage was still silent.

“Why’s he letting this happen to you? You must really only be a piece of ass to him. Him letting me cut on you like this.” Grindle made another thin line down her arm, before turning to the man in the cage and sneered. “Is she not any good? You use her up already? That why you don’t care if I mess her up? So much for the big bad punisher…” He chuckled darkly before examining Karen again.

He pressed his finger against one of the cuts, forcing it to bleed more. He held his finger up for the woman to inspect, her expression was still stony. Grindle painted her lips with her own blood then grabbed her chin. “I think I’ll fuck you before I kill you, but I just can’t decide if I want to do it myself or use my blade on you.”

Her eyes filled with tears suddenly and she let out a pained whine. “Please.”

“Please what darlin? You want me instead of my blade?” He patronized. “I knew you were scared. No one to protect you… Now you beg me like a good girl.”

“Please.” Her blood-stained lip quivered and she bowed her head.

“There we…”

Whatever else Grindle would have said was interrupted by Karen throwing all of her weight into him in the form of head butt to his chest. He fell back on his ass, teeth clacking together as she struggled to push away from him. Her long legs flailing wildly as she scrambled to her feet.

“Run.” Came the one-word order from the man in the cage.

She paused by the cage for a moment, but then dashed out of the warehouse, looking desperately around the docks for someone to help her.

Grindle was on his feet. He couldn’t believe that dumb broad wasn’t screaming for help. He snagged her hair and jerked her back towards him, but instead of fear in her eyes there was only triumph. “No one’s coming to help you.”

“You dropped your knife.”

“I don’t need a knife to kill you.”

“You dropped the keys.”

He could feel ice run down the back of his neck, like death’s hand was a moment from grasping him.

“and… I kicked them into the cage.”

….

She had tied her blouse together in a vain attempt to cover herself, but she looked a like a city version of Catherine Bach. Her hands were still shaking as she heard the splash of the body hitting the water. She closed her eyes and tried to take a calming breath, but she was still trembling.

“You’re just out of adrenalin. Gonna have the shakes for a bit. Need to eat and rest.” His presence blocked out the streetlight; the darkness somehow more comforting than the light right now. His voice was a low growl as he questioned, “You good?”

She looked up at him, “Are you?”

“Bit better now.” He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

Well he never lied to her.

“How’d you know I was playing possum?”

“You told me once that you’d die before you begged.”

Well she never lied to him either.

He nudged her gently, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“That’s my line.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”


I’m not sure how Frank ended up in that cage…but I do not want to know what Grindle looked like when he went into that water..Yikes.

Love to my Loves.

Dauntless (Part 4)

Here’s Part 4 of the Dauntless series. Part 5 will be up soon. Hope you enjoy it.

I wake up strapped to a metal chair in front of a metal table with another chair across from me. The room has only one light suspended from a chain on the ceiling. The walls are made of cement stained with blood. Whoever was here before me must’ve gotten into some serious trouble. I’m still in my Dauntless attire and judging by my surroundings I must still be in Dauntless. Wherever I am I’ve never seen this part of the faction and I hope to never see it again. I struggle against my bonds but my attempt is useless. I’m stuck in this chair until someone decides to release me. Until then, I try to remember what happened leading up to my capture.

All of a sudden, the door to the room opens and a tall, muscular man walks in carrying a folder. He pulls out the chair and takes a seat. I recognize him immediately. Max, one of the leaders of Dauntless. He opens the folder to reveal several documents. He picks one up and looks it over.

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N). Born in Amity and transferred to Dauntless. Since your parents are leaders of the Amity, one would expect you to not have a single violent nerve in your brain.”

“Things aren’t always what they seem,” I say.

Max looks up from the documents.

“Let’s get down to business. Do you know why you’re here?”

I try to remember the last thing that happened leading up to this incident. I remember walking to the tattoo parlor. Did I get there? I don’t think so. Wait, I remember approaching the pit and overhearing a conversation between two Dauntless. They were talking about some sort of simulation and how they’d be able to tell if someone was Divergent because of it. That must be it.

“Let me guess. I heard something I shouldn’t have.”

“Exactly,” replies Max. He places his hands on the table and folds them.

“What did you hear?”

“Why should I tell you?”

Max sits up straights and takes a deep breath.

“You, my dear, are in some serious trouble. If you want to remain alive and well, I suggest you cooperate. Otherwise, you might never see the outside world again.”

I sit up straight like him and clear my throat.

“I overheard something about everyone being injected with a serum and how it wouldn’t be able to affect Divergents.”

“That’s a start. What else did you hear?”

“I also heard the whole operation involves Jeanine Matthews somehow. That’s all I heard. Nothing else.”   

Neither of us says anything for a while. Finally, Max gets up from the chair.

“Your cooperation is appreciated. Unfortunately, we can’t let you go. You know too much about the plan.”

My heart sinks. How long will I be here? What will they do with me? Torture me? What if they find out I’m Divergent?

“So I’m to stay here until the day I die? Is that it?” I ask staring at him trying to remain as calm and brave as I possibly can.

“Until the plan is executed,” Max replies. He pulls out a gun from his holster and points it at me.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” I ask.

“Here’s the deal. You’re coming with me to discuss matters with Jeanine. If you make any attempts of escape, I will kill you. Is that clear?”

I look down at my bonds then back up at Max. At least I won’t be trapped in this room.

“Yes.”

Max loosens the straps and I slip my hands out. I rub my wrists as I stand up.

He opens the door to reveal a long hallway.

“Follow me.”

The walk felt like the longest walk of my life. So many hallways and stairs I managed to lose count of how many I encountered. At last, we get to Jeanine’s office. A camera sits above the door. Max presses a button on the wall and position himself and me so we’re both in full view of the camera. There’s a buzz and Max opens the door.

Jeanine’s office is painted with different shades of blue. Her desk is made of glass and she sits in a black ridged chair behind it. Two blue office chairs are situated in front of it. A window overlooking the Erudite grounds is situated behind her.

“Welcome (Y/N). Please have a seat,” says Jeanine.

I have no other choice but to take a seat at her desk. Max sits down next to me.

“I gather you understand why you’re here today.”

“Yes. I overheard something I shouldn’t have.”

“Correct.”

Jeanine places her hands on the table and folds them.

“I don’t want this to be more difficult than necessary. As long as you cooperate, no one will get hurt.”

I sit up straight and place my hands in my lap.

“Alright let’s begin. Tell me what you were doing leading up to the incident.”

I clear my throat.

“I was walking towards the tattoo parlor since I thought Why not? I had nothing else to do. To get to there from the dorms I’d have to pass through the pit. I noticed two Dauntless having a conversation. My mischievous got the better of me and I ended up eavesdropping on their conversation. Next thing I know I’m grabbed from behind, injected with some sort of sleep serum I assume and everything goes black.”

Jeanine thinks for a moment.

“What were you planning to do with the newly discovered information?”

“I don’t know.”

“What might you have done?” Jeanine rests her head on top of her folded her hands intrigued.

“I might’ve kept it to myself.”

Jeanine unfolds her hands, crosses her arms and sits back in her chair.

“Why?”

“I didn’t know if I should warn others or if I should find out more.”

Suddenly Jeanine leans forward and stares at me like a hawk.

“When you say ‘others’ are you referring to Divergents?”

Oh god. Does she think I’m Divergent or I know any other Divergents? I better watch what I say from now on. One wrong thing comes out of my mouth and I’m done for.

“I don’t know any Divergents so no.”

There’s a ding and Jeanine takes a look at her computer screen. She smiles and types something on her keyboard. The office door opens.

“Ah, Eric. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

anonymous asked:

For the prompt ask, can you please repost that bit of the Klaine Sense8 fic you were writing? I can't find it on your blog :(

Hey nonnie :) 

I couldn’t find it on my blog, either :( But here it is. It was originally written for the prompt “Sense8″. It’s called “I Am We” and features Kurt and Blaine as Lito and Wolfgang, but in a different setting:

I Am We

Kurt’s head whips around, snapping unnaturally to the side as his body flies into the wall behind him. Thankfully his head doesn’t smack back into the brick because that would cause a concussion for sure, and more than likely, he’d black out.

Kurt can’t do that. Maybe he’s not that good at fighting back, especially when the odds are three to one, but he can’t lose consciousness. He needs to stay awake. That’s the only way he’s going to survive.

Enough is apparently enough. These boys aren’t content with tossing him into dumpsters and slamming him into lockers anymore.

This time, they’re going to put him in the hospital … if he’s lucky.

“Get up, fag!” the boy in the center, the ringleader, shouts so loud it might as well be in his ear. Or is that a migraine he feels coming on? It’s a strange combination of pain and calm. It throbs, it hums, it aches, but it makes him feel at peace. Like he’s no longer alone. “You wanted to fight, you fucking smart ass! So fight!”

Kurt is surprised that the volume of his voice doesn’t attract more attention, especially since most of the school knows what happens back here behind the 4-H building. There should be a security guard or something. But there’s nobody – no teachers, no students, nobody.

Or not exactly nobody.

Kurt’s head lulls to his right and he sees a boy sitting there, forehead almost touching his, his brow creased with concern.

Kurt knows this boy. He recognizes him.

Even though he’s never seen him before in his life.

Correction. Not physically. He’s been in Kurt’s mind before, and in his dreams. But they’ve never been in the same place at the same time.

Get up, the boy says, staring at Kurt with deeply pleading eyes.

I’m … I’m trying, Kurt says. The world has gone slow. He’s not where he was, but sitting beside himself – his breaking husk - about ready to give up.

You need to get up, the boy says, as if Kurt doesn’t already know. They’ll kill you if you don’t.

I don’t know that that matters, Kurt says with a shake of his head. I don’t … I’m not strong enough.

“Who the fuck you talkin’ to, huh? You tryin’ to play crazy? Because it ain’ gonna work with us!” The jock hits Kurt again, slamming his head into the pavement. The blow opens a cut on Kurt’s forehead that stains the pale grey cement a shocking shade of red, pouring fast and free so that Kurt can almost hear it. He doesn’t turn to look, but he sees it in the reflection of the boy’s hazel eyes. The boy looks from Kurt’s body, to the bullies, to the boy sitting beside him.

Can I? he asks.

Kurt swallows. He’s heard this boy’s voice before, but not as clearly as he does now. He remembers him from before a time when he can even remember, as if he weeds in and out of Kurt’s conscious, leaving behind footsteps like scars, even as they fade. This boy - his voice plants flowers in Kurt’s mind, roses of red and yellow. Their scent is always with him. And for some reason, Kurt’s survival seems to mean more to this boy than it even means to himself.

What? Kurt asks, confused, but then he realizes that this boy is with him. He lives within him somehow; a part of him in his brain. This boy is not him, but they exist with one another. And this boy wants to help him. Yeah. Sure. Go for it.

The boy stands up. He stands up, and Kurt’s body stands up, but to Kurt, it’s the boy taking his place. He can see them both clearly – himself and this boy – as if they occupy the same space.

Apart, yet they still manage to be one.

The three jocks in front of him look surprised to see Kurt on his feet, blood draining down his face as he walks, gravity and pressure forcing it from Kurt’s body and yet, there he is, striding toward them as if he hadn’t been hit at all.

The hulking monster in the middle, the one who dealt out most of the blows, comes at him again, ready to finish what he started. His fist flies, but Kurt dodges, delivering his own blow to the boy’s left cheek – a blow that sends him back a few steps and almost drops him to the floor.

What?” the boy in Kurt’s body says, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “Did you think you guys were done? I was just getting warmed up.”

“What the—?“ the boy to his right says with eyes wide and fearful. “That isn’t …this isn’t …”

“Shut up!” the boy nursing his rattled jaw barks. “Don’t wuss out now just because he got in a lucky punch!”

“Oh, that one was lucky. But the rest, they’re not going to take any luck at all.” Kurt’s body walks steadily closer, the two boys flanking the one in the middle trying to pull him away, staring at Kurt as if they’re seeing a ghost.

And Kurt, sitting on the floor, staring up at his body fighting off these boys, isn’t entirely sure he’s not seeing a ghost himself.

My Mate (Part 27)

Title: My Mate

 Summary: Did you know angels need mates?  Yea, like angelic married…mates.  And sometimes, this heat-like phase takes over where they have to mate, like their biological clock starts ticking.  Well, that is what has happened, and that is how Lucifer wound up in the bunker, his grace fading as he calls out for a mate.  Luckily, the Winchesters are friends with a hunter who is willing to help out.  

 Warnings: Language. Violence. Injury. Abduction.

My Mate Master Post

Masterlist of FanFiction

Originally posted by totallysupernaturaloneshots

Chapter 27 

Riley smiled as she drove her car down the road, thinking about how her life was going.  Her and Lucifer were happy, doing well, and so in love…a phrase she never thought she would say about the devil himself.  With their new house, in hell, she had been spending more time there.  It had been challenging to balance at first between the boys and hell, but it became easier with the help of Crowley and a few other demons, and Cas sometimes.  

It was a bit strange to believe that she had some demon friends…that just sounded so wrong to say when she was a hunter, but it was true. Daemon and Cristani were their names. Lucifer had tasked them with guarding the door to their home, and the collections room, so she saw a great deal of them.  After striking up some conversations, and some offhanded threats if they kept calling her Queen, they finally had a bit of dialogue going.  Scared the hell out of the boys though when Daemon dropped her off at the motel one night…funny, but that was fun to explain.  

Things had become a lot easier now.  Lucifer could be found at times just relaxing with her in the bunker. All the tension and anger that had built up from way back when was gone, even Sam had finally relaxed completely, pleased to make jokes, with ‘speak of the devil’ being his favorite…  Dean had always been pretty chill about the whole thing, which was surprising to her, but she would take any little victories she could muster.  

She pulled her car into the parking lot of the store and parked, getting things together for the supply run.  She hadn’t done one in a while, or any of the chores lately, so while Lucifer was dealing with some things in hell, she decided to help the boys put the bunker back together, starting with actually getting some food.  The pantries were barren now, so it was time to fill them back up.

Keep reading

1997

Pairing: Phan
Genre: Fluff
Word count: 3,792 words
Warnings: Blood, slight violence, smoking, nostalgia, 90′s music
Description: Phil is just a nerd who is too scared to walk past the cigarette-smoking goth boy on the street corner, or nerd!Phil and goth!Dan are true 90′s kids (featuring the musical stylings of Tool and The Smashing Pumpkins)

A/N: this fic is a birthday present for the one and only lilyakkuma. happy 18th birthday, lily!!! you’re my fave 5ever.

**************************************************************************************************

When school had let out a short while ago, Phil’s only emotion had been relief at finally being free for the weekend. Now all that stood between him and his Nintendo 64 was the short walk home. Yet the farther from school he got, the more of his relief was being replaced by uneasiness.

Keep reading

Underground Elite | Mafia AU

@sin-stained-soul

William was sitting in a VIP lounge in one of night clubs where manager was paying him for protection. Both for protection of his business, and the girls working there. Surrounded by some of his closest subordinates, the man was relaxing after a rather tiring day. He had to conduct four executions that day, keep an eye on smuggling cocaine through the border, and make sure that a small gang that was bothering a manager of this club was taken care of.

He had a drink in his hand, and a girl on his lap. Normally there would also be a few lines of white powder on the table in front of him, but tonight William wanted to keep somehow clear mind. He was still waiting for information regarding the case of drug contamination that he discovered recently. He will have to deal with this as soon as possible.

The girl that sat on his lap was very eagerly trying to persuade him to pay for a private room with her, but William was not in the mood that night. He would occasionally use such service, just to keep appearances, but frankly he wasn’t even much into women. He would get a hard-on, and he would enjoy the sex, there were some women that he was finding attractive. But being with a woman was not as satisfying as his secret preferences were.

Ronald Knox, one of William’s underlings, so loyal that William actually made kind of personal assistant of him, walked towards the VIP lounge with stern face. He had his hands in his pockets as he walked through the club, but when he approached his boss, he took them out, regaining a more professional and neat posture. He leaned in and whispered something to William’s ear. The man’s expression changed, and he swatted the girl off his lap. He stood up, and gestured for his men to get up and follow him. They all got into three black cars parked outside, and drove off, heading to the docks. Cars parked in between some cargo containers, to be covered from the view of surveillance cameras, and William together with his men left them there, walking on foot towards a pier that went about half a mile into the sea. On the pier, more of William’s men awaited, pointing their guns at someone kneeling on the ground in the middle.

“So it was you.” William spoke lowly, taking a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his suit jacket. He lit one up, inhaling the smoke sharply. “Imbecile. Did you really think I won’t notice? The powder was not pure.” He then shook his head, and scoffed, anger clear in his voice. “I knew a common junkie cannot be a good dealer. You were taking some of my stuff for yourself and replacing it with some crap. What was it? Flour?” he asked, and upon not hearing the answer immediately, he kicked the man in his stomach.

He coughed and squirmed in pain, then looked up at William. “Baking soda…” he answered weakly, and William laughed bitterly.

“That was your last mistake.” He spoke in a voice that sent chills down everyone’s spine. Even Knox shuddered slightly. William reached underneath his jacket and took out a handgun, soft click could be heard when he unlocked it, and then pointed at the man’s head.

“W-Wait!” the man stuttered in panic, eyes widening. “Let’s negotiate! M-Maybe I can give you something to compensate!”

“What could you possibly give me that I don’t already have? Don’t make me laugh… such a vermin like you has noting that I can be interested in.”

“I have information!” the man squealed in panic. “People on the streets are talking… apparently… you’re not the only boss in the city, if you know what I mean…”

That sparked interest in William. He lowered his gun slowly, raising a brow. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Then, the man told William about the rumors that were recently spreading through the city. Rumors about a new organization appearing in the underground. And that was not a mere gang this time. Apparently they were quite big, and already took control of one of the districts. At first, William didn’t quite believe the dealer, and thought that he’s making all of that up in order to buy himself some time, or lie himself out of the trouble. But when he mentioned the eastern district being controlled by this new organization… William put some facts together. Indeed, people from there weren’t paying him anymore, and were backing off of the businesses they had with him. It was possible that someone new appeared in the city, and tried to be a rival to William’s well established… business.

“Knox.” William hissed sharply, and Ronald was by his side within moments. “Send moles to the eastern district. Have them ask around. I want to know everything about this.” He ordered.

The kneeling dealer sighed out in relief. “So… I helped you, didn’t I? That was valuable information, right?” he asked frantically, confident that he will make it out alive this time.

“Sure. Here is a ‘thank you’ gift.” William replied shortly, aimed, and shot the man right through the head. When his dead body dropped onto the ground, William was already turning on  his heel and walking away. “As usual.” He gave a short order to his subordinates, and that was all they needed to hear to know exactly what to do. Not more than half an hour later the dead dealer ended up at the bottom of the harbor, legs covered in cement.

billyjay936  asked:

I forgot to ask this during the livestream, but how on earth does one color with digital art? I know how to shade with digital art, but how to you make add texture and depth to the coloring because I really have no clue. Thanks for the help either way!

This is a very big question! I’ll try to break things down and show you how I do it, but disclaimer! My way isn’t necessarily “right” or even the best way. Just experiment and you’ll find something that works for you!

Adding TEXTURE can be simple or difficult. I usually take the cheater’s route and find pictures I really like (Paint flecking, cement cracking, stained paper etc) and slap it over my pictures. For example!

Before:

After adding a blue stained paper texture with a Color Burn setting:

In photoshop, this setting, among others, can be found here:

 I usually mess with the settings and opacity until I get something I like.

Some people accomplish TEXTURE through brush strokes or inks, and that’s a technique that just has to be practiced. 

Ok, COLOR! Adding depth in color is a little different because it comes from observation. If you’re drawing a big scene, there’s this thing called atmospheric perspective, which is just the fact that there is lots of air and smoke and whatnot between you and things miles away. This usually boils down to things farther in the distance looking more blue and less contrasty. Like this:

Originally posted by czechthecount

 (Read more about atmospheric perspective here)

If you’re drawing a more close-up scene, you’re gonna have to cheat a little bit. Identify the things you want in the foreground and give them lighter lights and/ or darker darks than the rest of the scene so they’ll pop. I like to make the colors stronger on the foreground stuff too, leaving the background coloring more neutral.

Gradients can also be used to add visual depth to an image, but be VERY CAREFUL about those and always have them at like lower than 20% opacity because a bad gradient can look pretty cheesy! In the image above, I used slightly darker gradients around the edges to make Ben pop a little more. That’s all it takes!

I hope this was helpful. Good luck in your digital arting endeavors! Feel free to ask questions anytime!

Catalyst - Chapter Three

Holding On

Cowritten and Proofread by @aoimikans


Rishi General Hospital was old, originally built before the first quirk appeared. Its state-of-the-art facilities and role as a teaching hospital for the nearby medical school brought in patients and students from across Japan. It quickly grew as it kept pace with the ever-changing nature of humanity. The multiple interconnected medical buildings, pristine landscaping, and parking lots spanned across two whole city blocks.

On the southwest corner stood the original building, squat in comparison to its surroundings at only three floors high. Under the gray sky, the faded brick walls and cracked paint around the windows gave the building the aura of something forgotten. A plain sign hung above the first floor door that simply read: “Storage.”

Naomasa climbed out of his car, raising his badge as he passed the police blockade. Lights flashed from the squad cars lining the road, and a cold wind rustled the police tape surrounding the storage building. A small, scattered crowd gathered along the outside of the barrier, the majority of them wearing scrubs. Nurses and doctors glanced around, speaking to each other in low voices and shrugs.

A group of officers and a couple forensic techs, tool cases in hand, gathered by a short stairwell. Two officers emerged, climbing up the stairs. Between them was a small woman, her head held high and thin lips pursed in a defiant frown despite her ragged appearance. She wore pale pink scrubs and her silvery hair fell from her disheveled bun in flyaway strands. There was a nasty, purple bruise on her temple.

Naomasa watched them pass, spotting the specialized plastic cuffs pinning the woman’s arms behind her back.  

“Sansa,” Naomasa called out.

Officer Tamakawa’s ears swiveled back, and he turned. After a brief greeting, Sansa led Naomasa down the stairs.

Keep reading

Bucky’s Nightmare.

Kill.

An order so familiar the action had become second nature to him. It was a reflex now, an instinct even.

The Winter Soldier trained the weapon on his faceless victim. They faced away from him, unsuspecting. Too easy.
He flexed his metallic finger against the trigger. A sharp, cruel bang rang out and he watched as their body fell to the ground, limp like a rag doll. All the life instantly and irreversibly drained from their form like the scarlet blood that stained the cement.
The assassin stalked toward his prey. He was struck with the deepest horror as the ‘faceless’ victim came into focus. 

It was a face he knew.
A face he’d seen often.
A face he’d held in his heart on his darkest days.
A face he’d watched sleeping.
A face he’d kissed.

It was her face. It was her.