the doorway to the void

Globlin Men

Originally posted by winchestersroadhouse

iZombie drabbled attempt.

Blaine DeBeers x Reader
Words: 900


It had taken you a long time to get used to being friends with a walking, talking, actual brain eating zombie, but you’d just about come to terms with Liv’s reality when you first met Blaine.

As Ravi’s best friend and employee you were practically his shadow so you figured out Liv’s secret together, though at first you were nowhere near as excited as he was but eventually Liv became someone you couldn’t picture your life without.
You were at work helping Ravi open the chest cavity of a poor man who had collapsed and died while golfing when Liv skidded into the room.
“Y/N you gotta go,” she hurried, “You gotta go now and you gotta go quick!”
“What on earth is the matter?” Ravi asked, his brows shooting up.
“I can’t really leave with my hands full of ribs.” You mumbled and nodded down to the ribcage you were gently pulling free since Ravi cut through the bones.
Liv hissed to Ravi, “Blaine’s here! I don’t want Y/N to meet him if I can help it, you know what he’s like.”
Ravi seemed to agree, “There’s no way for Y/N to get out with passing him, unless..” Ravi paused and eyed up the metal body draws built into the wall.
“Y/N hates small spaces.” Liv chastised.

You sighed, “You both realise that I’m here right?”
“So am I.” A man’s voice joined you from the doorway and man who looked as void of life as Liv stepped down into the room like he owned it. Liv swallowed and Ravi stepped around the table so that he was stood in front of you and the man that you were working on.  After sparing him a glance you chose to ignore him and focused instead on working on the body below you.

You knew all about Blaine, Liv and Ravi had discussed him at great length with you and they both had agreed, wholeheartedly, they did not want you to meet him. Blaine was not only trouble, he was zombie level trouble. You ignored their conversation for a while until you heard the clicking of his shoes in front of your table.
“Can I help you?” You asked, without looking up.
“And who might you be?” He practically purred.
You continued to focus on your work, “Are you trying to flirt with me over a dead body?”
“Yeah it’s kinda my thing and Liv’s too I’m guessing. Why, aren’t you enjoying my advances?” His voice was teasing.

“Well I’m still more interested in the body, so I’ll give you a two out a ten. Must try harder.” You told him.
“Shall we carry on with our tests?” Ravi voice went an octave higher as he tried to catch Blaine’s attention. It didn’t work.  
“Why won’t you look at me?” Blaine asked you, “Not scared of the big bad zombie are you?”
How he knew that you knew his secret was beyond you.

“We must not look at goblin men.” You replied, still focusing on the body below you.
“Excuse me?” Blaine asked and you could practically hear his sassy expression.
“It’s a poem,” The all-knowing Ravi told him, “Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti.”
“Reciting poetry to me?” Blaine said, “I thought you said that my flirting wasn’t working.

“We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed,
Their hungry thirsty roots?” You recited before finally looking up at him.

Liv’s sketch of him had been spot on, of course it didn’t have his current twisted expression of anger and, what you were sure was, ever present smugness. He caught himself and the anger faded from his expression until he was just smirking at you.

“I’m not a goblin, I’m a zombie, much more attractive.” He told you, his eyes lingering over your face then quickly taking in your form.
“But a goblin is only likely to curse you, not eat you.” You countered and behind him you could see Liv and Ravi shaking their heads for you to stop. What you may count as banter could get you killed, you knew that, but for some reason it hadn’t stopped you baiting and teasing the man in front of you.

“Touché.” He smirked and put his hands on the edge of your table and leaned over the body that you were working on, “I never got your name.”
“Y/N, I’d shake your hands but, you know..” you glanced down at where you were holding the man’s lungs in your hands and Blaine’s gaze followed.
He tilted his head slightly at the sight and scrunched his face up for a moment, “Is it weird that I kinda find that hot?” He called over his shoulder to Ravi, “Hey doc, is that a zombie thing?”

“God I hope not.” Ravi grumbled and eyed Liv suspiciously.
“No! Ew!” Liv protested and lightly slapped Ravi’s arm before she marched up and stood beside Blaine, “Do you want us to do our tests on you or do you want to leave? Y/N’s too busy to deal with you.”
“Shame.” Blaine shrugged and stepped back from your table and gave you a wink, “See you around Doctor.”
You went back to you work but called up to him as he walked away, “See you around Goblin boy.”

Paper Hearts (Part 7)

Originally posted by tbhobi

Genre: Angst/fluff

♡ Pairing: Reader x Jungkook // Reader x Jimin

♡ Length: 4.2k

♡ Summary: It has been nearly a year since you started writing anonymous letters to Jungkook, giving him words of encouragement behind the thin mask of a paper. He never considered you as a possible suspect behind these letters, because you were nothing more than a best friend. And you couldn’t put all the blame on him either, after all, you were too afraid to confess in fear of tarnishing your precious friendship.

Part 1 ♡ Part 2  ♡ Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8

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Labour Pain Simulator » Conor Maynard

Requests: 17 with Conor 😍

76 with conor??


“Y/N, I’m going over to Joe’s to film. You coming?” Your fiancé, Conor asked. You and him had been dating for six years and he had proposed to you around a year and a half ago, not long after you son, Noah was born. Now, you were pregnant again with your second child; you were five months pregnant and the two of you were very excited, especially Conor, who was ecstatic to learn that you were having a little girl.

“Yeah, will you grab Noah’s stuff for me while I dress him?” You questioned.

“Yeah sure.” He replied. You made your way to Noah’s room where he slept peacefully in his cot and sighed, knowing what was about to go down. You carefully picked him up and winced when he inevitably began to cry.

“Shh.” You hushed rocking him, sighing in relief when he finally stopped wailing. You grabbed a white t-shirt, a pair of denim jeans and a pair of socks and got him into them. “Look at you, handsome boy.”

“Thanks babe.” Conor replied startling you.

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anonymous asked:

He had thought it was the perfect solution. The most powerful ego of the group, once he had control of Wilford he would be able to eliminate the competition and finally take over. He hadn’t accounted for what mixing their two influences might create. Days after the initial explosion of chaos, he found himself hidden away in the last safe place, his own power keeping it at bay, but for how long? It was only a matter of time before he was found. (1/12)

As if summoned by his thoughts, the door suddenly swung open, a horrific creaking screeching sound filling the room. “You asked me to do it!” Wilford shouted, his voice wavering slightly but echoing with power, distorted and raw. Dark breathed a short sharp breath, adrenaline rushing through his veins as he scrambled as far back as he could manage. The walls rattled and groaned in protest, dust spilling down as debris fell only to be suspended in mid-air by an unseen force. (2/12)

The air buzzed with a disturbing pressure as Wilford moved to close the distance.“You told me to get rid of them!” Behind him through the doorway there was nothing. Pure blackness and void. Dark’s breath hitched and his eyes widened slightly, mind fully processing the magnitude of his error. “I…Please…” His voice faltered, not used to begging for his life. He was used to inspiring fear rather than being on the receiving end. (3/12)

As he gazed at Wilford’s pained but furious expression his heart clenched slightly, legs trembling as he braced himself against the wall.A pair of hands rushed forward, gripping onto his shoulders with such force he could feel his muscles screaming in protest. His mouth went dry as suddenly Wilford’s face was directly in front of his, so close he could feel the man’s hot shaky breaths against his skin. (4/12)

A heavy pressure pushed against Dark’s entire being, coming in waves from the figure in front of him. Their eyes locked and Wilford stared back at him, expression crazed, filled with anguish and fury. Dark opened his mouth to speak but the words never came. He clenched his eyes shut, willing the world to spare him from his own viciousness. The fingers already clenched into his shoulders dug in even deeper, threatening to rip him apart at a moment’s notice. (5/12)

Dark’s heart beat faster and faster, the feeling lodging in his throat and for the first time in his life, Dark wished for nothing more than to have Wilford back. He had created a monster. He breathed deep, preparing himself for his inevitable end, body tensing and his shell cracking, his despaired fury echoing out into the room.“It was an accident” Dark’s heart stopped at the words. He kept his eyes stubbornly closed, breathing for a moment before he dared to open his eyes slightly. (6/12)

He stared. Wilford was no longer looking at him, eyes cast downward, expression defeated. Tears slowly began to drip down his cheeks and the hands on Dark’s shoulders shook. A rush of cold was the only warning Dark had before Wilford suddenly collapsed against him, Dark’s own influence finally rejected and expelled back to its owner. They both fell to the floor gracelessly as debris clattered around them. (7/12)

Darks eyes stared wildly at the dishevelled figure in his lap who had instinctively curled in on himself the moment they had hit the ground. They remained there Darks heartbeat once again pounding in his ears as he tried to recall how to breathe properly whilst Wilford rested still in his lap for the longest time. Dark watched him closely, like a dangerous animal that could strike at any moment. (8/12)

As the moments passed, Dark slowly began to regain his composure. He stared in disconnected wonder as the body in front of him began to shake slightly. Slowly, Wilford’s whole body began to tremor with barely contained grief. The ugly sound of muffled sobbing escaped his crumpled figure and Dark stared, his mind slowly processing the scene before him. After a short time of just observing, without a word, he brought his arms up and gently rested them around the trembling figure before him. (9/12)

He softly pulled the man into an embrace, hand moving slowly to rub comforting circles against his back. Wilford continued to hiccough and shudder against him, eyes clenching shut and face burying into Dark’s shoulder. Unsure of what to say, unsure that there was anything he could say, Dark continued to comfort him in silence. As the tension began to slowly drain from the room, Dark rested his chin down against the top of Wilford’s head and brought a hand up, cradling him gently. (10/12) He stared idly at the disarray and destruction within the room, eyes coming to rest on the doorway. The encroaching darkness that had previously been pushing its way inside was receding, glimmers of life beginning to appear as it released its hold on the world outside. Dark watched as slowly colour and warmth began to return and things began to revert to how they had been before he had foolishly tried to force his will upon the bubbly reality bender. (11/12) His fingers idly stroked their way down the back of Wilford’s neck as he buried his own face in the man’s hair. He had thought himself capable of controlling this chaos but confronted with the stark reality of his own limitations he silently vowed to never make the same mistake again. In his mind he acquiesced to the seemingly frivolous man before him, settling for sharing power. In the face of the events of that day, he realised with a hint of frustration, he never really had a choice. (12/12)

(Oh my god?? What a great thing to find in my inbox on a rainy morning!!)

He’s always been fast. A fast learner. A quick thinker. Swift to act, swifter to respond. It’s saved his life more times than he’s bothered to count. More importantly, it’s saved the lives of his friends. He is good at running headfirst into haunted spaces and dangerous situations, but he is better at running from companionship.

Emotions and intimacy, he has learned through hard, cold experience, are far more dangerous than ghosts and weapons.

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Kurai Koibito - Chapter 4 - Smut

Originally posted by assindeto-de-outono

Author: @dumbass-stilinski
Rating: NSFW 18+
Pairing: Void!Stiles/Reader
Words: 2,223
AN: Chapter 4, and there’s only one more left. Thank you @writing-obrien for being awesome as usual and helping me out! If the beginning seems familiar it’s cause the prologue was actually an excerpt from this chapter.

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 5



You flicked the overhead light on, the single bulb on a string illuminating the lone chair in the middle of the room. Void squinted up at you from it, his face shifting through a range of emotions, finally settling on mild surprise. He tugged on the restraints holding him down and smirked up at you. “Look who it is.”

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North Dakota Gothic

  • Walking through the tall grass has a whole new meaning than finding friendly monsters, everything is out to kill you and suck your life away from you, every day is a battle for life and death.
  • Your grandfather is out hunting. You do not remember when he left, or when he comes back. You always have venison in your freezer.
  • Church is on Sunday, as soon as you step through the doorways you enter a void realm where 3 hours stretches for eternity. Jesus loves you, you have sang those words hundreds of times. its been 5 minutes.
  • Every day you feel a new climate, ones you havent even heard of before. The days in the summer are hot and wet, the air is so heavy you can barely breathe, yet the sun beats down on you relentlessly while the humidity sits on your chest like a 2-ton block.
  • The winter is a whole other realm of cold, getting so far below zero you’d think you were walking on the arctic tundra. Your very breath freezes in your lungs, every shaky inhale breaks and reforms a new layer of ice inside your very being. School is never cancelled.
  • Spring has finally rolled around, it is 10 degrees outside, you are in your underwear, its already too hot.
  • Tick checks are a frequent occurence, every time you take one step outside, time for a tick check. tick check. You breathe? tick check
  • you’ve been driving for Six Hours. You’ve only moved through one mile of countryside, where has the time gone
  • Someone once said to you that if the state of ND defected from the US it would be one of the top nuclear powers/threats in the world. You look at the scattered holes and towers in the ground as you drive through the land, and ponder the thought.
Way of the World- part 9

Fandom: Supernatural

Word count: 1886

Characters: Dean x soulmate!reader, Gadreel!Sam, Crowley, Cas

Warnings: kind of angsty, cliffhanger, S9 spoilers, Sam being kind-of tortured

Summary: Dean, Cas and the reader have Sam trapped. Now they have to get Gadreel out of hi. Unfortunately, Gadreel has an ace up his sleeve. Part 1 Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16

@mrswhozeewhatsis @stillnotginger2294 @spectaculicious @ilostmyshoereads @kittenofdoomage@unapologeticallyapologeticoops @rusticbellamy @satan-squared@f3arl3ssprinc3ss @i-just-wanna-live-gc @clariedelalune @25kitkat @caitsymichelle13@supernotnatural2005 @daydreamingintheimpala @bitch-i-am-a-dean-girl @2104maplestreet

After Dean left, you tried to settle down with a book- not dusty lore, just a fantasy novel you’d found in the depths of the library. That occupied your attention for almost half an hour. After that, you went to your room and lay on your bed, listening to the soundtrack from Hamilton. By the time you got to the fifth song, you were restless again.

You went to the kitchen and pulled out the ingredients for a cake, pouring all of your frustration and worry into baking it. That actually worked until the cake was in the oven, and you ran out of things to do.

Really, you should have gone and found something else to do. Hanging around the empty bunker fretting would do no good for anyone. But Dean and Sam and Cas, and what they were doing right now were the only things you could think about.

Knowing that to try and do anything else was useless, you eventually sat at the library table and stared at your phone until your eyes were sore. A long list of reasons why Dean wasn’t calling ran through your mind, and only about half of them involved all three of them dying slowly and painfully.

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empty space

rating: g ; ~1200 words ; graves-centric, graves/credence ; post-movie ; vague crossover with petshop of horrors

The rules are simple.
Kill the monster, or it will eat
your heart, and all that will be left
is the empty space inside you.

Graves doesn’t know what to do with himself after he comes back to the office. Grindelwald has left his little touches everywhere. Books in his home are in different places. The files in his desk drawers are out of order. There’s a divot in a cushion at the other end of the sofa. When Graves sits in his usual spot, it feels almost like Grindelwald is sitting next to him – haunting him in his own home, in the empty space where another man should be.

There’s a peeling bit of wallpaper that’s in his line of sight whenever he looks up from his book. No number of sticking charms will keep it down, and Graves can hear it – the small ticking sounds as each piece of glue comes undone. He can’t help imagining thin, bony fingers with long nails scratching at the underside of the plaster, undoing the charm’s work with wicked dedication. It drives him to madness.

So Graves makes do with abandoning his home altogether – abandoning the shadowy corners of his living room, of his kitchen, of his bedroom, from which dark whispers slip toward him in the cracks in the floor. If he’s going to be sleepless, he figures, he might as well do it where Grindelwald’s memory won’t find him.

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The air is tense.

Gold is practically seething, and her mother rocks slightly on her feet, teeth dug into her bottom lip like she’s forcibly trying to keep her thoughts to herself. Regina’s giving the bare minimum of effort, her hands on her hips and her eyebrows at her hairline. Beside her, Robin runs a soothing hand up her arm.

Emma doesn’t take it personally. She knows Regina is just worried about Robin; she almost lost him to the Underworld herself, and who knows if whoever is beyond the door will want to try taking him again?

But Emma stands tall, fledged on each side by the only two who agree with her plan. Henry, always her optimist, and her father, who has remained quiet and firmly supportive of her decision. He’d go to the ends of the earth for you, he’d said, an odd look in his eye. I’m glad you would for him too.

Gold brandishes the dagger, and Emma flinches out of instinct. It’s still hard to look at. “Last chance to back out,” he warns lowly.

“This is a dangerous plan,” Regina grumbles from behind. She’s been on edge the whole time and Emma feels the dam breaking. “We can’t even be sure this will work. Who knows what could come out that door? Do we really want the Ghost of Christmas Past haunting the whole of Storybrooke?”

Emma’s nostrils flare as she whirls around to face Regina. “Can you honestly tell me you wouldn’t do this for Robin?” Regina purses her lips. “That you wouldn’t do anything in your power to save the man you loved? Killian literally went to hell for me and I am not leaving him there, not when there’s a chance I can get him back.”

Tears spring at her eyes at the memory, his face in her hands before he walked through that dark door to keep her safe, to make a sacrifice that should’ve been hers, a hush on his tongue, soothing on his lips, the saddest, bravest smile she’ll never forget—

The queen exhales and looks away. “Fine. Just do it before I change my mind.”

Gold raises the dagger to his hand and slides the blade down cleanly. The blood rolls off his palm onto the dirt, disappearing into the fog before it hits the ground. “The ring, if you will,” he sighs.

Slowly, her fingers wrap around Killian’s ring, the one that hangs around her neck. The only thing she has left of him. It was his promise to her, made back in Camelot, for them to spend the rest of their lives together.

Well, she’s going to make damn sure he keeps it.

Before she can think again, she tugs on it, and the chain falls lose. She presses it into Gold’s open palm, wiping at her eyes with her other hand.

He drops it, his blood staining the silver, and her heart seizes as it too disappears into the fog that nips at their feet. Gold flicks his wrist, closes his eyes, and steps back.

For a moment, all is still.

The earth suddenly begins to rumble beneath them, as if a fissure is breaking through to the surface. She can’t see it, as the fog is only growing thicker, but she feels the crack splinter right where Gold dropped Killian’s ring.

They all stumble back, watching as the crack deepens and travels north, barreling towards the empty grave. Before it hits Killian’s tombstone, however, it seems to bounce somehow, and there’s a distortion of light, like a black hole exploding in on itself.

When it calms, the fog is thicker than ever, silently pouring out of the newly formed inky black vacuum. It resembles a door, but only vaguely. Emma feels a chill run over her skin, and she’s suddenly both cold to her bones while her skin feels on fire.

Well, it is Hell, after all.

She steps forward, but before she can say a thing, a gray shadow appears in the doorway. It seems to hesitate, but then, as if it’s being pushed, it stumbles out. A head appears first, and her breath catches.

It’s him.

But his eyes are wild, either with fury or with fear, she can’t tell, but his body is slumped, heavy with its own weight.

“Killian!” She breathes, running to catch him. He trips into her arms, his hand immediately coming to rest on her cheek.

“Swan,” he wheezes, everything about him weak, “it’s a—he knew what you were—he’s right behind me, you have—have to close it—close it now—”

Before the sentence is even out of his mouth, another shadow appears in the doorway. This one is huge and imposing, filling most of the void. It licks at the edge like flames on wood, somehow blacker than black.

Killian and Emma both stumble back from the door to the Underworld, watching the shadow grow bigger and bigger—until suddenly only a man emerges. He’s cloaked in black, a hood around his face.

Killian’s grip tightens around her waist protectively.

The figure slithers forward and lowers his hood, looking up at the sky. His skin is almost bluish in the moonlight, his eyes a cold, hard gray. Then, in a soft, tinkling voice, he chuckles.

“You know I was really hoping it would be the sun,” he says, looking straight into Emma’s eyes before darting his gaze back to the moon. His expression is wry, almost friendly, but she feels impossibly unsettled. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the moon is great. Love the moon. It sings for me. I get the appeal. But really, 3000 years of eternal darkness…yeesh, let me tell you, that gets old. Was really looking forward to getting a little glow.”

Everyone gapes at the man, and despite the humor on his tongue, there’s something heavy and ominous in his voice. He smooths back his hair, shrugging.

“Still, what’s a few more hours,” he muses to himself before turning on Emma and Killian, wagging a long, bony finger at them. “Now, not many people would open a door to Hell to get their love back. But I gotta say, you two really warm my heart. And that,” he laughs again, tinged with an edge of ice, “is not easy to do.”

“Who the hell are you?” Emma hisses, eyes wide.

“Who the hell am I,” he echoes, chuckling mirthlessly. “Irony. I like it. You know, people really have a much better sense of humor now than they used to.” He slinks forward, hand outstretched. When Emma doesn’t move to take it, just holds Killian tighter, the man drops his arm, amused. “I have many names.”

“Devil’s most appropriate,” Killian growls.

The man clicks his tongue. “Oh come on Killian, we’ve been over that. That hurts my feelings. You wouldn’t want that guy running around your town. Me, I’m big puppy. A man of simple desires. Really. Just looking to…explore some new property.” He pivots to Emma, a slow, sinister smile curling up his lip. “Anyway. You, babydoll, you can call me Hades.”

a few months ago, i had a dream i was much older. in the dream, i might’ve been relatively close to death, that’s how old i was. i had recalled a memory of my childhood and was convinced that if i went back to my house (the one i live in currently) i would be able to return to being a child. 

upon reaching the area of my house, everything was wilted, dead, and covered in mold. the mold was getting worse and worse–gray, green, or black spots would appear anywhere on the ground as i walked down the street. i was able to find my house. it had fallen apart, shingles loose and the roof had caved in. my own bedroom was inaccessible. the only place i could reach was my parents’ room. that bedroom was magically untouched. sunlight shone in from the curtains, illuminating a dusty, preserved room. it looked the same as it does now. all i did in the dream was stand in the doorway and look at the room. 

seeing this room be void of life and knowing no one was ever going to live in it again made me incredibly sad. my age in the dream probably implied that my parents had already passed on. i remember hearing someone crying in the dream, shifting my focus, and waking up because of it.

but once i woke up, i didn’t really want to talk to anyone.