torn off

2

“I still get a lump in my throat when her dress is torn off and she runs out in the garden. Marc [Davis] always thought that was throwing her to the hounds, so to speak, to have the stepsisters rip her to shreds was more than was needed. The fact that she’s not going to get to the ball was enough. You didn’t need to tear her [dead mother’s] dress, but the sequence is beautifully structured. It gets to you.” -Frank Thomas

*****VERY IMPORTANT NOTICE BEFORE ANY OF YOU ANIME WATCHERS ONLY TALK SHIT ON MY BOY MIKE*****

Before any of you guys try and call Mike Zacharius a coward or anything negative. Let me remind you of some things.

-Mike was humanity’s strongest soldier before Levi Ackerman came along

-Mike is humanity’s STRONGEST HUMAN SOLDIER

-Levi has inhuman strength that only Ackerman’s have and therefore doesn’t count as the average human. Before you fight me on that read the manga. Same goes for Mikasa.

-Mike was outnumbered by titans. The chances of survival were very slim and he knew this when he left without asking anyone to follow because he did not want them to die

I swear if any of you say he screamed like a little girl when he died let me remind you of some other things.

-You fuckin would too.

-Mike was RIPPED APART by titans. SEVERAL SMALL TITANS. He was not eaten in one bite. He was torn to shreds. Bones crushed. Flesh ripped open. Organs ruptured. Limbs torn off. Need I say more? Thats an excruciating feeling I can only imagine. Most of us cry when we stub our fucking toe.

-Mike wanted nothing but to save humanity and he died in the process just like your stupid little Marco and Petra. He just got farther in doing so. So don’t you dare call him anything other than brave or a hero.

The End Times

I was the first one to see a falling angel.

I was in my backyard stargazing, when a bright light streaked across the sky and a few moments later Gabriela smashed into my backyard.

She was really tall, I had to use two mattresses for her bed and move out most of the things in my living room to make room for her to sleep. She was very badly injured. Something had taken huge bites out of her chest, her eyes had been ripped out and one of her wings had been torn off. She spent most of her time unconscious and the rest gibbering in an unknown tongue.

She only spoke to me twice, once to tell me her name and the other time was to respond to a question I had asked her. “How did you get injured Gabriela?” I had asked. “War” she replied. She died a few hours after that.

In the following days, more and more angels fell from the sky. These angels however, were already dead, their bodies had been mutilated, sometimes so badly, that if not for their height and wings, we wouldn’t know for sure if they were angels. Surprisingly, while many people panicked, peace as a whole was kept and it only took a few days before the buses and trains were running on time again.

When the rain of corpses from heaven stopped, people were overjoyed. When huge cracks in the earth started to appear, they were less so. When fire and lava began to bubble up through the cracks, people rushed to monasteries, churches, mosques, and temples, anywhere they thought they might find answers. When the earth rumbled, and the cracks opened to spew out a horde of demons, we finally understood.

You see, the demons were all dead. Their bodies had been mutilated, just like the angels were. I thought that heaven and hell were in a war against one another, but they were actually fighting together. Against something else, something worse.

And it had won.

I think about how Zevran automatically puts on the Dalish Gloves and Antivan Boots no matter what other equipment he has on a lot…it fucks me up man.

Like, lets say that instead of the Warden buying his armor, he spends some of his own gold on a nice pair of leather gloves. They aren’t Antivan, but they’re of fine make, and the best he’s going to get in awhile.

But then the Warden hands him these random, beat up Dalish gloves because they remembered him talking about his mother.

They remembered this one conversation enough to keep these ratty things and hand them to him, because they cared enough about him to remember.

He’s never torn anything off his body so quickly as he did those nice, expensive gloves he bought, and never thinks about wearing them again.

Foreign

Plot: Jimin always thought his traditional Korean girlfriend was perfect – that was, until he realized how beautiful foreigners could be.

Pairing: Idol!Park Jimin x Backup Dancer!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Notes: I based this off of every single MTL I have seen of BTS dating a girl of a different race or a girl of color – Jimin always seems to be one of the people who were least likely to date one. I definitely do not think that Jimin is this ignorant in any way. This is only a work of fiction. This is for all the international beauties! 2,536 Words

Originally posted by bwipsul

“Oppa, I’m missing you so much!”

“I’m missing you too, my love. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in a few days, okay?”

One of the worst parts about tour was leaving lovers behind. For Jimin, it wasn’t only his lover, it was his home. He enjoyed tour, performing for all of the ARMYs around the world, going on stage; but he wasn’t a huge fan of being in a foreign country. He didn’t know English that well, and he wasn’t fond of being in a place where he couldn’t understand anything. 

“I know,” The soft voice of his significant other brought pink to his cheeks. “Call me when your rehearsal is over.”

“I will, I love you,” He glanced at the leader of his band, who was calling him over.

“I love you too.”

With that, he had ended the call with a sigh, and headed over to his band. It hadn’t even been a few minutes since he cut the call, and he was already missing her – a thought he had experienced after each long-distance conversation with his lover. The short male shook his head and got his head back in the game, his eyes going up to meet a group of people dressed in black.

“This is your dance crew for this city,” The manager announced to the band. “Not all of them know Korean, so if you have an queries, just talk to Jihoon. He is the leader.”

“We understand.”

Once that brief introduction was done, they were all left to their own devices for a few minutes, whilst the leader of the dance team talked to the leader of the band. Jimin had let himself scan over the people he would be working with; not that he would talk to them, he was just curious and bored. Most of them had masks on – no one had really caught his eyes, except for one person. 

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4

This scene man. I have a lot to say about this scene but also Im at such a loss for words.

For those of you who haven’t read the manga these lines were added in.

And personally I found it added so much more to both her character and death.

We knew NOTHING about Nanaba’s past other than she was one of the few remaining veterans alive from before the fall of the walls. Erwin, Mike, Hanji, Nanaba, and Levi were the only veterans from the survey corps everyone else came in later on after the fall.

Thats literally all we knew.

Aside from the fact that she looked up to Mike but really who wouldn’t? He was humanity’s strongest soldier until Levi came around. He was also her squad leader. Who wouldn’t look up to a man like that?

But this. Fuckin’. Scene. Right. Here.

It gave us insight into her past. Granted its only canon in the anime but thats perfectly fine with me and probably a lot of you too for once. (Since normally most manga readers aren’t fond of changes in the story)

Because now we know more about an amazing soldier.

Her father obviously heavily abused her if while being /ripped apart/ by /titans/ she saw him doing it instead. Its pretty obvious she was hallucinating. Possibly from blood loss. I mean she did have her leg torn off. Also maybe from the amount of sheer pain she was going through. Just like Mike, Nanaba was ripped into pieces by a bunch of smaller titans. An agonizing death for sure.

And think, her father abused her so heavily yet she still went and became one of the stronger soldiers in the Survey Corps (Well I always assumed she was since shes one of the only survivors from before the fall)

Look how many titans she took out on her own alone. Both her and our boy Gelgar took out even more together. They didn’t even keep count.

Survey Corps soldiers take pride in how many titans theyve killed because it shows how skilled they are. But these guys weren’t worried about their skill at the time being. They were worriedabout saving a bunch of defenseless kids. Sure they’re all trained soldiers but currently they had no weapons or gear aside from a single knife.

They weren’t looking for fame. They even admitted from the beginning they thought they were going to die. For a moment there was hope they wouldn’t but they quickly lost it once more titans attacked and they lost two of the four capable soldiers.

Viktuuri Mafia!AU based on @drawverylittle‘s artwork. <3

Part 1 : It Starts With A Video

On AO3 || Next

Viktor loses count of how many times he hits rewind on the security tape. He’s numb to the whirring, hissing sound of the rewind. But the image is fuzzy. No matter how many times he goes back, home many times he pauses, he can’t quite see what he’s trying to focus on.

The man in the video is clearly young. At least Viktor assumes he is. The men with him are older, larger. Lackeys, for all intents and purposes. Security detail. The young man in the center is slight, his forearms exposed by the roll of his sleeves are slender, but even in the fuzzy image Viktor can tell a muscle cords beneath the skin. He’s no slouch.

The most Viktor can make out in the black and white video beyond that is black hair and a tattoo that stretches down the back of his forearms. But no amount of pausing, of staring, of getting so close to the screen the brightness is making him dizzy, has made him able to make out what that tattoo may be.

“Viktor!” Christophe whines from the desk beside him. “You’ve watched that tape hundreds of times. What else do you expect to see?”

“I can’t make out what is on his arms,” Viktor replies, pausing the video again. Is it another arm inked on to his own?
 
“You can barely make out anything,” Christophe points out with a sigh. “That’s the misfortune of having a security tape from these washed up casinos as evidence.”

Viktor leans back and sighs, leaving the video paused on the man reaching out with one of his tattooed arms to take a briefcase from the casino manager.

“I need a better picture.”

“Don’t we all.” Christophe rolls his eyes and pushes himself away from his desk. He’s already changed out of his uniform and into a well fitted, black button down. His sleeves are rolled up in a manner reminiscent of the mafia member Viktor can’t take his eyes off of. “How about you dwell on that another day and come out with me? We could both use a drink.”

Viktor shakes his head and flips open the file on his desk, pressing his fingers to his chin in contemplation. Newspaper clippings, witness testimony, images of property damage left behind are all they have to help them track down the newest member of the Russian mafia.

They say he’s Japanese. That he’s young. That he rose up the ranks in the Yakuza so quickly, so efficiently that no one questioned his reign. That the Russian mafia all but begged him to make his way up here, to resurrect their dying presence. But Viktor can’t quite tell fact from fiction yet.

Is this young man really Japanese or is he just another Russian member that was kept hidden from the press and the policy force? Is he here to stay or does he have a singular purpose? Has he really bitten someone’s ear off? Or torn out their eye? He suspects some of the rumors are just that… rumors. But he’s determined to find out which ones are rooted in truth.

“Go on without me,” Viktor tells Christophe, offering a weak smile. “Tonight I would only cramp your style.”

Christophe snorts and slams the file shut. “Viktor, your style is my style. You could never cramp it.” He pushes the file aside and loosens Viktor’s tie until he pulls it over his head. He flicks open the top few buttons of Viktor’s uniform. “None of this is going anywhere. Besides,” He grabs Viktor’s hand and pulls him out of his seat and Viktor gives up fighting. Christophe is too persistent to struggle against. “Maybe our little mafia man likes the clubs here too.”

Viktor chuckles and resigns himself to a night out. Christophe is right. He could use a drink, something that can distort his mind into forgetting the swipe of dark hair and black tattoos reaching down sure, confident arms.

fall

or…lena doesn’t stop believing in the one person who believed in her

(or…the terrible thing i wrote to get rid of writer’s block and it’s long and sad but has a happy ending)

Supergirl dies on a Wednesday.

Sometimes, when she’s alone in her office in the wee hours of the morning, still in yesterday’s clothing and unsure when she’d last eaten, she thinks about that, the utter normalcy of losing National City’s hero on a Wednesday. Somehow, the death on such a boring day of the week provides a sort of stark contrast that Lena has trouble wrapping her head around. After all, surely the hero and pride of National City would fall in a blaze of glory on a Friday night, a Sunday afternoon, even a Monday morning during rush hour.

But a Wednesday? Some time between mid-morning and noon? When nothing was happening except for the drudge of the week, the tireless churning of society?

She doesn’t understand it—has tried to come to terms with it with very little success. In her weakest moments, when she’s staring down the end of a bottle of whiskey or wine (before Jess or Maggie or even James Olsen pry the bottle from her fingertips and help her get home), she thinks the very banality of Supergirl’s death is evidence of its unnecessary nature, its needless, pointless, meaningless, asinine

Supergirl dies on a Wednesday.

By Friday, the President herself comes to National City to mourn the fallen hero. She talks about the few short conversations she’s had with Supergirl, how everyone should be inspired and follow Supergirl’s wonderful example. A true hero, an exemplary citizen.

(Lena doesn’t go to the ceremony. She and Alex spend that afternoon in Kara’s apartment, sitting on Kara’s couch, Alex stoically staring at the television screen with silent tears running down her cheeks and Lena gripping her hand so tightly she thinks she’ll break fingers.  

After that, Lena doesn’t see much of Alex at all.)

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Klance Switching Bayards

In correlation with this

  • Keith and Lance have been able to switch and work with the other’s bayards for awhile now.
  • The team doesn’t know about it and for now they’re content with it, sort of their own secret, and it’s not like it’s anything serious so they don’t feel the need to tell anyone.
  • They really only switch bayards to see the pretty designs that appear on them.
  • Lance likes the engravings of the flowers going down the rifle since it reminds him of his mother’s flowers from the garden he used to help her with when he was younger. (If he looks closely he can see the exact flower with a petal picked off which reminds him of when he had accidentally torn a petal off his mom’s prize winning flower, after she had won of course)
  • Lance doesn’t notice the small red rose at the base of the rifle barrel that glows a pretty hue of red when he’s near Keith
  • Keith likes the stardust going down the blade in pretty colors, like small gems glittering in the light. He also likes tracing the designs on the hilt since the sharp angles of the design are deep enough that he can feel it and it soothes him.
  • He doesn’t notice the one blue star on the blade that glows the brightest when he’s near Lance.
  • They sometimes just look at each other’s bayards when they hold them, marveling at the designs and how the other’s would probably look if they all switched.
  • Unbeknownst to Keith and Lance they’re the only ones who are able to do this and smoothly to. It’s a rare thing to happen between paladins and is nearly unheard of in the history of Voltron.
  • Though like the oblivious boys they are they think it’s normal.
  • They don’t know the bayard designs are molded at how they see and perceive each other.

You know, I really love all those ‘Earth is Space Australia’ ideas and humans as the super tough, super unflappable space badasses who can smile in the face of any danger and who will pet absolutely anything that mostly isn’t toxic and sits still long enough. I adore them. However, sometimes I do wonder … do aliens have phobias?

Because I can’t help thinking that somewhere in this future universe there’s the one human who went to space because spaceships are relatively sterile environments and therefore in space there are less bugs*. And then one day a guest comes onto the ship and their multilegged pet comes slithering out from under their fashionable collar and suddenly from the back of the shuttle bay there’s this high-pitched, hysterical screaming. And the alien crew turn around and there is their human, their badass, amazingly tough human, the one who managed to survive with half her leg torn off that one time long enough to make it back to medbay, the one who bluffed space pirates for a full half-cycle without so much as a quiver, the one who had to be forcibly restrained from petting the nine-foot slavering hregallar on Threlanix because apparently they were 'adorable babies’ … that human, their human, is suddenly clinging to the ceiling in blatant defiance of the ship’s artificial gravity and wailing her head off in absolute terror over a pathetic little xhilitin. The tiny, stupidly harmless insects that about sixteen species keep as pets because their jewelled carapaces are lovely and decorative and they’re so dumb and harmless that they’ll cheerfully sit on your hat as an ornament from here until infinity.

So the mildly shellshocked aliens try and calm their human down and they get her to medbay and they’re asking 'are the xhilitin on Earth dangerous?’, which, probably, apparently everything on Earth is deadly, but none of it has ever terrified their human before, and their absolutely mortified human is going 'no, well yes, some of them are, that’s not the point, it doesn’t matter if they’re dangerous or not, I just don’t fucking like them, okay, please never let one aboard ship again, i will love you forever and fight off a hundred pirates for you if you just keep the creepy leggy little fuckers the hell away from me, i’m so fucking serious right now, i am begging you’.

And she is absolutely deadly serious, and it makes no sense whatsoever, but suddenly the entire crew are 100% for never, ever letting xhilitin aboard the ship again. Because, well. She would fight off a hundred pirates for them, she has fought off a hundred pirates for them, she’s dragged herself back with half her leg torn off that one time after saving Lehm and Ehletol from the nine-foot slavering beasties she still thinks are adorable. There is no rational reason in the universe for her to be afraid of xhilitin, but it doesn’t matter, because she is, and that means this ship is suddenly a no-insect zone from now until forever.

Because hey, okay, humans are tough, humans are insane, humans come from Space Australia, but sometimes humans come with a couple of odd little quirks, sometimes they’re randomly terrified of ridiculously harmless things, and that’s okay. That’s okay. That just means that sometimes aliens get a chance to look out for their humans in return.


* please allow me my comforting illusions and do not inform me of how unsterile and full of bugs spaceships really are, okay, this is future sci-fi land where spaceships are clean and free of creepy crawlies and nobody needs to have nightmares

In Heat - Alpha!Stiles Stilinski [Smut]

Author: @writing-obrien 

Character(S): Alpha!Stiles Stilinski/Reader, Scott McCall, Malia Tate, Lydia Martin, Derek Hale, Liam Dunbar and my sons Mason and Corey.

Word Count: 4661

Notes: Man this is so filthy and it was so fun to write, I hope y'all really enjoy it. We got extreme sparking, marking, bring, cutting, scratching, bruising, oral (both receiving) and over-stimulation as well as masturbation (male) and finally teasing. Thank you so, so much to my best girl Steff, I don’t know what I’d do without her proofreading, editting and help on writing. (She’s even helping me write Kiss My Ass because I’m THAT useless!) so big shout out to my girl. I love you Steffy, Rick to my Rock. ❤️ @dumbass-stilinski 


Gif by @bonniebird and I’m still shook because damnnnnn 


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lettiekim  asked:

Hiii the story you wrote about Andrew and Neil that I asked for awhile ago was awesome even though I know it was a hard one. I was wo dering if you can do 98 about Ronan and Adam?

(that is SWEET and also I bastardized your prompt a little >:))

98: “I want to thank you for putting up with me. I know that I’m not the easiest person to get along with.” 

He’s locking up the repair shop with his arms full of backpack and keys clamped between his teeth when someone honks behind him. He startles so hard that everything landslides down onto springy wet grass.

“Sorry!” Gansey calls, head popped outside of what must be the pig, if Adam could see past the dizzy glare of the headlights. “I’m in a bit of a hurry. You’d better come sit down.”

Adam breathes deep, mentally slicing his evening into pieces like he always does when an expensive car rolls up and his name is called. He stoops over to gather the textbooks spilling out of his bag, the scatter of his few precious pens and his bike lock.

When he looks up, Gansey’s switched on his high beams to passive aggressively hurry him along. He slows down a little out of halfhearted spite.

Adam tucks his backpack through the headrests to the backseat and then leans into the front of the car to look at Gansey expectantly. He’s making a face that’s about as close to a grimace as a Gansey can get.

“Ronan ran away.”

Adam blinks. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Gansey breathes. Adam feels his newborn worry ebb and blink out.

“Well he’s at home, then. He’s not going to run far from the Barns.”

“That’s what I’d imagined, but he’s nowhere on Lynch property. Blue and I went on a merry hunt all afternoon.”

Adam feels his chest kick and fight and try to make a scene. “And you didn’t tell me until now?” He hates that his voice sounds like the raw insides of undercooked meat, like he’s delicate and bloody.

“Well we thought it was fixable, and you were at work—“

“I’m always at work, Gansey, and it’s never deterred you before. If my— if Ronan really did disappear—“

“He did,” Gansey says emphatically, and Adam frowns.

“Opal—“

“Knocked on my door at 6 am this morning holding this.” He produces a sheet of torn off looseleaf from his breast pocket and hands it to Adam gingerly.

Adam unfolds it.

Tell Adam I’m sorry.

He looks up, swallowing. Gansey’s watching him closely, obviously trying to gauge a response.

“At least he’s started apologizing,” he says weakly, a thin needle of hurt pinning his words together.

“It doesn’t seem like he’s starting anything,” Adam says, his anger and worry taking each other by the throat. “He’s giving up.”

“I think,” Gansey says, “that he’s very bad at grieving.”

“No one’s good at grieving. Not that you’ve ever had to know.”

Gansey recoils. He has a flighty look on his face like he would very much like to abandon this conversation if it weren’t taking place in his most prized possession. “I’m not the one that left, Adam,” he says pointedly, and Adam swears, apologizes, and climbs into the passenger seat.

“Take me to the Barns.”

Gansey looks at him sideways, and Adam would have the pity in his eyes for a punching bag. “He really isn’t there.”

“I know,” Adam says impatiently, “I’m going to steal his car.”

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Control Me

Word count: 1,479

Warning: smut, dom!Sam, teasing, masturbating (male)

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Summary/Request: Thank you @dadd11e for your request! Sorry it took so long!

Sam thinks the reader has feelings for Dean but finds out that they are actually for him. Leads to rough sex and them getting together.

Originally posted by samgirlsclub

Sam’s POV

My eyes followed the sway of Y/N’s hips as she danced over to Dean who was making breakfast. My veins boiled with the jealousy pumping through me as Y/N leant over Dean and giggled at whatever he was saying. As she bent forward the long shirt she was wearing (either Dean’s or mine) rode up to reveal her blue panties. She was obviously trying to show off to Dean as she always did, as she had been doing for the past 5 years she had spent with us, and again all she seemed to be succeeding in was getting me riled up. I eventually gave up trying to keep myself under control and pushed away from the table roughly, storming angrily out of the room.

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