hint: if you want to see them in better quality click on them

Capture The Haggis

“Is the call working?” Asked Nikii as her microphone crackled.

“Yeah, I can hear you,” replied Samantha over the slightly fuzzy connection.

“Everyone is here!” Cheered Oasis as she tapped quickly on the keyboard.

“Yeah, just loading into the lobby,” replied Jessica, her heavy accent made even worse by the low call quality.

“So what am I doing?” Asked Nikii gently, seeming almost nervous to ask.

“You’ve never played this before?” Asked Oasis before taking a breath. “Right, it is your basic FPS control setup, so you move with WASD and aim with your mouse. The text should tell you the plot, but basically, we are in two teams and we are in a race to get the thing from the vault and then deliver it back to our start point.”

Nikii made gentle noises of agreement as she skimmed through the test on her screen before she blurted out. “Haggises stuffed with cocaine?!”

“Yeah, that is what we need to get.” Replied Samantha.

“Why?” Asked Nikii sounding both confused and shocked.

“Do you want to know the in-game reason or the actual reason?” Asked Oasis, only to be interrupted by Jessica.

“Because the developers wanted to give the Scottish character a themed mission but they’ve never been to Scotland in their damn lives.” She said with a wry chuckle.

“Also, a haggis is easy to model,” added Samantha.

“Right,” murmured Nikii sounding less than totally convinced by either explanation. “So who do I shoot?”

“Well, based on the team list, it seems it is going to be me and you, teaming with Jessica to shoot Oasis, Alya, and Nero. Annoyingly it didn’t put you with Oasis because I know you two get on like a house on fire,” giggled Samantha.

“Hey!” Yelled Nikii.

“No making her bashful! That is my job!” Chuckled Oasis in response. “And do keep in mind, I get on well with at least half of this call.”

“Right sure,” started Samantha before two quick beeps interrupted her.

“Who’s ready to steal some coke!” Shouted Nero, her voice somehow both high pitched and aggressive. “I finally unlocked the thing that lets you paint all your guns neon pink, so I’m going on a stealth run!”

“Neon pink isn’t usually the best for stealth,” replied Jessica.

“Lolita stealth! It is going to be the next big thing in espionage,” Giggled Nero wildly.

“Or reverse stealth, you are so bright the brain can’t process you and you are effectively invisible.” Added Alya after a short wave of low static.

“Hey! Everyone is here!” Shouted Oasis. “Everyone ready up!” She said before a flurry of clicking occurred.

Quickly the game loaded up and Nikii pushed the buttons gently, trying to make sure she knew what did what.

“You loaded up okay?” Asked Samantha.

“Yeah, think I get it,” said Nikii, evening moving her aim up and down to make her character nod.

“Of course, it is slightly unusual in we can all hear each other,” said Oasis as she tapped on her keys furiously.

“Just means we need to be clandestine!” Added Alya. “We are the night!”

“Well we better get moving, follow me and if you see any of them, just shoot!” Exclaimed Samantha before running off, Jessica not far behind.

Nikii tried to follow the other two, quickly picking up the controls, despite them being more sensitive than she would like. Just as she was working out she could jump around like a rabbit on sugar a shot rang out and her screen went red.

“Found you!” Shouted Nero.

“Nikki, get behind here!” Shouted Samantha, bouncing her character up and down as Jessica fired wildly past her. Nikki coordinate as best she could, her screen flashing red several times in the process.

“What are we going to do?” Asked Nikki slightly flustered as she tried to help out as best she could.

“Everyone break off and try and get to the vault!” Shouted Jessica. As she moved her character as quick as she could, firing a few volleys back as best she could. Nikki tried to follow along, only to get turned around and lost and soon she was wandering around alone in the corridors of the level.

“Does this game have a map?” She asked.

“Nope,” Replied Nero quickly.

“Then where is the vault?” Asked Nikki.

Oasis started to answer only to quickly change her sentence. “Samantha, try and take cover behind things actually bigger than you!” She started while the tapping of her keys echoed through her microphone. “Wait? what?”

“Railings are solid objects in this game,” laughed Samantha. “So you can see me, but not hit me, because collision detection is hard!” She said, her giggle momentarily becoming a snort.

“Oh, I’ll hit you! I just need a better angle!” Shouted Oasis, leaving Nikki without an answer as she wandered the games identical corridors, each step soundtracked by key tapping and distant gunfire.

Very soon, all of the girls were talking over each other, leaving Nikki even more confused as to what exactly she should be doing as she ran around the various corridors, jumping mostly to make it seem like she had some purpose.

“Where am I going?” Asked Nikki once more, trying to find out what was going on. Before she saw a big silver thing in front of her. “Hey, I found the vault!” She cheered before stopping a moment and realizing she didn’t know if it was the vault or not. She moved into it and saw some brown things on a plinth and the screen flashed a control to pick it up so she shrugged and presumed she was right.

“Awesome!” Said Jessica. “Now run it back to where we started! As they’ll try and hunt you down!” Nikki started to run, still not sure where exactly she was going, but at least running made her look vaguely like she was playing correctly.

After a few minutes of frantic and confused running. Nikki came to a large circular room full of desks and debris. She scanned it quickly, trying to find any hint of which way she should be going.

“Come into my parlor said the spider to the person getting shot!” Shouted Oasis as Nikki’s screen went red as she got shot. Suddenly more gunfire came from behind her.

“Get behind something, I’ll hold her off, Jessica come quickly!” Shouted Samantha as her character burst in and started shooting at the one Oasis controlled. Nikki jumped around, trying to find some cover as Jessica and Nero burst in and started exchanging fire.

After a few moments, Samantha shouted, “Nikki, make a run for it! Down the one to the left!” Nikki didn’t wait and started to move only to hear Oasis start to speak in a low voice, one that caused her brain to tingle.

“Nikki, don’t do that, stay here,” purred Oasis, her speech punctuated by rapid-fire clicking.

“I, return the haggis?” Asked Nikki, not realizing she had stopped moving her character.

“No, you want to make sure you don’t have it, jump off a ledge, for me,” Oasis continued to purr.

“No using hypnosis!” Growled Jessica. “Don’t listen to her Niki, run!” She shouted, sounding both enthused and frustrated.

“Jessica, don’t your lips feel like glue? Like they could just, stick together, so hard to pull them apart,” continued Oasis.

“No, they,” started Jessica before her voice became muffled, to everyone listening it was pretty clear that she was speaking through closed lips.

“I’m not going to fall for this!” Shouted Samantha as she strafed her character around, firing rapidly, trying to co-ordinate with the now mute Jessica. “Hey Nero, you going to stand for this? I thought you were all about fair competition!” She said firmly as she bounced onto a box. The call going silent as she waited for an answer that never came.

“Nice try,” chuckled Oasis. “Now Nikki, please go jump off the ledge, it will be so helpful, so useful to me if you could just jump off the ledge,” purred Oasis. Niki’s brain tingled a warm and fuzzy tingle as she found herself nodding gently, starting to walk towards the ledge part of the stairwell.

“Nikki! Stop!” Shouted Samantha, watching as Niki ignored her words both in the call and in the game. Samantha tried to bounce over to Niki in the hope she could stop her, but her character bounced right thought Nikki’s like it wasn’t even there.

Nikki was oblivious to all of this, all she wanted to do was get rid of the haggis and jump off the ledge, it would make Oasis happy. She would be useful, she loved being useful. She reached the edge and pressed the spacebar and watched as her character plummeted to the floor. As the screen flashed red and changed to a view of Samantha and Jessica fighting off Nero and Oasis, Nikki blinked and shook her head.

“Wonderful! Such a useful Nikki” chuckled Oasis. “Nero, pull back! We’ll go grab it now!” She smiled as she dashed off, Nero right behind.

Suddenly Nikki’s screen changed again as she respawned. As she squirmed in her chair, the praise of being “useful” once again washing over her.

“Nikki! Snap out of it!” Shouted Samantha. “We need to head back to the vault! I’m so not letting you get away with this Oasis!”

“Try and stop me!” Cackled Oasis as Nikki came back to her senses.

“Hey! No fair!” She shouted as she started to move towards the rest of her team.

“Like you want me to stop!,” replied Oasis. “I mean, would you really want me to stop?”

“I do not want you to stop. Use my mind however you wish Master,” repeated Nikki in a gentle monotone before a loud smack rang over the mic as she covered her lips.

“You really have a big bag of tricks today,” said Samantha as Jessica let out muffled sounds that passed for agreement.

“It is not a bag of tricks, it is a plan to assure victory,” monologued Oasis, starting to very obviously ham it up. “I can’t allow a team like you three to get in the way of my glorious domination, now can I?”

“Be careful chewing that much scenery, the paint might contain lead!” Mocked Samantha as she dashed through the corridors of the level. Nikki followed on happy that she wouldn’t get lost this time.

After a few minutes they arrived back at the vault, and Nikki’s team faced down Oasis and Nero. “Wait,” blurted Niki, “wasn’t Alya on their team as well?”

“Oh holy,” started Samantha before a gunshot rang out and Jessica’s character flew across the screen before vanishing. “She’s sniping!” She shouted as she dived behind some boxes.

“She is a good shot!’ Exclaimed Nikki as she got behind the boxes.

"Yeah, she doesn’t usually have the patience for this!” Shouted Samantha sternly. “I think shenanigans are afoot!” She continued before giggling for a second. “Alya, don’t say anything if you are hypnotized!” Several seconds of silence passed before Alya’s microphone crackled into life.

“I am not hypnotized. However, I need to kill you to make sure Oasis wins.” She said in a dull and sleepy monotone.

“Attack!” Exclaimed Samantha as she dashed forward, Nikki quickly scrambling to find the right controls. Samatha quickly took out Nero without Alya being able to fire a shot, she moved to take out Oasis but Oasis was able to quickly fall back. “Ha! I knew you would have to go into the text chat to command your two hypnotized minions around!” Gloated Samantha as she pursued Oasis into the vault area.

Soon Oasis has reached the center of the vault and was against a wall, Nikki and Samantha advancing on her slowly. “Nikki,” purred Oasis gently, her words so would that it caused the microphone to vibrate slightly.

“Don’t listen to her Nikki!” Pleaded Samantha, already realizing where this was going. Nikki’s character remained still. In the real world, her eyes were wide as she stared at the screen, her mouth hanging open. She was a deer in headlights, she knew a command was coming and even though part of her may not want to listen, she just couldn’t help herself, her urge to obey overwhelmed any other urge she could possibly have, it overwhelmed reality itself.

“Nikki, please shoot Samantha for me, it would be so very useful,” purred Oasis. “Just look and fire, for me,” continued Oasis, the words sliding through Nikki’s mind, she felt a familiar fuzziness wash over her, everything felt so very automatic, like her body wasn’t under control. She turned her character and aimed her crosshair at Samantha, not stopping to question why or the consequences. Oasis had told her, it had to be done. She clicked her mouse and watched as Samantha’s character flew across the screen and despawned. She felt a wave of pleasure wash over her body, cutting through the fuzziness.

“Wonderful, so useful!” Praised Oasis as she walked to the plinth and picked up the haggis. “Follow me, minions!” She chuckled as Nikki and Alya fell in behind her.

Oasis quickly moved towards her team’s base, however, just as she reached the door a message flashed up across the screen as it faded to black. “Out of time?” She exclaimed. “Who set the game to be time limit mode?!”

“Whats going on? I think I fell asleep,” murmured Alya drowsily.

“I…hey! You hypnotized me to cheat!” Exclaimed Nikki as her thoughts returned to normal.

“It is not my fault you two are weak willed around me!” Giggled Oasis.

“Weak-willed? It seems a wave of your hand and they fall asleep,” laughed Samantha in response. “I have to admit, making my own team mate shoot me was very super villain like.”

“Why thank you, I pride myself on it!” said Oasis.

“Oh dear,” laughed Nero as the screen changed again. “Seems like the game is putting Samantha, Oasis, and Nikki together on a team.”

“Wonderful!” purred Oasis as Nikki squirmed in her seat. “Well, it seems like this could be fun!”

“Indeed it will be, with me on your team you won’t need to resort to dirty tricks!” teased Samantha.

“Of course I won’t, but Nikki, why don’t you have a nap, we’ll explain exactly what you need to do this round,” purred Oasis as Nikki’s mind fogged over once more.

[grace/john/harold, pegging, D/s, john is the subbiest]

Grace stands on tiptoes to kiss John, then tells him, “I need to talk to Harold, honey, please go stand in the corner for a bit.”

He does, which is still pretty hot to Grace - just that she can tell him to do something, even ridiculous things, and John does, no question. It’s also handy, since she does need to discuss something with Harold.

The thing in question is a purchase. Harold is better than Grace at those: usually Grace trusts her materialism to providence, finding pieces of furniture abandoned on street corners or in random Etsy shops.

Some of those coincidences, come to think of it, might have had Harold’s guiding hands behind them at times, too. But he promised to tell her if he does that again, and it’s not an argument she wants to revisit right now, since she needs Harold to help her find something very specific.

“It’s important to go for reliable manufacturers,” Harold says, clicking away and frowning at her monitor. Normally this makes Grace want to wind him up about the way he ends up paying 150$ for a vibrator virtually identical to ones she can buy for 10$ at the drugstore, but right now he has a point.

They’re buying a gift for John, after all. Nothing but the best for him.

Keep reading

Valentine Struggles

A/N: So, this is a bit late (sorry) but basically, it’s a long one-shot on how Branche’s Valentine’s Day went before the Trolls movie :) 

Branch startled awake, alarm blaring on his bedside table. He pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand and slapped the noisy clock with the other. He groaned, not needing to look at the calendar to know what day it was. After all, it was his least favorite holiday. While the Trolls living above him were normally hyper, loud, and all around obnoxious, Valentine’s day multiplied their annoying traits by a thousand.

Every Troll loved Valentine’s day, and King Peppy had decreed many years ago that on ‘this special day, hug time can be any time’. It was torture. Not only was every troll constantly hugging, but the love-songs were non-stop! Trolls would sing anything from love-ballads, to cheesy break-up songs about getting back together again. Oh, and don’t get Branch started on all the cards exchanged. From a simple “I love you” note, to ten-page love confessions, the letters and cards practically rained from the sky.

And, to make matters worse, a certain someone loved this holiday more than any Troll in the existence of trolls. And she made it her personal duty to give Branch a hand-made card every. Single. Year.

You’ve got this,” he told himself, forcing his legs over the side of the bed. “Just stick to the plan and you’ll survive.”

Branch took a single moment to take a deep breath in… and then slowly out. He opened his eyes, rolling his shoulders as he stood up. Nimbly he grabbed a small pocket-book of the side of the dresser. He looked at the cover, remembering all those years ago when he’d started writing in the book. The title was written sloppily, almost hastily, and in bright red letters.

Valentines Survival Guide

“Okay,” he mumbled to himself as he glanced it over, reading the first step.

Step 1: Gather enough supplied before anyone wakes up so you can comfortably stay holed up inside your bunker.

Note: Do not let Poppy know you’re in the bunker. If this fails, refer to page thirty-four.

Easy enough, he just had to collect a couple of things and then he could enjoy a day holed up inside his bunker. Branch walked over to his supplies, stuffing the handbook into his hair. He pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil. He was almost out of his regular drinking water—of course he could always pull from the many jars he had stacked up in case of a Bergen attack, but he’d rather not waste what he’d saved when he could easily get more. Branch, making up his mind, gave a firm nod, jotting down water as the first supply he needed to retrieve.

“Let’s see,” Branch nibbled on the edge of the pencil as he continued to take in what was needed. Well, for starters he’d need a new needle and some more thread to patch a blanket. He was in need of some more paper as well. Spending days on end inside a bunker with nothing to do but write poetry tended to weed your supply of paper a bit thin. Not to mention the countless lists he’d made, as well as Survival Guide books on various subjects. Thinking about it, he probably needed some more pencils too.

Branch glanced over his list, grinning as he looked it over. It was short, and he’d be able to get everything he needed before the hour was done. Branch would be out and then back in his bunker before anyone knew he’d left. And by anyone, Branch meant Poppy. She seemed to be getting up earlier and earlier on Valentine’s day. Branch would have to start getting a move on if he wanted to avoid her.

Branch grabbed what he would need (a simple backpack to help carry supplies, some coins to get the supplies, and a small weapon just in case something happened.) He walked over to his elevator, pulling on the lever firmly. He emerged from his hide-out, keeping low to the ground as he surveyed the surrounding area.

Despite the sun not being up yet, he could hear the thrumming of guitars, voices singing loud and proud. Ugh, he shook his head, slinging the backpack over his shoulder as he headed towards the village. As usual, there were Trolls already up and celebrating.

Get in, get the supplies, get out,” he chanted to himself, keeping close to the trees and walls of different stores.

He came to the Troll Market quickly, grip tightening on the straps as he different Trolls emerged from their homes or shops, greeting one another with a friendly song and long hug. Cards had already started to be exchanged. Branch narrowed his eyes, keeping his head low as he headed for one shop in particular. He doubted most of them would be open, however, this particular shop was run by a Troll named Mossy, who had a habit of opening before the sun rose.

The bell on the door jingled, Branch’s shoulders stiffening as he slowly entered.

“Oh,” said Mossy from behind the counter. “Good morning Branch, here for more supplies?”

Branch gave a gruff nod, heading over to the selection of paper and pencils. Quickly, he selected the best quality paper for the best price and grabbed a couple of pencils, heading over to the counter.

“You’re up early today,” Mossy commented with a smile. “Stocking up for Valentine’s day again?”

Branch raised an eyebrow as Mossy began taking stock of the items he had picked out, adding up the prices.

“Well, I’m glad you came early,” Mossy continued, undeterred by his silence. “I’m going to close up shop early today. It is a holiday, after all! Your total is $5.99. Say, Branch, why don’t you celebrate with us today?”

“Oh, and be perfect pickings for a Bergan?” Branch shot back, fishing coins out of his pockets to pay. He set them down on the counter, scooping up his stuff and shoving it into his backpack. “I don’t think so.”

Mossy clicked his tongue and muttered complaints about Branches attitude as he walked away and out of the shop. He let the door click shut behind him, shuffling to the side as he checked over his list.

Paper and pencils, check. Now all he needed was some water, thread, and a needle. He glanced towards the sky, realizing with growing horror that, though the sun had still not shown itself, the sky was a dull grey instead of a midnight black like it used to be. Branch had to hurry.

He rushed to the next shop, tugging on the handle. With growing frustration, he realized it was locked. Branch turned his eyes towards the sign on the door, growling when he read it.

“Closed for Valentine’s day—Hugs and kisses to you all!”

Ugh, perhaps it was better to just forgo the thread and needle. For now, anyways. This left only one item left on his list. Water. This, of course, should be the easiest to get. He just had to stop by the nearby stream, collect his water and then he could be on his way home.

The trip there was eventful, to say the least. With the sun getting lighter and lighter the town of Trolls grew louder and louder. The singing was everywhere, dance and music numbers seemingly possessing every troll Branch crossed. He ducked this way and that, hiding behind trees and stones to avoid being dragged into them. These delayed Branches hike by fifteen minutes, and by the time Branch managed to get to the stream, there was already someone there.

“Oh, Hello Branch,” Creek smiled as Branch warily approached, jar in hand. He was sitting by the small river, legs crossed and arms out in meditation. “What brings you out on this fantastic holiday?”

“Restocking water,” Branch replied stiffly, edging towards the river. He bent down, letting his hand splash into the frigid water as he filled the jar.

“You’re not going to be at the party today?” Creek asked, a hint of a smile playing his features. “After all, Poppy would love for you to come.”

Branch rolled his eyes, snapping the lid shut as he stood.

“No, I will not be coming. Because unlike the rest of you, I don’t want to become Bergen food,” Branch set the jar in his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder.

“So, you’ll be in your bunker all day then?”

“Sure,” Branch rolled his eyes, walking away. Creek waved goodbye, though Branch pretended not to see. Once he was far enough away from Creek, Branch risked a look to the sky. His heart dropped, dread settling into his stomach. He could see rays of sunshine filtering through the leaves. Poppy would be visiting his bunker soon.

Branch all but ran back to his bunker, sliding in through the door and tapping his foot impatiently as the elevator went down. He set his supplies on the floor, rushing to his room to find the sign he’d created years ago.

It’d been quite brilliant, really. Branch was still very proud with himself. He’d gotten the idea perhaps five years ago, when Poppy began pestering him more and more. He’d written a sign, letting everyone know that, un-regrettably, he was out in the forest all day and wouldn’t return until tomorrow.

It was foolproof. Poppy would usually pound on his door like always, screaming his name. Then, she’d see the sign, sigh, and dejectedly walk away, leaving behind her home-made valentine.

Branch found the sign, kept safely in his closet. And, like so many times before, he rushed back to the elevator, jumped out of his bunker and imbedded the sign in the dirt next to his rock. And even though he told himself this would be the most relaxing day in the year, and that he’d have a blast not talking to anyone, he found himself frowning as he climbed back into the bunker, closing the entrance.

No one would be bothering him for the rest of the day. That much, Branch was sure of.

Branch walked to his table, tugging the curtain open as he removed the previous valentines Poppy had made him. Each one was unique, varying in color from bright purple to soft pink. He sat in the chair, letting the various cards scatter around the table. Branch sighed, reading and rereading the various encouraging messages on each card.

He lightly tapped one, a gentle tune bursting forth, Poppy’s voice singing gently.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,

You make us happy, even though you’re grey,

You’ll never know, Branch, how much we love you,

Please come out, and join us today!”

A smile tugged at his lips as he rested his head on the table, staring at the valentine. It was ironic, in a way. Poppy claiming that Branch was the one that would never know how much she loved him. He frowned, eyes narrowing as his gut twisted. Branch grabbed a fresh paper and pencil, scribbling down a response.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,

You make me happy, even though I’m grey,

You’ll never know, Poppy, how much I…”

Branch stopped, eyebrows knitting together as his pencil hovered just above the paper. Dejectedly, he let the pencil fall from his hands as he grabbed the paper and gently ripped it apart.

So stupid,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his eyes as he leaned back in the chair. A sudden pounding on the door above caused him to jump, his eyes darting up.

Branch!” Poppy screamed as Branch shook his head. He reclined back, arms supporting his head as he set his feet on the table. “Branch! Branch! Branch!”

In five seconds she’d notice the sign. She’d then give a sigh, probably mutter something about this happening every year, and leave his valentine gently on his welcome mat. Then she’d walk away, singing some love song.

“Branch!” She called, voice echoing. Branch counted down the seconds on his fingers. And five, four, three, two—“Branch, Creek told me you’re in there—the sign isn’t going to fool me this time!”

Branch froze, eyes widening. His shoulders tense, eyes darting to the table where the many valentines sat. Crap.

“Branch!”

Branch leapt  from his chair as he snatched the letters, shoving them back in their place. He swooshed the curtains shut, pressing his back against the wall as he attempted to calm down. What was he supposed to do? This had never happened before—Oh, curse Creek! He should have known that slimy good-for-nothing Troll was up to something. Branch’s eyes caught the bold letters of his Survival guide book. In an instant, he was leaping across the room, snatching it off the table, and flipping through the pages.

“Come on, come on,” he whispered. Aha!

Poppy’s figured out your ploy:

Step 1: Do not panic.

Well, it was a little too late for that. But no matter, he could continue.

Step 2: Figure out what she wants while acting like a grump.

Branch nodded his head, he could do that.

Step 3: Crush the valentine and slam your door shut.

An empty feeling crept into his stomach as he looked up to where Poppy was still shouting for him. Sure, he crushed all her party invites, ripped them to shreds, even… But to do that to a valentine? He wasn’t so sure.

“Branch!” Poppy dragged out her words, reminding Branch of a whale as he pulled the lever on his elevator. “Branch! Braaaanch! Branch!”

He heard a thud as Poppy stomped on the ground in frustration.

“Branch!” She snapped. “Come out!”

“What?” Branch responded, opening the flap on his welcome mat. “What do you need?”

Poppy gave a gasp, rushing over to it with a grin.

“What do you mean, ‘what do I need’,” she scoffed, holding something behind her back. “It’s Valentine’s day—and even hermits like you need to come out for air! Now get out here, I have something for you.”

Branch let the flap close, swallowing as he thought about Step 3. He shook his head as he opened the hatch and climbed out. His arms were crossed over his chest, an unamused frown placed on his face.

“What?” He asked as Poppy practically buzzed, bouncing on her toes.

“Well, I thought this year I’d give you your Valentine in person, soooo,” she dragged out, carefully taking the pink heart from behind her back. She shoved it forward, a grin practically cracking her cheeks. “Happy Valentine’s day, Branch!”

Branch swallowed thickly. Accept it! Crush it! Accept it! No, crush it! No, you have to accept it! She’ll invite you to her stupid party and then you’ll have to reject her. It’s easier to just crush the stupid valentine! She’ll never talk to you again if you crush it!  

“Well?” Poppy laughed. “Aren’t you gonna take it?”

Branch bit his lip, looking at the outstretched heart. He rolled his eyes and sighed, reaching out and snatching up the heart.

“Fine, whatever,” he scoffed as Poppy beamed. “Is that all you want?”

“Well, actually,” Poppy took another step forward. Branch raised a brow and took a step back. “Our friends are all going to have a slumber party and—“

No,” Branch snapped, turning around to jump back into his bunker. Poppy frowned, crossing her arms.

“No?” She asked. “I didn’t even get to finish what I was saying!”

Branch turned around, glaring.

“You were going to ask me to come along, and my answer is no.”

“But it’ll be so much fun!” Poppy protested. “We’ll all be there—Fuzzbert and Cooper and Biggie and Satin and Chenille and Guy Diamond, and Suki—oh! And Creek!”

Branch grunted as he kicked open the welcome mat door to his bunker.

“Come on, you never come to any of my parties. You need some fun!”

“No, I need some peace and quiet,” Branch gave her one last withering look. “Besides, knowing you lot the singing will be non-stop, attracting the Bergen’s right to the village.”

Poppy let out a groan, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Branch, come on! We haven’t seen a Bergen in ages! They’re not going to find us.”

“No, they’re not going to find me!” Branch crossed his arms, scowling. “However, when you’re lost in song, singing your loudest, a Bergen will strike and it will be entirely your fault when everyone you love gets eaten.”

Poppy gasped, hand covering her mouth as she stumbled back.  Branch jumped into his bunker, giving the hatch door a slam. For a moment, neither of them said anything.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Branch,” he heard Poppy mutter dejectedly as she turned away and headed back towards the village. Branch felt his heart give a painful twist as she walked away, not a single note springing from her lips as she went. Quietly, he reached into his pocket, gently removing the pink heart.

It was glittered to the max, swirling letters scrawled gently in the middle.

Dear Branch,

My dad always says that all you need in life is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt! Have a happy Valentine’s day and know that you are forever and always loved by your friends.

Love, Poppy!

Branch turned the card around, a small box glued to the other side. He opened it, a large chocolate truffle tumbling out into his palm. He sunk to the ground, nibbling on the piece of candy as he read the card again. Branch pulled the lever, elevator sliding down into his bunker as he continued to read. With a sigh, he stood up, heading back over to the table. He grabbed a piece of paper and his pencil, sitting down with a thump.

Dear Poppy,

L is for the laughter you give me every day.

O is for the optimism, you always send my way.

V is for the value, of being my only friend.

E is for eternity, my love for you has no end.

Branch set the pencil down, looking over the card with a frown. He could never give this to her. He wasn’t worth her. Branch stood, grabbing the letter as he rushed to his room. He reached under his bed, removing a tattered yellow box. He flipped open the lid, pressing his Valentine into it with a scowl. He slapped the lid back on, choosing not to dwell on the many replies he’d written over the years.

Valentine’s day was his least favorite holiday. Yes, he hated the many hugs exchanged. Despised the loud singing and dance numbers. But his least favorite part? The part that made this single holiday the most painful?

Every year, Poppy strived to make him a letter or card. And every year he repaid her by pretending she didn’t exist or telling her she would be the reason all her friends died. Branch let his head bang against the wall, eyes squeezed shut as he held the heart shaped card close to his chest.

He really, really, hated Valentine’s day.

Ephemeral

Originally posted by ashtonxbts

Fuckboy!Jimin x reader

Word count: 13K

Angst, smut/ Soulmate AU, Frat boy AU

It was around the time warm layers between summer and fall melted the shades of orange cinnamon and green leaves together, days falling behind and time starts to pack up. School had started, drawing a line of students prepping and studying for future exams, overwhelming majority of the last month of break. A cool, succumbed breeze brushed by when she stepped into his life by a step into a small cafe, welcoming her with a genuine smile from ear to ear as he offered her to sit with him.

Little specks and smears of coffee stain the brown napkins, soaking up the sticky liquid as it absorbs into the thick sheet of tissue from her arm. Apologetic whines and hands caressing her wrist made her throw her head back and laugh at the sincerity of the boy holding the girl. She really thought it was just the smell of coffee draining into her head, blistering her cheeks from her unforgettable smiles and giggles that formed.

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“hey, babe”

I need a fix of the first time Erin calls Jay babe. Like how at first it was an accident and she gets all embarrassed to now when she just is flowing it out in front of everyone! Please if you have time!

To be honest, I was thinking two days tops and maybe a few hundred words for this prompt and yet, here we are, six days and 3,320 words later, with the prompt finally filled. 

There are five vignettes, that start quick and end the same way, progressing from the first use of the endearment “babe” and ending with a short prose retake of the ending scene of CPD 3x15. The second one is mildly inspired by one of my meta bullets. And apparently I can’t go long without PTSD!Jay, so you’re warned.

(Random: It’s like “Hey, Jude” except not in the slightest.)

Hopefully this meets your expectations well enough, Anon! As always, I covet your guys’ thoughts and opinions. 


The third rumble of her belly in ten minutes finally gets Erin’s attention. It’s almost eleven at night, she’s finally getting drowsy, and she’s comfortable, leaning back against her partner with his legs boxing in her own and causing a source of amusement during commercial breaks. Erin, refusing to take the blame for ticklish feet, had offered, quite magnanimously, to go sit at the other end of the couch.

The shell of her ear is still warm from his offended nip.

Needless to say, it’s a very inconvenient time for the munchies.

A quiet breath escapes her. Fine. Jay, engrossed in their late night movie, doesn’t notice for several long moments as she pinches at his hands where he’s laced them together across her stomach.

“Jay, come on, I’m starving,” Erin lets her head back to rest on his shoulder, lower lip jutting in some semblance of a pout that gets him out of the movie a lot faster then digging her nails into his skin.

His gaze drops straight down a couple of inches and yes, she definitely has his attention now. “What did you say?”

Leaning in a fraction, just to tease him with the proximity, Erin smirks. “Let me up, I’m hungry.”

Jay blinks a couple of times before his brain cells reconnect and he casts her a flat, unamused look at her underhanded tactics. His grip does loosen though and Erin extricates herself with care, unable to help from grinning but not wanting to add injury to insult by elbowing him in the gut.

If there’s an extra swing to her hips as she walks away, well—Jay doesn’t call her on it.

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Music Video - Conor Maynard Imagine

A/N-  I love you writing!! Can you do a conor imagine for me?? One where you feel insecure and sad and you really need hug. That would be great!! Lots of love

A/N- Conors PA (personal assistant) also your close friend is going to be called Marie. 

Conor had been away for the past 2 weeks recording his new song ready to be released at the end of the month. He was also away to record the music video to go with it. I would be flying out to see him for the final week and to finally spend some quality time together. 

After landing and dropping my stuff off at the hotel, I made my way to the set Conor was filming on waiting for him to finish so we could go out for food, just the two of us. Lately i had been feeling quite down and just needed to be with the person who made me happy and smile. I missed him and couldn’t wait to see him and get a long overdue hug.

 After showing my pass to security I was showed to the set everyone was working on. Conor was in the middle of filming so i took a seat next to one of his PA’S who i got on with really well. I wasn’t told what kind of music video this was going to be but as soon as i saw the models, i got the hint. 

Obviously you would think i was fine with Conor doing music videos with models, which i am, but with the way i was feeling jealously and insecurity overtook my mind. I knew i was being stupid overthinking but i knew i was no model, i had many flaws, i wasn’t as pretty, i didn’t have the tiny figure. I wasn’t them. Sometimes i do think Conor would prefer one of them. 

“You ok Y/N?” Marie asked looking concerned. 

“Me? I’m fine” I faked smiled, i wasn’t exactly in the mood to explain my feelings when i know what the response was going to be. 

“Come on Y/N I can see right through you. Somethings wrong. You can talk to me you know” Giving me a re-ensuring smile. “It’s the reason to why you don’t come to these video sets isnt it? Seeing all the girls?” 

“How do you know?” 

“I would be the same, I wouldn’t exactly like my boyfriend being touched by models in front of my eyes” I sighed. 

“It’s his career, it’s his job. I’m not going to complain but with the way i’ve been feeling it isnt ideal being here” 

“I can tell Conor you didn’t feel well?” I loved the fact Marie would help me with anything even though she worked for him personally. 

“No it’s fine. I don’t even think he know i’ve arrived yet” Glancing over to him now working outside. 

“He has noticed, i’ve seen him look over a few times. He does care about you a lot you know”

“I know”

“No Y/N i dont think you do. Well obviously you do but you don’t realise how much. When i’m with him working he enjoys what he does but he looks forward to the day being over to call you or he rushes us all off the plane when we’ve landed so he can see you sooner. When he’s in a bad mood he watches videos of you and I always see a smile appear again. He’s head over heels for you” I couldn’t help but blush. I dont get to see that side of him. I imagine it to happen but hearing it actually does makes me feel warm inside. “Don’t feel insecure babes, i know we all do once in a while but these models have nothing on you trust me” 

I just nodded and carried on to admire Conor working. He’s always been a gentleman and I do love him dearly. And it’’s nice to see him doing what he loves. 

2 hours later and the set was coming to a close. Conor was just finishing the last edits while the rest started to head off home. Watching the models packing their stuff and talking amongst themselves looking over once in a while. Marie had gone to obverse the final edits leaving me on my own. I hated seeing people look at me i would think they’re talking about me and in this case i was right. My name was mentioned a couple of times with smirks and eye rolls in mt direction. This is literally one of my worst nightmares. 

I could feel my heart beat fasten with the sound of laughter filling the room. That insecure feeling? That had gotten worse and i could feel an anxiety attack about to happen. Picking up my bag i popped it over my shoulder and headed straight for the door. 

“Y/N?” I didn’t want to stop walking, i continued to the exit of the building, blocking out all the sounds around me. It made me jump when i felt a hand touch my shoulder with enough force to stop me in my tracks. 

“Y/N” Conor spoke again with a shaky breath almost like he ran after me. “I thought you were waiting for me? I saw you walk off without saying bye or anything” 

“Sorry, i just wanted to go, i exactly feel well” Lying through my teeth, well only kind of. 

“Yeah Marie said something about not feeling yourself, what’s wrong?” I could see the worry starting to fury in his eyes and facial expression. I didn’t like that look. 

“I just want to go back to the hotel” I tried to start walking again but he grabbed my hand before i could move any further. 

“Y/N i know you better than you know yourself. Something’s wrong and we aren’t going anywhere until you tell me” Conor firmly said. Hearing laughter coming down the corridor, we moved towards the wall allowing the models to pass through. It didn’t go a miss the looks they darted towards me either. Normally i can handle shit like that but not on this day. “You know you are better than them don’t you?” Conor was starting to click on. “Don’t get jealous” 

“I’m not jealous, only kind off-”

“Feeling insecure?” Bingo. I remanded silent. “Babe” He lifted his hand to my cheek, moving my face so i was looking directly at him. “I love you and that’s all that matters. You are perfect in every way possible. I love your beauty and flaws. Remember that” I nodded and lifted onto my tip-tops placing a soft but firm kiss on his lips. That long overdue hug made an appearance as well. Burying my head into his neck taking in his warmth and scent. I felt his lips leaving small kisses along my shoulder and one hand rubbing my back. 

“Come on i think we can order room service and have a movie night instead”

The Eaves Have Ears (Stiles)

honestly, i feel like this title is wasted on this fic but i know for a fact that i’ll probably never use the title on anything else, so i’m not gonna hold out and forget it. 


“If you think she’s cute you’re not going about it the right way.” You heard a voice saying sternly and you paused. Something about it was familiar, but in a way that you thought maybe you should hang around and eavesdrop.

“She’s not just cute, Lydia. She’s adorable, and hot, and sexy, and beautiful.” You heard a male voice reply weakly and you started. Stiles. Stiles has a crush on someone, you thought with a hint of evil joy, the exploitation options on this…

“Alright… So?” Lydia replied, tone encouraging but with a little annoyance. “Are you going to act on this? Are you even interested enough to act? Better yet, could this be long term?”

You nodded along with her words, all very useful. Things you yourself wanted to know because if you were going to solve this mystery and embarrass him properly, something you’d yet to accomplish, you needed all the information.

“I don’t know! She… She always brushes me off, I can’t exactly make any kind of move if I don’t know that she’ll… agree!” He complained loudly and even without the visual you could see him running his hands through his hair with a little frustration while the other hand gestured toward the ceiling. A burst of fond affection filled you and you smiled a private smile.

One Stiles would never see because then he’d be all over you making jokes about how in love with him you were. But you’re not. In love, that is. You’re in make him suffer. That’s what your feelings are.

“Stiles, I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself.” Lydia sighed and you muffled a giggle. Half of Lydia was sighs and eye rolls. You’d think she was possessed if you didn’t know better.

“Can’t you just… Do that girly thing where you talk about all the guys you’re into?” He whined and you practically felt Lydia straighten and give him a glare.

“I have heard you and Scott, so don’t even say it’s a “girly” thing.” She snapped and then you heard heels clicking on the tile toward you.

Oh no. Oh god. Oh dear.

Quickly, you stepped around the corner, your steps slightly too fast for the casual you were trying to appear, your face a little too set.

“Oh, hi Y/N.” Lydia grinned like a cat as she passed you by and you fought off a blush you didn’t know the origins of. You’d done nothing wrong, except spying, so there was no need to blush and feel like you’re under a microscope.

“Y/N.” Stiles says slowly and you freeze, your head turning as if it were slow motion toward where he’s staring at you.

“Stiles.” You reply just as ominously, still trying to play it off.

“Were you eavesdropping?” He rumbles, taking a step toward you and your face combusts, likely going entirely red if the heat is anything to go by.

“No!” You squeak before taking off down the hallway, infused with confusion about why you’re so nervous, eavesdropping isn’t even that bad. You peek back once, taking in his slightly fearful expression before he turns and hurries away, calling after Lydia.


“I love Stiles, I do.” Lydia says calmly, elbow crooked through yours, directing you across the tile floor and your steps click clacking a matching tattoo as she pulls you into the next store. “He’s great. He is probably my best friend. He will be there for you whenever you need him, he’ll always try to protect and help. And he’s just an overall lovable goof most of the time. But there are some qualities he lacks.”

Why she’s telling you this you have no idea. Half of this stuff you already knew about him, like that he and Lydia are almost as close as he and Scott now. And from both their reassurances, its platonic. Not that you cared whether it was platonic or not. You didn’t care.

“He lacks good people skills, that’s the one your most likely to see. But he also lacks finesse, the steady hand or emotionlessness needed to do some things, for example- ask a girl out.”

“Emotionlessness needed to ask a girl out?” You snort and she offers you a glare that you nod at. Right, no interrupting.

“That was a poor word choice I suppose, but one needs to have a certain level of fearlessness to accept rejection. He couldn’t handle it.” She explains further and you pull her to a stop, gazing at the shoe racks before you.

“This is all great, but why’re you telling me? Shouldn’t you be secretly coaching and guiding mystery girl?” You mumble, picking up a lavender pair of Mary Janes and gazing at them longingly. Not your size, and none with your size in sight.

“Mystery girl?”

“We all know I was eaves dropping. So who is she? Can you tell me?” You ask, setting the heels down and turning back to your red haired friend, and wrinkling your nose at her expression of consternation. “What?”

“You didn’t hear who it was.” She laughs softly, and you lick your lips, trying not to pick up the pale purple shoes behind you. You wait while she pulls out her phone, fingers tapping out a message that is likely to Stiles.

“Oh, did you want me to help him get her? I’d be really bad at that; I really want to embarrass him.” You wonder aloud while Lydia types. “Crush him, even.”

“That’s lovely.” She says absently and you giggle, touching her elbow gently and guiding her down the aisle as her phone starts pinging with messages and she responds as quickly as the rapid fire beeping.  


“Hey, Y/N.” Stiles pipes up from behind you and you turn to him with a beaming smile.

“Lover boy, who is she?” You ask instantly, and he flushes, rubbing his hair and flattening one side of the mess.

“Who’s who? You? You’re you.” He mutters, glancing around and you snort. Leaning against the locker beside yours, you meet his eyes head on and cross your arms challengingly.

“Fine.” He mutters sourly, stepping closer and into your space, and your heart speeds strangely. It’s Stiles. You’re not into Stiles, and you shouldn’t be reacting like you are. “Just know, you’re a little snake, and I’m only telling you because I don’t want you to pester me in front of the others and start them up.”

“Noted.” You snicker, your chin tilting up teasingly, even as you have to look up as he towers over you some. You feel your stomach flip as he rests his palm against the locker above you, the pose almost caging, but all you feel is warm. “But you should also know this plan is very likely to backfire in your face.”

“Noted.” He groans softly, swallowing hard and shifting imperceptibly closer and you can’t help shifting with him, leaning toward him. “But I think it’ll keep you quiet.”

“Stop killing time, Stiles, I’m waiting.”

“This girl.” He says slowly and your lips part into a childlike grin as you rise onto your tippy toes, excitement and cold blooded fear thrumming through your veins. Who is she? Why does he even like her when he could like you?

“Yes?”

Why do you want him to like you?

“Her name.”

“What is it?”

“It’s Y/N.” He says softly and you frown. That can’t be right.

“That can’t be right.” You blink and he forces a tight smile, pulling back but not removing his hand from the locker above you.

“Why not?” He argues softly, his voice paper thin and soured by something you can’t name.

Or maybe you can.

Hurt.

“Because I’d know.” You say obviously, meeting his eyes with your own and a part of you wonders why you’re arguing this and not kissing him. Another part of you also wonders why you’re thinking of kissing him.

“That doesn-”

“Does too. You said you were in love with Lydia all the time.” You prod and he groans softly, throwing his head back and glaring at the ceiling.

“I was a kid.”

“And you’re not now?”

“My best friends an incompetent werewolf running a pack.” He counters sharply and you scoff, poking your tongue at him and he groans softly. “You’re such an idiot.”

“But you have a crush on me.” You shrug and he blinks at the words, lips parting.

“You aren’t going to start this.” He groans and you clap happily, stepping into his space, your chest nearly brushing his.

“Don’t you doubt it.” You whisper softly and his breath hisses through his teeth. And suddenly his lips are pressed to yours, his hands pulling you against him while his body drives you back. The lockers shudder as you back into them and he groans, his tongue swiping across your lips. Melting under his touch, your lips part without hesitation and you moan at the taste of him. Your finger clutch at his shoulders and your nails dig into his shirt, likely leaving scratches on his skin.

“You taste so good.” He whimpers, as a sharp whistle parts your lips. Pressing your forehead to his, all you can do is gasp and gape, wondering just where that came from. And why you’ve ever denied having the biggest crush on the biggest dork.

“Of course I taste good; you’ve got a crush on me.” You manage to whisper with flushed cheeks and he groans loudly, pulling away from you and swiping a palm over his jaw as he glares at you. “Don’t pout, you can’t surprise a girl like that.”

“A good surprise?” He asks hesitantly and you roll your eyes, grinning at him.

“A hot one, to say the least.” You shrug, grabbing your books from your locker and slamming it closed.

“To say the least?” He whines, following doggedly as you push through the crush of students.


ta da! there we are

@ailynalonso15

Love drought

*A Kastle piece! A long one! You’ll hate it! Read it anyway please!

Part of my Hells Kitchen Cronicles series*

-

Frank has been doing this thing, where he would look at her while she speaks, normally, but then, when she’s finished with whatever it was she was saying, he would keep looking. Staring. Clenching his jaw, and when she asked “what?” he would raise his brows, so cocky, like he was the one that caught her staring at him and look away with a smile so small she wondered if she was imagining it.

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anonymous asked:

What's your take on the final boss Papyrus what-if Geno scenario?

I think my favorite interpretations of that scenario are ones where Papyrus does fight you, and gives it his absolute all, but is still hoping that you turn back until the very last second. Honestly… it would probably play out very similarly to Sans’, and I could see some of the fighting techniques being almost identical.

I don’t like when people make it so that he just breaks down sobbing during the fight, or that he’s STILL sparing you without a fight even after a full Genocide run. I don’t think he’s THAT naive. And on top of that, I feel like his fight would have to fulfill the same function that Sans’ fight does: an epic, exciting final boss fight that tempted you to Genocide in the first place, your culminating judgement, your last chance to turn back.

So no matter what, I think a Papyrus fight would still be long and difficult, with a lot of monologuing on Paps’ part.

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Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day

Originally posted by crying-ren

IT’S OUR HOLIDAY TODAY!

*clears throat*

I’ve never thought I was going to be a writer. Yes, you heard that right. Never.

As I was reading through all of the fanfiction I was always amazed with how well the writers were capturing the characters, how incredibly great they were describing the worlds that only lived in their head. Their stories help me on a daily basis: fluff and smut make me smile, angst also makes me happy as I consider my problems not as big as those featured in the fics.

What can I say? I knew that it takes a whole lotta work to write but I only understood how much exactly when I started writing.

Right. But why did I do that? 

There are a few reasons and, ommiting the fact that some idea just decided to jump into my head and bug me forever, someone encouraged me to do that. Someone told me that, yes, even though it’s difficult it’s worth a shot. 

That person was @bringmesomepie56. She had my back when I thought I’d never finish that piece. And she’s the person that I should thank ‘cause, if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be a writer now. I love you so, so much, Arie <3

Okay, and now let’s get on with all the other amazing personas (and, before you ask, I higly advise you to follow all of those people). Under the cut, ‘cause I’m gonna talk a lot.:

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anonymous asked:

C/B #8 and #4

(4 has already been answered)

“I’ll be right over.”

-

The vibration of her phone in her hand has her jolting awake, the grit of sleep disintegrating as she blinks, making her best attempt to read the name flashing across her screen.

But she doesn’t have to read to see Castle’s contact photo (a goofy picture of him with his eyes cross and his cheeks puffed) greeting her at 3:17 a.m.

“Castle?” she rasps, swallowing down the final vestiges of slumber and rolling onto her back, but when there is no answer in response, Beckett sits up. “Castle, you there?”

“Kate.” The choked quality of her name scares her, the way his voice quivers and catches over the single syllable. “Sorry, just had to - thought you drowned.”

Beckett kicks away the sheets and slides from the bed, already halfway to the closet.

“No, Castle, we got out, remember?” she murmurs, tugging a sweatshirt on over her pajama top and stepping into a pair of sneakers. It’s not her best look, but Castle’s seen her in leggings and an oversized t-shirt before and the streets of New York have seen worse. 

“Saw you shot,” he murmurs, quieter, and she pauses in the closet doorway. “When Sophia - before Danberg could stop her.”

Kate rests her head to the doorjamb for a moment before exiting the bedroom, grabbing her keys, her wallet, badge and gun, and leaving her apartment with a silent click of her front door.

“I’ll be right over.”

“Beckett, you don’t-”

“Too late.”

She listens to him sigh over the line, pictures him rumpled and sleep deprived inside a bedroom she’s never seen. They’ve had these kinds of conversations on the phone before, after the freezer, after the bank, after nearly drowning in the Hudson. Nightmares have plagued them both over the past week, since the case with Sophia Turner, but he rarely calls her, not unless the dreams are so vivid he wakes believing them to be true.

He’s never sounded quite so horrified, though, and they may be waiting, balancing on the cusp of more, but she can still be his friend, reassure him of her existence by coming over for a visit at three in the morning.

“Is your door unlocked?”

He huffs, a gentle sound of defeat amidst the late night and early morning life of the city that’s soon accompanied by quiet footsteps and an audible click.

“Is now,” he mumbles. “Do you want me to make you something for when you get here? Coffee? Breakfast?”

His voice is still bleak, sullen, and her lips should not be curving upwards, not even a little, at such a simple, thoughtful question. But they do.

“No, just you is good. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

She hangs up before her words can reverberate through her head, before she can even fathom what they’ve done to him, but she ignores the newborn nerves clamoring within her stomach like butterflies and continues down the path that will lead her to him.

-

He had tried to help her, tried to stop the bleeding that flowed like a river from her chest, the same damn spot, but it had been useless. He had let her die again. 

And now, real or not, he just can’t stop seeing it. That is, until he glances up from his cup of decaf coffee to see Kate Beckett slipping through his front door, toeing off her sneakers near the coat closet as if it’s habit, and padding into the kitchen with a tired but genuine smile.

“Morning,” she murmurs, her voice soft and comforting, so much better than the soundless scream from his nightmare. “Is that decaf? Or the good stuff?”

“Thought you didn’t want anything but me?” he teases, waggling his eyebrows for her, but even that is strained and she sees through him without trying.

To her credit, she doesn’t blush or roll her eyes at him for the halfhearted remark though, doesn’t deny it either, shrugging her shoulders and climbing onto the barstool beside him instead.

“Well, usually you and coffee go hand in hand.”

Castle cocks an eyebrow at her. For someone who is still standing on the opposite side of a wall that separates them, she’s saying quite a bit this morning that’s causing him to believe her wall is nothing more than a few bricks she could jump over if she tried. But Kate merely steals his still full mug from his slack fingers, takes an experimental sip and wrinkles her nose.

“Ew,” she mutters, pushing the cup back in his direction and he huffs a laugh.

“You came here to comfort me and instead, you’re insulting my coffee.”

She breathes a chuckle of her own before turning towards him, her knees grazing his thigh. “I’m sorry. Tell me about the dream.”

“I was just kidding, Kate. Just having you here is enough.”

She’s silent in response, no clever quip or acknowledging smile, but it isn’t a bad silence, just contemplative, and he nearly startles when one of her hands rises between them, the soft touch of a thumb brushing beneath his eye. 

“You should go back to sleep,” she murmurs, her thumb stroking back and forth over the paper thin skin, as if she can wipe away the stain of purple he knows is there. He’s prepared to protest, less than excited to return to a state of unconsciousness where he is helpless to save her, but she speaks again before he can. “C’mon Castle, ditch the decaf, let’s go.”

And then she’s descending from her place atop his barstool, curling her fingers at his elbow, and he’s unable to resist the pleasant pull.

He follows her into his bedroom, studying her body language along the way, taking note of the hints of apprehension, the flickers of curiosity. He left his bed the way he woke, the sheets rumpled and askew, the comforter hanging from one side of the mattress and a stray pillow tossed to the ground.

“You don’t have to stay,” he reminds her, but when she releases his arm, drifts away, he wishes he could take the words back.

His retinas burn with exhaustion, the lack of sleep from the past week catching up to him, but he hasn’t even realized his eyes have fluttered shut until she’s calling for him.

“Castle, get in the bed before you pass out standing up.”

His eyes flash open and - oh, Kate Beckett crawling into his bed is a wonderful sight to behold, even as she’s glaring at him with impatience.

Castle stumbles after her, plopping down on his side of the mattress, forcing himself not to stare when she strips her sweatshirt off and lies down beside him in a thin white t-shirt that flows past her hips. He turns on his side, away from her, hoping to make this as comfortable for her as possible, but seconds later, the warmth of her body is at his back, the scent of her enveloping him along with the arm that winds around his torso.

“If you have anymore nightmares, just wake me,” she murmurs into the skin of his nape before pressing her cheek to his shoulder blade.

He’s had quite a few dreams over the past week that have felt intensely realistic, but nothing like this. And if this moment with her in his bed is in fact a creation of his unconscious mind, he isn’t sure he wants to wake up anytime soon.

Castle covers the hand at his sternum, cradles her palm to his chest and strokes the path of her knuckles until he can’t fight off exhaustion any longer.

-

Castle startles awake once in the four hours they spend sleeping in his bed and she’ll never forget the wondrous spread of relief in his eyes the moment they landed on her, the exhale of his chest as she murmured reassurances until his heart rate slowed, or the breath of her name on his lips as he wrapped his arms around her before sleep reclaimed him.

Or the love he whispered into her hair as he drifted. No, she definitely won’t be forgetting that this time and it’s enough to have her convinced that Richard Castle’s bed is a place she could belong, a place she could call her own. And soon. 

Left Behind (Newt Imagine)

You dashed towards the looming building that stood directly in front of you. You could hear the soldiers who had rescued you yelling at one another, and soon you heard gunfire.

“Keep running, (Y/N)! Go, love, go!” You heard an accented voice shout behind you; Newt. The second-in-command had always been your closest friend in the Glade, and even though you didn’t want to admit it (partially because you knew if anybody found out, like Minho or Thomas, they’d tease you to no end), you knew that you had fallen in love with him. However, you were sure that your feelings were unrequited, so you kept your thoughts and feelings to yourself, never really knowingly hinting at anything involving love.

You sped up, sprinting at full capacity for the doors that welcomed you into what was seemed to be some sort of rescue facility. You stood there, alongside the other Gladers as the doors closed behind you. Newt stood next to you, looking around, trying to make sense of everything that was happening around him. You simply stood there, staring at the people you saw running and walking around. Suddenly, you felt a warm hand, which was significantly bigger than yours, grab yours, intertwining your fingers with theirs. It made you jump, and you quickly looked down to realize that it was Newt who had grabbed your hand. You looked up at his face, only to see him gazing at you with a worried expression on his face. You simply squeezed his hand reassuringly, ignoring the feeling of your heart jolting in your chest as he squeezed back, lifted your hand to his lips, and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

Before you knew what happened, you were in a separate room, just sitting there and waiting for god knows what. There had been more food than you had had in a long time, better quality of food too, and all the Gladers had a food fight, which brought a smile back on everybody’s face for the first time since your rescue. Now, you were sitting on top of a crate as Newt gently traced patterns on the back of your hand. Unbeknownst to you, Newt had also fallen in love with you, and he tried to drop hints for you to pick up on. You had responded to every single one of his hints, secretly hoping that they were what you thought they were. Suddenly, a man walked into the room; he was tall, skinny, and resembled a rat. “You kids doing alright?” The man asked, before beckoning you all to follow him. You and Newt exchanged unsure looks, before deciding to follow the man and find out what was going on.

As the man, who had introduced himself as Mr. Janson, walked and the Gladers followed, he explained how the world was hanging on by a very thin thread and how Immunes were a target. He continued to explain how this place was a refuge and that they would be able to transport you to a safe place, where WICKED would never be able to find you again. Janson then opened a door, and led you to the showers; the boys went one way, and you and Teresa went another. Before the two of you went in, Janson pulled you both asides, “Once you two are done cleaning up, you’ll be taken to a room where the two of you will wait for me to come get you, as there is something that has to be explained to you both. You’re not in trouble, so do not worry. It’ll be more like an orientation.” You and Teresa both nodded, before Janson turned and left and you two went in to shower.

After your half-a-dozen scrub downs, you were provided with new clothes, and you and Teresa were sitting in a room, waiting for Janson to come get you. “I’ve got a funny feeling about this place,” you mumbled quietly to Teresa, who nodded in reply, “Me, too. I wonder who they work for.” You were about to reply when the door suddenly clicked and swung open. Janson walked in, flanked by two bodyguards. “Alright, let’s get down to business. Teresa, you’ll join the others from your group, seeing as there are some tests we need to perform to ensure everything is in order,” Janson explained, nodding to one bodyguard who stepped forwards towards Teresa, “If you’d please follow me, I’ll take you there immediately.” You exchanged a look with her, before you nodded at her and smiled, “I’ll be fine.” You were lying through your teeth, but it seemed to reassure her because she nodded and then left, following the bodyguard, closing the door once again behind them.

You sat there silently, waiting for Janson to begin speaking. Your thoughts drifted to Newt, and suddenly you got an awful feeling that you wouldn’t get to see him. “(Y/N), unfortunately, some of the tests that need to be specifically performed in your case, to assure that you’re in perfect condition, cannot be performed here. So, you are to be transferred to another installation elsewhere until said tests and procedures are complete. Then, we’ll bring you back here so you can join your friends at the safe place,” Janson explained, bowing his head towards you. You simply sat there, as you tried to understand what you had just been told. You were being separated from your friends, from Newt, from everybody you knew and loved dearly.

“Another unfortunate aspect is that the train that will be transporting you there leaves in approximately ten minutes, so there won’t be time for you to say goodbye to your friends. However, you will see them again, don’t you worry about that. We really must hurry, so please, follow me,” Janson finished, swirling around on his heel and opening the door. Numbly, you got up and followed him, through hallway after hallway. Your thoughts and goodbyes whirled around in your mind, and you zoned out until you wound up in what looked like a train station. You boarded the train shuttle, along with a couple other teenagers who looked as nervous as you felt. Before you had the chance to take one last look out the window at the where your friends were, where Newt was, the train zoomed off down the tunnel, plunging your compartment into darkness.

In the meantime, Newt, Minho, Thomas and the others were sitting in a large cafeteria, where they watched other teenagers conversing and comparing their experiences and stories. However, Newt kept scanning around, looking for one familiar, friendly, beautiful face; (Y/N). She was nowhere to be found, and with every passing moment, Newt became more and more nervous. Where was (Y/N)? Had something happened? “Hey Newt, can you please stop bouncing your leg up and down? You’re shaking the whole bench,” Minho said, shooting the second-in-command an annoyed look. However, the look died on his face when he noticed how tense Newt was, “You alright, shank?” Newt sighed, glancing nervously at his friend, “I’m just worried about (Y/N). She still hasn’t shown up, even for the medical testing. Teresa was there, so why wasn’t (Y/N)?”

Minho offered a reassuring pat on the back, “Newt, don’t worry about (Y/N). She’s the toughest shank I’ve ever met, myself included. She can take care of herself. Don’t get so worked up. Relax. I’m sure she’s fine.” Newt nodded, “Right. Thanks Minho.” But his nervousness did not decrease; in fact, it got to the point where he felt as though he was going to throw up. At that moment, he spotted Janson walking around the cafeteria. So, he got up and walked over to him quickly, “Excuse me, Mr. Janson?” Janson looked up and smiled, “Yes, Newt, how can I help you?” Newt bit his lip for an instant, his stomach doing flips, before he blurted out, “Do you know where (Y/N) is? I haven’t seen her since we got cleaned up.” At this, Jansons face fell slightly, and Newt’s heart jolted for a moment. Janson simply shook his head lightly, “Unfortunately, (Y/N) has to complete some medical testing that simply cannot be done here in this facility. So, as a result, she has been transferred to another installation where said medical testing can be completed.”

Newt’s heart sank; (Y/N) wasn’t there with them anymore. She was somewhere else, completely alone. His heart shattered in that moment. “She didn’t even come to say goodbye,” Newt whispered quietly, before nodding his head in thanks, turning around and walking back to his friends. They could see that something was wrong based on Newt’s face, so Thomas immediately asked, “Newt, what happened?” Newt simply stared at the table numbly, “She’s gone. Transferred. She didn’t even come to say goodbye.” The more he said it, the more it hurt; why hadn’t you come to say goodbye? Had they meant nothing to you? Had he meant nothing to you? It was almost as though Thomas had read his thoughts, because he spoke up straight away, “Are you sure they even let her say goodbye, Newt? I mean, they probably just whisked her straight away and sent her off without a chance to say goodbye. Knowing (Y/N), she would’ve come straight to us, had she been given the chance.” Thomas paused for a second, before continuing quietly, “Plus, it’s obvious that she loves you, Newt. She would have never left you behind with nothing.”

Newt felt a lot better and a lot more reassured after that, especially after Thomas mentioned that it was obvious that (Y/N) loved him, and he nodded in agreement, “Thanks, Tommy. That’s probably it. I was just overreacting.” He still worried that he wouldn’t be able to see (Y/N) again, but for now, he contended himself with believing that he would.

*****TIME SKIP*****

Newt and Minho were crouching behind a car after having been shot at by unknown assailants. “Does anybody know where those bloody shots came from?!” Newt shouted, but nobody replied. He glanced around at where Thomas, Jorge, Teresa and Brenda were hiding, and his heart clenched in his chest as his thoughts drifted back to (Y/N). As they always did. Ever since they escaped from WICKED’s compound, every thought of (Y/N), every mention, hurt him. “I left her behind,” he had sobbed to himself quietly one night, soon after Winston had died. All his guilt and grief had overwhelmed him, and he couldn’t help but break down and cry. He had left (Y/N) behind, and now, she was probably dead thanks to him. She had probably been so excited to see her friends again, only to discover they had escaped, and she probably wound up like the other kids left behind; strung up and drained. And it was all Newt’s fault.

Newt suddenly came back to the present situation as another hail of bullets rained down, before coming to an abrupt end. He heard Jorge and Thomas muttering hurriedly to one another, when Jorge yelled, “Get ready to sprint back to the truck!” Newt felt his heart pounding in his chest as he prepared to sprint, his old Runner instincts coming back to the surface, when suddenly he heard a gun being loaded. Then, a female voice that shouted, “Drop it!” Newt and Minho exchanged looks, before the voice shouted again, “I said drop it!” A dark-skinned girl with dreadlocks was standing over where Thomas and Jorge were hiding, and she was joined by two other girls; one with blonde hair in a fishtail braid, the other with a scarf covering her hair and every single facial feature except for her eyes, which shone with fierce determination. All three girls were armed, and bit by bit, all the Gladers, Aris, Jorge and Brenda were standing with their arms up. The dark skinned girl and the blonde girl suddenly recognized a member of the group and hugged him tightly. Newt stood there confusedly, along with all the others, until Aris explained how the two girls, Harriet and Sonya, were in the maze with him.

Newt’s heart gave a lurch as he saw Aris hugging Sonya, and he couldn’t help but think, ‘That should’ve been (Y/N) and I.’ He could feel tears burning his eyes, and he looked down suddenly to avoid anybody else’s gaze as he composed himself. When he looked back up, he realized that the third girl was watching him with a look of kindness in her eyes, and he suddenly got the feeling that he had met her before. Before he could speak up, Sonya and Harriet began to lead the group to the jeeps that would take them to the Right Arm. The whole ride there, Newt couldn’t shake the feeling that the third girl was not a stranger. Where had he met her before?Suddenly, the jeeps pulled over, and Newt got out; the camp was bigger than he expected, and there were people of all ages walking around; from people young like him to people who looked to be maybe even in their 60’s. The man in charge, Vince, suddenly approached the group, scanning each of their faces for a couple seconds before turning to Harriet, “Did you check ‘em?”

As Harriet explained that Aris was her friend and she trusted him, the third girl approached Vince and mumbled something very quietly, which caused Vince’s eyes to widen. The girl then turned to the group, who were all watching her intensely, and removed the scarf from her head, revealing your (H/L), (H/C) hair and the rest of your face. You smiled gently as you saw the looks of shock on their faces, “Hello, guys. Thought you’d gotten rid of me, eh? Well, it’ll take a lot more than that.” Newt’s heart stopped for a moment, before it began to beat frantically in his chest; was he dreaming? Could it really be you? He stepped forward hesitantly, and you smiled at him, tears in your eyes and you ran into his arms.

He hugged you so tightly that he was sure you couldn’t breath, as tears he had withheld for a long time began to stream down his cheeks. You sobbed into his chest as you hugged him tightly in return, relieved that he was alive and unharmed. He buried his face in your hair as he wept from joy, from disbelief, from relief that you were alive, from everything. It took the two of you a while to relax, and even then the two of you refused to let go of one another. Newt soon mumbled into your hair, “I’m never letting you go again, (Y/N). I thought you died, I thought WICKED killed you, I-” “The Right Arm got me out, as well as Harriet, Sonya, and a few others. I was just hoping you made it out, I couldn’t bear thinking that maybe you hadn’t,” you replied, hugging him tightly once more. Newt’s breathing hitched for a moment, before he whispered, “I love you, (Y/N). Since the Maze, I’ve loved you.” Your heart could’ve exploded as you smiled and looked up at him, “I love you too, Newt.”

The blonde boy smiled, before he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to yours, causing a warm feeling to wash over both your and his heart. “Don’t ever leave me again, (Y/N). I might not survive it next time,” he mumbled quietly as he rested his head on your shoulder, his arms around your waist. You chuckled quietly before reaching up on your tippy toes to kiss him once more, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

joeisnotaschmoe said: Seriously stop watching Dr who if you only have negative rants after every episode

A) i do what i want

B) imagine you found this brand of cookies that were LIFE CHANGING. like seriously nothing is better than these cookies. You eat them for a long time and they continue to improve your quality of life but then one day you get a weird batch. You shrug and think maybe it was just a one time mistake.

Then you get another weird batch. And another. And another that makes you sick. And you start to wonder if maybe they changed the recipe for good.

But you keep buying them because you remember how delicious they were and maybe enough people are upset about the recipe change that they’ll get the hint and change it back. Until then, you’re still upset about how far your cookies have fallen but you’re not quite ready to give up the taste because these cookies changed your life and maybe they’ll change back now that there’s a new chef in the kitchen.

I’M VERY INVESTED IN THESE COOKIES.

C) It’s essential to engage in dialogue with the media you consume. If something is problematic or concerning, you should address it. If we don’t challenge media, it’s just going to keep being problematic, and people are going to keep absorbing damaging messages that affect society without realizing that they’re doing so.

D) See A. And then scroll to the top of your screen and click unfollow if you still have an issue. Or ignore my rant posts if they’re really damaging your viewing experience. It’s not rocket science.

Cast Iron: Part 5

Because Hiccup, the purveyor of cheese.  

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

On the first Saturday morning of fall reruns on Food Network, it hits Astrid that she’s been in Berk for two months.  She’s five episodes into her first season, filming the last two with Hiccup next week and utterly frustrated because his two appearances thus far are the only significant blips in her ratings.  She doesn’t get it.  Their interactions are polite at best, what with the way he’s taken to calling her chef and trying to upsell every ridiculous item in that stupid store every time she pops in for groceries. 

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