i had to try it once but

anonymous asked:

Recall tips??

I AM SO SORRY for your 19 day wait anon, if u even around. I’m really sorry, I just get so busy and I wanted to give u a nice thoughtful write up and then…life????

Here is some shit I suggested to @pointy-pup a bit ago

tldr; try to practice it multiple times a day. just randomly call ur dog and then have a party with preferred reward (toys, treats, praise, squeaky voice etc)

  • when they resting in another room
  • when they cant see you
  • when they clearly distracted by a smell in ur house
  • turn it into hide and seek
  • expand it to ur front yard or some fenced yard with minimal distractions or long line + harness
  • start taking it to other places. UR NOT DRILLING THIS OK, just let them walk along doing their thing THEN suddenly call…then 5 more minutes doing their thing, THEN SUDDENLY CALL
  • slowly build it up to them being distracted by things, but start when they naturally looking ur way
  • use happy excited voice!! always! do not bother with serious HERE voice for this, this is ur excited party recall and u want it to reach into the very fibre of their being and have them running to u before they even finish hearing it. ur tone, ur enthusiasm, they matter. u will look like an idiot but ohmygod when u recall ur reactive dog from a strange dog that approached her it is WORTH IT
  • try to touch their collar. just treat and collar, treat and collar, so touching collar = good thing, not the fun is ending. u can do this exercise separately.
  • separate to all ur COMMAND practice, randomly reward them checking in on you. just looking at u. could be treats, a game, praise, going over to sniff something - whatever it is u think ur dog would like that moment. u want them to look at u more often, just good skill to have.

Remember, this is built on repetition, practice and reinforcement! and nothing gonna be 100%, keep an eye on ur environment and try to anticipate “bad” distractions - and call your dog BEFORE they notice the distraction


here’s the shitty bit.

do this couple of times every day for a couple of months. ur dog will get better and faster. dont give them opportunities to run off until a couple of months in, breath, go somewhere safe and not too distracting and only recall when u think the odds are good or preventive measure (ie a potential distraction u noticed first). reward…then let them go back to doing the thing they were doing.

after that couple of months, you can dial back…and u won’t lose points for skipping a day here and there.

don’t expect 100%. strive for it, aim for 99% and acknowledge that 1% of the time it will be out of ur hands. keep working at 99%. vary it up, put ur own twist on it as u work out what works best with ur dog. do touch ups as needed (the grounded incident last year lmao)

e.g here is me, playing some game with thistle. i try to do this game once a week…at dog school…with all the other dogs around…because this is an environment i really want to reinforce turning on the dime to me. this game doubles as a reward, cause she gets to chase and bite the treats.

that’s my high prey drive low impulse control didnt know shit when i got her at 1 year old rescue. 2.5 years later with lots of work, not so bad, hey? we’ve got some crittering issues, sure, and i still need to manage carefully…but i take her offlead to bushes, reserves and even some less populated city parks. with all that training and reinforcement, comes freedom and fun!

and she still blew me off a bit later for what turned out to be week old abandoned steak ;) win most lose some

and here is us playing actual hide and seek. ive started doing it with thyme, on easy level (just standing in a different room/behind objects) to build reinforcement in the desire to find me when he cannot see me!

tldr tldr i believe in you anon! and in pointy-pup! some dogs need more work but keep at it!

Middle of the Night

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Yoongi x Female Reader

Word Count: 3,655

Summary: You had managed to avoid the photos and old messages for a year now, but the moment you see them again, you know you have to see him - even if it is 3:00 in the morning.

You knew how this kind of thing normally went.

Normally, the ex-girlfriend turns up at the ex-boyfriend’s place, drunk beyond drunk and sobbing because ‘oh my god I made a mistake and I miss you’. Normally, it is wild and passionate and cliché but wonderfully satisfying.

So, as you stood outside of Yoongi’s apartment door – totally sober but not quite free from tears – you didn’t know what to expect, really.

You had been laying around trying to fall asleep when you’d finally decided to take that pesky notification seriously for once and try to clear some space on your phone. In doing so, you had discovered photos from a year ago of you and Yoongi; most of them were just you smiling and Yoongi looking unimpressed but happy nonetheless, some of them were romantic with hidden kisses. All of them broke your heart.

After shakily wiping away tears and urging your heart to step clenching painfully, like it was being squeezed, you clicked onto your messages and scrolled down, down, down to Yoongi’s conversation.

And there it was – untouched.

You looked at the date of the last text and sighed at the thought of all that time passing, and then you began to scroll up until your thumb ached, reading here and there until your vision blurred with waiting tears.

It’s too much, you thought. I can’t…

You didn’t know what you were thinking. You only knew what you were doing as you jumped out of bed and threw on a coat and some boots to combat the cold night air outside. You didn’t bother to check your appearance over, knowing that your flannel, long-sleeved top and bottoms would be appropriate enough, too busy thinking about how that urge to just see him had to be dealt with.

You had to see him. If only to hear his voice and breathe him in. You had to see him.

That’s why you were there, knocking softly before you had the chance to change your mind. It was colder outside than previously expected, so you blamed the tears sliding freely down your face on that factor as you rubbed your hands together to get warm now that you were inside the apartment complex.

Only when he opened the door did you realise how insane you had been to go through with this – it was something past midnight and you hadn’t seen Min Yoongi in a year.

You watched in despair as the door slid slowly open and your ex-boyfriend appeared like magic right in front of you.

The tired, just-woke-up expression quickly morphed into a standoffish mask that made you want to cry. You weren’t sure what you expected – sure, things had ended on good terms, but you had been the one to say the words ‘I think we should break up’, and seeing him now… you couldn’t even remember why you had been so convinced that life without him would be better.

“Um…”. He wasn’t say anything, just watching you struggle to find the words. “Hey, Yoongi”. Anyone would have cringed – here you were in your freaking pyjamas in the middle of a freezing Winter night at his door making small talk. “I mean… I just wanted to…”.

What do I want to do? You asked yourself, looking off to the side.

“…Why are you here, Y/N?”. His voice was so familiar that you almost sighed at the sound, but right now he sounded tired and exasperated, as if he had already had this conversation in his head before, like he’d spent the year daydreaming about the night you showed up and said ‘hey, Yoongi’.

The truth was… he had. He had imagined that moment. A lot, actually. So often, in fact, that he had already had the internal monologue about how it was surely time to get used to the fact that it wasn’t the two of you together anymore, the fact that all of the memories and the photographs had gone from something to smile about to something to cry over in a matter of seconds. He had already had time to get over you.

But you were just so beautiful. He couldn’t explain it; even with his groggy eyes and the added factor that he may or may not be dreaming right now, you were still so impossibly beautiful in his eyes. You were wearing an old pair of pyjamas and your hair seemed shorter yet longer somehow. Your eyes were rimmed with red like you had been crying, and Yoongi felt that familiar, undying pull of concern in his heart.

He watched you squirm whilst trying to think of an answer to his question, and he himself was busy trying to find something to say.

Ask her how she is, idiot, he reminded himself harshly.

“It’s late and you shouldn’t be here,” he said instead, mentally kicking himself for it, especially when you looked at him with such sad eyes. “I don’t…”. He scratched his head and sighed. “You’ll catch a cold. You’re barely dressed. You should- Y/N, why are you crying?”.

You shook your head firmly.

“I’m not,” you lied, looking at the floor. You had decided that this was the worst idea you had ever had. “I’m so sorry for waking you up. You’re right – it’s late and I’m… this was so stupid and lame. I’m gonna just go home”. Your voice wavered towards the end, but you were good at pretending. Not to Yoongi, though, who saw right through you. “Um…”. You offered him a sad smile, finally looking up at him. “It was so nice to see you again, Yoongi. Goodbye”.

Part of you thought maybe he would tell you to stop, tell you to wait and listen because actually, he’s missed you too. But he didn’t do that.

He watched you walk away from him again – just to see how it felt the second time round – and as soon as that aching feeling returned to his heart-

“Y/N”. You stopped. He sighed. “You don’t…”. His words broke off all by themselves, and you allowed yourself to look up at his face.

God, he was somehow even more handsome than he was before, and his dark eyes were still tired and a little puffy. His hair was messy and a pale kind of blue, his pyjamas loose over his lean frame.

“You should come in,” he said finally, and you couldn’t help but smile. “It makes more sense, I guess”.

He didn’t look at you or say anything else; he just opened the door wide so that you could see into the tidy-enough apartment, his pulled back bed covers and the darkness his curtains were masking.

“Okay,” you said, feeling the need to speak as you took up on his offer, squeezing past him in the doorway. Breathing out slowly, you heard the door shut behind you both, and it was gorgeously warm in here so you took off your coat.

“Here. I’ll take it”.

“Thank you”. Yoongi took your coat from you and hung it up on a peg on the other side of the room. You stood awkwardly and awaited further conversation, but Yoongi seemed to be just as lost as he scratched his head and repeated the word ‘um’ whilst staring into space. “Can I sit?” you asked finally. He nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes. That’s a really good idea. Um…”. He hesitated. “You… you know where to go”.

You nodded stiffly and made your way towards the living room. It was cooler than the rest of the house but cosy somehow, and there was a suppressing air of familiarity that made it difficult to breathe as you sat down on one of the grey sofas.

“Notice anything new about the place?”. His question caught you off-guard, especially his light-hearted, friendly tone. You supposed that you would have deserved it if he was being standoffish, especially considering you woke him up from his sleep, and it is Yoongi after all.

Memories of him curled up in bed, complaining about the fact that it was morning already, clouded your mind. You smirked as he threw himself down beside you, and watched him flick the TV on – a habit.

“I did in fact,” you replied, because you’d noticed it as soon as you walked in. “You painted the walls a darker shade of grey”.

“Very observant,” he said, and he looked impressed too, eyes widening a little. “Do you like it?”.

“I think you should be daring and go at least one shade darker”.

“One shade darker would be borderline depressing”.

“Are you not accepting my creative advice?”. The both of you wore honest smiles as you spoke, and you watched your shoes sit contrastingly against the floor. You listened to the tiny voices on the screen ahead, grateful for the background noise. You watched him hunt for something else to say, but then you remembered that it was you who had come here in the dead of night to see him – if anyone should speak, it’s you.

And anyway, you had so much to say when you knocked on the door… where had it all gone now?

You asked yourself that question again whilst Yoongi put those dark, wise eyes on you, and he looked a little more awake by now.

“Looks like it still takes you a while to wake up, huh”. He smiled despite himself.

“It is the middle of the night. I think I’m doing pretty well, all things considered”.

“Sorry about that”. You felt yourself blushing, but then you heard Yoongi’s low, quiet chuckle. “What?”.

“This just… isn’t how I imagined it to be”. So he had thought about it? Negatively or… positively?

You stared at him in wonder, and he chuckled again, shaking his head whilst staring at nothing in particular.

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” he said. “But it definitely wasn’t a jokey conversation about old times-“.

“Yeah”. You chewed at your lip absentmindedly, refusing to meet his eyes. “I don’t know… I just knew- I just really wanted to see you. I was…”.

Looking at old photos of us together, you finished in your head. Realising how unhappy I am without you. Wondering how to go about fixing things.

“… I should never have left”. Your words were quiet and broken and important.

Yoongi looked at you, surprise alight in his soft eyes.

“What?”.

“I should never have-“.

“No. We both left”. His tone left no room for argument. “We both left, Y/N. It had to happen. Life was… taking us both in different directions”. You nodded in agreement at his insightful words, but it didn’t rid the aching in your heart. “It had to happen”. His voice was a touch softer now, and you looked at him again, hoping that this time he wouldn’t remind you of good times.

But he did, and now he was even smiling, making it that much more unfair.

“There’s no good in regretting the past”. He said it with a shrug – like he always did whenever he said something worth more than a shrug – and you felt yourself try to remember how it felt to touch your lips against his without thought, or how it felt to fall into his arms after a tough day and have him stroke your hair whilst distracting you with wonderful lyrics.

“You’re right,” you said after clearing your throat. He stayed staring at you, so you stared back. “You always know what to say, Yoongi”.

A moment later, a familiar melody rang out from the television, and you felt that nostalgia grip at your heart in an instant.

“It’s-“. Cutting yourself off, you simply stared at the screen – at the unfamiliar advert and the familiar song – and kept your thoughts to yourself.

This is our song, your mind stage-whispered.

Stealing a glance at Yoongi to see if he possibly remembered… your eyes returned disappointed. He wore a still, almost cold expression as he stared at nothing, like his head was too busy for anything else.

But this is our song, your thoughts were crying, like it was all that was left for them. And if he doesn’t remember our song

“I think I should go-“.

“Do you remember dancing to this song the night we first met?”. You were literally on your feet, ready to flee all over again, but his words froze you in your place.

He turned to you slowly, smirking knowingly at the sight of your shocked expression. Before you could even utter a syllable, Yoongi started to sing along to the gentle tune, in that voice of his that was both good and bad but definitely somehow amazing.

Unable to help it, a laugh bubbled from your throat – he just looked so cute and serious sitting there singing along with his tired voice.

Yoongi immediately looked offended.

“Are you laughing at my brilliant voice?”.

“Me?” you asked with a small smile. “Never”.

“Ah… that night”. He punctuated it with a sigh and a shake of his head, this cute reminiscent smile on his face as he rubbed at his eyes. “We…”.

We what? you thought sombrely. We met in the most beautiful way? We had the best time ever? We fell in love?

“We had fun”. You tried to say it without having your voice break, and were relieved when you actually managed it.

Yoongi had this lost expression on his face. You wanted nothing more than to know what he was thinking in that moment, or what he had been thinking when you first met – did he know straight away, as you did, that you’d be difficult to shake off.

The realisation of where you were, who you were with and what you were doing hit you like a punch in the face, and you panicked – had you lost your mind?

Unaware of your anxiety, Yoongi yawned impressively, looking more like a cute little kitten than ever.

“Well,” he began, voice low and emotionless. “I’m going back to bed-“.

“Of course!” you said with too much enthusiasm, and you were standing up again, always so ready to leave if he wanted you to; you knew deep down that you had no right to be here. “Like I said… it was really nice to-“. Yoongi’s scoff caught you by surprise. “What is it?”.

“Why do you want to leave so bad?”. His smile was so soft and familiar. You remembered what it felt like to kiss him whilst he smiled like that. “Anyway, it’s too late now. I want to sleep and I won’t be able to if I’m too busy worrying about whether or not you made it home”.

As he spoke, a smile grew on your face.

“… Okay”. You bit your lip down to hold back your grin, but he wasn’t looking at you anyway – much too embarrassed for that.

“Okay,” he agreed with finality, and then he stood up, walking purposefully back towards his bedroom. You followed tentatively, refusing to think of all the nights you had spent in that same bed, snuggled up so close to him that you’d think you were just one person.

No nonsense as usual, Yoongi sighed happily – at one with his bed again – before lying down under the covers.

You stood awkwardly, feeling your nerves growing – what even happened? Why did you-

“You’ll creep me out just standing there like that”.

“Right”. It was ridiculous – how nervous you were – because this wasn’t a new thing. This was the revival of an old, precious, lovely thing. “I’ll just…”. Trailing off, you removed your shoes and placed them to the side before gingerly climbing into bed beside him. There was a person-sized distance between you, but you were still drowning in the warmth of him and the scent of him on the pillow, on the sheets.

“…I’m sorry”.

“For what?”. Until he had apologised so suddenly, you hadn’t realised how quiet it was. Surely, it should be you apologising?

You heard Yoongi steady himself before replying.

“For letting you leave”. His voice was almost raspy. “I should have made you stay”.

Before he finished his sad words, you snuggled closer to him until you felt his arm around your waist, holding you there, making you stay this time.

“No,” you whispered into his t-shirt. “It’s like you said”. Raising your eyes to look at him, your heart breaks when you see the unshed tears in his eyes. “Yoongs, it’s okay. Really. It’s okay. We’re okay. We were both stupid to think that we… that we were better off without each other”. But Yoongi is shaking his head, stubborn and insistent.

“I shouldn’t have let you go, Y/N”. His face was calm – only his eyebrows were slightly narrowed – but his words were loaded with anger and frustration. “I shouldn’t have let you go. I thought what we needed was space – space to miss each other enough to make it special again. Space to think. Space to go on our separate paths with no distractions”. He stared straight at you then. His arm was still gentle around your waist. “That’s how I justified it. That’s how I dealt with it. But I was wrong, Y/N – we didn’t need space. We needed to be even closer”.

“Ugh. Cheesy much?”.

“Shut up. It was insightful and important”.

“It was cheesy,” you insisted, beaming up at him – you would not say it out loud if you could avoid it, but his words made you seriously happy.

He misses me, you thought absently, and the thought alone made you want to dance.

Embarrassed, Yoongi looked at your smiling face and tired eyes. He couldn’t help his laugh as he ruffled your hair in the way he always used to do, the way you always used to pretend to hate.

“Goodnight, Y/N”.

“Goodnight, Yoongi”.

You made no attempt to move back to the other side of the bed; you actually snuggled even closer, so close you could feel Yoongi’s disbelieving chuckle low in his chest. You fell asleep to the distant sound of the world outside and the quiet loudness of Yoongi’s breaths.


As soon as your mind was functioning again – and with the assistance of the sun in your eyes – you jumped out of Yoongi’s arms and out of bed, shoving the covers back with enviable speed.

“Shit”. You were extremely late for work, and not only that but you were also extremely embarrassed about last night and everything that you had said, everything that you had done.

God, you thought at the memory of standing outside Yoongi’s door and saying… what was it? ‘Hey, Yoongi’.

You wanted to leave the earth for a second.

Shit,” you said again, louder this time. You would have to go home and get changed and then drive to work and you would have to find some time to have breakfast at some point and you had only gotten about two hours of sleep and then there was also the ever-lasting embarrassment of last night still playing on your mind.

‘Hey, Yoongi’ugh, end me.

After finding your bag on the floor by the bed and pulling on your shoes, you stood up with a sigh and dared a look at the man lying in bed.

Yoongi slept so peacefully that he looked smaller and younger, his face soft and his arms still reaching out, ready to hold you again if you were only to lay back down.

You wanted to.

You thought about that as you went over to him and pushed back his hair, smiling with giddy excitement – yes, last night was embarrassing. But it was also beautiful and perfect and a promise of a future that wouldn’t be lonely and Yoongi-less. Your dreams had been set alight with Yoongi’s words – ‘I shouldn’t have let you go’.

“Yoongi”. You kept your voice at a whisper and leant down so he could hear you in his sleepy state. “I have work. I’ll…”. I’ll what? “… Goodbye!”.

“Hm”. He turned over slightly, frowning in his sleep.

“You’re super cute,” you told him, only because you knew he couldn’t hear you. “I’ll see you later”.

He made another protesting noise and you laughed as you walked away.

“Y/N,” you heard him say, which made you freeze. “Wait”.

The first time he had told you he loved you had been in the morning time, right before you had to rush off somewhere, in that same sleepy, husky voice.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you dared not look at him again, instead staring stubbornly at the door.

“I have to go. I’m late”.

“Just wait”. You heard the bed creak. You heard him sighing and yawning and walking with sloppy footsteps in your direction. You felt him behind you as he reached in front of you to open the door.

Biting your lip, you nodded curtly.

“Thank you,” you said cheerily. “Um, I’ll just-“.

“You said goodbye,”. You fell silent. “… But you didn’t say good morning”. As his words settled on your mind, you turned around slowly to face his playful smile – he was always so stunning, but something about him right now made you want to do nothing but stay.

“Good morning, Yoongi,” you whispered, trying not to grin too brightly.

He held your waist first, then he looked at you as if asking for permission, and you loved it so much – you loved him so much – that you nodded a yes, letting him kiss you with enough passion to relight a dying romance in a flash.

Your lips fit back together in a way that said they should never have been apart, and Yoongi’s hands were resting where they used to rest at the bottom of your back, your hands reaching to wrap around his shoulders.

It all made sense again.

“… Good morning, Y/N,” he said, letting you go. He held your dazed gaze for a second longer, grinning smugly. And then he went back to bed.

Lifeline (2/?)

Jamie & Claire | AU | Claire doesn’t have a husband to return to. Jamie doesn’t have a price on his head. Seems like smooth sailing … right? (AO3)

I’d almost forgotten about this story … sorry !! But since there was no new episode yesterday, I decided to get my shit together and give you chapter two (yes, I know this is a poor substitute for THE reunion episode, but this is all I have!) Also thank you all so much for the lovely comments on chapter one!

Aaand a special shoutout to @bonnie-wee-swordsman who helped me with this chapter, she’s a lifesaver !! (or, at least a ficsaver) (It took some restraint though not to add “cue jaws theme” in the fic based on Bonnie’s comments …)

Also tagging @mibasiamille 😘

I. An Escape

II. The First Misstep

There can be danger in the lack of a purpose. When you no longer have something to give your life meaning, it’s awfully easy to throw caution to the wind and embark on a dangerous—and often foolish—journey.

Some people thrive in danger; they are hardwired to seek it out. For those people, the real danger is being idle, for boredom eats away at their very soul. They need a purpose like they need air to breathe, or food to eat.

Frank had said once he feared I loved my patients more than I loved him. He had said it half-jokingly, but he had been right.

I had always had a drive, though I had not always known towards what. But I kept moving forward, knowing I could never be content standing still. I had the tendency to seek out those dangerous environments other people would rather avoid, but I liked to think I didn’t have the fatal foolishness that some did. If I did, I would quite possibly find out soon.


On our way to Castle Leoch, Jamie regaled me with stories. He had told me about his uncles and Clan MacKenzie, after I’d shown quite a bit of enthusiasm for learning more about the place and its inhabitants. In truth, I had been to the castle once before—or would come there once more?—but at that time, it had been merely a ruin, inhabited by no one.

Foolish or not for putting myself in this situation, here I was, and I did think trying to learn something of the place to which I was headed was a good idea. Information would allow me to prepare, and preparation I definitely needed in order to lie effectively about my origin, for no one could know where I truly came from. Such was life for one with the misfortune of being cursed with a face of glass.

Jamie’s tales provided more than information, though. They were entertainment. He certainly had a gift for storytelling, and I enjoyed listening to him. Though his tales had initially unsettled me a bit, they were further confirmation that I truly was in the past—the eighteenth century—something I had realised when I happened upon Captain Randall, but still naïvely hoped to be a dream.

I hadn’t realised it then, but when Jamie asked me to come with him, I had made a decision to stay—for now, at least—in this time. There was little left for me where I came from, save that perilous boredom.

“I have to ask, Sassenach,” Jamie said, suddenly. “Why is it ye were lost in the forest in the first place? It seems unsafe for a lady such as yourself to travel alone, you could easily be—well, you know what could happen.”

I did. My unfortunate encounter with Captain Randall was not one I’d soon forget. It was only luck that had allowed me to get away unscathed. Luck in the form of a dashing rescuer, Jamie Fraser.

I tried to come up with a good explanation as to why I had wandered astray in the forest, but I had none. How could I tell him how I’d ended up here when I barely understood it myself?

I twirled the golden ring on my finger. I had told him I was widowed, mostly because I suspected the term divorced would be frowned upon, considering the times—even in my time, it wasn’t exactly something women would boast about.

I knew I had to tell Jamie something, even if I didn’t think he would force me to reveal something I didn’t wish to. He seemed to be a kind man, a gentle man, maybe even a loving man. He hadn’t talked extensively about his home, but he had mentioned a sister and of her, he’d talked very fondly. Family, it seemed, he valued greatly.

I took a deep breath.

“It’s a long story,” I began slowly, mentally berating myself for the, at best, clichéd opener; at worst, seeming attempt to stall or avoid answering altogether. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you why, but … I ran away.” That was partly true. With an ever-revealing face like mine, it was always better to stick closer to the truth than to outright lie.

That’s what I thought, at least, until Jamie, genuinely worried, said, “Are ye in danger? Are ye being chased by someone who wishes to do ye harm?”

His worry both warmed my heart and troubled me. Had he cared less, he would’ve asked fewer questions. It was unlikely that he’d be satisfied until he knew I wasn’t in any danger.

“No,” I said, with as much conviction as I could muster, “I promise, no one’s looking for me.”

I couldn’t see his face as we were on horseback, him sitting behind me, but I could imagine the look of concern that refused to leave his face.

“Did you know him?” I asked, eager to change the subject. “Captain Randall, that is.” I had seen how he’d looked at the captain when they fought, something that suggested there was more to his fury than seeing a stranger about to take a woman by force.

“Aye. I ken him.”

I glanced back, startled by the brevity. His gaze was fixed somewhere far off, his posture stiff. Whatever he was looking at, I couldn’t say, but then I thought neither could he. He seemed lost in thought, reliving a memory.

I was undeniably curious and wanted to ask how their paths had crossed before, what Randall had done to make this man hate him so. I didn’t ask, though. Whatever it was, if Jamie’s expression was anything to go by, it was not a pleasant topic of conversation.

While I understood that he might not wish to speak of something that seemed to pain him, I found myself a bit surprised seeing as he’d been so unusually, yet pleasantly, forthcoming with information about himself during our ride.

He had told me a number of things about himself. He had told me that, not too long ago, he had been an outlaw, and only recently had he been pardoned.

He’d said the price on his head had prevented him from returning to Lallybroch, as his ancestral home was called, and that was why he stayed at Leoch. What he hadn’t told me was why he, now a free man, chose to remain there, instead of returning home.


When we arrived at the castle, a woman rushed out to greet—or rather, scold Jamie. She eyed Jamie with disapproval and me with suspicion.

“What do ye mean by disappearing like that, lad? Gone all night! People have been askin’ for ye, not to mention—”

“Mrs Fitz,” said Jamie, as he helped me dismount. “This is—”

“And what do we have here?” asked Mrs Fitz. She surveyed me from top to toe. Her eyes lingered on my once-white dress with particular curiosity and not a little disfavour.

“Claire Beauchamp,” said Jamie. “I brought her here for protection.”

“Is that so?” Her face softened, the initial suspicion towards me subsiding.

“Aye. Would ye make sure she has some proper clothes? I should speak to my uncle.”

“Aye, and then there are other people who’d like to speak to ye as well, as I’m sure ye ken. I wouldna advise ye to wait too long.”

“Wait!” As Jamie was about to walk away, I reached out a hand, putting it gently on his arm, prompting him to stay. “Your wound. Unless you want it to get infected, you should let me clean and dress it properly.”

Having earned Jamie’s trust in my medical abilities after helping him with his shoulder the day before, he agreed without objection.

Mrs Fitz kindly showed us to a room where I could tend to my patient. The room was dark and cold, and the many shelves that adorned the stone walls were crammed with jars that clearly hadn’t been touched in a while; they were covered with dust.

Upon entering, I had turned my questioning gaze to Mrs Fitz, who explained, “’Tis the surgery. It hasena been used in some time, no since Davie Beaton passed.”

The temperature problem was soon remedied by a fire, and Mrs Fitz left us alone.

I hadn’t been prepared for the sight of Jamie’s bare back when he removed his shirt so I could tend to his shoulder. Scars covered the expanse of his back.

“The Redcoats,” Jamie explained. “They flogged me twice in the space of a week. They’d have done it twice the same day, I expect, were they no afraid of killing me. There’s no joy in flogging a dead man.”

“I shouldn’t think anyone would do such a thing for joy.”

“If Randall was not precisely joyous, he was at least very pleased with himself.”

I understood, then. Or, at least I thought I did. His hatred towards Captain Randall, the painful memory he hadn’t wished to speak about. This was it.

Much to my surprise, Jamie did speak of it now though. His earlier reluctance to do so had apparently dissolved. I wondered why. Was it something I’d done to prove myself more trustworthy? Was it that I’d now seen the scars, so I might as well know the story behind them? Perhaps he worried I would misjudge him for his scars if I didn’t know the full story.

He recounted the event whilst I dressed his wound. This was a far less cheerful tale than those he had shared with me on horseback, but his storytelling was vivid as ever.

I met his eyes, trying to show him the same sympathy and understanding he had shown me the day before. Since the moment we met, Jamie had been nothing but kind to me. He had shown more compassion than any man I’d ever met.

I stroked his arm to comfort him, and his lips curved upwards in reply. He looked younger when he smiled; there was something boyish about it. I realised that he must, in fact, be younger. That thought hadn’t occurred to me when he’d acted as my rescuer and protector. While I appreciated his heroic side, what drew me in was the vulnerability he had shown me, sharing his scars.

Hand still lingering on his arm, I leaned in slowly, my eyes not leaving his. I could feel his breath hot against my lips. An inch, and I would touch his lips—

He pulled back.

I didn’t quite know what to feel. Confusion hit me first, followed by shock that was soon replaced by embarrassment.

My eyes sought his, to ask for an explanation, or see if I had misinterpreted the situation, but he turned his head away, hiding his expression.

Mrs Fitz could not have returned at a better time. She helped me escape, as she was to fulfil Jamie’s request that I be given proper attire.

Before our departure she reminded Jamie once more to seek out his uncle Colum.

I followed her to a guest bedroom where she helped me change into a more appropriate dress, and sometime thereafter came a dark-haired man by the name of Murtagh to inform me that The MacKenzie wished to speak to me.

Mrs Fitz gave me an encouraging smile before I departed.

My escort, by contrast, didn’t speak another word to me, let alone smile.

Jamie had told me about Colum MacKenzie, Chief of Clan MacKenzie, but not in great detail. He had had more to say about his other uncle, Dougal, the war chief. Despite our awkward encounter, I found myself wishing Jamie was there by my side as I entered the tower room where the MacKenzie was waiting.


My silent escort was still waiting for me when I exited, but he wasn’t alone. Jamie was with him.

I couldn’t help but smile in relief at the sight.

“What did he say?” Jamie asked at once, excitement in his tone.

“You ask as though you don’t already know! You talked to him about me,” I said, crossing my arms, “you told him I was a healer.”

“Aye, I had to say something so he’d let ye stay, didn’t I? He was verra suspicious at first when I said I’d brought a Sassenach here.”

“I’d say he was still verra suspicious when we spoke,” I said in a poor imitation of his accent. Colum had been suspicious, but he had let me stay nonetheless, thanks to Jamie. He had gifted me the late Davie Beaton’s surgery, in return for my serving as the castle’s new healer, for the duration of my visit.

“He did invite me to the hall tonight, though,” I continued, “there is to be a Welsh singer apparently—”

“JAMIE FRASER!” The voice came from somewhere farther down the stairs. Rapid footsteps that likely belonged to the voice echoed loudly as they neared.

Jamie, having tensed up at the high-pitched shriek, looked over at Murtagh, wordlessly asking for counsel.

Murtagh raised his eyebrows so as to say, “What did I tell you?” making me wonder just what Murtagh had told Jamie and why.

The footsteps reached the top of the stairs and facing us was now a young, round-faced girl with her arms crossed over her chest. Her pale eyes narrowed as they noticed me.

“Jamie Fraser!” she repeated. It was less of a shriek this time, but no less angry. “Where have ye been!?”

Jamie opened his mouth to explain, but the girl cut him off.

“And who is that!?” Her voice was venomous as she jerked her head rudely at me.

“Ah … this is Claire Beauchamp,” he said, “she’s a guest of the MacKenzie and the new healer of the castle.” Evidently explaining me was easier than explaining his whereabouts since yesterday afternoon.

The girl was still waiting for further explanation. Jamie sighed and said, “I was out riding.”

“RIDING!? Ye mean to say ye’ve been out riding all night?”

“Laoghaire, perhaps we can have this conversation in private?”

The girl—Laoghaire—muttered something, then turned and started walking down the stairs, Jamie following her.

“Who was that?” I asked Murtagh after they had left.

“That was his wife.”

Trust Issues.

TW: major character death, s4 spoilers
((Lmao I don’t like Matt. This is my personal theory, think of it as you will.))
—-

Lance collapsed to his knees, alarms blaring in his ears, causing them to ring at a damaging pitch and causing the paladin to tremble uncontrollably.

He twitched, coughing once, blood spattering the screen of his helmet, leaving him staring off into clear water.

His blue eyes flickered, trying to look around and process exactly what had just happened, and coming up with a quick and easy answer.

There was a spear in his abdomen, it was just as simple as that. From who?

Matt.

Dumped into the water, the crisp, clear water that was now being tainted by dark red and swirling in such a beautiful way.

That was weird, right?
Describing his own seeping blood as it was expelled from him, beautiful?

It was like when you paint and dip your brush into the water to clean it, and it swirls and spirals like smoke.

Beautiful.

But now he was drowning, and the alarms were dulled by the water and the ringing, and the pounding of his heart beat in his ear drums.

He wheezed and gurgled, only breathing in more air and he knew he wouldn’t have long at this pace. Too much blood. Not enough oxygen.

Sinking, Lance couldn’t help but see the irony of it all. With Keith gone with the Blades, and Matt back, they were still up one person too many.

And what better solution to that problem than to get rid of one of them? And even better, the most useless one?

When Pidge had returned with her brother, Matt, Lance hadn’t liked him from the start. And it wasn’t just because of how he flirted with Allura.

He hadn’t trusted him from the start.

Pidge had described how she had told Matt about her being a paladin of Voltron, and Lance hadn’t seen it but he knew Matt’s expression would have changed quickly.

Not a smile. But interest and shock.
He had to have covered himself up with an aura of being proud of Pidge, right?

How had Matt known to change his birthday to make coordinates for Pidge, if he hadn’t known Pidge was in space?

Lance just couldn’t trust Matt.
All those monitors Pidge said he had, what all was he watching? Monitoring? Mapping?

Matt comes back from the dead and now he’s all up in Voltrons giant metal ass?

Friendly with the princess, nice to everyone, to an extent. But Lance couldn’t hold back the thoughts he had had.

Even Hunk had been different from himself when they had interacted, and Lance had not been able to shake that feeling.

Matt helped them against the Galra. That war he fought on their side, but something else didn’t add up.

Lotor had no interest in allying with Voltron before, until Matt was on their team. Both Lotor and Matt were unheard of for months.

And suddenly both were back.

The spear in Lance’s gut told him all he needed to know, and all he had known.

As his eyes closed, and he started to feel less and less, the life ebbing away from him, he was blissed with truth.

Matt was the bad guy.

How would the others react?

3

A/N: Request from @inlovewithnovels. Tony is kind of an arsehole in this one. It just happened, I needed a culprit. & I heard strange noises in my room while writing this. Not cool. Not cool at all.

16th October: Scare pranks. 👻 | feat. Loki

Words: 1679
Warnings: demons, mentions of exorcism, blood, gore and death, panic attack

Keep reading

Dagoth Ur: “My first question is: Are you really Nerevar reborn?”

“I know no more than you do.”

Dagoth Ur: “What a world…. Perhaps we shall never know. But as I have sympathy for you, and the melancholy fate of all mortals, I shall weep for your death. My second question is: if you win, what do you plan to do with the power from the Heart? Will you make yourself a god, and establish a thearchy? Or will you complete Akulakhan, and dispute control of Tamriel with the Septims? Or will you share the Heart with your followers, as I have, and breed a new race of divine immortals?”

“Share the Heart.”

Dagoth Ur: “You have a noble spirit. I share the power I have from the Heart to help free mortals from their ancient fears of the gods. Who knows what we might be capable of once we no longer fear death? Your goal is worthy, and I honor you for it. My final question is: If I had offered to let you join me, would you have surrendered Wraithguard, Sunder, and Keening to me to seal your oath?”

“No, I would never surrender the tools.”

Dagoth Ur: “An interesting response. You might have been willing to join me, but never to surrender the tools. Very interesting. I’m glad I didn’t try to bargain with you. And now, if you have any questions, ask them. Otherwise, you are the challenger. I await your first blow.” – One of the possible dialogue paths you can take at the end of Morrowind

“FREE.”

Pairings: Bill Denbrough x reader, Bill Denbrough x Female reader, The losers club x reader, Belch x reader (platonic).

Genre: Angst, mostly. Fluff if you squint.

Warnings: Hints at abusive environments, mentions of final fight with Pennywise, mentions of missing kids.

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 916

A/N: I’m not sure if this one is any good, I really hope it is though! Make sure to keep requesting and sending in asks! Also, my dude Belch made a sneaky little mention here. Lotta love for our resident Trans Am driving, anthrax obsessed pro burper, you know?

-

Bill missed her. There was no denying that. He couldn’t forget about her, the way her E/C eyes sparkled whenever she smiled, the way she bit her lip when she was confused, the way she erupted in laughter at the most unexpected times, the way she’d squeeze his hand whenever he began to stutter, the way she loved him.

It was the little things building up that resulted in him falling completely, utterly and shamelessly in love with her. And it was the way they left off, that made him feel wholly broken, despite it happening months prior.

~

“I never said that, Bill! Please, you’re taking things out of context here. I would never choose Henry over you.”

“B-but Richie t-told me! W-why would h-he lie? He’s my f-f-friend, he’s o-only looking out f-for me!”

“I told you, Bill, I’ve told you a hundred times. I don’t know! Maybe he was in one of those moods, one of those awful moods where he feels like punishing everyone around him because he feels bad! You know he gets like that when things at home get too much!”

Richie had ran up to Bill straight after fifth period had finished, telling him how, apparently, Y/N had admitted to Belch Huggins that she would choose Henry over Bill if she got to have her pick. Y/N knew that wasn’t true, Belch knew that wasn’t true - despite him being a little slow - and deep down, Bill knew that wasn’t true.

What Bill’s doting girlfriend and companion had said was that she didn’t like choosing. However alluring the answer may have been, they both knew that she was just too nice to, obviously, admit she would choose Bill. And at this point, Belch accepted the answer and went on with procrastinating his chemistry work. It was Richie, who was supposed to be Y/N’s friend, that clung onto her words.

Yes, Y/N could have just said Bill, but she was not that type of person. She knew Henry was not a nice person, she knew what his father was like, and she felt an immense amount of pity and sympathy for him. She wasn’t about to make his day worse, even though he had made countless of her days worse, just because she had the chance. She was like that and that was one of the reasons Bill loved her; she was so wholesome.

“Just g-go, Y/N. P-please, just leave. You’re free, n- now. Free to choose whoever y-you w-want.”

At this point, Bill wouldn’t even look at her and neither he nor she knew why. Bill hadn’t the slightest inclination as to why he didn’t believe her, maybe it was because things were going too good. Things between them we’re going too good and his paranoid self set out to spoil it before anyone else could, because at least then, he would could have the rights to saying ‘he could see it coming’.

With that last sentence, Y/N picked up her coat and trailed out of Bills room and the Denbrough residence.

~

Bill knew they had to do this now, they had to face Pennywise and end it. They had to push their fears aside and do what they knew was the right thing to do, the good thing to do, the thing that Y/N would have done in a heartbeat.

~

“Look…. the kids, they’re floating down.”

Bill hadn’t expected the next events to unfold like they did, he thought he had lost her for good.

“Wait, Bill…” Stan muttered, “that isn’t….it can’t be.”

All seven kids stood in complete shock. Bill’s love was floating down with the rest of the kids. When she got close enough for them to grasp, they all pulled her down to ground level. She wasn’t waking up, though. Her eyes had glazed over in a cloudy way, and were staring directly into Bill’s.

“Please, Y/N. P-please, wake up!”

He shook her violently in an angry and distressed way.

“No!” He screamed, trying to get her to wake up. “Y/N, please. I love you.”

Out of nowhere, he pulled her in, so her face rested into the crook of his neck. He was trembling, he was sobbing and he was sure he had lost the love of his life.

It wasn’t long after, when Y/N inhaled loudly, coughing and trying to regain her breath.

Bill shot off her, eyes scanning over her entire body.

“Y/N!”

Once she realised what was going on, she broke down. Y/N began bawling and clawing at Bill to be in his arms once again.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry, I love you so much.” He was not stuttering one bit.

As the two pulled apart, the surrounding friends were all sharing hugs and looks of happiness with one another.

“So you forgive me, Bill?”

“Forgive you?”

What Bill didn’t know, was that Y/N had no recollection of anything after that moment she left their house. Her last moments were him telling her to leave in a cold, dim manner.

“For saying what I said. About you, and Henry.”

He sighed in relief, and nodded profusely.

“Of course, Y/N. Of course.”

They all began hugging in a huge circle, they were finally free. Free of Pennywise and in Bill’s case, free of the memory that had haunted him for months.

#285: He Watches You Sleep

A/N:

WhAt EvEn Is A PrEfErEnCe? Can you believe it’s been over two months since the last time I posted one? Okay so I’m gonna be honest I haven’t updated one since the guy I’m dating came home from 5 weeks of vacation so I’ve been spending A LOT OF time with him but now he just went on vacation again… So you have me for a whole week now… I promise x

Read When We Collide here //  Find my Masterlist here

Luke:

At first it wasn’t something he noticed. It was something he had done out of a small habit, trying to figure out the best way to sleep. He was gazing around the room like any other person would have done with so many thoughts and lack of chase to catch some sleep. Maybe it was because of the jetlag or maybe it was just because he was having too much going on at once but as his eyes focused on you it was like he found peace. To see the way you were breathing slowly, your chest heaving up and down soothed down his chest. The way you were fluttering your eyes spoiled dreams hidden behind. Deep down he couldn’t help but wish it was about him because in his mind he didn’t want to dream about anything else. He wasn’t even sure if it was healthy because when he was like this he could watch you forever. He always loved watched you doing stuff mainly because he knew you would always put a smile on his face. It amazed him because even in your sleeping state, you gave him all the feelings he needed. Comfort, love and peace at the same time.

Calum:

Usually he would have just woken you up but this time it was something different. He knew you had been up late, you were trying your utter best to fall asleep but with a constant cough it was hard to get everywhere. He knew that deep inside you felt sorry because you had kept him up but there wasn’t anything for revenge. He enjoyed watching you finally relax and that was what he did. Making sure the sheets were still covering your whole body to create warmth and silently watched you breathe carefully. He knew that he had to get up soon and take a shower because a new day was starting but he waited just a bit. It wasn’t often you had moments together but even if it meant you had to sleep he still wanted to use every second of it. When he was busy and you were out it was hard trying to find time together but even moments like these was appreciated. It was like when you just needed to be close to someone else and this was it. Knowing that you were safe by his side meant the world to him, to just watch you sleep and dream.

Michael:

Your cheeks were in a mix of red colors, it was the reason why he still kept hiding between the sheets. He knew the stomach was growling for food but watching you could take his time forever. He had your hair toyed between his fingers and with an elbow pressed in the mattress with his chin resting in his palm he sighed softly. Maybe it was because of the heat you were a little warmer than usual but he couldn’t help but smile at the way you were pouting ever so softly. It wasn’t often he did this but when he did he took in every aspect of you. The way your eyelashes were resting against your cheek, the way your hair was on a mess on the pillow but he couldn’t help but thinking that even because of that. You were still the most beautiful girl he had ever come across in his life. Even if you didn’t want to believe it he couldn’t help but thinking it the second you would sleep. There was just this peace over you that you carried both as awake and as a sleeper. He was amazed how someone could continue to look this amazing.  

Ashton:

He was actually amazed he was the first one to wake up. What amazed him even more was the fact how large his hand was compared to your cheek. It was often he caressed your cheek but when doing it without you moving around and kissing surprised him. He knew he had large hands but he could basically cup the whole thing, it was like he was carrying his whole world. He wasn’t sure if you were still sleeping or just pretending because he had been caressing your cheek with his thumb for a while but he still continued to do it. He loved mornings like these where there was no stress and he could just look at you for an eternity. He always joked around with his favorite moments were when you were asleep. It was of course a joke hinting towards you either talked or scolded at him too much but he still enjoyed it so much. He could get the chance to kiss your forehead and just admire you from top to toe. It was quiet moments like these that he wanted to remember because not waking up to your face every day would always be the start of something bad.

Title: Moscow

Request: I think I made it in time. Anyway, would you be willing to write a Nikita Zaitsev one where he takes you home to Moscow to meet his family? Thank you so much!

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy it!

Links: My Master List  and My Current Requests


“They’ve already met you, babe. You’ll be fine.” he assured you, pressing down on your thigh, still your leg which was bouncing up and down on the bench beside him.

It was true, you had met his parents before. Once, briefly, before the two of you were even dating, so did that really count? And not only were you meeting his parents, you were meeting his entire family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, the whole shebang. You gave him a weak smile, trying not to be nervous.

“It’ll be okay.” he told you, gently grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling your lips to his. “You’ll have a good time.” he guaranteed you, pressing another sweet kiss to your lips.

A car horn sounded and you pulled away from Nikita; your face flushing when you realized it was his parents who were picking you up from the train station. Nikita seemed to think nothing of it, rising quickly to his feet and greeting his parents before grabbing both of your suitcases and tossing them in the trunk. He pulled his mother in for a hug, then his father, turning and grabbing your hand he pulled you towards them.

Keep reading

New Beginnings - Fifteen

“Sleep well last night guys?” You were in the car back on the way to headquarters the next day.

“Yes thank you Derek, did you.“ Suprisingly you had slept quite well once you’d actually fallen asleep.

"Sure did kitten, once I actually got to sleep. I was sure one of our neighbours was having a good time though.” His eyes shifted to the rear view mirror and you saw Spencer’s shoulders stiffen in the passenger seat.

“Really?” You coughed trying to keep you voice neutral.

“Yep, must have been an hour or so after we’d got in. I could only hear the girl though, but man it was a sweet sound.”

You felt you cheeks burn and hoped Morgan couldn’t see. From your seat you could see Spencer’s hands resting on his knees. They were clenching and digging into his thighs.

“Did you guys not hear it then?”

“Nope…..We must have fallen asleep.” You could hear Reid gritting his teeth as he spoke. Morgan must have picked up on it as you saw him glance to Spencer, clocking his clenched hands. He glanced back into the rearview mirror seeing your red cheeks.

He burst out laughing. “Awww shit guys. That was you two?! Nicely done pretty boy.”

“Shut up Morgan!” you both said in unison as he carried on laughing to himself.

….

You’d been relegated to the bat cave with Garcia again, going over various pieces of security footage whilst the others were sent out into the field. 

“So um, sleep well last night Y/N?” You could hear the smile in her voice.

“Oh for fucks sake." 

"Oh don’t be like that, you know that gorgeous man can’t keep anything from me. Was it good?”

“It wasn’t what you think, but yes it was good, thank you very much.”

“So you didn’t bump uglies?” You cringed at her choice of words.

“Nope. Other stuff." 

"You gonna tell Aunty Penelope?”

You looked at her, raising your eyebrows, “Nope.”

“Give me something!!!!”

You sighed. “Lets just say we had a mutual…….bonding session.”

She giggled. “I get ya sweetness, I get ya.”

Hotch and Spencer had remained behind at headquarters with you. Access to Cane’s electronic tag movements from the time he was released to the time he went missing had been requested. Hotch had wanted to see if there was any patterns, any places he’d visited frequently that might give an indication of where he’d gotten travel papers from and how he was funding himself. The team were convinced that if they could find the name or names he was using then they would be able to find him. Spencer was going through these now, him being the fastest at analysing data and patterns. 

Hotch was under pressure to release a statement, the issue was; although the team knew who the unsub was, you couldn’t name him until you found something concrete tying him to it. 

You and Penelope had been trawling over security footage all morning. You were currently going through the footage from the camera between the gym and the side street where victim number two, Kennedy Marshall’s car had been parked. Her car had been parked at such an angle that annoyingly, you couldn’t get a direct look at it.

You could see Kennedy walking down the street, gym bag on one shoulder and headphones on. She appeared to be singing along to whatever she was listening to. Then she disappeared out of view of the camera and that was last that could be seen of her. 

Based on where her car was parked and the camera angles, Spencer had worked out that she’d been less than ten feet away from her car when she’d been taken. Derek had gone to the area around where her car was parked and had remarked that there were no signs of a struggle. 

“Guys, I think I’ve got something,” Garcia called. You hurried to her desk, looking over shoulder. 

“So Kennedy left the gym at 10pm right, and we last see her 10:07pm walking to her car. We know she’s only feet away.”
She clicked through her screens pulling up a video. “This footage is from the security camera at the grocery store which is on the street adjacent to where she was parked. At 1:13am you can see her car drive past the store.”

“Can you get a look at the driver?”

She shook her head. “I can zoom in but the picture is not clear at all, even when I try to clean it up. But what you can tell is…..” She pressed a few buttons. 

“That’s not Kennedy Marshal,” Hotch spoke.

“Nope.”

“Garcia, track the car as well as you can through the rest of the cameras. Why wasn’t this footage checked before?" 

"Sir, the local PD checked with the gym. Although she was a day pass user and couldn’t park on site, the local authority have an agreement with the gym that allows the user to claim back the cost of their parking charges. All she had to do was present her parking ticket at the gym,” you explained. “The gym have her down as parked in that exact space, so as the car was still there…." 

"Everyone assumed she never made it to the car.” You nodded. 

“Sir, you can track the car through until 7th avenue and then we lose it again until it returns at 3:07am.” Penelope showed you the various images she’d managed to locate. None of them provided a good enough shot of the face. All you could tell was that it wasn’t female. 

“Can you pull up footage from the cameras around the restaurant?” you asked. 

She nodded. “Already on it, there’s only one that was actually in operation and can see the car drive past it at 2:56am.”

“What about before and after the car left and returned. He must have been waiting for her somewhere close by. If he was in another vehicle then he would have had to drive past those cameras at some point.”

“That’s what I’m looking for now. It may take me a while though.”

“Derek, he was in Kennedy Marshall’s car. That’s how he moved her body. Get it dusted for prints asap.” You could hear Agent Hotchner on the phone to Morgan. 

A few hours had passed and you had new information. The tox screens had come back on Kelly Casey and Paul Matthews and both were well over the legal limit. Rossi and Emily had been speaking to the victims friends who’d been at the party with them and had reported that when they’d left, they’d both been a little worse for wear, but neither had had the money for a cab.

“So if they’d been stumbling home drunk late at night and someone had pulled up offering them a ride, they might have been foolish enough to accept?” Garcia had questioned. 

“Perhaps not if Kelly had been alone, but given the fact that her boyfriend was with her they probably thought they were safe.” You’d been trying to track them walking home from the party using the various routes they could have taken. Unfortunately with them being in residential areas, there wasn’t much footage available and you’d only been able to spot them once, crossing a main road and heading east. 

Reid had walked in with a sheet of paper, he’d been going over the mountain of co-ordinates which had come through showing Cane’s tag movements.

“So I’ve been studying Cane’s movements in the months running up to when he vanished and aside from his residence, there’s only a few other locations that he’d visted regularly.”

“Hit me with the co-ordinates sugar, I’ll let you what they are.” Penelope was poised and ready to go.

He reeled off the first set and her fingers flew over the keyboard. “So this is an internet cafe.”

“When was he last there?” Hotch had come back into the office and was asking Reid.

“Two days before he was last seen. He’d been there on 17 other occasions in the last 3 months.”

“Pen, are you able to see what he was looking at?” You knew it was a long shot, seeing her shake her head.

“Only if we know what machine he was using.”

The police had located a laptop in Cane’s room but it hadn’t returned any useful information. 

“Could we get an officer sent over to see if anyone there remembers him and if he did use a particular machine. We’ve got the dates and times he was there so if we can find out what machines he was using, maybe we can see what he was searching for.”

“I’ll make some calls,” Hotch replied. “Reid what are the other locations?”

He reeled off the next set of co-ordinates.

“This is a pawn shop, a speciality pawn shop by the looks of their website.” Penelope clicked onto it.

Pawn shop. Something was niggling in the back of your brain.

“How often did he visit there?” Hotch asked.

“Seven times.”

Something clicked. “Hotch, what happned to Cane’s belongings when he was locked up. Did his parents take them?”

“Let me check. Why?”

“He used to collect first editions. He’d been left quite a few by his grandfather when he’d passed away. If he’s visiting pawn shops, maybe he’s been selling them and that’s how he’s funding himself. I can’t believe I only just remembered.” You’d remembered him showing you them the first time you’d been back to his apartment. 

Hotch checked through the file. “His parents hired a removal company to clear out his apartment. Everything in there was put in a lock up and he was given the key to the lock up upon release. There’s an inventory.” He passed it to Spencer as it was good few pages long.

Spencer scanned it quickly. “There’s 9 first editions on here, some of which would sell for a fair amount to the right buyers.”

“We need to contact that shop and find out how many of those books he’s sold.”

Garcias phone sounded. She hit the speaker “PG and Co, how may I direct your call?”

You heard Derek laughing down the phone, “Baby girl am I on speaker?”

“Yes you are my sweet, chocolate cake, do you want me to take you off so we can talk dirty?”

“No baby, we’ll save that for later. I have intell.”

“What have got Morgan?” You spoke, Pen ready to add the details to one of the boards.

“CSI swept Kennedy Marshall’s car and ran all of the prints they found. One of the partials came back as a match to Joshua Cane. It is 100% him kitten.”

🔮 Witch Tip! 🔮

Don’t do a spell you’re morally against. I am not going to define morals here for you. Every person has their own set of morals and ethics that is going to effect how they do magic.

The point here is that if you try to do a spell that you don’t agree with it might (in my experience) end up failing because subconsciously (or consciously) you might be wondering if you’re doing the right thing and you’ll contradict your intention!

This might seem like a silly tip but sometimes we let our desires come first. I did this once and when the spell failed I was devastated even though I knew I had worked against the spell in a lot of ways.

Note: there are no hard and fast rules in witchcraft. Some will disagree with this and that’s ok! This is from my perspective through my own experiences with my craft!

Till Death Do Us Part

Summary: Based on a little season 3 spoiler that we got earlier this week from Sully - Kurt proposed to Jane in Venice!

A/N: Well it’s been a while since I’ve done this, hasn’t it? I’ve missed fic writing so much! Ever since I finished the #BSPromptChallenge at the end of August, life has gotten crazy busy, and I haven’t been able to devote as much time to fic writing as I would like. I’ve started university and the assignments are rolling in, which means that I have to work on them instead of writing Blindspot goodness for you guys! However, from now on, I’m gonna try and upload a fic (no matter how small) at least once a week - I miss the interactions with you guys far too much! Anyways, enjoy my first fic back from my (annoyingly long) hiatus…


A weekend in Venice hadn’t been what Jane had anticipated when Kurt had suggested that they go away together for the first time. Ever since they had closed the huge Sandstorm case, they hadn’t been able to catch a break - Shepherd’s arrest and the break up of Sandstorm were requiring a tonne of paperwork, and the team was struggling to get through it all. Kurt and Jane were becoming increasingly frustrated at the amount of late nights that they had to spend at the NYO. When they had caught Sandstorm, they had stupidly thought that their crazy lives would die down a little and that they’d actually get to spend some quality time together. However, turns out that they had been wrong. Very very wrong.  So, when Kurt suggested that they take the upcoming weekend off and go away together, Jane didn’t hesitate in saying yes.

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In light of Jensen’s tweet and everything that has been going on the past few days, I just want to say, me too. 

(This is not related to SPN, but I read a post of a good friend on Facebook and it left me speechless. So I wanted to share my opinion on the matter. If you don’t want to read a long rant about people being complete pigs, feel free to ignore this). 

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mustafa charging out here and truly believing he can at least hold five discrete dudes at bay for long enough to rescue kalisto? mustafa’s not an IDIOT, he knows that’s a lot of dudes, he’s fought them, he knows he can’t take them all on at once, but he had to try. he got his ass kicked but he HAD it held down at first. it didn’t work and it didn’t save kalisto, but it split the damage among them, and it gave kalisto an ally, and it was the right thing to do. 

god i fucking love mustafa ali

You’re Cute When You Cry - Reddie Oneshot

Description: Richie and Eddie have a much needed discussion about why Richie really jokes.

Warnings: talk of abusive home life, mild swearing.


The losers club was sitting under an old maple tree one chilly, fall evening. The orange and brown leaves cascaded down the wind gracefully, landing among the browning grass. The sky was orange, and the sun was setting ever so slowly. The losers were trying to spend as much time as they could with each other now that school has started and everyone was busy as ever. Bill had on a navy blue ‘GAP’ hoodie, Stanley had a maroon, quarter zip sweater, Eddie wore layers of fleece so he didn’t catch a cold, Mike had on a green sweatshirt, Ben was wearing a black, zip up hoodie, and Richie wore his usual Hawaiian shirt, as he has forgotten his sweater once again.

“I wonder where we’ll be in twenty years.” Ben said.

“W-Who knows. You think we’ll all s-still be friends?” Bill asked, adding on to the thought.

“I mean I sure hope so.” Stan replied.

Time passed and most of the losers had gone home, as it was getting late. There sat the remaining two, Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier.

“Where do you think you’ll be in twenty years Eds?” Richie asked making conversation.

“I mean, I dunno. I want a career, maybe a significant other or something, a sterilized house is definitely a must. It’s too far in the future Richie. What about you?” Eddie said.

To be completely honest Richie had no idea. His life wasn’t the peachiest at the moment. Shit, his mother was barely home! How could he decide where he wanted to be when he didn’t have a solid adult role model?

“Richie?” Eddie asked again, as Richie has been lost in thought for a minute or so.

“Oh sorry, well I can’t really see right now to be honest. Hell, if I’m happy I’m fine.” Richie said honestly.

“If only the others could see you like this.” Eddie smirked.

“Wha- what do you mean?” Richie asked confused.

“Well you are more… mature I guess, I didn’t hear one dick joke.” Eddie replied.

“I don’t have to when I’m with you.” Richie said.

“Huh?” Eddie replied extremely confused.

“I like to think my jokes are more of a coping method perhaps. It makes life seem less, I don’t know… important? Most people go home to relax, and escape. I can’t do that at my house. My house basically has vodka scented air fresher 24/7 Eds! I go to my room to try and wind down, but it’s hard when your own mother is calling you a worthless piece of shit from outside your door which in fact, has been knocked down more than once. When I’m with you, I don’t need to cope.” Richie sobbed, unaware he was crying.

“R- Richie, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Eddie said with one hand on the upset boys back.

“Why are you apologizing? I’m the fuck up, Stan reminds me enough.” Richie said trying to crack a joke, in attempt to ease the situation.

“Stan really bothers you that much? I always admired how cool you took it.” Eddie said.

“I mean, not always. But sometimes when I’m having a particularly bad day, it can really put me down.” Richie confessed.

“God. I’m sorry Rich, I didn’t know and if you ever need to talk about anything I’m here for you.” Eddie said rubbing small circles along his spine.

“Thanks Eds.” Richie smiled weakly.

Eddie smiled back.

“You look cute when you cry.” Eddie said accidentally.

“What?” Richie said sitting up straight.

“I said, uh, your ugly bye!” Eddie said picking up just backpack and walking briskly in the other direction, face beet red.

“You’re cute too.” Richie called.

Eddie heard and stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn’t help but smile to himself.

anonymous asked:

IN HONOR OF THE PSAT MEMES, bnha students! What's the hardest test you've taken in your education career?

TH: It’s really hard to beat all your powerful competition when you’re quirkless, and unfortunately we have to try that much harder. All the judges were skeptical, but since I aced the written exam, they had to give me a shot. I used that shot to the best of my abilities.

JM: Ahh all the more book-smart subjects always give me trouble. I never went to school when I lived on the streets, so I’m a bit behind in all the subjects like history, math, and complicated grammar. The written exam took a lot of studying, but once I passed it, the remaining tests were easy as cake!

RM (”filling in the scantron bubbles without ripping the paper”): I need to get a handle on my clumsiness. I’m working on it. (SJ, from the other room: for 3 years now)

HS: The local dance company is really strong and phenomenal. It incorporates the dancers’ quirks into the choreo, so I was vying to get in since forever. They only take 2 or 3 people every year, since it’s a private thing, so I had to work for weeks straight. 

YG: I really don’t like moving

JK (”creating post-exam memes”): I usually spend the entire exam thinking harder on what was meme-able, rather than the actual answers. Perks of a fast mind I guess?

(I answered this one before older questions because PSAT season is almost over and I needed to get it out there)(it’s in black and white because coloring takes 10x more time)

Imagine; Telling your mother, Madison, that you’re in love with Troy

(I had to write this again because the first one deleted 😭) Masterlist

“I know he’s made mistakes Mom, and done terrible things. I know he has problems. But I love him, and he loves me, and I can’t let you hurt him. He’s trying to get better, he wants to be a good guy. And if you kill him, then you’re just as bad as the person he once was.”

Madison blinks in shock, turning her head to Troy., her grip tightening on her weapon. “Is this true?”

Troy nods his head slowly, his eyes flashing towards you, begging for you to come to him. You run into his outstretched arms, sobbing into his chest as he strokes your hair gently, his arms holding onto your for dear life.

“Yes, Madison. I love her, I’m in love with her. I always have been. She’s the only person to ever truly see the good in me. She’s helped me become a better man. She’s taught me to see the good in the world again when I felt that nothing could ever be pure again. I’d do anything for her. I live for her, and I’ll die for her.”

He kisses your temple softly, his lips lingering as he squeezes you one last time, the palm of his hand rubbing into the small of your back as he looks up at Madison.

“If you’re going to kill me, don’t let her see it.”

Tears roll down his check for the first time in years as you pull back to look up at him in fear.

“I love you, y/n.” He whispers, planting his lips to yours in one last moment of passion, before pushing you away.

“NO.” You sob, screaming as you hold onto him, knowing that if you let go, you’ll never get to hold him again. “Please no, don’t do this. Mom, please! Troy, don’t leave me.”

He can’t bear to watch you in this state, holding you to him with everything he as as he cries unashamedly. He kisses your forehead as he looks up at Madison, pleading for her to end this so your suffering can end.

You hear the clatter of metal on concrete as your mother drops her hammer behind you, her hand trembling as it rolls into a fist.

“Go.” She whispers, stepping back slightly to prove her peace. “Before I change my mind.”

You don’t wait for her to say it again. You grasp Troys hand and pull him beside you, running towards the ladder. You don’t look back. All you can think of is getting Troy away. You look into his eyes one last time, a smile of joy creeping on your face as you begin to climb. You wait for him at the top, his eyes wet and glistening as he pulls you towards him, kissing you one last time, before taking your hand in his and running for the exit.

Day 16: Defiance

prompts taken from here. see under the readmore for the handwritten fic

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Yuuri’s anxiety had been building to a crescendo all day. Like two metal bars grinding together, heat and friction bubbled in Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri was a poorly oiled machine, gears grinding endlessly until something bust.

Yuuri tumbled across the ice, like a limp ragdoll. Years and years of practice had taught Yuuri how to fall. Yuuri grumbled under his breath and pushed himself to his feet.

Viktor sighed audibly at the edge of the rink. The sound was a knife in Yuuri’s chest, a wrench between the cogs of his machine.

“I know,” Yuuri spat, already circling around to try again.

“Then watch your center, this time!” Viktor barked for the tenth time. “Don’t overbalance!”

Yuuri tried, toe pick striking hard against the ice. He spun once, twice, three times… three-and-a-half times before crashing down. Yuuri huddled in a defeated heap, fists striking the ice.

“Yuuri,” Viktor sighed. “You’re overthinking, again.”

Yuuri’s knuckles whitened beneath his gloves. It only took a hairline fracture to destroy a perfect machine. Over hundreds of hours of use, the metal would wear, and corrode, building stress upon stress.

Viktor kept talking, a wordless drone to Yuuri’s ears as the pressure inside him built to a breaking point.

Yuuri’s chest ruptured, a violent fracture the rung in his ears.

“Fuck off!”

The entire rink fell into silence, all eyes turning to where Yuuri still kneeled on the ice.

As soon as the words left Yuuri’s mouth, and the pressure in Yuuri’s chest diffused, he wanted to snatch them back. He slowly looked up, arms shaking where they held him on the ice. Yuuri’s eyes caught on Viktor, and Yuuri wanted the floor to swallow him up.

Hurt shone in Viktor’s eyes, as he stared down at Yuuri. Yuuri flashed back to Barcelona, and the crystal-clear tears that had dripped from Viktor’s eyes. Yuuri had sworn never to hurt Viktor like that again.

Yuuri rose to his feet. “Viktor,” he started, tone apologetic.

Viktor’s mask fell back into place, the wounded shine replaced by a glassy stare. “It’s fine,” Viktor said shortly.

“No, Vitya, I’m…” Yuuri began, reaching for Viktor over the barrier.

“Do some cool-down stretches with Yurio,” Viktor said brusquely. “I’m heading home.”

All of Yuri’s words caught in his throat as he watched Viktor walk away. Yuuri knew he’d fucked up. How did he start to fix this?

Yuuri stepped off the ice, no more energy to keep practicing. He took off his skates, wishing Viktor were there to take them off for him.

He started to run through his usual cooldown stretches at rinkside, stretching his quads on the ground.

“What happened between you and the old man?” Yurio asked tactlessly.

Yuuri looked up at Yurio, shame still hot on his face. Don’t you have stretches to be doing?” Yuuri grumbled.

Yurio thumbed at Yakov over his shoulder. “Yakov told me to come and help you.”

Yuuri grumbled under his breath, allowing Yurio to press on his back deepening the stretch. Yuuri hiss as a pleasant burn shot all the way up his leg.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened?” Yurio asked.

Yuuri tilted his head to raise an eyebrow at Yurio. “Are you going to stop being nosy?” he shot back.

Yurio huffed, allowing Yuuri to release the stretch. “What crawled up your ass and died?” he grumbled as Yuuri returned the favor and helped Yurio stretch.

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Thanks, but I don’t need relationship advice from a teenager.”

Yakov’s footsteps were heavy against the concrete floor. “Yuratchka, I told you to help Yuuri stretch, not to gossip,” he said in halting English.

Yurio grumbled under his breath while Yakov watched over them. After a few minutes, he let Yurio go and stayed to supervise the rest of Yuuri’s cooldown.

“Yuuri, what happened?” Yakov finally asked, gaze levelled on Yuuri.

Yuuri stiffened, suddenly feeling like he was in enemy territory. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Yuuri’s presence at the rink was contingent on his relationship with Viktor.

“I made a mistake, Feltsman-san,” Yuuri said, bowing his head.

Yakov scoffed at Yuuri, and made Yuuri feel about three inches tall. “That much was clear.”

Yuuri sighed. “I got frustated, and I yelled at him. He didn’t deserve it.”

Yakov nodded, digesting the information. “I see.”

The silence stretched on as Yuuri stretched, struggling not to crumble under Yakov’s hard gaze.

“If Vitya had ever yelled at me like that, I would have him running drills until his legs fell off,” Yakov said.

Hot tears pricked at the back of Yuuri’s eyes. “I know, Feltsman-san,” Yuuri said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Yakov let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

Yuuri curled in on himself. He already knew he’d fucked up. He didn’t need all of Viktor’s extended family to remind him.

“I know,” Yuuri croaked.

“We all make mistakes,” Yakov huffed. “The important thing is to know how to apologize for them.”

Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to look at Yakov, afraid of what he might find. But he almost felt like Yakov was trying to help.

“I will, of course,” Yuuri said quietly.

“I’m sure you know by now,” Yakov began. “But Vitya is a gentle soul. He isn’t always honest about what upsets him.”

Yuuri sniffled, rubbing his eyes. “I wish he would just tell me. So that I wouldn’t keep ruining everything.”

“Yuuri Toshiyevich,” Yakov barked.

Yuuri finally turned his head to look at Yakov. Yakov looked back with a stern gaze. “You have hardly ruined anything.”

“But I yelled at him,” Yuuri sniffled. “I hurt im.”

“If that was all it took to ruin a relationship, then no one would stay together.”

Yuuri glanced down, feeling like a scolded child.

“These growing pains are part of any relationship. The important thing is that you talk to Vitya,” Yakov repeated.

Had Yuuri really been naive to think that his and Viktor’s relationship would be free of strife? Had he thought that he’d be able to go the rest of their lives without hurting Viktor again?

It didn’t make the flash of hurt Yuuri had seen on Viktor’s face any easier to swallow.

Yuuri shot up suddenly. Viktor was at home, alone; Yuuri had been so busy wallowing in his own self-loathing he had forgotten about Viktor.

“Feltsman-san, I need to go home,” Yuuri said, giving Yakov a short bow.

“See that you do,” Yakov said.

If Yuuri didn’t know any better, he would almost have sworn he saw a small smile on the old man’s face.

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I often find myself reaching for a term for “what one can accomplish without special insight or genius, just by making an honest effort with baseline competence.”  I once thought “yeoman’s work” meant this, but it turns out that’s something slightly different.

My old labmates had a phrase for people who did not apply this effort, who encountered problems and did not try the simplest remedy that could possibly work.  Such a person was “just an asshole.”  Example usage: “Did you try googling the error message, or are you just an asshole?”  “Did you run positive and negative controls, or are you just an asshole?” 

This is exactly the sense I’m looking for, but obviously it doesn’t lend itself to general usage.

anonymous asked:

in the second book i think? chad mentions if gaston had any sons theyd be ripped because gaston was huge. so i could 100% see chad trying to recruit gil to play every sport imaginable once he and uma and harry go to auradon and he realizes who gil is related to. ya just know gil wouldnt bat an eyelash at lonnie being captain because duh why cant she be? he's had uma as captain and leader of their trio before that. he would have the same response as jay did to chads ignorance.

Oh, yeah, that thought wouldn’t even cross his mind. Uma’s been bossing him and Harry around since all three were fetuses, why should he object to Lonnie being in charge?

And pffft! Yes! Sports teams trying to recruit Gil! I can see him going along with people asking him to play but I don’t know how interested in a team he’d be on its own merits. He already has a team - the pirate crew.