puppy purse!!!!!

i’m in my prime,
not withering and old.
but i refuse to play
your wicked games any longer.

i know this tether is unbreakable,
but you make me feel like i’m interchangeable.
you drew a target on my heart,
when did this become fatal attraction?

i don’t have the strength,
the energy,
nor the patience
to be held hostage by your love.

so baby please don’t despair
when i say that
i’ve found the courage to
let you go.

you were never meant to be tied down in the first place.

—  believing i could love you was my mistake, c.j.n.

It’s the end of my shift, rain pouring and drowning the stones outside. A woman comes up to the counter just as I’m about to leave for the night.

Four water bottles and her purse on the counter. Nothing unusual. She leans forward, her expensive yet lovely perfume wafting over to me. “Want to see something cool?” She whispers.

Expecting drugs, I nod.

She opens her purse. Out pops an eight week month old KING CHARLES SPANIEL PUPPY WITH THE WORLDS SOFTEST FUR


Abby is a sweet little old blind long haired Dachshund who just wants to be held. She is truly a purse puppy. She will walk a bit to go to the bathroom,eat, get a drink, but her favorite position is in your arms. She is so easy and mellow and rarely makes a peep. She even loves to be dressed up, her foster momma makes sure she’s always in style.

anonymous asked:

i'm not sure if you're comfortable with these kind of imagines, but what about kuroo, bokuto, tsukishima and lev getting a back and/or leg sports massage from their s/o after a rough practice? (yes im a piece of trash and proud)

Oh ho ho~! *jumps in the trash with you* No worries, anon, this request is right up my alley.

And I’m so sorry this took so long to be written, anon, and this request turned out to be more about the interactions between the boys and their s/o’s rather than the actual massage itself. >.<

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anonymous asked:

69 pretty please!

 "you had a business trip and i missed you so much that i kind o tore up the house in your absence like a dog with separation anxiety… sorry?“

Sort of a sequel to this fic where Caskett decide to share custody of a dog. Also inspired by a series of photos I will place at the end of the fic. 

Castle’s going to kill her. He’s going to come back from his week away, exhausted and grouchy and hungry he’s going to see the mess and he is going to kill her.

Beckett sighs and surveys the area around her. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not too bad. The blankets, she can fold and store easily enough. Dinner can’t be salvaged, but that’s what the takeout menus on his fridge are for. And the rest…a couple of broken glasses, a few scratches on his floor, upturned cushions on his couch - surely the loft has seen worse, right?

A bark echoes through the empty apartment and she grimaces. Yeah, and then there’s that. Their tiny puppy, adorable on the outside, little hellion on the inside. Getting down on all fours, she peers under the coffee table, crossing her fingers that he’d be lying there with his favorite ratty rabbit between his teeth.

No such luck.

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Peter Pan Imagine: Is That Me?

Rrquest from blogworldilove:

“please make a one shot about the reader Watching Disney’s Peter Pan with Peter sorry if it’s stupid want to see his reaction”

((Gotcha, love! Here you are! P.s. It’s definitely not stupid, I love it!))

You sat in your fluffy bed, your legs hidden under the vast amount of quilts and comforters. Tissues surrounded you, seeming to pile up by the minute as a few random sniffles sounded from your red nose. Feeling a new set of tears run down your puffy, blotched cheeks, you plucked another tissue from its box. You wiped the tears and dabbed you sore cheeks, throwing the wadded up tissue somewhere into the depths of cushions and fluff.

Your best friend, up until now, had decided that she didn’t feel the need to keep you around anymore. She had found some new ‘friends’ to hang around, if you could even call them that. Sure, they were nice to her, but you could tell they only wanted her for her social status. She was always one of the more popular people, and you were kind of like her purse puppy. You were prettier than most at your school, but she was always one step ahead of you. You had no choice but to follow her around like a little lost child unless to wanted to decline the bond between the two of you. You two had been practically attached at the hip until she found the foul beasts she fools around with now, and when she ripped the two of you into two seperate pieces, she did the same to your heart.

You looked around you, grasping hold of fact that you were now surrounded in tissues filled with your salty tears and snot. Almost gagging at the thought, you slowly stood up wobbly legs that almost resembled a new born horse. Your knees ached from being rested for so long, and your arms popped as you reached up to stretch them out. Reaching out and grabbing a handful of your blankets, you skillfully whipped them off of the bed and shook them out. Tissues fell like rain drops onto the wooden floor of your room, making it look messier than it already had been. After making sure that you had gotten all of the tissues away from the warm bed linens, you layed them back over your mattress and fluffed your pillows.

You grabbed the bag of chips that rested on your bed side table, making a loud crackling noise as you rolled up the top to close it. You placed it back down where it was, deciding that going downstairs right now was too much of a risk of getting caught. You took a swig of extra chocolatey milk, before once again laying down on your bed.

The television set in front of your bed flashed the walls with different colors as commercial after commercial ranted on, all but begging you to buy their new product. The spokespersons voices seemed to boom around you, corrupting the sound of your sobs and sniffles with the loud noise from the TV speakers. The happy kids on the repetitive commercial smiled and laughed, playing and having fun times with their parents and friends. They all but Cheshire cat smiled from ear to ear, beaming from all the fun they were having.

Why couldn’t your life be that happy?

The squeak of wood grinding against wood awoke you from your half-awake half-dreaming state, making your front half jolt up in surprise as the unfamiliar noise sped through your ears. 

You looked towards your window, it being the only place where wood met more wood, and furrowed your eyebrows. You knew you had closed it, but right then as you looked at it, it was wide open. It let in a freezing winter breeze, making you a bit suspicious as to why you hadn’t felt it nipping at your bare skin sooner. You shrugged, before hopping out of bed to close it. It wasn’t like anyone could just sneak in your window, your room was two stories up.

You reached up and placed the palms of your hands on the top of the window, pushing down a bit to hard. It slammed down and rattled the hinges of its own frame, causing you to cringe and hope nobody had heard. You stood as still as a statue while listening intently, before coming to the conclusion that everyonewas still sound asleep in bed, and paciing back to your bed.

You plopped down on your bed, letting out a forced sigh. By now you had hoped that she would have called you, or even texted you about how she was sorry and wanted to have a sleepover or hang out. No such thing had happened, though. No, this wasn’t like a movie, nor would it ever be. The two of you would probably move on and find better people. This was the sad truth, and you had to accept it. True friends don’t just give up on each other, and that’s exactly what she-

“Why are you crying, love?”

You froze on spot, trying to keep yourself from bursting into a hot ball of salty tears. The expression of surprise and absolute fear glued itself to your face, refusing to go away. You could feel your heart pound in your throat, making you feel like you had just run a marathon. Your pulse quickened, along with your breathing, and you were far past scared now, and heading towards terrified. Whose ever voice had said that, it was not your father-in-laws.

You slowly tilted your head back to meet the eyes of the criminal, only to find that they belonged to a boy who appeared to be the same age as you. His stunning green eyes held only the slightest bit of sincerity, for mischief filled in the rest. The smirk on his face never ceased to falter, his head held high and proud on his neck and broad shoulders. He had a cute button nose, and perfect eyebrows. With brown hair swept to the side casually, he was quite attractive, but the look on his face practically tattooed “trouble” onto his forehead.

“W-w-who a-are you?” You whimpered out, your voice wavering with nervousness.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I forget to introduce myself?” He asked with a slight hint of cockiness,”I’m Peter. Peter Pan.”

“No you’re not.” you stated bluntly, staring into his eyes with 

"Yes…I am…”

“Nope,” you popped the p,” not possible.”

"Actually, yes, it is possible.”

“No, just no, Peter Pan lives in Neverland with mermaids and pixie dust.”

“I am literally standing right here.”

"I don’t believe you.”

He groaned loudly, looking up at your ceilings in dismay. Gently shaking his head, he brought his hands up to cup his face in frustration. He let out a few puffs of air into his palms before taking them away from his face and rubbing them together. His lips were pursed like an angry mother as a small sinister smile made its way onto his face. His eyes met yours again, as he opened his mouth to speak, only to snap it shut and turn towards the bright screen in front of the two of you.

He had been distracted by the big blue dot of color that illuminated the headboard of your bed, blotching you in the ocean colored light. You looked towards the TV too, smiling when you saw the cute little scene on it. 

There sat a small castle seperated into columns, the top of the castle split into multiple towers with tiny flags on top. At the bottom of the castle stood a big doorway, standing proud and tall in all its glory. In big, swirly letters, the words “Walt Disney Pictures” were written like they were meant to be placed there. Then, possibly the most important part, a small ball of light came bursting up out of the right side with a tail of beaming light following close behind.

You smiled widely, bringing up your balled fists to the side of your jaw and shook them a bit with anticipation.

“Yay!” You squealed, sitting up in your bed to hop around a bit in excitement, probably scaring the living daylights out of Peter. You bit your lip to keep your inner fangirl where she was supposed to be.

He glanced down at you, grabbing onto your quivering wrists and holding them tight. You raised an eyebrow as your eyes widened. His face was now only an inch or so away from your own, holding the look of extreme constipation seriousness. It took everything in you not to giggle at your thoughts and focus on how he had literally snuck into your house, and that he was not to be trusted under all costs.

“Don’t. Do. That.” He barked, his eyes flickering downwards towards your lips to get the point across. 

"And why not? Does it make you- oh wait, shhhhhh!”

The movie you had been waiting for all night had finally decided to pop up, and wasn’t waiting for you to shutup to do so. You gently shoved the so called 'Peter Pan’ from between you and the bright, flashing screen, not even regarding the fact that he was probably a burglar or stalker. Your eyes were wide and glued to the movie, a tiny smile molding itself onto your happy face.

Your mind clouded with old memories of your mother and father allowing you to watch the cute little fairytale, Peter Pan, when you were just a small girl. You thought of how you would jump off of the bed just to see if you could fly, even though your mother had told you time and time again not to. You even remembered how you would look out of your little bay window everynight, wishing on the biggest and brightest star that Peter Pan would come and take you away from your aweful life; wishing he would take you away from the abuse of everyday. Little did you know that he would actually come.

He stared at you with one eyebrow raised in surprise,” What are you-”


You glanced up at him with a glare, before once again returning your eyes to the same position they were in before he talked. You could feel him doing the same thing to the side of your head, but decided to ignore it and keep watching.

"You’re the one who wanted me here! I guess I’ll just go back to-”

Your hands reached aimless towards him, trying to get a hold of his arm, when it landed on something that definitely was not his arm, but his hands. You looked towards him, before shrugging and intertwining you fingers together. A small bit of heat rushed to your cheeks, making you appreciate the fact that your room was only being lit by the tv.

You kept your eyes on the screen, yanking down on his arm with a harsh tug. He let out a low yelp of surprise, flopping face first onto your fluffy fortress. He grunted loudly, reclaiming his big hand from your feminine one so that he could turn around and lay on his side to face you.

Letting your face rotate to towards his, you saw that he looked absolutely pissed. His face was scrunched up in anger, and you probably would’ve said it was cute in any other situation. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he closed his eyes in frustration.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?!  I don’t cuddle, I’m Peter Pan!”

You giggled a little,” Well, technically we aren’t cuddling, I just thought that you might want to see what us regular people see you as, because you’re known as something completely different around her. We can cuddle if you really want to, though…”

He gave you a snarky look, before his eyes widened and he turned towards the tv, “Second star to the right, and straight on 'till morning!” The cute little cartoon Peter on the television bellowed, launching himself out of Wendy Darling’s window, whooping and hollering as he floated back up to look through her window once again, trying to coax her into following him to Neverland.

"I-is that supposed to be…me?” He stuttered, looking back at you with disbelief written loud and clear on his face, “ B-but I don’t have red hair, why does he? I dont wear a silly hat with a feather; that’s cliche! And most importantly I don’t even own a pair of tights!”

You really did try. Oh, you tried so hard. You tried forcing yourself not to laugh, but the scene was just too good, too precious. You just physically were not able not to laugh, there was no choice. Your laugh filled up the room in joyful gasps of air, seemingly out of your own control. Your head was thrown back onto your pillows as you tried you hardest to conceal the continuous noise erupting from your chest, biting your lip like you had before. Tears streamed down your red cheeks, blotting your face in the salty water.

“Jesus, Pan, you-you look so- hahahahaha!”

You kept laughing and giggling, until suddenly all noises that came from you stopped abruptly. Your throat closed up, stopping any noise that threatened to bubble from it. Peter had rolled over so that the two of you were laying chest to chest, squishing you against the matress with his weight. You hands were pinned by his, right beside your ears. His face was only inches from yours and was showing you a look you couldn’t quite decipher. 

"I told you not to do the lip thing…” he growled like a wild animal. His face was so close to yours that you could feel his ragged breath against your face.

You you looked up at him with wide eyes, before the corner of your lips turned up into a smirk, “Kinky much?”

You could tell he was trying with all his might to bite back a smile back a smile, covering it up with a tiny sneer and raising up his plump upper lip.

"Well, love, I wasn’t trying to be, but I’m sure I could fill the request.”

Your smirk turned into a wide smile as you let out a loud snort,” Nah, I think I’m good, nice try though.”

And then it was quiet, the only sound being the cartoon Disney movie playing in the background and the soft hum of heater that warmed your room. His chest rose and fell against yours, creating a constant pattern. But then, suddenly without warning, the sound of laughter bounced from the walls of your room, the loud, joyous noise falling from your lips. Your stomach bounced against his and your shoulders shook. 

His lips turned up into a cute little smile you hadn’t yet had the pleasure to see; it was a genuine one, not a smirk or a flirtatious grin, but an actual smile. His eyes squinted into crows feet, cute little wrinkles appearing near the corners of his mouth. It was adorable.

"It was pretty good, huh? Bet I can pick up a bunch of girls with that line!” he giggled.

"Oh, for sure. Maybe even a few guys!”

The two of you giggled and joked until you felt high from laughter, calming down enough so that it was only an occasional snicker or snort every one in a while, “So…you wanna continue to watch the movie, maybe?”

"As long as I don’t have to move I’m good.” he replied, squeezing you in his arms while his face became buried in your neck. You felt a tiny smile on his lips.

"Fine by me.” 

A Date with Jared

Request: I hope that it’s ok for me to request another actor oneshot. You did SO good with the Jensen one that I just can’t resist! If you don’t wanna write it that’s ok. But my request is for Jared. Maybe one where he loses his wallet and you find it and somehow get it back to him and to thank you, he ends up taking you to dinner? Is that cheesy?

Warning(s): fluff

Words: 1409

Notes: Thank you! Cheesy is the best. *Jared is not with Gen here. I just love Jared and his awkwardness :)

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