you are truly brilliant

anonymous asked:

I have read an reread both Vantage Point and Machine Heart over and over again and today's chapter just reaffirmed for me how brilliant a writer you are! You are truly unique to the fandom, I feel like! None i know is doing this kind of thing, with the blending of generes and different takes on the universe/pairing. I mean one is this noire detective mystery and the other is this sci-fi action thriller each combining elements from all these different sources! it's fresh and I am in awe! Wow

OIDHJCSNIDJFCN!!&1#!! ANON.

Wow.

What a compliment! Thank you from the bottom of my heart. That just made my day, month – shit my whole year haha. I’m so happy that you’re enjoying the stories so much! 

I know I’m a little nuts but lordy I can’t help it and it just means the world that what’s knocking around in my weirdo head is actually appealing to folks, LOL.

And I know I’ve said this before, but goddamn do I love me some Richonne. 

They are just everything. Rick is perfect. Michonne is perfect. Danai is perfect. Andy is like…a little cherub/sprite spreading Richonne love and bubbly, dorky, sexy joy wherever he goes! 

They make me happy, writing about them makes me happy. And this truly made me happy!

This gives me rocket boots! Thank you!

-Kendra

if tumblr is gonna be anything like it was just before taylor left recently where every second person reblogged themselves 63 times a minute then my god i truly hope you brilliant people who stayed all along and don’t beg for her attention so much get to meet her soon because you da real mvp’s :’)

buzzfeed.com
Which Citizen Of Night Vale Are You?
Ever wonder with Night Vale resident you share a soul with? And by "share a soul" we mean that your souls are permanently and inseparably linked, and when one of you dies – and one ...
By Tanner Greenring, Andrea Hickey

You got: Old Woman Josie

Wow, lucky you. You’re the only person that The Angels have ever actually communicated with, and your house is always surrounded by that brilliant, angelic light. You are truly #blessed. You live on the edge of Night Vale, so you’re not as influenced by the bizarre happenings, which actually makes you a little less paranoid than those around you.

Fuck it. They cancelled a show that was important to a fucking lot of kids out there not only bc of lgbtq rep but also bc they had people of color doing great things. KIDS of color doing great things, getting their life together and building a future in spite of a society that was against them. Do they have a freaking hold of how important a message like this for teenagers and young adults is? Do they realize they just showed us that we were right and you have to be white to actually have someone listen to your voice? Which is the fucking contrary of the message The Get Down was trying to get thru. Do they fucking realize they disappointed deeply so many people? Cause really this is not just about caring for characters that were written and portrayed beautifully but also seeing someone like you succeeding in life, so you can have the motivation to think “hey, if they did it, I can do that too”. I’m really tired of watching all the whites have the good endings. I’m tired. Like, on the verge of losing my shit tired. What do I have to do to someone to put out there something I can relate to. Give me a fucking clean explanation about how a show that promotes positivity and originality doesn’t get a fucking second season but 13 Reasons Why does. Explain it to me. I need Netflix to come clean on this cause no one is convincing me this is not the result of racism.
Fuck Netflix I hope all the company together with all their mayo series flop and they delete themselves from existence.

Aspiring creators / writers!

I am not one to promote much, but holy smokes, if you guys enjoy in-depth analysis’ of fictional media then you should truly consider checking out SuperEyePatchWolf on Youtube.

He does a lot of brilliant and deep commentary on the anatomy of what makes a show work and vise versa (without being an insulting jerk! Amazing!) An example is one of my favorite videos of his right here.

If you are an aspiring writer or creator, I truly suggest checking out not only the video here but his other works (which there aren’t many of right now but they are still all the more brilliant)!

You won’t be sorry!

Nemesis Mine

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Chapter 13. Simon.

The worst thing about it all is that I miss Baz.

I keep thinking if only. If only the last few days hadn’t happened, and I didn’t know, and Baz was actually just my roommate who liked me. If only he wasn’t my arch-nemesis.

And it’s also true what I said to him; it doesn’t have to be like this. I don’t think he was faking it when he was being sweet and sarcastic Baz. The chemistry between us, that was real, too.

But it’s just so fucking useless to be thinking like this.

I keep expecting him to do something. Now that he knows where I sleep, I keep expecting him to take the opportunity to finally end me. It’s only the knowledge that he cares about his degree and would probably be questioned if his ex-boyfriend and roommate suddenly disappeared that allows me to get any sleep at night. We don’t speak to each other or look at each other if we can help it, and we both continue our superhero duties as if nothing has happened. The only difference is that now when one of us is hurt, we either avoid the room until we’ve healed, or we suffer in silence.

I prefer when he leaves the room. It’s hard, sometimes, to fight the instinct to walk over and try to comfort him, try to make it all better. I tell myself that it’s just my natural response as a superhero, and that any feelings I have left will disappear with time. The problem is that I’m still thinking of them as two separate people, Baz my roommate and Basilton my nemesis. I have to get used to the fact that the Baz who liked me doesn’t exist.

Keep reading

3

I stared. No, I thought to myself. This could not be happening. This could not be fucking happening. Out of all the people I could have possibly faced, why did it have to be him?

I raised an accusatory finger, pointing it directly at him. “You!” I spat, the tone of my voice a mixture of anger and disgust.

His eyes went wide for a moment, then he let out a mumble of: “Bloody hell.”

Rowena raised a curious eyebrow, looking back and forth between the two of us. “Ye two know each other?”

I scoffed. “Do we know each other…” Fuck, yes, we do. More than I wanted us to. God, even the thought of him angered me. My eyes met Crowley’s again, in them a mad flare. “This is so typical of you!”

“Me? What did I do?” This time were the words left hanging.

“This!” I shrieked, wildly throwing my hands around. “All of this! I don’t know how you managed to do it, but I know, I know this is somehow your fault!”

“How in the bloody hell do you figure that?”

“Because you’re you!”

He threw his hands up indignantly. “This is brilliant! Truly brilliant! You screw up, you screw her,” he pointed at Rowena, “and once again, everything is my fault! You’re a bloody genius, you know that?”

“Anyone care to clue me in?” Rowena asked, though the tone of her voice, all cheery and amused, gave away that she wasn’t really interested in the answer. Leave it to her to enjoy a good fight.

“Ask him!” I said, at the same time as Crowley yelled: “Ask her!”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course! Leave everything to me, as usual! Because why would the precious King get his pretty hands dirty for once in his life?!”

“At least I’m not the one shagging my mother!” he screamed.

I snorted. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Oh,” Rowena’s mouth widened, her lips forming a teasing smirk. “Don’t tell me ye two used to be a thing.”

Busted.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m not proud of that,” I said in case she was mad. You can never tell with Rowena. That woman was a book you could never quite read.

“Hey!” Crowley protested, offended at the insinuation.

I turned to face Rowena. “I didn’t know he was your son.” I needed her to know that. As amused as she seemed, there was still a chance she thought I’d started dating her for the sole purpose of getting back at Crowley, and I wanted her to know that wasn’t true. I would never do that. Especially not to her.

“Oh, I’m not mad. This is rather interesting, actually,” she said, sending me a seductive wink. “Now tell me, which one of us is better in bed?”

It was almost a tie. Almost, for I had a clear preference, and I expressed it loud and clear. “Why, you, of course. Who else?”

“Liar!” Crowley accused.

“Have I taught you nothing, Fergus?” Rowena said smugly. “One shall always lose with grace.”

Just A Number (Sherlock X Reader Imagine)

Title: Just A Number

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Characters: Sherlock, John, Reader

Word Count: 1,505

Request: @meredith9811 :May I request a Sherlock x Reader where she is young but she has fallen in love with the Holmes and he finds himself in love also, but he will not confess because she is so young. Does that make sense? Haha sorry if it’s a lot.

A/N: Requests are open! 

Just A Number Part 2

••••••••••

You pressed the doorbell of 221B, trying desperately to stay out of the rain. You were ushered upstairs by a charismatic landlady who offered you some tea. You smiled and thanked her as you sat down in a stiff chair facing the fireplace.

“Ah, finally a client.” A voice came out of the kitchen and sat in a black chair next to you: Sherlock Holmes.

“Well I’m not exactly a client.” You said, and you could tell he was trying to study you.

“If you’re not my client then who is?” He asked, steepling his fingers in a dominant fashion.

“I can’t give you much information, doctor-patient confidentiality and all that, but I do need your help.” You said, crossing your legs. You saw his eyebrow raise, suspiciously.

“How are you a doctor? You must be twenty.” You asked.

“Twenty-five actually, and I’m a doctor of psychology, I have my own practice.” You smiled, you were used to this by now.

“How can you be so young?” He asked.

“I graduated from Oxford, top of my class at 18, medical school 20, and then opened my own practice, but that’s not why I’m here.” You pushed. You watched again as Sherlock eyed you, his was clearly attracted to you, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“But.. how?” He asked again.

“What? Like it’s hard?” You smirked, before carrying on, “Like I said I can’t tell you much, but someone of significance to my patient was recently killed in an… unusual way, and immediately after he contacted a therapist, not the police or a detective.

“How unusual?” He asked curiously.

“‘Quite literally– death by a thousand cuts. Now I can’t tell you who he is, but I can steer him into your path. I have another session with him in an hour, maybe if he saw you around my office he might reach out to you, or at the very least you could read him yourself.” You said.

“Oh this is a good one, you’re spoiling me Ms…?” He asked for your name.

“Y/L/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” You smiled.

“Well Y/N, why come to me?” He asked.

“Well, I wrote my thesis on the science of deduction, I found your website, thought finally someone who speaks my language. And you’re a mild celebrity, though I try to avoid it, I do watch the news. And I need your help.” You pleaded.

“I’ll do it.” He smiled.

“Four o’clock.” You smiled, standing and handing him your business card with your office address on it.

“Sorry I’ve got to run. I’m conducting a seminar on multiple personalities and it takes forever to fill out the name tags.” You grabbed your bag and exited the room, on your way down the stairs you passed a man heading to see Sherlock. John Watson, you recognized him from the blog.

••••••••••

“Hey Sherlock, who was that?” John asked after you had left.

“Client.” He smiled, leaning against the window, watching you flag down a cab.

“You like her.” John teased.

“No I don’t.” He lied.

“You’re still looking at her.” John observed. Sherlock looked away from the window quickly. “Who is she?”

“Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.” He smiled.

“Doctor? John was taken aback.

“There are still incredible people who walk among us.” Sherlock answered, slipping on his long coat.

“Sherlock where are you going?” John yelled as Sherlock ran down the stairs.

“The game is on!” He yelled, slamming the door.

••••••••••

“Dr. Y/L/N, there’s a Mr. Holmes here to see you.” Your receptionists said through the phone.

“Thank you Erin.” You said, putting the phone back on the receiver, and leaving your office.

“You’re early.” You smiled as you saw Sherlock standing in your office.

“Maybe I just really needed to see a doctor.” He smirked.

“Clearly.” You smirked.

“Y/N.” Your receptionist said, and you turned to face her. “Your four o’clock just called and canceled.”

“Shit, give me his file.” You ordered, she pulled it from the cabinet and placed it in your hand. You searched it for his address. You had to find him, you knew if he didn’t show up he might kill again. Obviously that was what happened the first time, he killed his flatmate.

You handed the file to Erin and she knew that you might be out for a while and not make it back for your next appointment.

“You have a session with your multiple personality at 6:00.” Erin said as you were heading towards the door.

“Not to worry. If I’m late he can just talk amongst himself.” You called back, pulling Sherlock out the door for you two to hail a cab.

Once in the car, you handed the file to Sherlock. Doctor-patient confidentiality gets thrown out the window if the patient has a potential to harm themselves or others.

“He craves power over others, since he has a lack of power in his own life. If I’m right about this, he killed his flatmate and is about to kill again. The method of death by a thousand cuts, or lingchi, is a very personal act. For someone like this, guns are too quick. They can’t savor all the little emotions. They start with the eyes, rendering the rest of the process even more psychologically terrifying for the victim. This gives them control, the victim’s life is in their hands, they can keep cutting and cutting until they’re satisfied, slowly, savoring it.” You explained as Sherlock read the file.

“So we can suspect it’s someone of significance to him. Why kill the flatmate? Had he wronged him in some way?” Sherlock asked.

“He said they got on well, and the police still think it was a random murder. But the police are idiots and my patient was obviously lying. You should have seen him, behavioral pauses and delays, verbal and nonverbal disconnects, hiding the mouth and eyes, throat-clearing and swallowing, he’s not very good at lying. The flatmate was sleeping with his girlfriend. She could be the next target.” You said, and Sherlock was staring at you in an odd way.

“What?” You asked, he was still staring and it was starting to concern you.

“It’s just that you’re so… mature and intelligent… and you should definitely should branch into criminal investigation.” He said, dumbfounded.

“You’re not the first to try to recruit me Sherlock Holmes.” You smirked.

“Oh really, who was?” He asked.

“MI6, the government, and a man named Mycroft Holmes, your brother I’m assuming.” You smiled.

“My brother tried to recruit you to work for the government?” Sherlock asked.

“Oh yes, he was very kind. He said I was perspicacious, and preeminent in my field.” You smiled, and the cab halted to a stop. The two of you rushed out.

You broke into the flat and stopped your patient from killing his girlfriend. She was tied up and he had injected her with opium to dull the pain so the process could last longer. Sherlock called the police, after a short row with your patient. He tried to escape and Sherlock caught him, and also received a punch to the face that was now swelling.

You now stood in 221B, helping Sherlock get all doctored up. You left the room to grab something for Sherlock, and left him with John.

“Sherlock… She’s a bit young for you, don’t you think?” John nagged.

“Who said anything about romantic entanglement?” Sherlock asked, defensively.

“You did, in all forms short of physical speech.” John answered.

“I know she’s a little younger than me, but John I’ve never felt like this before and it’s strange and new and I don’t know what to do!” Sherlock whisper yelled.

“A little younger, Sherlock she’s 10 years younger!” John yelled back just as you had entered the room. Sherlock looked apologetically up to you when he saw the look on your face. You had fallen for Sherlock Holmes.

“Uh, I’d love to stay, but I…” You said, thinking of an excuse as you gathered your things, ”I have my therapy group meeting… and the last time I was late the, er, compulsive gamblers were betting the passive aggressors that they couldn’t make the overeaters… cry.”

You headed down the stairs, surprised when you heard Sherlock running down after you. He grabbed your arm when you hit the coat rack downstairs.

“Y/N, wait, please.” Sherlock stopped you.

“No, I should go.” You tried to leave, but he stopped you.

“You truly are brilliant, and beautiful, and I would be a fool to let you walk out of here right now. You are the first woman who I’ve felt this way around. At first I was hesitant, because of the slight age difference, but now I see that that doesn’t matter and age is just a number.” Sherlock began.

“Sherlock–” You tried, but he cut you off.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” He asked.

“I’d love to.” You beamed.

••••••••••

Part 2

Send me a message or submit an ask if you want a Part 2 or another Imagine request!

i wonder if this will reach you.
i wonder if you’ll know it’s about you.
i hope that if you read this, you read it with crooked glasses and curly hair and that you smell of something fresh,
like lavender or heather.
because back when i knew you, i never got to tell you how much i liked your smile.
and it’s brilliant, truly.
you were the first person i’d ever met to hold a candle to sunlight.
before you, i didn’t know people could mimic summer days.
i hope one day i know you again,
and i can ask if this reached you,
and if you knew it was about you.
—  here’s a hint: if you think this is about you, it probably is (via @honeylovur)

anonymous asked:

I hate to even ask seeing as you are going through a lot. I know so many ppl say this to you but you are truly brilliant and I wish the very best for your cause you have such a brilliant mind. So I'm struggling quite a bit with physics and I just cry and I wish it would just click but I'm not really good at applied math. Any advice? Thank you :) all the best.

I would recommend khan academy or hyper physics! 😘

2

Everyone had told you to just go for it, but you were sure she didn’t feel the same way. You loved her, you truly did but you didn’t think that someone as brilliant as her would fall for you. However, you were proven wrong when you finally got the courage to ask her out. She had said yes and you still couldn’t believe it.

Requested By: Anonymous

long-liv-prairies  asked:

🌌 seeing the stars - Solas X Lavellan :)

Glimpses: In Her Touch

@dadrunkwriting

Rating: T

Genre: Romance

Pairing: Solavellan

Warnings: Age gap


The night air felt cool on his skin as he walked beside her along the shore, his feet sinking into the soft, rounded pebbles at the edge of the river. He closed his eyes and took in a slow, deep breath. For once the plains of the Dirth were still, the war that had been raging there quieted by Inquisition forces. He took some shred of pride in that, though not for himself. 

“It’s not really peaceful though, is it?” She asked, and he wondered if she’d somehow read his mind.

“It never is. Not here.” He paused and looked out over the shimmering river, watching as the moon’s reflection shuddered on the churning surface. “There will always be strife. The land itself remembers the pain it has seen, and the Veil will always be thin. What demons lie in wait on the other side may change their shapes, but the memories of pain will last an eternity.”

“Can you feel it here?” 

He nodded. “In a sense. The Veil trembles in places where suffering has left its scar. The Dirth is riddled with painful memories, and in my dreams I speak with those that are lost. They wander the twisting roads of the Fade, tempted by ancient hurts to press against the wall that holds them back. They struggle against it but their efforts are pointless without a conduit.”

He could feel her looking at him, and finally met her gaze. She held her thin arms tightly around her torso and shivered. With gentle hands he pulled her arms free and cast a warming spell. He took her hand and squeezed it. “Do they try to possess you?” Her voice was quiet as the wind, as if she were afraid to disturb some slumbering beast.

“They always do. Mages have constant temptation, but the right training makes it all for naught.”

She was quiet for a time, looking out over the river with him. “Do you wish I were a mage, Solas?” She asked finally, and he took a long time before answering.

“Magic is a gift, lethallan. You wield the anchor well, and were you a mage I am certain you would be quite powerful. But I do not wish for you to be anyone but who you are.” He squeezed her fingers and looked at her, his gaze soft. “I wish for you to be happy, Inquisitor. I am not certain magic would make that true.”

“I always wanted it though,” she replied, still quiet-voiced as her eyes drifted to the blanket of stars above them. “My sister was so talented… and I’m so… normal.”

“You say that as if you do not recognize your own skill.”

“I recognize it, I just… it’s not magic.”

“You said you could shoot a robin clean from the sky at twenty paces when you were only a girl. You move in battle with both a bow and a dagger like a dancer on a stage-”

“Yes, but it’s not magic, Solas,” she said, more firmly now, and he sighed. 

“It is not. But that is not all there is, Yvelle. You are a truly gifted archer and a brilliant strategist in the field. Magic or no, there is no person in this world I would rather stand alongside.” He gently turned her chin to face him, his gaze tender. “There is more to leading than power, just as there is more to life than magic.”

She stared at him for a moment before her eyes darted away, taking in the stars again. “You called me vhenan, before.”

He nodded. “I meant it.”

Still she watched the sky, but he found his eyes drawn to her. The moonlight struck her deep red hair and made it gleam like gold, and her elvhen eyes shone like a cat’s in the dark.  Despite the billions of stars above them, he couldn’t stop looking at her.

“I’ve never had someone to call that,” she said quietly.

“Are you uncomfortable with the word? I can stop.”

“No, I… it’s fine, really. I like it.” She smiled and he mirrored it, stepped forward. She turned and he put a careful hand on her waist, pulling her toward him.

“Good.” 

He leaned in and kissed her, long and slow and sweet. Her arms wound around his neck and he brought her closer to him. Her small body fit perfectly against his tall, muscular frame, and as she deepened the kiss he let himself forget the world around them for once and exist only in her touch. 

CS ff: “My Eyes, They Speak for Me” (1/2)

Summary: Canon divergence from 3x13 onward, where Walsh never reveals himself and Storybrooke isn’t where it should be. Emma and Killian have to not only find a way back to Storybrooke and Emma’s family, but keep each other and Henry safe in the process.

Rating: T… for now.

A/N: So *wiggles fingers* hello, @swankkat! I am your (omfg i’m so sorry it’s so late) GFSS! I had every intention of having this done for New Years, but um, well, the easy explanation is that @phiralovesloki maaaaaaaaaay have had a bit of a hand in the outlining of this fic (and we both know how truly brilliant she is) so I think you know how this story goes. My “Quick Oneshot” plan definitely got thrown out the window months ago. And instead I replaced it with “Well, 11k for the first half a fic is okay, too.” Part 2 is in progress, and that’s definitely where more of the ticky boxes you checked off start to come into play. 

This is the continuation from a fic I started back during au week, so if the beginning looks familiar to anyone reading this, that’s why.

Edit: Now available on FFN and Ao3!


The moments driving away from Storybrooke are painful because there in her rear-view mirror, she has to say goodbye. She memorizes the details quickly before she forgets them forever: her parents crying, Regina sullen and heartbroken, Neal wistful and sad over what could’ve been, and Hook… She swallows down the sob that threatens to break free.

Her family, her past, her future, all huddled together at the town line as the curse comes to take them away. She turns it into a joke as she puts the Bug in gear and drives forward. My parents, my ex, and a pirate walk into a bar… and the absurdity pushes a smile onto her face. She’s wearing that smile when they cross the town line and…

She doesn’t know why she’s smiling, other than her son is in the passenger seat taking in the scenery like he’s never seen it before. Which is ridiculous, of course, because he saw it on the drive up. This was just what they needed. A small escape from reality before starting fresh. She’s not excited about finding a new place to live, or buying new clothes, or finding a new school for Henry, but she knows it is all stuff that has to be done when they get to New York.

Keep reading

gothmacs  asked:

first off, congrats on finishing your manuscript, that's so exciting!!! second, i've been slowly making my way through your fics recently and i gotta say your writing is incredible, to the point that "electioneering" reduced me to weeping in the toilets at work this morning. you are such a brilliant writer, and i am truly in awe

making people cry in the bathroom at work is all i ever aspire to do with my writing. glad you’re enjoying, thank you so much for the kind words!!

jerrytysons  asked:

I'm not sure if you accept prompts right now, anyway I wanted to share this idea with you because I think you're the only one capable of writing this like I imagine it. Here comes the prompt: Castle and Beckett are fighting (usual s4, around headhunters) and something happens to Martha (maybe close to death) and Castle needs/seeks Becketts comfort? :)

He was supposed to be following Slaughter around that day, so imagine her surprise when Richard Castle comes skulking onto her crime scene. Indignation flares hot in her chest, because isn’t he too good to be hanging around her these days?

But the closer he comes, the easier it is to see that he isn’t in his usual mood of airy indifference, isn’t strutting around like he used to four years ago with a forced sense of arrogance. No, he’s trailing through the grass of the park towards her, his head down and a deep frown carved into his lips.

Any traces of the bitterness she’s slowly been harboring over the last couple of weeks vanishes, replaced by worry that fills her chest like ice water, overwhelming her sore heart, and she holds a hand up to Lanie, who’s noticed Castle with the same concern blooming in her eyes.

Beckett rises from her crouched position on the ground beside the body and strides for him, the dew still clinging to the grass licking at her boots, wetting the edges of her pant legs.

“Castle?” He practically startles at the sound of her voice, as if he didn’t even realize she was here and oh yeah, she’s definitely worried. 

“Ka-Beckett,” he corrects himself and damn, that hurts. How long has it been since her first name spilled past his lips so soft and sweet? Now, she’s lucky to receive the clipped two syllables of her surname, but it isn’t laced with ice this time. His speech is almost disorientated, just like him. “I tried calling you.”

She pats her coat pocket out of instinct, internally curses herself when she remembers her phone is in the car, charging.

“My phone died,” she murmurs, deciding to bury her hands in her pockets so to subdue their itching need to reach for him. Because something is wrong, so very wrong. “What’s going on?”

“I just needed to ask - would you mind - I’m-”

She’s never seen him stutter and stumble with his words like this, never seen him so flustered in general, and he nearly jerks when she places a gentle hand on his arm.

“My mother had a heart attack this morning.”

The hand on his arm goes slack. 

“I don’t want to - to inconvenience you, but Slaughter wouldn’t answer his phone either. I just wanted to ask if you could let him know I wouldn’t be coming in today,” he gets out on a rushed breath, but she can barely process his words, can barely think past the horrific idea of Martha and the words ‘heart attack’.

“Wait here,” she whispers, squeezing his arm, turning on her heel and jogging back to Lanie before he can respond.

“Is everything okay?” Lanie asks with an arch of her brow, but Beckett shakes her head. 

“No, I’ll fill you in later, but I need - I need to go with him. I’ll call Gates myself, but when the boys get here, will you just let them know something came up?”

“Of course, honey,” Lanie assures her quickly, sweeping her clipboard towards Castle. “Go take care of writer boy before he passes out over there.”

“Thanks Lanie,” Beckett calls over her shoulder, already halfway back to Castle, who’s standing right where she left him, albeit, a bit unsteadily. “C’mon Castle.”

His brow furrows when she takes his hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Going with you to the hospital, I presume,” she replies, tugging him along until he finally remembers how to use his legs and trails along after her. “Is she in surgery?”

“Y-yeah,” he manages, his voice closing around the single syllable, and her heart cracks at the sure sound of tears clogging his throat. “They said it would be awhile. Beckett, why are you coming with me?”

Her feet come to a halt on the sidewalk, but she doesn’t release his fingers. His eyes are watery, signs of tears showing in the damp curtains of his lashes, the red rims of his eyelids, but a hint of skepticism has come alive too, the scrutiny she’s come to know so well recently not quite as brutal, but assessing. How did they get here?

But she won’t back down.

“Because we’re still partners, aren’t we?” she murmurs, almost afraid of the answer she could receive, but Castle doesn’t answer at all, just stares back at her, haunted and wounded. “I’m still your partner, Rick,” she amends. “And I care about Martha too, so I’m not letting you deal with this alone.”

She releases his hand and steps out into the street, hailing a cab with ease, and slides in.

“You coming?”

He hesitates for only a moment before slipping in after her, giving the cab driver the hospital’s address.

-

“Have you called Alexis?” she asks while they’re sitting together in the waiting room.

The silence between them hasn’t necessarily been awkward, but it feels unusual for her, unsettling to have Castle quiet for so long. Even in times of grief and tragedy, he is never usually so reserved. At least, never around her.

“No,” he mumbles, scraping a hand through his hair and keeping his eyes on the ground. “She’s in class and I don’t want her to panic.”

She nods despite the fact that he isn’t looking at her.

“Has Martha ever dealt with heart problems in the past?” she tries softly, but Rick shakes his head.

“No, no, she’s always been healthy,” he sighs, burying his face in his hands. “Maybe I missed the signs. Maybe if I wasn’t so selfish-”

“Castle, no,” she breathes, leaning in closer, placing a hand between his shoulder blades. “This is not your fault.”

His shoulders tremble and tears leak from between his fingers and she can’t stop herself from wrapping her arms around his hunched figure, awkwardly cradling his body to hers. But Castle surprises her, easing an arm around her torso, hiding his crumbling face in her neck, letting her feel the heat of his tears on her skin. 

“She can’t die,” he rasps, clutching her back with his large hands. “My mom and Alexis - they’re all I have.”

Kate runs her fingers through her hair, rests her cheek to his ear. She wants to inject that there is one person he is forgetting, but maybe he hasn’t forgotten at all, maybe he doesn’t have her anymore, maybe he never did. 

“She’ll pull through, Castle,” she promises against his temple, brushing her lips to the spot, ignoring the burn in her chest and remembering the real reason they’re here in the first place. “She’ll be okay.”

-

Oh, he’s so weak. But it’s so good, so nice to be encompassed in Kate Beckett’s arms, in her scent, to have her so warm and welcoming around him,

It’s almost enough to convince him he’s been wrong all along, that this is more than just a partnership, but no, no this is just Kate being his friend. And she may have broken his heart, but he’s grateful for this.

“Family of Martha Rodgers?”

Kate drops her arms, standing quicker than he can, but curling her fingers at his elbow when he rises beside her.

The nurse smiles at the two of them. 

“Your mother is out of surgery now. She won’t be awake for a while, but you can see her if you’d like.”

Castle nods dumbly, following along when the young female nurse motions for them to follow. The bubbly woman keeps talking, probably twittering on about important things he should probably be paying attention to, but he feels as if he’s in a daze, fallen under the numbness the scare of nearly losing his mother has evoked. But when he glances to his right, to Kate, he notices she’s listening intently, cataloguing every word. 

He’s grateful.

-

Seeing the effervescent Martha Rodgers laid up in a hospital bed causes her stomach to twist and her heart to clench, the sight just so wrong. The doctor she spoke to when they first stepped inside his mother’s hospital room had been encouraging, assuring them that his mother would make a full recovery, but it’s difficult to believe at the moment while she’s pale and unconscious and surrounded by hospital equipment. 

“You don’t have to stay.”

Castle is watching her from his mother’s bedside while she stands at the foot of the hospital bed, not knowing where to belong, where she’s allowed anymore. He offers her a forced but gentle smile, though, and it gives her a burst of confidence.

“Why would I go?”

He sighs, drifts away from his sleeping mother and towards her. “Kate, you’re a great friend-“

The words feel like a slap and she physically steps back from him, her heart aching. Friends? Really? That’s how he’s going to end this?

There has always been friendship, but it has always been more than that, too. At least, she had thought there would be more.

“You want me to leave,” she surmises and yeah, maybe it’s best. He doesn’t need to finally take that final swing to her heart while they’re standing in his mother’s hospital room. “Tell Martha I hope she feels better soon.”

“Kate?” Her name is a startled sound on his lips and oh, she’s crying. Shit. She wipes at her eyes and turns away, heading for the door, but then his hands are on her shoulders, halting her escape, holding on. 

“Sorry, I just - misunderstood,” she explains, averting her eyes to the wall when he steps in front of her, blocking the doorway, her only exit.

“What did you misunderstand?” he whispers, wiping the lone tear that hangs from her jaw. 

“You,” she sighs, turning her head to escape his touch. She doesn’t want it, not if she can’t have him. 

“How did you misunderstand me?”

God, he’s going to make her say it? Make her embarrass herself right in front of him? But then his hands are cupping her face, his thumb sweeping over that damp spot on her cheek.

“Kate, why did you come with me today?”

“Because I love you, you idiot,” she hisses. “Because I was worried about you and Martha and I-”

He cuts her off with the firm press of his mouth, the warm length of an arm around her waist and the hand cradling her cheek.

“Love me?” he breathes, the hot exhale coating her lips that already yearn for his to return. “You love me?”

“God, Castle, I thought you were smart,” she chokes out, her smile blooming in time with his, and she can’t resist surging forward, tasting the newfound joy spread across his mouth. “Of course I love you.”

-

When her eyes peel back, it’s to late afternoon sunlight filtering through cracked blinds and a fierce ache in her chest. She won’t remain awake for long, she can tell by the strong pull of sleep already tugging her back down, but before she can indulge in the marvelous effect of whatever drugs are coursing through her system, her tired eyes follow the beams of fading sunlight that land upon the couch not far from her hospital bed.

Where her son and Katherine Beckett are snuggled together, the detective’s head on Richard’s shoulder and her son’s arm secure around Katherine’s waist. Martha smiles to herself before she relaxes back into the soft pillow cushioning her head and the flow of medication cushioning her pain. 

About time, kiddos.

anonymous asked:

Surely you can't be shocked at the response your period piece got? Every piece of writing you do is truly wonderful, seriously brilliant. It makes me smile every time I see you have posted something new and I am never, ever disappointed! You should be so proud of yourself, you're incredibly talented. Can't wait to see what you do next 💛💛💛

Aww! My heart did a flippy flop! Thank you for the kind words, nonnie! xoxo

anonymous asked:

A~~~ Tony

A- Asking you out Headcanon idea list here


  • He may look like he knows what he’s doing, but in reality everything he says he’s making up as he goes
  • He looks confident, but there’s tiny, subtle nervous ticks that only you would notice- running his fingers through his hair, foot tapping, slight lip quivering
  • He’s done this so many times before- why is he so nervous suddenly? What can I say? You’re the only person that has that effect on him
  • Of the people that he dated, you’re the only one that truly matters- and you know it
  • Him flashing that brilliant smile of his when you say “yes”
  • Tony would ask you out to a fancy dinner because he’s classy and he wants to play it safe- who doesn’t like eating expensive, over-priced food?
  • He’d probably ask after knowing you for a long time instead of right away like he normally would because he doesn’t want to mess this up
Just A Scratch//Im Jaebum

Originally posted by defsouljb

Pairing: Jaebum x reader

Genre: Smut, a little bit of fluff

Summary:Anonymous said:
Your Jaebum scenarios are truly amazing. How do you write so well? It’s brilliant work. I literally appreciate your efforts and dedication towards this beautiful blog. I love this blog. so much. So so so much. You’re an angel. I just wanted to request one more jaebum scenario as i’m really loving them(sorryyy) -Jaebum gets really angry at you for anonymous reasons and ends up hurting you (cuts). Later he realises is scared to touch you or make love. You anyways persuade him to make love.

Author’s Note: The third and final Jaebum smut tonight! I hope you all enjoy~

xoxo Sara


It had been a long, long week without Jaebum, and you felt disconnected. You felt as if your love was fading, and somehow, you felt like you shouldn’t try anymore. It was that you two weren’t intimate, it just felt as if the love between you vanished, and it hurt you greatly to think that way.

It hurt Jaebum as well once you told, him, because he loved you with all of his heart. He began to get angry, which you understood, because you were too, but you were determined not to let it show. You weren’t going to show him your angry side, so you kept your calm.

You couldn’t muster enough words to describe what you were truly feeling, and it confused you. You couldn’t tell if he loved you anymore, and his actions were almost proving your theory.

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