#and plotting how to pack and leave in the quickest way possible

[mountaincryptid]

nothing to wake you up and spike your blood pressure like a wasp getting into your room at 3 am

[mxtantrights]

Bounded by shadow and blood (1)

Azriel x magic!fem!reader

buckle in this is gonna be a ride. Let's just say I wanted to add some angst and plot to this world.

It was like any other mission. You know who the intended target is, and how exactly to gather them in the quickest way possible and execute the plan. All you were waiting for was word from the high lord. 

Being an emissary to the Dawn Court was fun most times. You got to live lavishly in a court that had a spectacular dawn no matter where you were, with people who genuinely understood and cared for each other. You guess you picked it because it reminded you of home, without all of the stress.

Tonight though was stress. 

You had been wanting to visit home for a while now. There was a feeling deep down inside of you that something was amiss. Of course no one would tell you that, but you can’t shake the feeling. 

You want to finish this mission and pack a bag and see what’s really going on. That is why you walk into the high lord’s private office. You had done so before on may occasions, tonight being no different. 

“Thesan, I’m getting bored out there are we —“ you start.

You hadn’t realized he was busy inside his office. Or you wouldn’t have just opened the door all willy nilly and invited yourself inside. Three sets of eyes are on you at once.

Thesan clears his throat and smiles at his guests.

“Right, well this s a great time for introductions,” he says and then introduces you by name to the three strangers. Then he gives you their names. Rhysand, Cassian and Nesta. 

“Nice to meet you,” you say to them and turn back to Thesan, “Sorry for interrupting, I’ll wait for your word.” 

“It actually won’t be necessary tonight.” He answers.

You look at him confused, “You’re calling it off?”

“For tonight yes. I’ve been given some information here by high lord Rhysand that puts a wrench in our plans.” He explains.

The woman, Nesta, tilts her head at you. As if she were inspecting you closely. You haven’t given her a reason to do so, but then again you knew that some fae were just like that.

Your ears were hiding underneath your hair but if they weren’t she would see that they weren’t pointed. You weren’t fae. But since you don’t know her that well and you don’t think you will see her again, you decline to say anything about her staring.

“Well if I’ll be excused, I’ll get packing for my travel home.” You say.

“You didn’t bow.” She says.

You look at her then. Bow? 

Oh.

Thesan just announced the male, Rhysand, as a high lord. Well, you think to yourself, it’s not like you’ve bowed to a high lord before. You and Thesan happened to be playmates when you were growing up. When he ascended the throne you never really could bow to him, he also forbade it.

“You don’t have to bow to me, that’s okay.” Rhysand says.

You nod your head once, “I’ll be going now. You all have a good night.” 

And with that you leave the room as quickly as you barged into it. You close the door behind you and pick up the fluff of your dress. It had been part of the mission, you didn’t want to wear such extravagant things but you did so for the sake of blending in.

You walk pass the crowded ballroom and down the hallway to your room. 

-

You close the bag after stuffing in most of your clothes and sweet treats for the children back home. As soon as you do there is a knock on your door. You tell the person to come in.

When you turn around to see who it is, Thesan walks through your door.

“I’ll be leaving before dawn.” You say.

“Oh this isn’t about the trip, it’s about our little run-in earlier.” He clarifies.

You place your bag down on the floor and urge him to go on.

“The three you met tonight, they were from the night court. Our neighbors one court over.” He starts.

You nod your head, “This is good information to know. But why are you telling me this exactly?”

Thesan laughs at your impatience, “It’s good to know because they will be helping us catch the wanna be thief.” 

“Catch? You’ve changed the mission?” You ask.

He cocks his head to the side. You and Thesan were sure on a bunch things, criminals that want to upset the power balance in this court included. Someone wanted to steal an ancient book from the library.

You had offered to catch the criminal but Thesan specifically asked that you actually ‘took care’ of them based on the level of power the book has. Someone walking around with that information and that level of audacity was no good to anyone.

But now, the mission was back to catch.

“It turns out this attempted thief is from the night court. Rhysand wants them captured and sent back for questioning.” He explains. 

“He’s committing a crime in your court, most likely against you, and you have to catch and turn him over?” You ask.

“Don’t give me that—“ he starts.

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“I can tell what you think about this. I’ve known you for centuries.” 

“Still, I didn’t say anything. I just don’t think I want to do another court’s dirty work.” 

“You won’t be, he’s sending in his best mercenary to help you.”

“I don’t need help.” You say.

Thesan sighs, “Think of it as a bonding exercise.”

“I don’t want to bond either.” You reply.

Thesan shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. It was fun rilling him up like this, but you were telling the truth. You worked better alone. You liked doing things alone. The only reason you’re not a recluse is because Thesan wouldn’t leave you alone. He’s probably thinking about how that’s come back to bite him already. 

“No killing?” You ask.

Thesan opens his eyes and shakes his head, “No killing.”

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

You deserve it

Masterlist

A/N: I'm struggling, and I need a fucking hug. So I wrote this. It's probably fucking terrible but I need a fictional surrogate boyfriend to shower me with affection right now, because the real one is halfway across the country. Okay. Exquisitely self-indulgent hurt/comfort with tooth-rotting fluff.

Pairing: Mike (Hellraiser) x reader (you)

Summary: You're feeling like shit, and Mike helps you feel less like shit. That's it. That's the plot.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort. Depression/ anxiety/ general really bad fucking day having reader, suicidal thoughts/ intrusive thoughts. I mention a boner once.

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81

“Babe I’m having a really shit day, okay?” You hate doing this. Cancelling plans last-minute is the worst under normal circumstances, but you really wanted to see this movie tonight with Mike. “You can go by yourself, it’s fine. Or take someone else. I’m just going to bed.”

“Alright, babe. Text me when you wake up, okay?” He’s so sweet. You really don’t deserve him. Then again, you don’t deserve anything. Yeah, to lay in bed, completely worn out from doing nothing, unable to move (because why the fuck not?) and hungry because you haven’t eaten all day – that involves moving, and as previously established: you can’t. Plus, even if you weren’t tired and glued to your bed, he’d probably have a better time hanging out with someone who isn’t depressed and horrible. And that rules you out.

You’re on the verge of falling asleep. Actually, you’ve been on the verge of falling asleep for weeks. It just doesn’t happen. So, like all those other times you wished there was a poison apple or cursed spinning wheel nearby, you just lay in bed with your eyes closed, curled up into a ball and trying to ignore the crushing weight of your overflowing to do list and the guilt over bailing on your boyfriend. It’s probably only a matter of time before he runs off with someone cuter, thinner, and more alive than you, anyway.

The door opens. The noise doesn’t make you turn around. In fact, absolutely nothing would make you turn around. Keanu Reeves in your doorway wouldn’t make you respond at this point, and Lord knows that’s saying something. You’re just done.

Whoever it is that’s in your doorway and likely isn’t Keanu Reeves, walks into your room. Honestly, if this is a murderer, good. No one would complain. It’s probably just your roommate, though. Massive disappointment.

“Sadie, just go please,” you sigh as you pull the comforter tighter around your shoulders. The unidentified intruder reaches your bed, and a bag drops to the floor with a loud thud and the suspicious crinkling and cracking of... Food wrappers? You freeze when this person sits on your bed – but they don’t stop there; they actually get into bed with you, which means it’s definitely not your roommate. This still doesn’t make you move, and you almost laugh at how completely fucked up a reaction that is.

“Guess again.” Mikey. It’s Mikey. You hadn’t even considered that possibility. How on Earth did you consider ‘murderer’ before ‘boyfriend’? But why is he here? He’s supposed to go to the movies and have fun, and leave you here until you’re ready to crawl out of this ditch of horribleness. You don’t want him here with you.

“Why aren’t you at the movies?” You ask timidly. He’s wrapping his arms around you and you’re resisting that, trying to think of the best and quickest way to send him packing. “Mikey, please leave. I need to be alone.”

“No.” What? What, ‘no’? “You want to be alone.”

“Yeah, same diff. Leave me alone, Mike. I want you to fuck off and go see the movie without me, and you just leave me here. Okay?” This fucking hurts. You don’t want to shut him out, but you can’t help it right now. Nothing feels right, you’re a mess, and no one needs to see you like this.

“No. Not okay. I’m not leaving.” He sounds angry. Annoyed, at least. And he’s right to be angry. You’re being horrible to him when he’s just trying to be nice. But you don’t want him trying to be nice to you right now. He’s probably only offering to stay because he feels he has to, or some shit.

“But you really want to see that movie.”

“Yeah, Sweetcheeks, I do. I really want to see that movie.” He sighs impatiently. “With you. I’m not watching it without you, so drop it. If we can’t go today, we’ll wait until we can. And if it’s not in theatres anymore by that time, we’ll rent it, or stream it or whatever, but I’m not watching that movie if you’re not next to me. Now stop being stubborn and let me hold you.”

There are tears in your eyes now, because of his little speech, and you’ve actually turned around in his – very persistent – arms.

“Hi, Sweetcheeks,” he says as he smiles down at you. “I’m happy to see your face.” As hard as it is for you to believe that, you can see in his eyes that he’s not lying.

Mike bends his head to kiss you, but you stop him.

“Baby,” he whines, but you shake your head.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth in days,” you admit. Heat surges through your cheeks, and it feels as if someone is sticking a million needles in them. The severely lacking ability to take care of yourself is one of your least favorite parts of this whole depression business. Not that the rest is a walk in the park, but being near Mike in your current gross state is embarrassing and horrible.

“Sweetcheeks, I don’t give a damn.” He kisses you hard, so hard that you are starting to think he’s doing this to make a point. “I’m crazy about you. All of you. And I’m still crazy about you when you’re like this. Although I wish you didn’t feel so shitty.” He moves off the bed again, dragging you to the edge of it as he goes along, where he scoops you up into his arms.

“What are you doing?” you ask as he carries you to the bathroom. Mikey sets you down on the toilet – the only place to comfortably sit in here – and starts to unbutton the flannel pajama shirt you have on.

“I don’t have the ener...” Mike interrupts you with another kiss as he keeps undressing you. He never tries anything, not even when he sees your boobs – although he does grin appreciatively for a second. You let him drag you into the shower, because by now you’ve figured out that resisting him is no use, anyway.

“Can you hold it together for maybe ten minutes until I get back?” He turns on the water, risking the clothes he’s still wearing. You nod.

“Mikey?” He turns around when he hears you call him. “Can you hand me my toothbrush?” Small steps, right?

When he comes back, he strips and joins you in the shower. Standing up was a hassle, so you’re sitting on the floor. He sits down behind you, with his legs on either side, and pulls your back into his chest. Mike helps you wash your hair, and your body, still not trying anything, even though he clearly has a boner from touching you all over. That doesn’t change when he dries you off and helps you into a pair of fresh pajamas.

“How do you feel?” Mike says when he wraps you up into the millionth hug.

“Better,” you say, avoiding his eyes. Yeah, taking a shower helps. It makes you feel better. But you just couldn’t do the thing. Why couldn’t you just do the stupid, silly little thing?

“Good,” Mike says, “let’s get to the rest of the evening.” He takes your hand and drags you back to your room.

“Jesus! Mike! You didn’t have to do that!” There are new sheets on your bed, and your pillows are piled in the corner, together with every stuffed animal you own, and several soft blankets. Ten minutes alone in the shower, and your boyfriend builds you a nest. It’s so sweet that you don’t even allow yourself to be embarrassed that you couldn’t change your sheets yourself.

“I wanted to. Because I wanna spend the whole night with you, watching movies, and cuddling. I brought snacks.” He looks kind of nervous when he says it. “Got you chocolate. Your favorite. But I’ll still go if you want to be alo-” The last syllable disappears into your mouth when you kiss him.

“Thank you, Mikey,” you say, no longer able to keep the tears from falling.

“You’re welcome. You deserve it.”

[loverrrgirl]

KISMET - austin butler x reader - PART 1

Description: you end up sitting next to each other on the plane when you have to fly home for a family emergency. Lucky youuuuu.

Austin Butler x reader

Warnings: it’s all fine for now but will eventually contain smut. Right now there’s mentions of a car accident. Minors run away.

NOTE: be in for the long haul guys/gals/non binary pals. This will probably go on for the rest of my life. Also, I’ve never written a fic before so please feel free to leave me feed back or ideas for the future plot of the story. Whateverrrrrrr. Love u byeeee.

Next part

***ring ring ring***

I grabbed my phone off my nightstand to see who could possibly be calling me in the middle of the night.

Mom??? Why the hell is she calling me at this hour?

"Hey mom. What's up?" I said sleepily. She was crying. Sobbing even. "Mom, slow down. I can't understand what you're saying."

"Dad and Jude were in a car accident. They're both in ICU. We don't know much yet. How soon can you get here?" She said between deep breaths in a desperate attempt to calm herself down. I knew they were heading on their annual father/son camping trip in Yosemite for the week before school started back up.

I lay there. Shocked. I don't even remember what I said to her after that. I don't remember getting off the phone. I just laid there. Frozen. Eventually I walked over to my desk, bringing my blanket with me because there's no cold like being woken up at 3am and having to get out of bed. Just me, my fuzzy socks, underwear, and a huge t shirt I stole out of some frat guy's drawer after he spilled his beer all over me one night. I opened my laptop and had to turn the brightness nearly all the way down. I was wide awake but my eyes were still used to the dark room.

Okay Stella. Just find the quickest flight to LAX. You can do this. The next flight out is in 4 hours. And it's first class but it will have to do. Better start packing. I'll  email my boss from the plane I guess. I can work from anywhere. Hopefully she'll give me a little bit of time off anyways. I doubt it.

I took a shower that was probably slightly too long for the amount of time I had. But I couldn't get myself to move quickly. My thoughts were racing a million miles a minute but my body moved in slow motion. I tried to hold my tears in because I was scared I wouldn't stop crying if I started.

Why didn't I call them yesterday to tell them to have fun and drive safely? What if I never see them again? The last conversation I had with dad was a fight. And now it feels so stupid. I wish I could tell him I'm sorry. Jude only has one year of high school left. He has to be okay. Senior year is so much fun. What if he doesn't get to experience it?

I got out of the shower, blowdried my hair and put some waterproof mascara on. Just in case. I put on my black cross waist leggings, the comfiest beige crop tank top, and a pastel pink and white checkered cardigan. I never travel anywhere without my crocs. Are they acceptable in first class? I wasn't sure. I'd never flown first class but I didn't care today. Crocs it was.

I quickly took the elevator downstairs from the 12th floor. I had moved to New York about 6 months ago for work. My apartment was downtown. Just a studio but the view was incredible. And I even had a balcony. Even though I loved where I lived, leaving home felt so stupid right now. Why did I ever leave?

I tracked down the first cab I could and prayed they could get me to the airport in time. I threw in my headphones and tried to forget that anything was wrong. Maybe the flight would be easier that way.

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 4

here’s the next installment! hope you enjoy. thanks in advance for the likes and reblogs <33333

[Read Chronicles on AO3!]

so i’ve been working on a new song recently. watch this space for a clip.

i think.

Well, he meant it when he said he wanted to play a song that matched her eyes. Marinette’s eyes. He’s just lucky he can find so much inspiration in color.

It’s just that every time he sits down with his guitar or his music notebook, it feels like no note or chord can do that color justice. It’s been like this since the day the met, after band practice dispersed and he holed himself up in his room with his guitar. It’s not that no music comes to him; no, he can pick up on that easily. He’s been playing people’s hearts by ear for as long as he can remember. It’s just that no matter what he tries to play or scribble down, no matter how much he tries meditating to clear his mind, it doesn’t sound perfect. Even if he tries to match the tempo to that spark he saw and the sweetness of her voice, even if he tries to make the music swell for the richness of the color, none of the melodies sound like just that right shade of blue. The unreachable kind.

Maybe that’s the point.

Even if it is, he doesn’t want to stop trying. Her eyes are worth the effort.

In fact, Juleka’s the one who finds him lying flat on his back in bed, still holding his guitar as he stares up at the ceiling, playing out every blue song he knows because even that’s better than trying to make it up in the silence. “Wow,” is all she says. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“What?” he mumbles, half-wanting to say Sunday? instead. “The day I’d have it this bad for a girl?”

“The day you’d actually find music hard,” she says. “But that, too. Usually I’m the one who’s supposed to be this bad.”

Never mind that Juleka and Rose have been dating for years, and practically inseparable for even longer. Luka puts his guitar aside, grabs his pillow, and promptly groans into it.

“You know,” Juleka says; he can feel her looming over him, just like she did when they were both still teenagers and she wanted her turn on their shared handheld console at the asscrack of dawn. “I think you’re the one who needs the pick-me-up this time.”

Under the pillow, Luka rolls his eyes. “I’ve spent enough money there this week, trust me.”

“What’s this?” she teases. “You’re passing up the chance to meet eyes with Cute Bakery Girl?”

God, he forgot she followed him online. Why wasn’t there a way to edit posts so that your sister, who apparently only ever graced you with her snark, couldn’t see them?

When he pulls the pillow away, Juleka is smiling, toying with the ends of her hair. “Get out of here,” she says with a nudge. “You’ll feel better if you walk away from it for a little bit.”

She’s right, but he doesn’t say so out loud. “Is that code for, ‘The sooner you feel better, the sooner you can help me re-dye my hair?’”

Juleka snorts. “It might be.”

The first time he ever went to Tom and Sabine’s… it had to be months ago. Back when he’d found Juleka at her desk, crying and stressing over some exam or assignment and PMS-ing all at once, all during her first year in university… God, it was terrible, seeing her go through that. Not as bad as actually going through it—he’d probably never know what any of that felt like. She’d broken at just the first touch of his hand on her shoulder, broken when he hugged her through it and murmured that it was all going to be okay, and here he was, doing the quickest search he could manage of nearby pastry shops that sold pear tarts. The best ones.

Juleka always did deserve the best; that went without question.

Tom and Sabine’s was the first result to show up. Stellar reviews—nothing below four stars. It was the obvious choice; he didn’t need to look anywhere else. He biked the whole way there, and the instant he walked in and removed his helmet, he was all but walloped with the smell of freshly-baked bread, the classical music wafting through the shop, the display cases of sweets—and then the kind lady at the register, waiting for him to approach. She’d packed the tart with such care and affection as soon as he’d told her who it was for and why, and he felt it. All the  she felt for every creation in this space. All the love for every person who had the honor of tasting them.

He didn’t need to go anywhere else after that. They spoke his language, in food instead of music, so they had his patronage on lock.

And now they extra had it on lock—he’d admit it to himself and a few hundred sort-of strangers, at least—because of Marinette. Whose wit isn’t exactly firecracker, but is still warm and quick enough to keep him on his toes. Who seems to know how to hold her own and look like she wants adventure in the great wide somewhere all at once. Who read his note, and smiled, and might not have thrown it away. Who just might have let him in.

Who, of course, is working the register today. (Seriously, he knows the bakery is open every day, but does Mr. Dupain really not give her any days off?)

And who, of course, is watching him with those sparkling, unreachable blue eyes as soon as the door opens. “We really have to stop meeting like this,” she comments, the threat of a smile at the corner of her mouth and a faint lilt in her voice. The kind that tells him she probably watches a lot of sitcoms in her spare time, because you don’t pick up that kind of teasing wit from nowhere. “At this rate, you’re gonna be seeing the dentist as often as you see this place.”

Luka balks a little, but tries not to show it. “I mean,” he says, jerking a thumb behind him, trying to make a joke of it all. “I can go…”

“Don’t.” Marinette says the word like she means to spit it out—like she regrets her own joke, even—then pauses as if to assess herself. “Sorry,” she sighs. “It’s been a long week. What can I get for you today?”

She looks… apologetic. It’s actually kind of sweet.

“Hey,” he says; it comes out more gently than he meant it to, but it certainly doesn’t seem to do any harm. “Don’t worry about it, really. Can I just get an eclair to go?”

Marinette nods, seemingly unconvinced, and sets to work. It’s while she’s reaching into one of the display cases that Mr. Dupain’s voice comes seeping under the door to the back room. “Marinette! Are you out there?”

“Coming, Papa,” she says without so much as looking up, her voice all too musical as she lays the eclair in the box—

Wait.

Papa?

He must be staring, because when she looks up, the first thing she says is, “What are you looking at?”

“You…” Luka clears his throat. “You’re Mr. Dupain’s daughter?”

Marinette’s brow furrows. She doesn’t look upset, simply confused—as though the answer should have been obvious to him. “Um… yes?”

“Oh. Well.” He pauses. “Huh.”

What is he doing? What the hell kind of reaction is that?

“I mean, I get it,” she says. “I look more like my mom than my dad, but…” She shrugs, smiles faintly. “At least I’ve got his eyes.”

This time, when Luka stares, it’s intentional. Over the music, he’s putting the pieces of her parents together—her father’s eyes, her mother’s hair, all of their joy in the smiles he’s seen. The more he looks, the more she looks like them, and the more he wonders if he’s trying to traces something in him, too. There’s… something in her that looks like she might know him, but he can’t possibly place where.

From the back room, Mr. Dupain—Marinette’s father—calls her again, and she jolts to attention again, makes for the door. Just before she opens it, she gives him one last meaningful look. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she says, “at your service.”

“At least until Mrs.—until your mom gets back,” Luka says. “Right?”

Something hopeful flickers in her eyes, or maybe he’s just hoping that it’s hopeful, before she disappears behind the door, and Luka strolls on out with her name buzzing behind his teeth. Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Something about it sounds so friendly. Something about it sounds so… familiar.

He’s about five steps around the corner when he realizes, among all the repetition and trying to place just who she inherited those gorgeous eyelashes from, that he left the eclair on the counter.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng isn’t laughing when he comes dragging his feet back into the bakery, but those blue, blue eyes are. “Forgetting something?” she asks, nodding to the lone beige box on the counter.

Luka wonders if his are laughing, too. He hopes they are. He gives a two-fingered salute, and this time, just before he opens the door, she’s the one to call to him.

“Thanks,” she says. “For the note.”

There’s a scream that wants to rip its way out of his chest and explode with excitement and relief, and he channels every bit of it into how tightly he squeezes the doorknob. There’s something else that wants to turn him back to her, to get one last look at those blue, blue eyes, but he doesn’t let himself. If he does, he��ll never leave, and then he’ll never hear the end of it when he gets back home. “Anything to make somebody’s day a little brighter,” he finally says.

Which isn’t entirely wrong. It’s just that instead of somebody’s, he wants to say, yours.

(He wanted to get away with it. Saying her name one more time.)

plot twist of all plot twists: Cute Bakery Girl is Wholesome Bakery Couple’s literal daughter.

they have an entire daughter.

and she’s cute as fuck

and i’m so dead

and p.s., i think she’s been giving me macarons for free.

[darlingstewie]

The best coffee makers of 2020

There are such huge numbers of blending strategies to browse (French press, the at present popular dalgona whipped, pour-over), yet numerous caffeine rascals despite everything depend on the work of art, programmed dribble for their day by day fix. As proven as trickle might be, in any case, there's a wide scope of choices that can leave purchasers perplexed. Do you look for a conventional or more plan forward arrangement? Clever extra highlights to address everybody's issues, or do-one-essential thing-truly well? Maybe in particular, improves espresso?

With an end goal to respond to these inquiries for you, we tried and retested the best-appraised programmed trickle espresso creators utilizing a wide scope of models (plot underneath) through the span of half a month. Heaps of dim dish, light meal and medium meal beans were ground and fermented. We made full carafes, half carafes and single cups. Also, we tasted the outcomes dark, with cow's milk, almond milk, improved dense milk, cold-mix quality over ice — you name it.Overall, the Braun KF6050WH BrewSense Drip Coffee Maker scored most elevated, with a reliably flavorful, hot mug of espresso, blended productively and neatly, from smooth, moderately minimized equipment that is turnkey to work, and just for a sensible cost.

A nearby second was the touchscreen form of the Cuisinart programmed dribble. This was, to our eye, the most attractive and negligibly planned of the clear auto-brewers, conveying a spotless, scrumptious cup. It lost in front of the rest of the competition simply because the touchscreen may not be for each shopper, and blend time is altogether longer than different machines we tested — and for some clients, particularly on a bustling morning, a quicker cup is a superior one.

The Netherlands-based Moccamaster brand has a dedicated after, and we currently get why: In simply close to five minutes, the Technivorm Moccamaster 59636 KBG Coffee Brewer turns out an entire pot of pretty impeccably prepared espresso, and the procedure is as spellbinding as a focused on Netflix trailer. The structure is somewhat more confounded than the greater part of the machines on this rundown, however, and the value purpose of over $300 assigns this as a specialty thing.

At last, ringing up at $19.99, the Mr. Espresso 12-mug brewer is minimal, easy to work and yields a serious cup.

A profound plunge into the champs

Best generally speaking dribble espresso producer: Braun KF6050WH BrewSense Drip Coffee Maker ($79.95; amazon.com)

Braun KF6050WH BrewSense Drip Coffee Maker

Braun KF6050WH BrewSense Drip Coffee Maker

We blended innumerable pots of espresso with the BrewSense, running from light to dull dish, and every one yielded a solid, flavorful cup with no silt, on account of the gold tone channel, intended to expel the sharpness from espresso also lessen single-use paper-channel squander. The machine we tried was white — a pleasant choice for those with a more current kitchen plan — yet it additionally comes in dark, and it's minimized enough to fit under the cupboards in a littler space contrasted with a portion of the more unwieldy machines we tried.

The BrewSense is clear to work: It's structured like a conventional programmed dribble machine with manual working catches, yet with a smooth, current update. The equipment is an advanced mix of brushed metal and plastic, with a glass carafe that feels good in the hand.

The BrewSense doesn't have a great deal of extravagant accessories contrasted with a portion of the machines we tried, and that utilitarian simplicity raised it to the head of our rundown. You could unpack this machine, flush it through with water once, and be drinking a newly blended cup inside 15 minutes, all without perusing the manual. Preparing is additionally an about quiet procedure, which can be satisfying on early mornings. A few customers may need a machine stacked with unique highlights, yet for the individuals who simply need delightful, sweltering espresso each morning, without spending over a hundred bucks, this is your smartest choice.

The BrewSense isn't great: It's not the quickest we tried — to blend a full pot of 12 cups took as much as 11 minutes. What's more, we found an irritating blunder in the guidance manual around how to program the clock (call us inflexible, however we demanded programming the time before utilizing every one of the machines!); the headings read to press and hold CLOCK and afterward SET, yet that didn't work. We needed to just press and hold the CLOCK catch and afterward kind of experimentation our way during that time and minutes. In the mean time, the auto-program arrangement isn't as evident as we'd have preferred; however once we got it, it worked like a fantasy. In any case, else, we discovered this machine natural and simple to work even without the guidance manual.

Cleanup could now and again be somewhat messier than a portion of our different machines. The high temp water comes up through the channel and spreads the grounds up to the head of the cone, and during one fermenting, a smidgen ascended outside the cone so the head of the blend device required a little wipedown. In general, however, for under $80, this machine conveys the best value for your money of anything available.

Second place: Cuisinart Touchscreen 14-Cup Programmable Coffeemaker ($129.99, consistently $235; macys.com)

Cuisinart Touchscreen 14-Cup Programmable Coffeemaker

Cuisinart Touchscreen 14-Cup Programmable Coffeemaker

Coming in only a couple of focuses behind the Braun BrewSense was one of the three Cuisinart programmed trickle machines we tried: the Touchscreen 14-Cup Programmable.

We appraised each of the three Cuisinarts exceptionally, however the Touchscreen positioned most noteworthy for its mix of dynamic structure and regular adequacy. All the Cuisinart items we experienced were very much structured, yet this one feels unique, similar to when you unpack a fresh out of the box new Apple item: Its all-dark, gleaming surfaces and touchscreen control board look and feel next-level for an ordinary espresso producer (and the cost, $235 at Macy's, multiple occasions that of the Braun, mirrors that).

However, this isn't only an extravagant, stylishly satisfying machine: It blended solid, delightful espresso that tasted neatly sifted yet rich. It's likewise moderately simple to program and use, given its tech-driven stage. The touchscreen board highlights charming little symbols meaning one-contact orders to help alter your mix: If you like your espresso bolder, you can choose the BOLD element; in case you're blending not exactly a large portion of a pot, select the 1 to 4 cups include for a more slow mix with the best possible extraction time; modify the warming plate temperature to low, medium or high; turn the perceptible mix cycle-completed tone on or off.

That tech-driven plan is likewise one reason this didn't come in at number one, be that as it may. As energizing and distinctive as it felt, we felt that this machine — the main touchscreen model we tried — would feel not so much natural but rather more relentless than certain purchasers would need as a major aspect of their morning espresso schedule. The touchscreen goes dim during the mix procedure, which truly, is decent looking, yet additionally feels somewhat bumping, similar to you're truly in obscurity, asking yourself, "What's happening? Is espresso preparing?" The settings and working catches are clear enough when lit up, yet it took us a couple of times fermenting to become acclimated to how much weight you have to apply with at the tip of your finger to the touchscreen. We could undoubtedly consider individuals in our own lives who might be flummoxed by this machine whenever left alone with it and a pack of espresso — and for that, it lost a couple of focuses in usefulness.

Likewise, similar to its Cuisinart cousins we tried, this current one's a more slow brewer. We timed 11 minutes for eight cups, and in case you're viewing your espresso producer blend like, well, a watched pot, it appears it … takes until the end of time. We comprehend the intrigue of a more slow preparing process (pour-over and Chemex fans, we hear you!), yet 12 to 14 minutes for a full pot of espresso appears to be quite a while to hang tight when you're hungry for your morning Joe and you're not doing it by hand. At long last, not every person will need to spend more than $200 on an espresso creator. Be that as it may, many may.

While a few shoppers may be flummoxed by the innovation of this better quality item, others will grasp it and make it a focal point of their kitchen, and which is all well and good. Structure in addition to work rises to morning bliss here.

Extravagance Pick: Technivorm Moccamaster 59636 KBG Coffee Brewer ($309; amazon.com)

Technivorm Moccamaster 59636 KBG Coffee Brewer

Technivorm Moccamaster 59636 KBG Coffee Brewer

We had caught wind of the Technivorm Moccaster, a machine adored for its creative and old-school mechanical plan, high quality and tried in the Netherlands since 1968, even before we got it for this story. Various companions connected after hearing that we were trying a Moccamaster, singing the brand's gestures of recognition, and one proclaimed it standout by means of Instagram DM: "Moccamaster? Test over!" And the Moccamaster shows up with its own best PR as well. Its client manualapplauds purchasers: "Congrats on your acquisition of the World's Finest Coffee Brewer!" (If you're spending more than $300 on an espresso creator, maybe the energy feels approving.)

When we got the contraption set up — which sets aside a little concentration and effort, to be completely forthright — it truly paid off, with potentially the most scrumptious, hot, new mug of espresso we have ever tasted from a home-fermented machine. Furthermore, you scarcely have the opportunity to examine the morning news features before the procedure is finished. The Moccamaster prepared 10 cups in under six minutes, and, on a subsequent preliminary, six cups in less than four minutes. The mix work is jarringly quick: Once you turn on the machine, the preparing begins right away. At that point, seeing the water heat in the tank and air pocket up through the water move tube into the brewer was a return to center school science tests in the most satisfying manner, as if an astro light delivered new hot espresso after a couple of entrancing undulations.

We found a lot to adore about the Moccamaster, yet there additionally we

[groovyzombiellama]

Baby Sister

Title: Baby Sister Requested? Yes. Plot: Being Theo’s younger sister and dating Liam, and when the Ghost Riders take you and you almost die, the pack is angry at you for risking your life and your brother stands up to Scott trying to keep the Alpha thing going, and Liam tells off Malia and Stiles for saying some hurtful things to you. Word count: 1233 

---***--- It was both scary and exciting being a chimera, alongside your brother, Theo. I mean, haven’t we all had a dream at least once that we were something supernatural. But it also meant that you were a bigger target for other supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills. Current danger, Ghost Riders. You did so much research about them, and they appeared to be a pretty mean bunch. But you were confident in your pack to be able to handle whatever was put in front of you. You knew perfectly well how to defend yourself from danger and you were not about to forget that when it comes to these Riders. You upped your work out, almost double what you normally do, to make sure you were prepared for everything. But you didn’t count on getting in contact with one of the Riders would be so easy. You weren’t even looking for them, but one managed to find you, and the moment you looked up from your phone, as you were texting Liam, your boyfriend, a wide smile curving your lips at the adorable, slightly cheesy lines he was blessing you with, you were met almost face to face with a Rider. A shaky breath escaped your lips as soon as your eyes met their empty black ones, a Hellhound tagging along, growling in your direction.You weren’t afraid, being a chimera and being taught everything you know by your fearless brother, but you had to act quickly and text Liam to tell him the new turn of events, having remembered your research that states that the Ghost Riders take away and erase the people who have seen them.

You knew that Scott has been working on an electric cage that could stop them from moving further with their plans of taking anyone away with them. Your phone started blowing up with messages from the entire pack, Liam probably told all of them all about what happened, but you didn’t really have enough time to go through everything, so you skimmed through all the messages to find the most important parts about what was next that you should do. The Rider was coming closer to you and you realized it was getting into the position to grab you with his rope or whip, so you had to think fast and get as far away from him as possible. You turned into your chimera form, to attempt to fight off his weapons with your tail. And you managed to do so several times, only for that same tale to be grabbed by his Hellhound, allowing him to wrap his rope around you.As much as you faught to get away, there was no chance of you making it, and you had to rely on the messages of the pack coming forward to help you becoming a reality as you were being dragged to that infamous train station that only they can enter. All of a sudden, you start feeling like you will never see any of your friends again, or your brother or boyfriend. This was going to be your end, and you didn’t know if it was your mind doing it or was the toxin from the Rider’s whip. But there was a part of you deep inside trying to rise to the surface and make you reconsider and keep fighting.

The pack came into view when you were at the train station, due to the location you were at being really close to it. You hear your name being yelled and look up to see the frightened faces of Theo and Liam, as their pace got even quicker and they were running towards you at a speed they didn’t even know they had. Theo was in reality the only one to accept your relationship with Liam, maybe because he was the first one you told.They say it isn’t shocking for siblings to develop a strong bond between each other because they are kinda stuck one with the other, but the bond you and Theo have ever since you were little is less like siblings, and more like two halves of the same person. You even had the same dreams at times as if you were twins, but Theo is in fact three years older than you. To a lot of people that might not seem as much, but that didn’t stop Theo from the big brother/baby sister syndrome. It annoyed you that he would treat you like a baby sometimes, but you knew that love and care was behind his actions and strict rules on when you are to come back from a girl’s night and stuff like that. So you felt comfortable with telling him about Liam.As protective as he is, you were insanely grateful that he accepted Liam as your boyfriend and the two of them became a team in a way, your wellbeing becoming their common goal.

So it was no wonder they were the quickest ones to rush to you. The plan they had set up prior was in motion and each member of the pack was in their positions. But the Rider also had some backup, in the form of other Riders and Hellhounds. You were almost pulled into the train station gate, to be lost and erased from existance when you felt someone grab your hands. Your two favorite boys. Well, after Isaac was let go due to a Hellhound jumping him. He managed to hold on to you long enough for them to fight off the Riders blocking their path and get to you. After what seemed like the longest fight ever, you were in the hospital, Melissa tending to several cuts and bruises you had received during the fight. Scott tried to scold you for defying his Alpha orders not to go near the train station alone, resulting in Theo letting go of your hand and standing up from his chair next to your bed, his face inches away from Scott’s, eyes flaming in anger.“If you don’t back down and stop yelling at my sister, it will be the last thing you ever did!“

Theo growled at him, Scott backing away slightly, the look on Theo’s face making him realize he was not joking. And all of a sudden, you were being yelled at again, by Malia and Stiles, who were in turn scolding you for going anywhere alone. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? How could you be so stupid?“ Stiles followed Malia saying that you chose to be an ’brave’ idiot instead of being useful once in your life. It was Liam’s turn to stand up, features mimicking Theo’s when he confronted Scott. “Say another word and Scott won’t be the only one dead today!“ Instant regret washed over their face, as they realized the hurt in your eyes, but Liam shocked them before they could apologise, telling them to get out of his girlfriends hospital room. You finally spoke, telling them you don’t need them to say sorry, that you were perfectly fine with being with your brother and boyfriend, and they can have their ’Alpha’ and ’We know better’ attitudes, but away from you. Theo was holding the door open for Scott, Malia and Stiles to leave, and they did. They will need to work hard to get off your shit list this time.

---***---

@cokecola4211 here’s another request in the books :) <3 I hope you like it <3

[irinapaleolog]

What is Star Wars about, really? It’s a good question, one we’ve pondered for 42 years. Star Wars is so broad, so dense, and at times so frustratingly transparent, that you can graft just about any sort of meaning onto it. And yet, its mass appeal is often distilled to one word: Star Wars is about hope. But what does it mean to have hope?

Everyone will offer a different answer. Hope can mean defiance in the face of adversity. It can mean happily ever afters. It can mean togetherness, family, friendship–those little things worth fighting for, even knowing they’re temporary. At its best, Star Wars captures that, freezing tiny moments of hope in amber. Luke, Leia, and Han hugging after the destruction of the Death Star. Anakin Skywalker clutching the face of his pregnant wife, Padmé. Finn and Poe escaping the tyrannical First Order.

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, the final film in this epic saga, is meant to tie a bow on the franchise, which began with A New Hope. Reasonably, one would expect those messages to come through more elegantly and emotionally than ever before. But the result is instead a sad case of confused identity. It’s a film that thinks it’s doing what it needs to, while ultimately delivering a series of rushed, soulless, and ill-defined points of logic. It’s “hopeful” if your idea of hope is tragic and cyclical to the point of feeling regurgitated. There are moments of optimism immediately staked through in heart in favor of “the next big set piece.” It’s a cruel and unsatisfying ending to a forty-year legacy, and one that feels openly critical of itself and everything it stands for, but shrugs its way to the finish line instead.

The Disney era of Lucasfilm was fit more for profit than integrity from the get-go, and the need to rush out a new episodic film loaded with the original’s stars felt as bankable as it was inevitable. Suffice it to say, the Star Wars sequel trilogy attracted critics, but the first two films shuffled through a variety of production woes to successful, appealing conclusions. J.J. Abrams’ The Force Awakens paired a new cast of characters with our legacy trio–Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill), Han Solo (Harrison Ford), and Leia Organa (Carrie Fisher)–creating a spark of whimsical magic that overshadowed its derivative setbacks. Rian Johnson delivered a wild animal of a sequel with The Last Jedi , a surprising and frankly revolutionary studio blockbuster that turned the series’ larger story on its head. It was as divisive as it was fertile with big, new, promising ideas. The film ended with the Force decentralized from a few exclusive bloodlines and democratized, reigniting hope in the galaxy.

Unfortunately, The Rise of Skywalker picks up on none of those loose threads. The film begins with a flippant dismissal of many if not all of The Last Jedi‘s themes. The opening crawl explains that Emperor Palpatine has inexplicably returned (and I do mean inexplicably–we never learn how), and has been orchestrating the First Order experiment from the beginning. Somehow, he groomed Ben Solo into Kylo Ren from afar, and now locks his sights on Rey from Jakku, our unruly, orphaned Force user and Kylo’s counterpart. From the outset, Abrams shrinks the Star Wars universe back down to a more immediately interconnected, even insular size. Palpatine is back because, uh, sure, why not?

The story plays out as antagonistically as that. Abrams, returning as co-writer/director to replace Colin Trevorrow, demonstrates a bewildering sense of his audience’s wants and needs. Does he think we don’t care about the mysterious resurrection of the saga’s most selfish and mystifying villain? Is he purposely leaving gaps in the story for canon material to fill in? Did he think a single thing out beyond “looks cool, feels OK, boom, bang?” Who knows. But the movie opens with the reintroduction of Palpatine, them immediately launches us into the Millennium Falcon, where Finn (John Boyega) and Poe (Oscar Isaac) quickly discover that there’s a mole in the First Order. We’re then teleported to a new Resistance base where Leia trains Rey (Daisy Ridley) in the ways of the Force. Before we’re oriented in this location, we’re shuffled into another adventure jam-packed with MacGuffins, whirlygigs, and ultimately dead ends.

The adventure is poorly defined and confusing, but Abrams doesn’t expect us to be smart. He’s content to race through every would-be meaningful moment at the quickest possible pace, exploiting that whiplash effect to distract us from the story’s garbled plotting. We know that our heroes are on a race to find Palpatine, and are looking for something called a “wayfinder” that will lead them to his location. There are only two wayfinders, and Kylo Ren finds the other one in an opening scene. Abrams creates a sense of urgency, but we don’t really know why, and no one seems convincingly terrified that the universe is on the brink of absolute annihilation. At least the original trilogy only featured one Death Star at a time, and developed centralized locations that defined personal stakes and brewed emotion. This film has a whole army of planet-destroying ships, locations with no names or personalities, and characters previously emphasized who are here utterly left to the wind.

And that’s the real failure of The Rise of Skywalker. It mishandles literally every character, except, arguably, C-3PO. Rey gets tacked onto a legacy story that erodes the entire thematic heart of not just The Last Jedi, but even Abrams’ own The Force Awakens. By some disgusting leap of imagination, she’s Palpatine’s granddaughter. Rey’s parents weren’t actually alcoholics who sold her for drinking money (a bit never reconciled), but good people who loved her enough to protect her from Gramps, and apparently, themselves. Finn (John Boyega) is suddenly and inexplicably Force sensitive, which is a nice little treat and possible nod to the end of The Last Jedi, but is only really employed to detect when Rey’s in peril. Outside of one nice moment with Jannah (Naomi Ackie), a fellow defected stormtrooper he meets on the road, his arc from indentured villain to Rebel hero goes largely unaddressed. Worse, even his relationship with Poe feels weirdly underdeveloped.

Poe (Oscar Isaac), meanwhile, is very much “present,” but that’s really all he is. He became something of a de facto leader at the end of The Last Jedi, but Abrams fails to hint at any sense of real authority or growth here. He bickers with Rey and continues to act like a self-important flyboy, echoing a roguish Han Solo-esque fearlessness, but where his presence is maximized, his importance really isn’t. His story and Leia’s should be more interconnected after she taught him a valuable lesson last time around, but the loss of Carrie Fisher unfortunately obstructs his development as a character. Using a mishmash of unused footage from The Force Awakens, they try to conjure her spirit elsewhere, but it doesn’t totally work. That said, the movie at least attempts to do right by her legacy.

Further, Leia’s death in the film helps create two of its best moments. She uses a last ounce of strength to send Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) a memory of his father, Han, who reappears with some paternal advice. It should be a silly moment, but tonally it absolutely works, sold completely by the fine work of Ford and Driver. As father and son reconnect, Kylo Ren finally transforms back into Ben Solo–he tosses his jagged lightsaber into the abyss and goes off to save Rey, who he loves. This whole sequence is preceded by a lightsaber duel where Kylo is left mortally wounded; Rey heals him, and confesses her feelings for the man he could be. Love–and hope–seem temporarily destined to win.

And they do… sort of? The third act is where The Rise of Skywalker totally loses sight of everything it’s trying to be. Rey is drawn into Palpatine’s lair, and there’s a lot of business about Sith and Jedi that doesn’t really make sense. Above them, the war between the “Final Order” (Palpatine’s new name for the galactic baddies) and the Resistance rages, a total lazy mirror to the end of Return of the Jedi. Palpatine wants to funnel his strength into Rey via some ancient ritual, but Ben shows up. Ben and Rey fight together against Palpatine, Rey summons the spirit of all of the Jedi who ever lived, and she beats her grandpa with his own superpower (in a very Harry Potter-esque showdown) before dying. Ben uses the last of his life power to resurrect her–a nice mirror of their Death Star scene earlier in the film–and they kiss. But he then dies, leaving Rey once again as the galaxy’s only real Force of hope. She temporarily reunites with the Resistance–who defeated the Final Order with the help of Lando Calrissian (Billy Dee Williams), appearing in the movie just long enough to serve as a deus ex machina–before jetting off to Tatooine. And finally, Rey takes on the last name Skywalker and sees Luke and Leia’s Force ghosts. The end.

Unbelievably, a lot more happens than that. Abrams introduces Zorii Bliss (Keri Russell), a fun, masked ex-fling of Poe’s who’s super cool but completely inconsequential to the plot. Kelly Marie Tran’s Rose Tico effectively takes a Resistance desk job, which feels particularly insulting after everything she accomplished in The Last Jedi. There are more “Force Skype” scenes between Rey and Kylo, and Rey confronts her own inner darkness, manifested in “Dark Rey,” while Abrams introduces a cute new droid named D-O, and throws a lot of other random things at the wall that never stick (like a visit with the ghost of Luke Skywalker during a temporary detour to Ahch-To). It’s as messy as it is ambitious, and Abrams and co-writer Chris Terrio’s deserve some credit for spinning such a clotted web that you’re frequently distracted from all of the holes in it.

But then there’s the whole hope thing. And there’s really no cohesive sense of it here. As a series-ender, this story should resonate more than it does. The Last Jedi contends with the past more, and better, than Skywalker does; it wrestled with the sins of the Jedi and Sith, and kicked open a bigger door for generations to come. Skywalker says nothing about where they, or we, go from here. It ends with Rey abandoned and alone, except for her Force ghost friends, on another desert planet. The one person in the galaxy who ever understood her dies. And he evidently doesn’t redeem himself successfully enough to become a Force ghost. Is death really the only avenue to peace and purpose? Effectively, Han Solo, Luke Skywalker, and Leia Organa all died to save Ben, who then died to save Rey. What is her next step? The movie doesn’t say, or seem to know. It’s a domino effect, with nothing but tragedy at the end of every spill.

That idea could work if the moments in between felt rewarding, or the losses served larger narrative or thematic ideas. But in this story, meant to be a conclusion to a single film, a trilogy and a nine-film saga, they don’t. Rey, Finn, and Poe share only a superficial sense of camaraderie. Their future adventures will lead to moments of happiness and enlightenment along the way. But why does Abrams ignore or de-emphasize those feelings? In The Rise of Skywalker, hope is little more than a ghost. And after more than 40 years, it’s one that Star Wars is still chasing, with no real end in sight.