#clearing beds is absolutely top priority in those circumstances

[words-writ-in-starlight]

And ALSO talk to me about Roy and Riza in the aftermath and a pair of hospital beds close enough together to hold hands

The adrenaline crash started to hit Riza while Roy was commandeering the army.  With General Armstrong currently missing and, on last report, injured--and widely suspected to have a hand in the coup, as far as the public was concerned--Roy held the dubious honor of highest rank left alive and unarrested.  And he’d always had that talent for gathering up the pieces of a chaotic mess and putting them back together in accordance with his goals.

He was issuing orders to the remainder of Briggs and Central to bring forward their wounded so that ambulances could get the worst to Central General when Riza wavered.

She didn’t feel it coming, the end of her strength.  It washed over her all at once like ice water--her vision greyed, her breathing hitched, and her heart hammered in her ears, so strong it made her head ache.  Closing her hand sharply on Roy’s arm, where she had been holding on to guide him, took more effort than moving a mountain.

“Lieutenant?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I think I’m about to fall over,” Riza said politely as she swayed in place.

“What--damn,” and then there was an arm around her ribs, her arm draped hastily over the shoulders of a military uniform, and the Colonel was taking her weight, half-holding her on her feet.  “You should have said something.”

“I did say something, sir.”

“Said something earlier, then.  Can we walk to the ambulances?”

Riza took a moment to assess, blinking away the sparkling grey and black haze in her vision until she could see a tunnel of clarity directly ahead of her.  Can we walk meant can you see, right now, and they both knew it.  

"Yes, sir,” she said once she was reasonably sure of herself.  Talking was so much work.  “But I’m not going to the ambulances.  Take me to the medical tents.”  The medical tents were barely more than a staging area with a tarp tacked up on poles to offer some shade.  It was the first thing thrown together when the nurses and doctors and paramedics showed up from anywhere and everywhere, and anyone whose injuries were not immediately life threatening was getting stopgap care in its shade.

It was also right in the center of the ruin that had been Central Command, a perfect place for Roy to hold court while Riza drank some juice or whatever they had in store for her.  The idea of leaving, of leaving Roy here alone without her, was horrifyingly wrong to some intrinsic part of her blurred mind.  She would stay, here, with him, where she could protect him, as shoddy a job as she’d done of that over the last day or so.

“Lieutenant, you’re going to the hospital.”

“I most certainly am not,” she said stubbornly.  Her vision was beginning to go again, and she took a deep breath as she tried to force it to clear.  One of Roy’s hands flashed in front of her as he made an angry gesture with his free hand, the glove still marred with blood and split open from Bradley’s sword.  She should make him go to the hospital.

“You had your throat slit barely an hour ago, Hawkeye, I’m not kidding around--”

“I’m not bleeding--”

“Riza.”

Her name stopped her cold.  It was ragged, as if it had been torn out of his throat, and his arm closed so tightly around her ribs that they creaked, and his blind eyes turned to her wide and not a little desperate.  She could hear the strain of having been in control of himself for all these hours beginning to show.

“Please,” Roy said quietly.  “Please go to the hospital.”

“You should too,” she said.  “Your hands--”

“I will.  I will, as soon as I’m sure things are secure here.  I’ll make sure the medical tents have a look at me, and we have people to fall back on.  But you’re going to collapse before then.”  His voice faded even farther, until it was as fragile as it had been underground, when he had been trying to hold her life inside her throat.  “You lost so much blood--”

Riza took a deep breath and then another, trying to slow her stumbling heartbeat and soothe her spinning head.  “All right,” she finally agreed.  “Eighty yards to two o’clock, then, sir.  And watch your step for the rubble.”

Roy tried to grin at her through the layer of dust and soot and occasional smudged blood.  The smile fell short of success, and his voice was still thinner than usual when he said, “That’s your job, Lieutenant.”

The two of them made slow but respectably steady progress across the ruined foundations, Riza aware that she was mostly upright by virtue of Roy’s iron grip on her, murmuring warnings to step around or over broken stone or cracked pavement.  Roy continued giving orders as they went, whenever Riza greeted someone approaching them, and she focused on her breathing, keeping it deep and steady, to get and keep as much oxygen in her system as possible.  Her fingers were so cold they were starting to go numb.

She felt like she should be applauded, for managing to stave off unconsciousness until they were nearly at the feet of a paramedic.  Roy caught her on the way down, and she felt his hand close around her arm as she was bundled onto a stretcher.

“You’re still under orders, Lieutenant,” he said sharply--so dramatic all the time, her Colonel--and then the world faded away.

Riza woke several times, half-surfacing to consciousness in a hospital room that seemed, according to her experience, understaffed.  She was fairly sure, by the second time, that she was being given a sedative, based on how quickly the darkness surged up to take her again, but by the time she caught a nurse’s sleeve, she was already sinking again.

She woke for the fourth and final time with a sudden rush of--not panic, exactly, but the abrupt and acute knowledge that she had failed to do something important.  Sitting up made her head spin and ache, and she dragged in a few breaths through her gritted teeth as her chest ached and her stomach rebelled.

“Oh, Lieutenant Hawkeye,” a nurse said, smiling.  “You’re--”

“Where’s the Colonel?” Riza interrupted, one hand clenched around the rail of the bed to keep her up, and the nurse’s smile turned resigned.

“He’s fine, Lieutenant--”

“Where is Colonel Mustang?”

“He’s in the long-term care ward, being a pain in another nurse’s ass, I’m sure,” the nurse said dryly.  “And if you try to get up,” she went on as Riza started to scuffle her way out from under the sheet, “I’ll sedate you again.  You’re staying in urgent care for a while longer, Lieutenant, whether you like it or not.  You were in rough shape when we got you.”

“I feel fine,” Riza lied.

“I very much doubt that.  As you can imagine,” the nurse said as she paced over to inspect the IV shunt in Riza’s forearm, “we’re under a lot of strain for resources right now, especially blood, so you haven’t had as many units as you should.  You lost what we’ve estimated to be about thirty percent of your blood volume, Lieutenant, maybe a little more.”  She gave the IV bag, full of clear fluid, a quick tap and turned back to Riza.  “You’re extremely lucky to be alive.”

Thirty percent.  It had been a long time since Riza needed to know medical statistics, but that one every soldier knew by heart--if a comrade lost forty percent of their blood volume and there wasn’t a doctor already there, the best you could do was bring home their dog tags.

“Noted,” Riza said, subdued.

“Ideally, we should have given you four units of blood as soon as you came in,” the nurse went on, a little more gently now that her patient wasn’t actively trying to escape.  “But we’re dealing with a lot of casualties, so we’ve been trying to ration our blood supply and you only got about half that.  We’ve put out a general call for donors, anyone who can pretty much has, but we’re going to be short for quite some time.  We’re keeping your blood volume up with saline until we can get you at least one more unit to bring your hemoglobin levels to a more stable level.  That’s why you’re dizzy, by the way.  And then,” she added to cut Riza off before she could speak, “you will be moved to the long-term care ward, yes.  We wouldn’t normally, but we just don’t have the luxury of keeping people here for observation when we need the beds so badly.”

“Thank you,” Riza said, and sighed, settling back against her pillows.  “How long has it been since the battle?”

“About nine hours.  We kept you sedated for most of it, trying to keep your system as calm as possible while we gave you transfusions.  Also because you tried to leave the first time you woke up, which I assume you don’t remember.”

“No.”

“Massive hemorrhage can do that.  Now,” the nurse said, arms crossed.  “Are you going to go back to sleep or do I have to drug you again?  Short of a few more units of blood, sleep’s going to be better for you than anything else.”

Riza smiled faintly and closed her eyes.  Maybe it wasn’t just the sedatives dragging her down, then--she remembered dozing for hours upon hours every day while her back was healing.  Then, she had been in her apartment, getting checked on twice weekly by a doctor who had been sworn to eighteen different kinds of secrecy by Madame Christmas, and being fretted over by Roy whenever she was awake.  He worried himself sick at every turn of the healing process, no matter how many times she swore that yes, she really was getting better, no, he really hadn’t done permanent damage, yes, she still had full range of motion, and on and on.  She hadn’t held his anxiety against him then, but she wouldn’t much want to be the nurse keeping him in the long-term care ward now.

Someone in the distance coded, and Riza tried to stir herself to see what was going on, but the darkness was dragging her down again.

She woke again to morning light and someone switching out her IV, and Riza was startled to see that it was blood, this time.

“I thought you were out,” she said, blinking, and her nurse gave her a look.

“This,” the nurse said, “is specifically marked for your use by the donor.  As long as I’m on the subject, you soldiers and your dog tags--so helpful.  We normally run out of O-neg in the first hour of a crisis but almost everyone came in helpfully labeled, this time.  This is O-pos, by the way.”  Not the same type as Riza, but a donor match.  Blood types and the various ways that donations did and did not cross was something else every soldier in combat knew--in a pinch, Riza could probably have figured out an emergency donation, and knew that Roy had done it at least once.  

Riza wasn’t a convenient donor type, A-positive.  But Roy--Roy could donate to eighty percent of the population, give or take.  

Riza looked at the tube running down to her arm, red and glossy in the light, and said, “Thank you.”

“Once we’re sure this transfusion goes well, we’re going to move you, which I’m sure you’re thrilled about,” her nurse went on, picking up Riza’s chart.  “But that’ll be a few more hours.  So sit tight.  Have another nap, maybe.”

Riza didn’t go back to sleep.  She held polite conversation with the nurses and doctors who popped in and out, and wished, idly, that she could have visitors.  It was as hectic in the urgent care ward as her nurse had claimed, though, every bed filled and patients being turned out as soon as they were stable enough to be passed onto some other ward.  It made her eye the IV bag with a fresh level of appreciation for her condition, to know that they had kept her there anyway.

It was possible, of course, that they had kept her in urgent care because they’d been reluctant to let someone directly involved with saving the country get lost in the shuffle.

“How do you feel?” her nurse asked as she unhooked the IV bag and replaced it with something that she’d casually identified as a banana bag, which was a bridge too far for Riza’s limited medical vocabulary.

“I feel fine,” Riza said.  She was still a bit dazed and light-headed, but her heartbeat didn’t hurt in the thin skin of her temples and throat anymore, so.  “Much better.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“No,” Riza said with a bit of a grin.  “I’m stubborn, not stupid.”

“Good answer.  I’ve been given orders to take you to long-term care, where they’ve apparently managed to clear a bed for you.  Shared room, but everywhere except urgent care is sharing right now.  You’re right down the hall from those two boys, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear it."

"The Elric brothers?  How are they?”

“Well, one of them’s had about a dozen bits of metal pulled out of his shoulder and the other one can’t stand up without falling down in a heap, from what I hear, but you’d think they’d both won the lottery from the way everyone who talks to them comes away grinning like an idiot.  Oh, no ma’am you are getting in this wheelchair,” her nurse added sharply when Riza started to stand.  “I’ve been on shift for twenty-three hours, you don’t want to fight me on this one.”

Riza considered the look on her nurse’s face for a moment, and nodded.  “Fair enough.”  Once she had been bundled unceremoniously into the chair, she asked, “Has everyone here been working since the battle?”

“Yes,” the nurse said without hesitation.  “Some of us have been here almost thirty-six hours, if they were working before it started.  We’ll start sending them home at the forty-hour mark, probably, assuming nothing else goes wrong before then.”

Shaking her head, Riza said, “We always have the easy part, don’t we.  Soldiers, I mean.  We just break things and wait for you to put them back together.”

“Sometimes,” her nurse said, quiet and considering.  “But from what I’ve seen outside, no one had the easy part today.  Come on.”

They made their way through the hospital in silence.

“All right,” her nurse said brightly as they stopped at a door.  “Here we go, Major.”

“I’m a lieutenant,” Riza was saying as her nurse opened the door.

“Actually, you’ve been promoted,” Roy said from his bed, turning blindly toward the door and smiling.  His hands were bandaged, although not heavily, and there was an inexplicable stack of books already taking up residence on the table at his elbow.  He looked, not to put too fine a point on it, absolutely terrible.  “I said they couldn’t take my assistant away when they made me Brigadier General.”

“Sir,” Riza said, a rush of relief making the word raw.  Roy’s smile softened a little at her tone.

“How are you feeling, Major?” he asked.  He blinked quickly a few times, as if to clear his vision, and Riza felt something in her chest wrench--she’d gotten so used to the regard of those dark, cunning eyes, for most of her life between his time as her father’s student and Ishval and her time as his second.  Now his eyes were clouded to grey, and his unfocused gaze was pointed just over her shoulder, not quite pinpointing her face at the distance.

“Better, sir,” she said, her voice steady.  Her nurse wheeled her over to the bed and helped her up, and offered her a smile and a wink before departing with the chair.  Riza waited for the door to close before she untangled herself from the bed and wheeled her IV stand along with her to Roy’s bed.  “What about you?”

“Sit down, before you fall down,” Roy said sharply, and Riza made a dismissive noise, but she did as she was told and settled carefully on the edge of his bed.  “How’s your throat?”

“Much better,” she said.  “Ms. Chang didn’t quite get all of the damage, but it probably won’t even scar.”  

Roy reached out carefully and bumped into her shoulder, then tracked his fingers up until he encountered the square of gauze taped over the last of what had once been a mortal wound.  “Good,” he said.  Riza held very still, feeling his fingers tremble against the bandage and the thin skin of her throat.  “I--good.”

“You did the right thing, sir,” Riza said firmly.  “No matter what might have happened, you did the right thing.”

He made a sound that could have been a laugh, or at least an attempt at one, and his hand dropped from her throat to rest on the bed near her knee.  “I thought I’d finally gotten you killed."

“Well, sir, with all due respect, I’m perfectly capable of getting my own self killed,” Riza said, a touch of humor in her tone.  Roy tried to smile at her.  “Really, sir, how are you feeling?  You look exhausted.”  She reached up thoughtlessly and stopped herself just short of touching his cheek, pale and drawn with sleepless circles under his eyes.  Letting her hand drop, she asked,  “Have you slept at all?”

He pressed his lips together, but there was only a moment’s pause before he admitted, “No.  I’ve been--worrying.”

“About?”

“What isn’t there to worry about,” he said frankly.  “The country’s a wreck.  Your grandfather is taking the throne, obviously, and he seems to have it pretty well in hand, but I’m sure we’re going to be rooting out corruption for the next ten years.  And everyone’s having to face the reality of Ishval--I’ve been reading up, or rather making the others read me up, so I think we can be useful there.  And,” he said reluctantly, “I’ve been worrying about you.  No visitors in urgent care until things are under control there.”

“I did notice that there was suddenly another unit of blood from a mysterious O-positive donor,” Riza said calmly.  “Marked for my particular use.  Aren’t you O-positive, General?”

She watched calmly as Roy’s exhaustion-grey cheeks slowly colored, until he was blushing as red as he ever had as a schoolboy.

That night, once the nurse--almost deliriously happy to have Roy rendered mostly compliant--had turned off the light, Riza dozed lightly and listened to Roy’s breathing to her right, deep and steady, calming.

When he startled awake with a cry strangled on his lips, she blinked open her eyes and murmured, “It’s okay.  It’s all over.  We’re okay.”

“Riza,” he said, and she didn’t need to ask what he had seen.

“I’m fine, Roy,” she said, shifting onto her back.  She could see the shadow of his hand in the dark, reaching through the barred support of the bed toward her, like they had from time to time in Ishval.

Their beds were just close enough that she could lace her fingers through his and squeeze.

“It’s all over,” she repeated, holding onto his hand.  

“I know,” he said quietly, and squeezed back.

#fma #fullmetal alchemist #royai #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #otp: you're useless in the rain #starlight writes stuff #uh...3k later..... #i did finally get to the actual hospital bed thing but i just #talked about a bunch of other stuff first #i've written so much warm and fluffy shit for this series i'll probably go into anaphylaxis any minute now #because this is VERY warm and fluffy #also featuring: medical history inaccuracies made with full cognizance of their inaccuracy #this is TOO ADVANCED medically for--what--1918-ish setting? #but not like IRRATIONALLY so i just bumped them like a decade forward in terms of blood transfusions #also hawkeye would NOT have been bumped from icu that fast but i'm taking some liberties based on the massive number of casualties #clearing beds is absolutely top priority in those circumstances #also featuring the WORST thing about medical people writing fic: 'romantic symbolism about blood types exists right?????' #in which hawkeye can't donate blood to mustang but he can donate to her #well i'm done here i guess #also i stated in another thing that hawkeye was promoted to captain to serve as brig-general mustang's aide #have since found out she would be a major #sorry about that #fixed it here #probably won't fix it there because i don't care that much #i should probably put this on ao3 #idiot teenagers with a queue #sroloc elbisivni #asked and answered

[robinrunsfiction]

Ivy - Chapter 1

Story Main Page

"Good morning, Your Highness," a pleasant voice roused (YN) from her sleep. "Big day today!"

(YN) groaned, nerves setting in the moment her eyes opened. "The day that's been a lifetime in the making."

"Are you excited, Your Highness?" Her maid Christine asked as she laid out the Princess’ gown across the bed. 

"What choice do I have?" (YN) sighed. "All I've been hearing for years is it’s my duty to marry Prince Dallon. At least now I will finally meet who I'm fated to."

"Well you need to get ready, they will be arriving at any time.”

A few hours later, (YN) stood anxiously between her father and mother as the royal carriage pulled up.

“Presenting King George and Prince Dallon of Arboria,” the footman bellowed as they stepped out of the carriage and each bowed before their hosts.

(YN)’s eyebrows went up in surprise. No one had told her much about her future husband, so she was surprised to see he was tall, very tall, and quite handsome. She had been worried she’d never grow to love her husband, but at least he was good looking.

“Welcome!” (YN)’s father greeted them as they approached. “I am proud to introduce my daughter, Princess (YN).”

“Your Majesty,” she said as she curtseyed. “Your Highness.” 

Dallon stepped forward and took her hand, placing a kiss on the back of it. “I am so happy to finally meet you.”

(YN) felt herself blushing. “And I you.”

“George, we have much to discuss. Let’s let these two get acquainted while we discuss terms,” (YN)’s father announced. As the elder royals proceeded into the castle, Dallon offered (YN) his arm, which she took and they headed inside as well.

“Would you like to see the gardens?” (YN) offered.

“Lead the way,” he smiled. (YN) couldn’t believe how lovely his smile was as well.

“So,” (YN) laughed nervously as they walked through the rows of flowers in the sunny courtyard. “I’ve never been to Arboria, what is it like there?”

Dallon smiled as he began to talk fondly of his homeland. He described the valley bordered by a towering mountain range, and a great sea where they boasted a large fishing industry. He talked of the people and their lives there, his friends, and other nobles. “I do believe you’ll come to love the land as your own.”

(YN) nodded. “Oh of course,” she agreed politely.

“Ravenwood is certainly beautiful though,” Dallon offered as they sat down on a bench between rose bushes.

“It is, but sadly I cannot speak about the land as well as you can of yours. My older brother is next in line to the throne, so educating me in the ways of our kingdom was never a priority sadly,” she said awkwardly, looking at her hands in her lap and a silence hung between them.

“It’s a strange situation we’re in, isn’t it?” Dallon asked, finally breaking the tension.

“I’m glad you feel the same way,” (YN) laughed in relief. This simple comment made it feel like she no longer needed to act so formally with him.

“But I suppose it’s the way things are done. Our duty and responsibility for being born into a life of privilege. I hope you aren’t disappointed with me,” he said somberly.

“Oh no! I was only surprised in the best way when I first saw you. You seem to be absolutely lovely,” she said reaching out and placing her hand on his.

He looked down at her hand and took it in his large warm one. (YN) looked up at him and his clear blue eyes and she felt a smile tug at her lips as they both leaned in, until their lips met softly. From everything (YN) had ever heard about love before, she knew that there was supposed to be a spark, that she should feel something, but she felt nothing.

‘I'm sure one day I will love him,’ she thought as they pulled back and he smiled at her sweetly.

~

A few days after Dallon and his father had departed, (YN) was pacing around her room when there was a knock on her door.

“Christine, I’ve been thinking,” she started as soon as the maid walked in.

“About what Your Highness?” Christine asked politely.

“I’m being married off on behalf of Ravenwood and I know nothing about it. Doesn’t that seem strange?”

"I suppose it does," Christine replied cautiously.

"So I'll be going into town," (YN) nodded resolutely. 

"Oh! Are you certain? Would you like me to fetch Frank to prepare a carriage?"

"Yes I am certain, but no, I don’t want too much undue attention. And this should go without saying though, please do not breathe a word of this to anyone."

"Of course Your Highness," she nodded.

"Can you please help me leave through the side entrance, so as to avoid any unnecessary questioning from my mother or father, lest I run into them?"

"Yes, of course. How soon would you like to leave?"

"As soon as I can.”

Not much later (YN) was sneaking out of the castle and making her way up the road to the town. She'd ridden in the carriage through the town many times, but her parents never stopped to talk to, or buy directly from, the people of the town and it always made her a little sad. Now was her chance to experience the town without drawing any attention to herself with royal pomp and circumstance.

However as (YN) made her way through the market, she quickly realized that her plan to remain anonymous was futile. She didn't mind being surrounded by the townsfolk, but she had hoped to be able to observe, not be observed. She was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by the attention when she spotted the sign for the town bookstore and ducked inside.

(YN) marveled at all the gorgeous books lining the shelves and table tops. The smell of paper, ink, and leather felt familiar and welcoming. As she ran her fingers over the leatherwork on the bindings, she marveled at the level of attention and detail that went into the craft.

“Can I help yo- oh, Your Highness,” the shopkeeper bowed.

“Please do not stand on ceremony on my behalf,” she laughed lightly. When he righted himself, it was as if her heart stopped for a moment, her breath catching in her chest. He was incredibly handsome; his eyes attentive, his jawline looked like it could cut glass, and his lips, just thinking of those made it take a moment for her to come to her senses. “Umm, this is a lovely store you have. You’re a very skilled bookbinder.”

“Thank you, but I cannot take credit. My father is the master bookbinder, and my older brother, Gerard is his apprentice. I just sell the books.”

(YN) nodded, appreciating that he did not take credit for work that was not his, when he so easily could have, she never would have known the difference. “What is your name?”

“Michael, Your Highness. Can I help you find something?” He asked, coming around the counter.

“Do you have any books about love?” She asked.

He seemed surprised for a moment. “Of course Your Highness, right here,” he led the way to the shelf.

"Ah, so the book of love is fiction," she said dryly looking at the selection.

"I'm sorry?"

(YN) shook her head. "Is there one that you recommend?"

"I enjoyed this one," he said, taking down one of the books. "It's about finding true love."

(YN) hummed and a smile tugged at her lips. "Alright, I will take it."

Michael nodded and made his way back to the counter. Before he could even tell her the price, (YN) had taken out a gold coin and placed it in his hand. "Your Highness, this is too much-" he started.

"Keep it as a thank you for your exceptional service today," she smiled.

A stunned smile spread across his face. "Thank you, Your Highness!"

"Please, call me (YN)," she smiled before making her way out of the store.

After a day purchasing trinkets, flowers, and fresh pastries, (YN) finally made her way back to the castle, quickly stealing away to her room. She had a vase brought up for the flowers, spread her new treasures out on her bed so she could admire them before diving into her new book.

“Your Highness, are you well?” (YN) heard Christine ask, pulling her out of the fictional world she’d tumbled into.

“Oh yes, I’m just engrossed in this book I bought today,” she said holding it up. “Wait, when did it get so late?” She asked, looking out the window. It had grown so dark she realized she was having trouble seeing the words on the page.

Christine just laughed lightly while lighting the lamps in the room. “What is the book about?”

“Romance! And love, and oh it’s so lovely!” (YN) swooned, flopping back against her pillows.

“Does it remind you of Prince Dallon?” Christine asked mischievously.

(YN) sighed, sitting up. “That’s why I bought the book. I was hoping it would shed light on what love feels like, but all it’s done is make me certain that I do not love Dallon.”

“It was only one meeting, maybe it will take time to grow.”

“Maybe,” she replied. "Oh, I got you this!"

Christine smiled as she took the small music box in her hands. "It's lovely, Your Highness! You didn't need to get me anything."

"I just want you to know how much I appreciate you. If it wasn't for your help, I never would have made it into town today."

"I'm always here to help you," she smiled before leaving the room.

(YN) picked up her book again, but as she gazed at the cover, she couldn't help but wonder what the bookstore keeper was doing that evening. ‘Probably going home to a lovely wife, he certainly knows something about romance based on this recommendation,’ she thought before returning to where she’d left off in the book.

Chapter 2

#mikey way x reader #mikey way fan fic #mikey way fan fiction #mikey way imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fan fiction #dallon weekes fan fic #dallon weekes fan fiction #dallon weekes imagine #idkhow fan fic #idkhow fan fiction

[theawkwardterrier]

Fake It, Make It

A tropey Steggy Secret Santa gift for the excellent @sagesiren​/@theeleganteuropeanwoman! Wishing you as good an end to 2020 as you can get, and an amazing 2021!!  ✨✨✨

Summary: When Steve tells his mother that he is now dating a woman named Peggy Carter, his mother immediately wants to meet her. Which Steve would, of course, be perfectly happy to arrange, except that he is not in fact dating Peggy Carter (as much as he might want to be).

Read on AO3

Steve’s mother has been a nurse for thirty-three years. She’s familiar with the medical system and its limitations, and she’s a straight shooter even when it comes to her own mortality.

So when her doctor sends her for more tests after her annual physical, she mentions it to Steve during their weekly phone call.

“Dr. Nakhwa is worried,” she admits. “It’s bloodwork and scans now, but it might become something very quickly.”

“What can I do?” Steve asks, immediate and stricken. He had been trying to work on dinner as they talked, and his pot of water roils and hisses without answer.

“I’ll let you know if there’s anything,” she assures him practically, then sighs, quick and heartfelt and without drama. “But if it is something, I’ll just be so sorry for all the things in your life I’ll miss out on. Your first gallery show—”

“Ma,” Steve protests. No one knows his art better than she does - she signed him up for all the free afterschool art classes and every summer camp they could afford, and there are still paintings of his stored in her apartment a decade after he moved out - but he got his practicality from her, started training in carpentry on the recommendation of George Barnes back when he was a teenager and knew that there wouldn’t be money for college. He’s been able to do more custom woodworking lately and word has been getting around about his skill, but he’s accepted that he won’t be making his living off of the fine arts.

Undeterred, his mother says, “Oh, hush, even hobbyists can have dreams. But if you don’t like that, I’d be happy to see you in a relationship instead. It would ease my heart to know that you’ve found someone who can be beside you.”

And because easing his mother’s heart has always been at the top of his priority list, Steve finds himself blurting, “I’ve actually been dating someone. Now. I’m dating someone now.”

“Oh?” she says keenly. “Well, I hope to meet them someday soon.”

Steve coughs. “I’m sure you will.” He hopes that he’s somehow magically become a better liar in the past thirty seconds than he was for the first thirty years of his life.

Seemingly forgetting her earlier seriousness entirely, his mother adds, “What can you tell me about them? Can I have a name at least?”

“Peggy Carter,” Steve says without pause.

Later, he will ask himself why he didn’t just lie. It’s too soon, I don’t want to jinx anything. We made a bet and I’m not allowed to say her name out loud for a week. She’s a spy and I can only tell you her alias. He will berate himself for not just diving for some sort of distracting conversational offramp: the still-boiling pot, the cat yowling down in the alley, “that’s not important now, what else did your doctor say?” But he will never wonder why this was the name which came out of his mouth. He never has to search for it. She’s always on his mind these days.

“Peggy Carter,” his mother repeats. “Well, I’ll be happy to meet her. I’m off two Saturdays from now, if the two of you would like to drop by for a visit.”

His mother is the only blood family he has, that he’s ever even known. He’ll do anything for her. Even, apparently, say yes to this.

His mother’s follow-up scans come back clear. She tells him that in one breath, and tells him in the next that she’s so looking forward to meeting Peggy this upcoming Saturday.

“I don’t want to put this off until the next time I have a health scare,” she says. “And I could tell she’s important to you just by the way you said her name.”

So in his relief at her news, and to his later horror, instead of saying that he and Peggy have broken up, instead of saying that she has an emergency, instead of saying that she’s gone back to England indefinitely and they’ll just have to do it some other time, he says, “We’re looking forward to it to.”

When Steve confesses his predicament, Bucky laughs so hard that he slips off of his stool at Finnegan’s and almost knocks himself out on the bar.

“Could you at least help while you’re doing that?” Steve asks, torn between impatience and desperation, but his best friend just collapses into laughter again.

His mother already knows most of his friends. He supposes he could hire someone, but that seems like it might be taking it a step too far. And anyway, he’s overwhelmingly thankful that his mother is still healthy; it seems ungrateful, a temptation of fate, to give more weight and trickery to the lie.

Which means that there’s really only one thing left to do.

It doesn’t mean he’s relishing the prospect under the circumstances.

(Though he wouldn’t exactly be opposed to it under others.)

He asks Peggy Carter out for what’s probably the strangest date of her life and certainly the strangest of his on Monday, just as they’re finishing their lunch break. The rest of the crew, coolers over their shoulders, is already heading back over to the job site - Morita knocking his knuckles against that hideous brown hard hat of Dugan’s, Jacques explaining something as Gabe leans in - but Steve always does a quick sweep for trash just to make sure they’ve left the area clear. Peggy is heading in the other direction to track down Phillips. The boss is still legendarily prickly, but he doesn’t trust any architect but her these days.

“Peggy,” Steve forces himself to call before she’s disappeared. He wishes that this were just another one of those times that he had called her back for those innocuous, desperate five extra minutes of chatting. “I need to—Would you—Can I ask you a question? A favor, I guess?”

She tilts her head in invitation and he spills the story as quickly as he can, the rip-off-the-bandaid method.

“—and if you aren’t busy on Saturday, I was wondering if you could come over to say hi to her. It wouldn’t have to be for long, but it would make her really happy and I would—I’d really appreciate it. I can’t tell you how much.”

He stuffs his twisting hands into his pockets as he finishes, and pushes back his shoulders, hoping that he’ll still have a bit of dignity even once she’s rejected him. He doesn’t think she’ll be mean about it - he knows who Peggy is, the type of person to hand back hammers to the apprentices who’ve dropped them with a wordless wink, the type who lets someone else pick the takeout place if they’re having a bad day even when it’s her turn - but still, she’s Peggy Carter, and he’s Steve Rogers, the random guy who she knows from job sites and now the time he’d lied to his mother about dating her and then asked her to help him keep up the ruse.

“That certainly is a predicament,” she says instead of any of the gentle letdowns he was imagining. “But I must ask: why did you pick me?” It’s chilly today but bright, and the noon sun glints off her hair. He catches a smile, there and gone again, at the corners of her mouth.

“I said the first name that came into my head,” he tells her honestly, and then, just as honestly, “And I knew that my mother would like you, if you ever happened to meet each other.”

“Hmm,” says Peggy, smile all the way gone now, as if he’s disappointed her somehow. Her eyes are still soft, though. “Well, I suppose it’s quite lucky I am free on Saturday, then.”

“Lucky,” Steve echoes, and tries to figure out whether it’s true.

“You absolutely will not go out in this weather,” his mother admonishes, her arms set in a way that Steve is extremely familiar with.

“I’m certain that the subway—” Peggy starts.

“Of course the subway will be running,” Sarah says with the confidence of a born New Yorker. “Late and jam-packed, announcing that they’re going express any damn time, and there’s no reason for you to be on it.”

Peggy looks over to Steve as if he might step in, but even as he gives her a wide-eyed, helpless shrug, his mother is already leaving the living room and heading down the hall, calling, “I’ll get fresh sheets for you two, Steve, but please find Peggy something to wear.” (Sarah Rogers is surprisingly strong, but she’s also rail thin and an extremely charitable five foot two, and Peggy is...not. Something Steve has absolutely no complaints about, to be frank.)

They’ve told his mother that they’ve been seeing each other for nearly six months - Steve mostly left that part of the storytelling up to Peggy, who managed to spin something that had enough details to seem plausible but wasn’t so elaborate that Steve had felt bad about misleading his mother with a fairy tale. But even if their relationship was real, there’s no reason to assume that they would have spent the night with each other, that they would be comfortable sharing a bedroom.

“I’ll sleep out here,” Steve says immediately and with vehemence.

Peggy casts her eye over the couch, more of a loveseat really; the living room is too small for much else. “Will you be removing your head or your feet to fit, then?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

Voice low to avoid his mother’s uncanny hearing, he says, “This whole day has already been more than you agreed to. I don’t want to force you into a situation that would make you uncomfortable.”

“I would say the same as it regards you,” she responds. “And if I was uncomfortable with the situation, I believe I would be the first to know. Now, I think I was promised something to sleep in?”

The collection of clothes he keeps at his mother’s is small, but he manages to dig up a large T-shirt and a pair of flannel pants for Peggy and the same for himself. She smiles at him, leaving to change, and he takes the opportunity to do the same before turning to put the sheets his mother had found on the beds, faced head-on with the reminder of the close quarters of his bedroom.

There isn’t much to see: his bed, the tiny closet, a dresser. He used to do his homework at the kitchen table because there wasn’t room for a desk. His bed frame had been a gift representing several birthdays and a Christmas as well, back in elementary school. Every other weekend, he would slide the trundle bed out, gleeful to finally have a chance to have sleepovers with Bucky somewhere other than in sleeping bags on the living room rug. The pull-out had used up all the extra floor space and he’d had to crawl off the end of the bed to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, but when he and Buck were telling each other scary stories quietly enough that his mother wouldn’t hear or reading comics under the covers, taking turns holding the shared flashlight, what had it mattered?

It definitely seems to matter now.

He stares at the two beds, tucked compactly side by side, and realizes that soon he and Peggy are going to be lying in them. Even if he pushes them as far apart as possible, it would be barely two inches before the dresser got in the way. No matter what, their hands could touch across that gap. If she’s a mobile sleeper, they could end up practically curled around one another…

He scrubs a hand vigorously over his face, mussing his hair and probably leaving him red-cheeked, but gathering himself. He makes both beds with care, returning to the linen closet to add top sheets, comforters, and light blankets too; he has no idea how Peggy likes to sleep.

The thought leaves him wide-eyed once again, but it’s too late to force his thoughts elsewhere. Peggy knocks just then, and he tells her to come in, hoping that his voice sounds normal as he does.

“I should have gotten you a toothbrush,” he says immediately upon seeing her, ready to scramble over and take care of it, but she waves a hand.

“Your mother gave me one. She also added my clothing to a basket of laundry she was taking downstairs so I would have ‘something fresh to wear in the morning.’ She wouldn’t hear any protests.”

As if she couldn’t have already figured it out from everything else today, Steve says, “She’s like that.”

“Yes,” Peggy says, thankfully amused. “I assumed.” She turns to the beds and asks, “Now, which would you like?”

Which one he’d like? He can’t think of anything that could matter less. He lists for her the pros and cons of each bed with the care usually reserved for life-changing decisions. She follows along seriously, though he recognizes the touch of humor around her mouth.

Ten minutes later, he is lying on the trundle, and she has her back to him as she examines the spines of the books on the small shelf mounted beside his bed.

She has washed her makeup off and her hair is in a single, simple braid. He’s heard the guys on the crew refer to certain women as “unbelievably beautiful.” Peggy isn’t that. She looks exactly as pretty right now as he had imagined she would, exactly as pretty as she does in her jeans and sensible blouse and Day-Glo vest on the construction site, or the time he had seen her dressed up in a gown for some awards gala, or when he had picked her up that morning and saw her wearing that red sweater with a black pencil skirt and felt lucky just to be walking next to her.

Still, he does find looking at her just now a bit hard. Difficult, he amends quickly, shoving the word hard away. She’s somewhat difficult to look at like this, unraveled and lovely.

“How fantastically minded you were,” she comments, smiling over her shoulder before flipping over to face him. “Is this still the sort of thing you like to read?”

“I usually end up with a bit of everything,” he admits. “But yeah, there’s some great sci-fi and fantasy being written these days.”

“It can be nice,” she says, “visiting other worlds.”

“It can be,” he agrees, not telling her that that’s what today has felt like: however awkwardly, unconventionally attained, it’s been like a brief, wonderful visit to another world.

They were only meant to stay for brunch.

“Don’t cook anything,” he had begged his mother. She was always covering shifts for other people, running errands for neighbors when she wasn’t working, on her feet all day regardless. Having a day off where she hadn’t already scheduled sixteen things was something of a miracle, and he was going to force her to take advantage of it. “I’ll cook.”

Voice somewhat insultingly skeptical down the phone, she’d said, “So, do you already know that this woman has a cast-iron stomach, or are you looking to poison a guest in my home, Steven Rogers?”

In the end, they’d agreed that he would take care of picking up fresh bagels from their favorite place. Of course, when Steve and Peggy arrived, his mother had already set out lox, cut fruit and vegetables, hard boiled eggs, and about six different types of cream cheese.

“You promised not to make anything,” Steve said irritably, giving his mother a hug.

“I promised not to cook,” she corrected. “Boiling a few eggs isn’t cooking. Even you can do that, after all.” And Peggy laughed from beside Steve and stepped forward to introduce herself.

Steve had promised Peggy that they wouldn’t stay longer than a couple of hours, and so at exactly 1:30 he glanced noticeably at his watch and asked if she needed to go to “that other thing you had scheduled.”

“Thankfully not,” she smiled, finishing her piece of crumb cake (his mother swore she just happened to have it left over). “I postponed it, and I’m certainly happy that I did.”

And despite the situation, Steve was happy too - happy that she’d come, happy that she stayed. She and his mother traded stories about their respective jobs, lamenting that even though they were of different generations and worked in completely different fields, one with women as the majority and one with them in the minority, they had so many of the same experiences: dealing with stressed or snappish or condescending people, having their knowledge and authority questioned, and managing to get enormous, important work done skillfully anyway.

“I still love it,” Peggy had said as they moved from the kitchen table to the living room. (Steve barely thought about taking the seat beside Peggy, and then started overthinking why he hadn’t considered more.) “Despite everything, I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” said Sarah, voice already fond, as if she’s known Peggy more than a few hours. “I wouldn’t either.”

They’d talked about how Steve had taken shop class in high school - a few knickknacks he’d made were even still scattered around the apartment for his mother to show off; when she’d passed one over to him, even though he recognized its amateurishness, he felt a tenderness fill him, as if he was holding the hand of a younger version of himself. When he passed it to Peggy, he felt the gentleness of her hand on it too.

Later, he would realize that it was a bit suspicious for him to talk about how he’d gone from an A- in Shop to a carpentry apprenticeship to starting to work with Phillips’s general contracting company: surely if they had truly been dating, they would have talked about it all at some point before. But in the moment all he saw was the flicker in her eye as she told him that, oh, she certainly remembered his first day working with the crew.

It wasn’t that they didn’t notice the weather turning - the first flakes fell as the light began dimming low and gray toward evening - it was only that they were a bit busy making hot drinks and setting up the Trivial Pursuit board. This was probably how Steve would have been spending his afternoon regardless, but he watched Peggy carefully for signs that she was eager for an escape and simply too polite to say so. He even leaned over when his mother excused herself briefly and asked whether she was sure she still wanted to stay, to which she had responded, “I’ll almost certainly have my sports and leisure wedge after my next turn. Why in the world would I leave?”

When Steve went downstairs to retrieve the Thai takeout they had ordered, he did see that it was getting pretty messy outside. The wind had a bite to it, too, so he gave his order of miso soup to the man who’d delivered the food alongside the tip, and decided to see if there was an extra pair of boots around for Peggy to use later.

But after they’d finished with their dinner and watching The Sound of Music, which had been just starting as they’d flipped through TV channels, his mother had turned to the nine o’clock news, saw how hard the snow was coming down, and refused to be persuaded that a change in footwear would be enough. Truthfully, Steve would probably have stayed without question if he had been by himself, but the fact is that he came with Peggy. Peggy, who had stayed long past the anticipated two hours. Peggy, who he was not actually dating. Peggy, who he was now meant to sleep beside.

“I’m sorry for the early night,” he apologizes again as they lie together in the darkness with the radiator hissing slightly. Not realizing how things would turn out today, he had scheduled a 9 A.M. consult with a couple who were looking to have some built-in bookshelves added and he has be up early enough to bring Peggy home and get back to his apartment to change before heading into Manhattan.

“It’s no trouble,” she assures him again. “There’s nothing at all the matter with getting a good night’s rest.”

“And I’m sorry again about everything. About how today turned out, and for getting you into it into the first place.”

“Oh Steve,” she sighs. “Will you shut up about that, please?” and even though her tone lacks sharpness, the words are enough for him to flip over toward her in surprise. “I truly enjoyed myself today. And I would have come even if you had simply asked me without any sort of exceptional circumstances.”

“What do you—?”

“I liked meeting your mother. She’s nothing at all like mine, which perhaps is why I appreciate her so much. I liked sitting around and talking, playing games and eating good food and singing along with Julie Andrews, and I liked spending time with you.” Her voice dips even softer. “I liked it all, and I would have come anyway, if you had only asked.”

With the cloud cover and the snow still coming down, the window lets in little light. He can’t make out her expression, can’t see if she’s just saying things out of tiredness, or reminiscing about a pleasant afternoon, or if she might just be hinting at something which would justify the elevated beating of his heart.

He nearly thanks her for being a good friend, but somehow, the way that she’s turned onto her side to face him as well, an invitation, makes him breathe in and say, “But you’re Peggy Carter. I don’t know why you would have bothered.”

“Is that what you think of me?” she asks. He’s never heard her voice with that twisting edge to it and it takes a moment for him to recognize it: hurt. “That I’m some high and mighty miss, and I would never deign to even look at the likes of you?”

“No!” he says, not frantic, hard and simple and factual, trying to make her see. “It’s just that you’re Peggy Carter,” he repeats. “There are probably a dozen awards on your shelves. I’ve seen you skewer guys with a half dozen words for propositioning you, then get right back to work. Phillips doesn’t like anyone except his dog, but he turns down projects if you aren’t going to be working on them. You wanted to design buildings and you made that happen for yourself. You’ve worked on dozens of projects and they’re all different but I’ve wanted to stay in each one, even the offices.” His voice doesn’t drop as he continues, even as he half hopes that his words will be lost in the pillow beneath his head. “You’re creative and determined and gorgeous and fascinating and funny. Just talking to you should be any thinking person’s favorite thing. And I’m only a guy.”

She inhales deeply through her nose, as if she is trying to keep her temper somehow, but when she speaks, her voice is calm. “When there are novices on a job, you’re the one who helps them through their nerves and shows them the right way to do things. Other women have told me that they like to work on the same site as you because they know you would never make them uncomfortable and you’ve fought anyone who tried. After an evening out, you give your share of the tip and then stay behind and add a bit extra. You do it every time, Steve. I’ve watched you.”

“Anyone could—”

“The first day I met you,” she interrupts, “you introduced yourself to Mr. Jarvis. Most people don’t, you know. They’re too busy noticing Howard to even pay attention. The day after, you brought soup for Ana because you had heard she was ill. I don’t know anyone else who would have done that, bring soup for someone who he’d never met, the wife of the electrician’s admin he’d only known for a day.” Even with the hiss and clank of the heating, he thinks he can make out every dimension of the breath she takes in before she adds, low and direct, “You’re loyal and sharp and kind, you make wonderful art and adore your mother, and you’re so upstandingly moral I half expect you to ride into work one day on a white steed. Had you not kept moving away every time I tried to get near, I would have asked you out long ago. And if you had asked me all the way back then, before I knew anything else, I would have said yes too, just because of the soup.”

It’s been three years since he started working with Phillips, three years of watching from across construction zones as she cut stubborn men down to size with a sharp word (or her fist if necessary), of lingering at lunch for the chance to see her smile or hear her opinion on current affairs or some article that they had both read. All that time of thinking that she would never possibly consider him more than a friend, and she already had.

“Can I—” he starts, his hand moving tentatively into the tiny space between their beds. She catches his fingers with hers and lifts them to her mouth, placing a delicate kiss on the backs of his knuckles. His breath comes sharply into his lungs.

He has, a time or two thousand, pictured some imaginary world where she might kiss him one day. This isn’t at all how he envisioned it in any of those dreams - they were never in side-by-side twin beds at his mother’s house, for one thing.

Nothing in him cares.

When she says goodbye to him the next morning, his mother gives him an innocent smile and a reminder to drop by a Duane Reade for chapstick and...anything else they might need. He almost tells her that they were only kissing, but doesn’t think it will help. Besides, he was trying to avoid embarrassing details by stripping the beds before she woke up so she wouldn’t notice that the sheets had only been truly mussed on one.

(He wouldn’t have been expecting that sleeping in a narrow bed with Peggy half sprawled on top of him would be wonderful, but he’ll be the first to admit that he isn’t right about everything.)

Exactly fifty-one weeks later, his mother asks him how he and Peggy are celebrating their anniversary. He’s halfway through telling her before he realizes that she’s not supposed to know that it’s their anniversary at all, that she’s still meant to think they’ve been together a year and a half already.

“As if you’ve been able to lie to me once in your life, Steven Rogers,” she says with a laugh. “You said her name and I knew that you weren’t telling me the whole truth the same moment I knew that she meant something to you anyway. Now tell me about the ring.”

“How did you—?”

He has the feeling she’s waving a dismissive hand on her end of the phone. “Nothing in the world easier than reading you, sweetheart.” Her tone turns a bit thoughtful. “Peggy, on the other hand, she’s a bit harder. But even that first time you brought her here, I could tell. When the time comes for you to ask, she’ll say yes.”

She’s right.

#steggysecretsanta #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #sagesiren

[blu-joons]

Married To Hoseok ~ BTS Headcanon

Your Wedding

Hobi had gone all out to make your wedding day as extravagant as him, it was a huge occasion for you both after all

Together you’d spend endless nights deciding on even the smallest of details, making sure that you were both happy with it all

In the end, it was exactly how you’d imagined, neither of you could have been happier with how it all came together

Between you, a lot of tears were shed. He’d tried to be strong, and brave, but as soon as he saw you walk down the aisle the floodgates opened.

“You look incredible, I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

Only those who meant the most to you came, it was inclusive, only your friends and families allowed

It was clear to everyone how in love you both were, Hobi still wanted the day to solely be about you, nothing else

His speech was a mess, interrupted constantly by his sobs when he got to bit that made him cry, tears of laughter in some circumstances

Of course, his six best mates were his six groomsmen

You couldn’t have wished for six better people to look after Hobi on your wedding day, constantly handing him tissues to dry his eyes

“We’ve got a little surprise that we’ve been holding back, we really hope you like it Y/N. It’s dedicated to you.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes when a flash mob appeared around your reception, knowing it was all Hobi’s doing

As the evening drew in, the two of you decided to find a little hideout so you could spend some time with each other

Easily, it was the best day of your life, it was what dreams were made of

Together you knew you had the rest of your lives together, however scary the future looked sometimes

The next few days were spent slowly taking your wedding apart, finding little keepsakes you wanted to hold onto

Half the time the boys did most of the job whilst the two of you sat and reminisced about it all

Instantly, you were sent photos from your day from friends, looking back and printing lots of them off

“I wish we could get married every day, it’s like living a dream; a fairy-tale.”

“It was a day neither of us will ever forget.”

Being Married To Each Other

Knowing everything had gone so well made the two of you feel on top of the world over the next few days, it was absolute perfection

As part of your celebrations, Hobi took a couple of weeks off from work to be able to spend time with his new wife

“I dread to think of the dance routines they are probably going to come up with whilst I’m away.”

“I’m sure it won’t be too bad, what’s the worst that could happen? A whip from Tae, or a floss from Jin?”

The two of you often walked back through the park where your reception was held when walking Mickey to think back over the day

He’d point out where everything was, and highlight where all his best memories of the day had taken place

Sometimes, looking in the bits of grass you still found pieces of confetti that you’d slip into your pocket to keep

It took a while sometimes to remember that you were a Jung now; forgetting your new surname was something you became pretty good at

Once everything at home had been sorted, then you could go on your honeymoon together, for a week of relaxation

For a while the two of you lived in complete bliss, the term ‘honeymoon phase,’ definitely applied to the two of you

Both your dress and his suit were kept in your wardrobes, making sure they were in pristine condition

He loved to tell everyone that you were his wife; he was the luckiest guy in the world, like he’d told you on your special day, and he wanted everyone to know it

He’d never felt a love like he had with you, and he was determined to remind you of that, always

Over the next couple of weeks, he taught you the choreography of his flash mob, so you could do it for yourself too

Jungkook and Taehyung also sent you all the photos they had taken from your day

“In all of these photos you’re crying Hobi, is there any where you’re not?”

“I’m sure there will be somewhere, we might just have to search for it.”

Even looking back through your wedding photos brought a tear to his eye as he remembered all the special times you shared

Quite quickly he began to look to the future, the two of you were settling down, and being married, he knew being a husband was his number one responsibility

Everyone was asking when you were going to take the next step in life, expecting the two of you to be the next in your friendship group to be pregnant

Your house was filled with several gifts from friends and family, as well as many from the Army who wanted to play the smallest part in your celebrations

Between you, you were overwhelmed by it all, and slightly fearful about having to sort all of it out

More of his time in interviews and on shoots was asked about you, again pressurising when you were going to have children

Dating an idol, you certainly had your fair share of doubters, but getting married put all of those to bed

You’d always been close to his family, but they were around you much more often as you began to spend more time at home focusing on your family

Every day he would still surprise you with little gestures or notes like he had done when the two of you first started dating

As important as the band was, he wanted to spend much more time with you, and often kept you by his side during different events

It meant a lot to you too how much more involved he was in your relationship, and spending time with you

Everything truly felt like it was coming together

 Your Honeymoon

The two of you were desperate to have a chance just to relax on your honeymoon, work had been a priority for too long between the both of you

You spent your honeymoon on a nearby island, where no one would know you, or recognise you

It was a place he’d been before, with the boys, but when he told you about it, you knew you wanted to explore it for yourself too

He wanted to see more of the island too, and be able to do his own thing, which mostly consisted of laying out on the beach and relaxing

In the whole of your relationship, the two of you had never been able to spend this much quality time together before

Every day was a new adventure, as you spent your time gaining new experiences and making plenty of memories together

A lot of videos were made of your honeymoon to go with your wedding album to be able to look over in the future

Your wedding was often the topic of discussion at the dinner table

“All this food reminds me of the food at the wedding; it was delicious.”

“Even Jin told me how nice it was, and his eyes, no one is as good a cook as he is.”

The boys were always in contact with you too, sending you clips of their dancing, which you’d then have to sit through Hobi moaning about

During your honeymoon, he showed you some of the activities he did with the boys, knowing you’d enjoy them

It was nice, for once, to not have any cameras or fans around. Hobi loved it, but he often worried about it all getting too much for you still

His arms would permanently be wrapped around you, keeping you close to him whilst you were walking around

You’d bought a few little presents to take home with you, knowing how much the boys loved the island on the occasion they went

If you were honest, neither of you wanted to go home, but it was inevitable

As soon as you landed, you were greeted by six, very excitable faces

“We want to know everything about your trip, do you think the eight of us should go back there one day on holiday?”

 Marital Issues

Most of your arguments were about small, pointless things. Most of the time, you were far too happy and smiley to argue with each other

He was good at holding his tongue from when the boys wound him up, so he was often able to do it with you too

Having been together for so long, you knew when the other was getting irritated, and you’d try your best to stop it from surfacing

Naturally, there were times when you’d get annoyed with him, and vice versa, but nothing ever came of it

He was always so calm, if you were angry, instead of arguing, he’d just try and help you relax and forget about things

Sometimes on purpose, you’d tried to get an argument about him, but he was far too sweet to raise his voice at you

Arguments were for when you were still learning about each other, you knew far too much about each other to be able to start an argument now

He was more rational, whilst you were irrational, getting frustrated instantly, without taking a moment to yourself sometimes when you needed to

The only time he ever got angry at you was if you doubted his choreography, even if he had asked you for your opinion on it

Most commonly, you’d get annoyed if he was too loud, or too excitable, there were rare times when you just wanted some peace and quiet in the house

“Hobi, I’m trying to read my book, can you just be quiet for one moment.”

“Why do you always pick on me? I can’t help being such a bundle of energy all the time.”

Together, you were still two big kids, often messing around and laughing your arguments away

  Looking To The Future

From the moment he met you, deep down Hobi knew that he wanted to start a family with you, but only when the time was right

He’d spend hours some days imagining your family, walking around your house envisioning the moment kids entered your life

For so long, his career had been at the forefront, but now he had other chapters he wanted to write in his life

“Only when you feel like you’re at the right stage will we start a family Hobi.”

Moving out of the dorm was a big step for him, he’d spent so many years with the six of them, moving out took a lot out of him

Yet, they were round your house most days, knowing you took the best care of them, together they could barely function without you

There was no rush, he wanted to enjoy being married for a while before children entered the frame

He was relaxed in your relationship, and he had his whole future to plan out your family and time it to perfection

All he knew, was that a family was what he wanted in the future, whenever that time may be

The Boys Take On Your Marriage

It was impossible for the boys not to love you considering how well you looked after them, and cared for them

To them all you were a sister figure, but more so to Jungkook who’d grown up with an elder brother, you gave him the best advice

“It’s not the same as speaking to my brother, you give me proper advice, advice that I always know will help me out.”

Jimin was often the third wheel in your relationship, getting involved with all your jokes and childish behaviour

In Namjoon, you had a big brother, he might be the leader of BTS, but that extended to you too, making sure you were alright

“If you don’t want to talk to Hobi about something, you know you can always talk to me.”

Taehyung loved to take pictures of you both, and save them to surprise you with on special occasions

When Hobi irritated him, Yoongi loved to make him jealous, by sitting beside you or resting on you whilst he was trying to sleep

When you’d had long days, Jin would take the responsibility of taking care of you, rather than it always being the other way around

Sometimes, you questioned if you’d married one or seven boys, but you would never have it any other way

Seeing Hobi so in love, was all they ever wanted

---

Masterlist

#bts #bts imagine #hoseok #hoseok imagine #jung hoseok #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts reaction #bts scenario #bts headcanon #bts one shot #j hope #j hope imagine #j hope headcanon #hobi imagine #hobi #hoseok headcanon #hoseok fluff #hoseok drabble #bangtan #bangtan sonyeodan #kpop #kpop imagine #kpop headcanon

[alexisquun942]

10 Misconceptions Your Boss Has About Security Services in Los Angeles

You have a company or various other such entity that involves having individuals or products around. The odds are great that ultimately, you'll require to employ safety and security in order to keep the customers, item or location secure. That's just part of having or running anything. You might intend to invest in your own in residence group but commonly that requires producing a whole new division as well as it's challenging to ensure that it's being run effectively without the experienced and seasoned oversight. You choose to contract out and bring on a safety guard company. You don't want to cause just any person so just how do you see to it that you get the more info very best security personnel business, Los Angeles?™There are certainly a few informs that you need to be trying to find as these firms aren't all developed equal as well as they will not all have the ability to use the solution that you need. It's vital to veterinarian them which's what this checklist will with any luck assist you with.

1. They Work With You

You can always detect an expert by their capacity to deal with the sources given to them. Now that does not suggest that you ought to totally rigid them as well as attempt to obtain much less with more. There are constraints nonetheless to what can be done. You require to find somebody that can work inside practical constraints and optimize your buck value.

They can address issues via critical preparation and with proficiency and not simply by tossing even more cash at the problem. They can additionally clarify why they're doing the things that they're doing. All of this is a measure of experience and also professionalism that you can't get from somebody that isn't the most effective.

2. They're Concerned About Your Security

Ever had those conversations with someone you're collaborating with and they seem to be sleeping when you're reviewing the details however after that when cash is mentioned they act like the most conscientious person ever? No one suches as to collaborate with a person like that as well as you absolutely do not want to enter bed with a business or solution like that.

A real professional that you intend to collaborate with will certainly intend to fix your troubles first, and also although cash can not be neglected it's not the facility factor of every discussion. When you work with a person as well as speak with them the top priorities will certainly end up being clear. Ensure that whoever you collaborate with is concerned regarding you first and your bank second.

3. They Don't Upsell You

A great as well as experienced protection specialist will be able to look at your established up, assess your needs, and be able to see what will certainly function best to fit your circumstance. This reveals that they understand your requirements and in fact want to help you in your service as well as do not just see you as another resource of income.

Final thought

There are a lot of security personnel companies out there and a lot of them could be less than professional with you. It's important to do your due persistance and also discover the people who are right for you which care about making sure that your demands are fulfilled and also your dollar is going as far as it'll go at the same time. That's what makes for the very best guard firm, Los Angeles

When we think of the abilities required in order to be a guard we usually assume a watchfulness, readiness, and physical conditioning. These are all definitely favorable attributes to have, nonetheless they are far from being one of the most essential ability that you need to cultivate if you wish to help a security guard firm, Los Angeles

One of the most crucial skill that you can have as a security guard is excellent communication abilities. This is true for composed as well as verbal interaction. It's not often what we relate to security personnel but below is why it is one of the most vital skill in the broad collection of points a security guard needs to be proficient at.

Spoken communication is equally as extremely important to a security officer as written interaction skills. Also in the downtime, it's essential that the policeman in question be able as well as ready to offer info in a fast as well as succinct manner that is easy to understand. This holds true when communicating with various other officers as well as when engaging with members of the public.

Once a scenario becomes heated it's crucial for the verbal interaction to not go amiss. This is one of the most essential time for their ability to shine. It is their first line of protection against a rising scenario as well as to aid defuse it prior to anyone gets hurt or it rises any even more.

If the police officer can't chat the circumstance down they'll need to draw on to various other abilities that they have, however with any good luck (and also ability) it won't come to that. This is why they need to master this ability. If they can't interact with the individual causing the issue then they will need to remain to utilize their interaction abilities to assist individuals around them as well as create a more secure setting.

Previous the verbal interaction is written communication. Something that most individuals do not think of when it involves security guards or even law enforcement officers is the amount of documentation as well as records that need to be submitted. Warm Fuzz might have discussed it however you absolutely will not find it pointed out in Point Break. They require to obtain utilized to this part of the task, as unglamorous maybe.

If the officer in question is not able to create an useful record then they will not be a policeman for very long. A record that is not concise, precise, and also detailed is of definitely no use to any individual that reads it. All they'll know is that the guard submitted a report. It's on you to take in all of the details and placed it on the web page in such a way that makes sense. In a feeling, you're like a journalist. It's always important when telling a story of any kind of kind to remember the (W, W, W, W, W, H) Who, What, Where, When, Why, and also How. It's a cornerstone of journalism that matters right here.

There are definitely a great deal of skills that a guard helping a guard company, Los Angeles needs to have but communication needs to be the one that obtains the most concentrate. It's the crucial to quiting dangerous run-ins prior to they start and defusing situations that have already developed. If you're thinking about taking a task or starting a profession in safety and security be sure that you cultivate communication as your most useful asset.

[hes-writer]

Harry and Y/N are best friends (2)

Summary: Harry and Y/N haven’t seen each other in a while

Warnings: angst

Word Count: 4.1k

In a perfect world, Y/N would’ve had the courage to confess– again– but maybe when the circumstances were a bit better than they were before. Maybe he would actually reciprocate her feelings, and maybe he wouldn’t have met Luna because he had decided that his heart belonged to Y/N back home.

In an effort to add more people into her minuscule group of friends, Y/N had signed up for Zumba at her local community center. She was a bit iffy at first about signing up because it wasn’t cheap, and Y/N would rather much buy herself some snacks at the store, but she knew that she needed to get out there in order to get her mind off of her failed confession to Harry. Ever since she first stepped into the activity room with a large mirror right in front of her, Y/N was forced to face with her reflection and watch her body move quite stiffly with the music.

Then, she would’ve disregarded the obvious flaws because Y/N wasn’t very harsh with herself and she thought that whatever is ‘wrong’ with her, she can improve; that’s why she chose to see only the good things, thing that she liked. She was on the heavier side, a sizeable bum than most and she had a muffin top, but Y/N used those societal flaws to build herself up to be more confident. Plus, Harry always told her that she looked beautiful, and complimented her whenever he could. It wasn’t that she needed Harry’s approval to know that she’s beautiful, but it definitely helped her self-esteem when someone like him made herself believe that she was worth something. So that’s why she was a bit confused as to why Y/N was looking at herself right now and was only seeing the flaws she otherwise would’ve ignored or maybe gaped at in a positive light. Her hips were jutting out a bit more, she noticed. A sixth sense made her feel like everybody around her was staring at her in judgment. A sane part of her knows that she was just being paranoid, but the larger half couldn’t help but be more aware of her actions, taking unnecessary steps back so she wouldn’t be in anyone’s direct line of view.

And Y/N knew why she was perceiving this sort of emotion. She recognized that a considerable part of her was envious of Luna’s appearance. Y/N wasn’t anywhere near hers--beauty wise--so maybe that’s the root of all of her negative input. She was used to it, she guesses. Being around Harry for an extensive amount of time meant that she was in a plethora of pictures, ones that were posted in media articles, newspapers, and on social media. While others ignored her visible presence of being in the background right behind him, other outlets still isolated her and made comments about who she was without really learning who she is. So yes, there are some assumptions being made and certainly are their gossips about her looks saying that she was ‘too ugly’ to be hanging out with Harry, or that she wasn’t as skinny as the previous women he had linked himself to (assuming that they were dating). Like she said, it usually wouldn’t disturb her or trouble her mind since Harry’s reassurance echoes in her mind every time she doubted herself. It was comforting for someone to just be there for her, but Y/N was in slow progress of accepting the fact that he might not be there for her anymore in the very near future, she figures.

----

“Hey Y/N, are you okay? You seemed about out of it,” Darren, the instructor, approached her when most of the participants left the room. She was searching for the towel she was quite sure she threw in her gym bag in a rush.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks” Y/N smiled at him, forcing herself to converse with him although she wasn’t in the best mood right now.

“So I was thinking, if you aren’t doing anything Friday night ...we could maybe get dinner together,” Darren started, inspecting her face for any sign of discomfort from her. The last thing he wanted was for Y/N to feel uncomfortable because of him.

“Oh no, I’m sorry I have plan--,” Y/N trailed off, a sudden realization hitting her square in the face. Friday night used to be their nights. She closed off and rejected any invitations given to her especially on Friday’s because there was no question as to whether or not she and Harry were going to hang out or not-- it was always a yes. They didn’t even check in on each other if they’re cool for spending time together because it was such a routine that nobody dared questioned.

“It’s okay if you can’t, by the way,” He added, noticing that she was taking a pregnant pause. He shifted on his sneaker-clad feet nervously while biting his lip.

If he already missed three weeks in a row, what are the chances of him missing a straight fourth?

Y/N chuckled anxiously, not knowing whether to say yes or now. On one hand, it was a good step for her to spend Friday nights with somebody else instead of her more recent contexts where she sat on her couch alone, eating frozen meals and staring emotionlessly at a supposed ‘comedy show’. But on the other, there was still a slice of her endlessly hoping that Harry would somehow change his plans to include her--his best friend-- if she could even label herself that. It was saddening, really; she was waiting for him to (hopefully) realize that he missed her but then again, she wasn’t in the place to assume anything since Y/N didn’t know what he was thinking or even how he was feeling recently.

“You know what?” Y/N said, clearing her throat. Darren raised an eyebrow at her. “I think it would be gr--”

Both of them glanced at her left hand where she clutched her phone. She gives him a sheepish smile. He must be so annoyed at her.

“Hey y/n, wanna hang out this friday? :))

Luna’s going out with her friends

It’s ok if u dont wanna :/”

“Um actually, I can’t. Maybe next time,” Y/N finally responded, bashfully might she add. She could feel her plump cheeks heating up as if a space heater hit her at full blast, making her cheeks pink.

“It’s alright. Maybe next time, “ Darren repeated. She could see the twinkle in his eyes dispersing a bit and his body to be slouching just an inch shorter. However, she couldn’t find it in herself to care about him; not when Harry had planted himself back in her otherwise boring life.

Yes, it was a bit pitying for Y/N to just let Harry in again despite his actions, but she couldn’t help it. She really does miss him and she’s sure that Harry will explain himself.

---------

It was finally Friday and Y/N was bouncing on her toes, excited about tonight’s event. She still had a couple of hours before she would be heading over to his house with a bag of goodies. The fact that she hasn’t seen him in a while added spine-tingling energy bursting through her whole body. She woke up on the right side of the bed, the sun peeked through her blinds in the right amounts so she wasn’t blinded. The weather was perfect because when Y/N missed slipping her feet in her fuzzy slippers, her sole was met with a warmness that would usually be a frigid platform. So yes, her mood was elevated profoundly and it was all because of Harry.

She made her breakfast while she was swaying her hips to the beat of the song from her playlist. Y/N thought about how he was able to take her sucky week and do a complete 180. That was when she had to accept another fate; that she was--no doubt-- absolutely in love with him that she was willing to brush his misdemeanors off of her shoulder just like that. She couldn’t find one bone in her body to hate him and she didn’t even reprimand herself for feeling that way because the love she’d grown for him overpowered any other emotion. She was sure that she’d resemble a heart-eyed emoji right now.

---------

Y/N was giddy, she could feel it throughout her entire body. Her skin was buzzing against her pajamas that she’d worn underneath a layer of clothes to keep her warm. Her fingers pressed the doorbell by the side of the frame. A smile was basically plastered on her face and her cheeks were getting sore for sure yet Y/N’s expression stayed the same despite the cold nipping at her exposed skin. She waited for the porch lights to turn on, indicating that he had let his eye peep through the hole on the door to see her face. For what seemed like five minutes, she stood there in her boots, having already rung the bell twice and her happy expression steadily sagged into one of worry, anxiousness, and disappointment. Did he forget or did he just not hear her? She hoped for the latter because after all, being forgotten was solid evidence of her not being a priority in his life anymore.

The sun had already started setting when she stepped foot outside her apartment and locked the doors so it was no surprise that the night sky had immersed itself in a blanket full of stars, dimly reflecting off of shiny windshields of the cars parked in the driveway. The street lights were her only source of metaphorical warmth. His car was here, so why wasn’t he answering the door?

It had been ten minutes later when Y/N heard the clicks of the locks from the other side of the door from her position, butt frozen sitting on the wooden staircase leading up to his front door. She had tightened the hood of her sweater over her head and her hands were shoved in the pockets to conserve heat after she spent time contacting him on her phone to which she got no reply.

“Y/N,” He breathed out. She stood up quickly, almost slipping at the abruptness and for a moment she saw stars circling in front of her eyes but she steadied herself.

“What took you so long?” She muttered while bending down to get the bag of food. Standing up straighter, he could see that he was matching her; grey sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“J-just doing some stuff around the house,” He leaned in for a hug after she had kicked off her shoes messily to the side. Her coat hung on the rack and the heat of Harry’s home made her stomach feel fuzzy. Y/N succumbed immediately into his warm hug, nuzzling her face into his neck like she always does. “Missed you, lovie”

“Missed you too, H” It was a deja-vu moment for her, mind flashing back to the airport a couple of weeks ago. But he was here now, he wasn’t going to leave her to run off with Luna; he was hers for the time being and she damn as hell going to make sure that every second with him was spent well.

She felt the familiar knack in his arms as he tightened the length of it around her body, his hair tickling her face in the slightest ways, bodies pressed together so near that it felt like they were one. Y/N breathed in deeply, searching for his scent that filled her nostrils and made her heart beat calmly. When she did, it was different. It was sweet in a sense, a robust aroma wafting off of his neck, something raw and metallic; unfamiliar.

Her sock-covered feet padded against the marble flooring, bag rusting as she swayed it while she walked. Her voice resonated in the large room in question about how he was doing and what he had been up to that he took such a long time to get the door. She got her answer not a second later, not from the deep rumbling of his chest, but the sight in front of her.

Y/N’s head tilted to the side in confusion of seeing the back of Luna’s head as she scavenged the refrigerator for food. She turned around to face Harry, eyebrows raising as if to say ‘what is she doing here?’. He was about to open his mouth when Luna closed the fridge door.

“Harry, you have no more bread,” Luna whined out, not facing their direction yet.

“Sorry, babe. We’ll buy more tomorrow,”  She turned around then, eyes going wide in the surprise of seeing Y/N.

“Oh, hi Y/N!” Luna greeted her, long legs taking strides to pull Y/N in for an embrace. She was stuck frozen, trying to decipher what was currently happening.

“Luna’s friends canceled so she’s staying with us tonight,” Y/N could feel a drought simpering in her throat.

“I hope that’s okay,” Luna continued, concern flooding her beautiful features as she stared at Y/N.

Harry wasn’t doing something, he was doing someone. Luna. That would certainly explain why she was wearing an oversized jumper stopping mid-thigh, probably underwear, and some socks; it was Harry’s jumper, Y/N concludes because she wore the same one when she complained about being cold one night in his house. It would explain her messy hair, tinted cheeks, and the dazed look in her eyes. They fucked before she got here, that’s why he couldn’t answer the door. Y/N felt disgusting, turning her body fully to face him, inspecting him. His t-shirt was wrinkled, allowing her to see (at close distance) a bruise forming on his neck and clavicle, his hair was sex hair and that god-awful smell she was whiffing was the smell of sex. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of their actions and the fact that he held her close minutes after he finished with her. As if he needed a hug like the one they shared; full of love and emotion of missing each others’ presence because Y/N certainly did, but him, it was an ordinary action probably acted on through kindness because he didn’t need her anymore. He didn’t need love sprouting from Y/N because he can get it from someone else. A separate devastation harnessed its way into her heart at the visual of a man that she was so helplessly besotted with sharing an intimate action with someone he had known for only months.

“Y-yes of course,” Y/N swallowed thickly, still trying to wrap her mind around the context. Her eyes found Harry’s which were filled with worry, begging her to let him explain what the hell just happened.

“Great! Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the food, you guys make yourselves comfortable,” Luna beamed, shooing the both of them away from the kitchen and towards the living room but not before grabbing Harry’s shirt and giving him a kiss on the lips.

-----

As soon as Y/N thought that they would be out of earshot, she instantaneously turned around to face Harry who was following her closely.

“What the hell, Harry? You said she was going out, that it would just be the both of us,” Y/N sneered, hands waving in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Her plans fell through and she was already here anyways so I thought that you wouldn’t mind if she joined us, “

“I just thought it’d be the two of us,”

“What’s wrong with having her here?” He challenged her, eyebrows rising from their usual place. Y/N gulped heavily, choosing to be careful with her words.

“Nothing is wrong with her being here,”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I wanted it to be like old times, you know?”

Harry sighed deeply. His legs leading him to stand in front of her, tilting her chin up so she could see the sincerity behind them.

“Look Y/N, it’s going to be different now,” His tone sounded like he was speaking to a child. “Luna and I are together and there’s going to be some changes between-- between us,”

“I know, Harry. I’m not expecting you to invite me every time. I haven’t seen you in so long and she just comes here and take-- spends her time with you and I barely get to see you, H”

“If this is because of what I said to you before, “ And she knew that he was talking about her confession. “Feelings change and sometimes you can’t control it. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Y/N. I wasn’t ready to commit again,”

“That’s beside the point!” Her voice reached a new volume and Harry shot her a warning glance to keep her voice down. “It doesn’t matter if I told you about my feelings or not. What matters is you keep ditching me for her, canceling our plans because she wanted you to stay by her side.”

“I get that you guys are a couple but I feel like I’m not even important to you anymore,”

“That’s not true, you know that’s not true,” He protested. Y/N didn’t know if he was playing dumb or if he was really that daft.

“When’s the last time we hung out together, just us?”

He gaped at her, pink lips opening and closing but no sound came from his throat.

“Exactly, you don’t even know,”

“She’s my girlfriend, Y/N. You’re just my .. my friend” He whispered agitatedly.

Her heart cracked and the fire igniting in her was extinguished. The embers floating amidst the dry and tense atmosphere. He had hit a soft spot, he knew that but it wasn’t on purpose.

“R-right. Of course, “ She nodded, accepting the cold, hard facts. She couldn’t do anything and besides, he was speaking the truth. He never saw her as anything more than a friend and the sooner she gets over that, the faster she can mend her broken heart and move on.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,”

Y/N held up a palm indicating him to stop talking, “No you’re right. I’m just a friend, a friend that waited out in the cold tonight only to be reminded that she’s never going to be anything else to you,

“Don’t put words in my mouth and I told you I was doing something,” It was his turn to roll his eyes.

She scoffed, “You weren’t doing something, you were doing her!”

“We’re in a relationship. It’s normal,” He explained.

“I know it is,” Y/N took his comment as a blow for her lack of companionship. “I’m just saying, you left me outside in the cold to fuck her--”

“Sorry about that again,”

She glared at him for interrupting her, “And you touched me as if you didn’t just touch her minutes before! I mean god did you even wash your hands?”

He only shook his head at her question.

“That’s disgusting, Harry!”

“I said I was sorry! Why can’t you accept that already?”

She spotted the soiled couch, the cushions pressed in from the weight of Harry and Luna’s bodies, the blanket was half on the couch and a half on the floor.

“Not only did you take your sweet time getting to the door, but you also forgot about me these past few weeks and you know it,”

“I canceled one thing and you’re acting as if I ruined this friendship,”

She stared at him incredulously, “One? It was three, Harry! You kept saying ‘maybe next time’ but it never comes,”

“I can’t just drop everything for you,”

“But you used to”

He ran a hand over his face, the stress of the conversation weighing in on him.

“Luna, sh-she’s more important now,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m saying that I want to focus on her and me,”

“So you’re basically kicking me to the side? Because you found someone else to give you something that you can’t accept from me?”

“That’s not what I’m doing, Y/N,”

“Then explain to me! Please, I’m trying to understand you,” She begged him and Y/N’s sure that Luna had probably heard their conversation by now. It didn’t take that long to prepare the snacks.

“I really want her and I to work,”

“I wish you the best too, you know that. I’m just confused as to where I stand,” Y/N stated. “I don’t want to make you choose, Har, but I need to know if you see me as a convenient person that will always catch you when you fall or if you really care about me because right now, it seems like you don't’”

“I care about you and I love you, Y/N”

“You didn’t answer my question, Styles,” Her eyes were stinging from the tears she was holding back. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of crying in front of him. “Are you keeping me around because you know I’ll stay?”

“Please don’t take advantage of me like that.” She pleaded, a lone tear slipping down her cheek and he instinctively reached out to wipe it away; like he used to.

“I-i’m not,”

“Prove it,”

“But Y/N, you said you wouldn’t make me chose,” His reply was an answer in itself, his actions and words were already hinting at possible disclosure between him and her, but hearing it from him made it more real. He already knew that he was going to choose Luna, but he kept Y/N around for the sake of his selfish reasons.

“You choose her, huh?”

He tried to come closer to her, but every time he took a step forward, her body backed away from him.

“I-i don’t know what to say,”

“I don’t know either, H” She puffed her chest out, heart aching deeply at his words.

“I really like her, Y/N”

The knife in her chest twisted, breaking the pieces into sharper shards that scratch her insides, capturing her in an endless loop of pain. Everything she hoped to be, everything she desired to herself was given to somebody else and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she is treated so poorly right now by a man she loves and it wasn’t even his fault! He’s right, you can’t control your feelings because Y/N still loves him the way she did before.

“I know,”

---

It hurts. There was a hole in her chest, an abyss swallowing every emotion she felt except anger, pain, grief, loneliness, and disappointment. Those stuck around, circling her heart and making her feel bad about herself but she couldn’t find anything to counteract the sorrow she was feeling. It mocked her like Harry had used her. She didn’t realize it at first because it was subtle and fundamental that when she did,  it was too late to try and revive the old Y/N. She died right along when Harry chose someone else over her.

Her body ached, limbs and joints remaining in the same position for a continuous amount of time. Y/N’s throat was dry, having not spoken for days--having not left her place for days-- and she felt like every time a word scraped by that she would break into a heaving sob, burning her lungs for air as snot filled her nostrils. She turned off her phone to disconnect herself from the outside world, surely nothing important would happen to a nobody like her; a thought that Harry further revealed as true by stepping on her and beating down on her love and trust. She refused to see herself in any reflection because she knew that she would only be met with a lifeless counterpart, a stranger staring at her because even she didn't know who she was anymore. It hurts when every time she closed her eyes, an image of Harry and Luna embedded itself permanently in her brain that she often had to spend nights staring at the ceiling, afraid to sleep.

Y/N didn’t know if he was okay, he probably was, since she hasn’t heard from anyone in days. Sometimes he would sneak into her dreams and give her a few moments to imagine a life where they were together; her dreams were a place for them to be together whereas reality only spits at her pathetic attempt of finding love. He used her for his own selfish reasons and she let him because she desired him too much. He only kept her around because she was a safety net in case anything goes wrong and she couldn’t even let herself be too angry at him because at least he made her feel wanted. At least he trusted her with him himself; but he could never trust her with his heart even though she gave her own to Harry, willingly.

--------

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[emmaklein30]

Inflatable paddle boards vs. rigid paddle boards

If you are looking for a brand-new paddle board, it’s very easy to be bewildered by the wide range of alternatives currently offered. From different brand names to various sizes and shapes, there’s a whole lot to think about prior to buying a stand up paddle board..

In this write-up, we contrast the pros and cons of blow up paddle boards (iSUPs) and rigid boards. Both are popular choices in the SUP globe, and it is very important to comprehend the staminas and also weaknesses of each to make sure that you buy the kind of board that’s best matched for you.

Along with recognizing the distinctions between iSUPs and difficult boards, it’s additionally essential to identify what’s essential to you in a board. Having a clear picture of specifically what you require in a board is an additional thing that will certainly make your purchasing decision much easier.

Inflatable paddle board vs. hard paddle board transportability.

When it pertains to portability, the evident advantage goes to blow up SUPs. iSUPs can be deflated, rolled up to the approximate dimension of a lightweight resting bag, and also brought with you anywhere you go.

Along with suitable right into the trunk or rear seat of also the tiniest of cars and trucks, you can also bring a blow up paddle board along while treking, cycling, and also flying. An inflatable SUP can be thrown in a bag or box and also contacted your travel luggage, offering you the utmost opportunity to discover the world’s most unique paddling places.

iSUPs are likewise perfect for individuals that live in high-rise apartments as they can be deflated and also will conveniently suit any type of lift. This is an unfeasibility with large, tough boards, and carrying a 12′ 6 ″ tough board up numerous trips of stairs is exceptionally tough as well as can easily result in a damaged board (if it even suits the stairwell to start with).

Inflatable paddle board vs. hard paddle board performance.

While inflatable paddle boards have actually tightened the efficiency gap over the past couple of years because of advancements in materials and also building, stiff SUPs still have a total advantage when it involves efficiency. Difficult paddle boards are quicker as well as much more stiff, making them the clear option if profits performance is your leading concern.

If you’re surfing major waves or participating in SUP races, an inflexible paddle board stays the most effective selection for competition.

Blow up paddle board vs. hard paddle board price.

Generally, inflatable paddle boards have a small advantage over hard boards price-wise. While there are versions in a variety of price arrays for both iSUPs as well as tough boards, the very best inflatables are commonly less expensive than the very best inflexible boards. Include in that the cost to shop as well as transportation a hardboard if you do not reside on the water or currently have a SUP compatible roofing shelf as well as you’re taking a look at a substantial savings with an iSUP.

An additional important factor to consider is expense per usage. When you take the overall expense of your board and also divide it by the number of times it really gets used during its life expectancy, you wind up with a price per use figure. Due to the extraordinary ease of blow up SUPs, they generally get used far more commonly than stiff boards, causing a much reduced price per use figure.

Inflatable paddle board vs. hard paddle board storage space.

Due to the truth that blow up paddle boards can be deflated and rolled up, they’re the ideal option for paddlers who stay in apartment or condos or anywhere square footage is at a premium. An inflatable SUP can be stored in a wardrobe, on a shelf, under your bed or even in the trunk of your automobile when not in use.

Contrast that with a tough board which occupies an extraordinary amount of storage room. Unless you have a large garage to store a difficult board, you won’t be able to keep it up and down. You’ll need a 12 ″ lengthy wardrobe or most likely have to make it part of the design by hanging it someplace inside your home– absolutely not a decorative touch that many will certainly value.

Blow up paddle board vs. hard paddle board durability.

When taking into consideration the durability of blow up SUPs and tough boards, several would right away presume that inflexible boards are the clear winners in this category. It may come as a shock that a well-built blow up SUP will really be more long lasting as well as much better able to hold up against major misuse than a standard hard board. As a result of the truth that they are cumbersome and harder to transfer, rigid SUPs are revealed to more bumps and knocks as well as can quickly obtain dinged and fractured. Deliberately, an iSUP is totally ding evidence as well as able to withstand being left of balconies and run over with a car– extreme longevity tests that no rigid board can possibly survive.

Blow up paddle boards are really created with the exact same difficult material that bombproof whitewater rafts are constructed of. As opposed to suffering damage when entering into contact with rocks, sticks, as well as various other barriers, an iSUP will literally jump right off.

Blow up paddle board vs. difficult paddle board rapairs.

As for repair work go, this is one more classification that mosts likely to iSUPs. When a fiberglass as well as epoxy tough board obtains dinged or fractured, it’ll usually need an expert store repair service that is expensive and lengthy. Additionally, if water fills the foam core, there are numerous cases where a harmed inflexible board becomes worse gradually and simply isn’t the very same after having been fixed.

Fixing a blow up SUP that has actually been damaged is a much different tale. An iSUP that has actually been punctured or torn can be rapidly as well as conveniently covered at home making use of the materials provided by your board supplier in the included repair service kit.

Blow up paddle board vs. difficult paddle board weight.

Blow up SUPs are likewise the winner in the weight group, typically considering a lot less than tough boards. This benefit has actually gotten back at extra noticable over the last couple of years as the use of new iSUP construction strategies has led to inflatable paddle boards that are even lighter than formerly assumed possible.

The fact that blow up paddle boards are lighter as well as far easier to transfer than inflexible boards makes them an excellent option for females and children who may find it testing to bring about a heavy tough paddle board.

Blow up stand paddleboards are light-weight, enjoyable as well as risk-free for the whole family.

Inflatable paddle board vs. hard paddle board security.

Finally, inflatable paddle boards are more secure than stiff boards. Dropping the upside-down on a difficult board can easily lead to injury– something that you especially need to be cautious of when paddling in surf or with children.

While blow up SUPs are very inflexible, they still offer a percentage of “give” that can aid to support a loss.

Final thoughts.

We hope that this write-up has actually given you a clear picture of the various staminas as well as weak points of both inflatable and also inflexible SUPs. Both board types are very fun and also useful in specific circumstances– what is very important now is to determine what’s most important to you prior to making a decision. While we suggest tough boards for paddlers who put a higher top priority on bottom-line efficiency along with those who are associated with serious SUP competitors, the large majority of individuals are much better off with a blow up SUP. iSUPs supply even more benefits to the average paddler, as well as their amazing mobility, sturdiness, and also storage advantages make them a superb choice overall.

Despite what you eventually pick, we really hope that you extensively enjoy your brand-new board and that it serves you well for years to come.

Pleased paddling!

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from Paddle Board Inflatable https://www.paddle-board-inflatable.com/inflatable-paddle-boards-vs-rigid-paddle-boards/

[lollytea]

Some Moomin OCs! (Above art by @ask-artsy-oncie who was sweet enough to draw my kiddos!!)

My original thought for Moomin and Snufkin’s future together was that they would have no children, as canonically Snufkin has made it very clear that he’s not sure if he likes kids. However, Moomin was kinda tricky to think about. He does come from a family that’s famous for adopting any lonely little creature that seeks a home. So, maybe this sort of thing is in his nature. It’s possible that when he’s older and more mature, he may wish to start a family of his own. 

( A ton of stuff under the cut about how Moomin and Snufkin decided to adopt them and some info/HCs focusing each of the kids individually.)

When Too Ticky shows up at their doorstep with three escapees from a rotten ol’ children’s home, the couple are hesitant but welcome them with open arms regardless. While she was willing to care for them herself until she found them a permanent home, she had urgent business to attend to (invisible moose turf wars up south.) and left them in the care of Moomintroll and Snufkin for a week or two until she returned. 

Moomin becomes fond of the children almost immediately. They’re a handful, obviously, but their spirit is incredible. He begins to feel quite comfortable and content in this parental role and even though he tries not to show it, he’s devastated when Snufkin reminds him that they’ll be leaving soon. He’s come to realize that he does want children but is also aware of how Snufkin feels about it. He would would never want to force him into that sort of thing if it’s not what he wants. 

Meanwhile, Snufkin has been thinking. Though Moomin has been doing his best to hide his feelings on the matter, Snufkin knows just how attached he is to the kids and how upset he’ll be once they’re gone. He’s in a difficult position here as his conscience is reminding him repeatedly that Moomintroll had always let him choose the life he wanted. He let him wander whenever he pleased and never forced him to stay. Would it not be worth it of Snufkin to return the favor and not stand in the way of what Moomin wanted out of his life?

They discuss it one night after putting the children to bed and they let themselves be honest. Moomintroll adores the kids and wants to raise them. But under no circumstance would he ever pressure Snufkin to do the same. Because he loves Snufkin.

Snufkin admits that he feels uncomfortable with the title of Papa. He likes the kids, he wouldn’t mind sharing a home with them and spending time with them and watching them grow. It’s just that thinking of himself as a father makes him very anxious. But more than anything, he wants Moomin to do whatever makes him happy. Because he loves Moomin.

So, an odd sort of agreement is reached but nonetheless, it’s an agreement both are happy with. Moomin will adopt the children. They will be Moomin’s children. Snufkin will continue to be Moomin’s husband. They will all live together in the same house and they will all love eachother as families do. But the children will not be Snufkin’s. At least not now. If he’s ever ready to be a father alongside Moomin, the kids will still be there. But there’s no rush. The agreement is silly, of course but it puts Snufkin at ease. 

It doesn’t happen right away, but within a few years of raising the kids, Snufkin finds himself warming up to the idea.

The Children

Torben - The Witch. Oldest of the three children, Torben is extroverted, witty, charming and a true rowdy boy at heart. He has a hard time juggling responsibilities with immaturity, as while he’s a fiercely protective and nurturing older brother, he’s usually the driving force of mischief that tends to get them all into trouble.

- Is excellent at annoying Moomin. Not that he doesn’t love his papa dearly and vice versa but that boy is the most prominent reason that the poor ol’ troll is going grey. Despite this, Moomin always trusts him with the job of taking care of his siblings. It’s the one thing he has 100% faith in him in. Maybe they’ll cause a bit of mischief but at least he knows that with Torben, they won’t be hurt.

- When he first came to Moominhouse, Torben suffered from frequent nightmares. He was five years old at the time and having cared for his siblings alone until then, he had a hard time accepting that he could finally relax. It was Moomin who pulled him into his lap and sang him back to sleep every night. Nowadays, Torben is very embarrassed about these memories and it’s a silent agreement between himself and his papa to keep it a secret

- Absolutely Idolizes Snufkin. Ever since he was little, Torben has been enthralled with the stories Snufkin tells from his youth, and wants to be just like him one day. Naturally, Snufkin receives an earful from Moomin the first time they have to collect Torben from a holding cell. Not that Snufkin would say it but he was beyond proud that day.

- Torben adores music. Instruments, singing, dancing, he’s invested in all of it. Another reason he looks up to Snufkin so much is his talent with a harmonica, which he eventually teaches to Torben. As he gets older, he picks up a wide array of instruments, his favourite being the violin. If there’s ever a party/social gathering at Moominvalley, either Torben planned it himself or he had some part in it. You will most definitely see him encouraging everyone to dance once the party gets into full swing too.

- Makes his own clothes. Enjoys knitting, sewing, crocheting and embroidery. Cloaks, coats, ponchos, hats, gloves, quilts, whatever he pleases, all decorated with the most showy of patterns. Moomin jokes that they could never survive hibernation without Torben’s blankets to keep them warm.

- Wants to smoke like Snufkin but Moomin won’t let him until he’s older so he just carries around an empty pipe to pretend to puff on and look cool.

- Grows to be far taller than his Papas and his siblings.

- Isn’t aware of his witch heritage just yet. He learns in his early teens by pure accident when roaming though the woods and encountering an older Alicia. She tilts her head at him curiously, commenting that he bears a striking resemblance to a witch she was friends with long ago. With a little encouragement from her, they manage to find some trace of magic in him over a cup of tea. He realizes with great fear and great excitement that there’s been this whole side of himself that he went all these years without noticing.

- Moomin is shocked by this development while Snufkin takes it in stride, saying that it’s no wonder Torben would always nick his hat as a small child. Every witch needs a hat!

- Though Alicia handles most of Torben’s witch training, Snufkin also pitches in by teaching him how to read tarot cards. Meanwhile Moomin tells his son that it’s okay if he believes in the cards but if they tell him to leave home before he’s ready if he catches a certain amount of fish or something silly like that, then they’re wrong!

Birch - The Woodie. The middle child. Two years younger than Torben and three years older than Essi. Primarily the voice of reason among his more reckless siblings. However, he is still a child and loves a good adventure and a laugh every so often so he’ll usually tag along without question. While the trio have been thrown in jail several times, it’s worth mentioning that there’s plenty of times they haven’t gotten arrested and Birch’s quick thinking is usually to thank for that.

- Birch is quite the introvert. Calm, reserved and a bit shy around strangers. But that does not stop him from having a tongue sharp as a pinprick when he’s around those he’s comfortable with. He’s good with a snarky retort to any of Torben’s comments and will gladly dish them out at any opportunity.

- He and Torben bicker constantly. They are always a word away from launching at each other into a full blown wrestling match over the kitchen table. They disagree on all trivial things. They’re also best friends and there is no force in this world that can tear the brothers apart.

- Keeping Essi safe is usually their top priority but Birch often forget that he’s also a younger sibling and Torben is always looking out for him too.

- Likes to collect the things he finds, especially funny shaped rocks and seashells. He’s always carrying around a little pouch to store his treasures. The shelves in his bedroom are packed tight with everything he’s gathered over the years, which he polishes every day.

- Doesn’t like affection from just anyone but will allow it from his family and actively seeks it from Moomin. His papa gives very good hugs and Birch often finds himself needing a specific kind of comfort that only Moomin can give him.

- He’s cleaner than the average Woodie, bathing twice as regularly as is required of him. He then has to scrub the shedding moss he left in the bathtub.

- The little flower patches that grow on his body tend to wilt and fall off during the colder months and burst into bloom again in Spring. The older he gets, the more flowers he accumulates.

- Birch is a dreamer. He’s the musing, pondering sort who likes to fall away to his own imagination. He likes reading and enjoys writing and while he’s tried out a variety of different types, such as stories, plays and memoirs (at Moominpapa-…or rather moomingrandpapa’s insistence) he finally finds that he’s best suited for poetry.

- When Birch and Snufkin first met, his future father was sceptical. Seeing a Woodie child again brought back a mix of nostalgia and an instinctive urge to back away before the confounded little one imprinted on him like last time. And true, while as a young child, Birch was a lot more touchy and clingy but much to Snufkin’s relief, he had an obvious favouritism towards Moomin.

- Snufkin was astonished as Birch grew older and it became clearer with each day that they had a lot in common. Birch often needed his space too, he needed alone time, he didn’t like large crowds and he got grumpy when he wasn’t left alone when asked. And while his siblings didn’t always get that, Moomin and Snufkin understood and allowed him his solitude when he needed it.

- One year, Birch’s heart tells him he needs to leave. Not forever but just for a bit. He doesn’t understand the urge but every inch of him is suddenly screaming “we need to go!” and he has no idea how to react to it. Eventually, he realizes that this is the exact feeling Snufkin always described as he hugged them goodbye every winter. It was something he simply needed to do.

- He’s very anxious about telling Moomin, knowing how family-oriented his papa was and how worried he could get over his childrens’ wellbeing. But once he finally works up the courage to announce his plans over the dinner table, his two papas share a shocked look but the response from both of them is surprisingly supportive. Moomin explains that if it’s what he must do, then do it. Though he had never gotten that feeling himself, being with Snufkin so long has given him a lot of insight on wanderers and the way their souls are. Snufkin says nothing on the matter but Birch catches his smile from across the table and the proud gleam in his eye.

- Birch is the first of the children to go a winter without hibernating. He’s not entirely sure if he’ll do this every year but maybe once in a while would be nice. When the time to leave finally came, Essi clings to him and weeps as Birch holds her close and assures her that he’ll be back again in no time. He can tell Moomin wants to burst into tears too but he holds himself together as not to hold Birch back. Torben is doing the same thing but Birch suspects that more on account of his own self-pride.

- For his first time vagabonding, it’s not as nerve-wracking as he thought it would be. He’s alone of course, but every so often he and Snufkin would cross paths on their respective journeys and share a campfire and talk into the night. It’s only every few weeks but it’s comforting to know that no matter how vast the woods seem to be, his father is out there somewhere. And he doesn’t always need him there. The peace he gets in the weeks between is quite nice. His journal bursts with poems in a way it never has before. Birch believes he might do this again next year.

Essi - The Mumrik. The baby of the bunch. An exploding ball of sunshine and an unstoppable force of nature fused into one tiny form. Often considered the second generation Little My due to how small and rambunctious she can be. That being said, while the similarities are certainly there, there are plenty of differences between the two in the personality department. Essi was put on this planet solely to have fun and play and love, love, love with every beat of her heart.

- Essi has never spoken a word in her life but that doesn’t stop her from having plenty to say. Since she was a baby, her family has caught on to her way of communicating which she does through her paws, facial expressions, whistling, body language and the thump and swish of her tail. Her tail tends to be reserved for her more intimate sayings. When referring to Moomin for example, she bats her tail twice against the nearest surface, producing a little ‘pah pah’ sound.

 - Has absolutely no idea how to pace herself. Essi bursts from the house every day to go play, her brothers in hot pursuit and once she’s out, she’s go, go, go. Never stops running, jumping, climbing, swimming, fishing, whatever. She can never make it home on her own as she’s always burned out and snoring in the meadow by sundown. Torben carries her home on his shoulders.

- Does not like baths and prefers to simply groom herself. However, she falls in the river at least once a day when trying to swipe for fish. Snufkin believes that to be an adequate form of bathing. Moomin disagrees. He also does not appreciate it when Snufkin helps Essi to hide when Moomin is hunting her for bath time. Meanwhile, his husband and daughter consider this quite a fun game.

- Is extremely cuddly, especially where Moomin is concerned. He hardly gets a chance to sit down without Essi hopping on her papa’s stomach and curling up to the warmth of his fur, purring happily. When content, she’ll knead her paws and when affection is being demanded, she will bash her head into Moomin’s nose to receive the cuddles she wants.

- While Birch sometimes finds her nonstop energy annoying/draining at times, Essi looks up to her big brother unconditionally. She doesn’t understand his rock collection or why he’s always writing or locking himself in his room but he’s good! He kisses her scratches when she gets hurt and he hugs her, even if he doesn’t want to and shares his lunch with her he tells really good stories! He even includes more knights at Essi’s request. She tries to thank him for everything he does by bringing him dead bugs but for whatever reason, he doesn’t seem to like it.

- Torben dotes on Essi and he always has. Whether it be by tickles or funny voices or throwing her up in the air, he loves to make his sister laugh. And when Birch isn’t in the mood to join in their nonsense, they make an excellent crime duo. He’s not the greatest influence sometimes but he loves her. He also doesn’t enjoy dead bugs as gifts, which Essi can’t wrap her head around at all.

- Like Snufkin, Essi has an inexplicable bond with nature. She attracts beasts of every sort, who have followed her home on several occasions. Though of course, she isn’t half as annoyed as Snufkin. She’s absolutely delighted by all her new pets! She’s on the lookout for a dragon of her very own though. Like the little one from her papa’s stories. She is a knight after all and what’s a knight without a dragon. (Birch tends to leave out the part of his stories where the knight slays the dragon. Essi is far happier with the interpretation of them being best friends.)

- She found an old sword washed up by the riverbank once and it has become her prized possession. Her family have tried everything but simply cannot talk the little one out of giving up her sword. Torben believes she’s entitled to keep it under the ‘Finder’s, Keepers’ rule. So, she has a sword now and that is that.

- It took Snufkin a while to accept being a father. At first, he didn’t want anything to do with that title at all. Of course, he lived with them, they were his home, he cared for them but it was always Moomin who was the father. Snufkin was just Snufkin. They called him by his name. That’s all he was and all he wanted to be. But one night, he was feeling particularly night owl-ish. Moomin had retired to bed and Snufkin was sitting by the stove, basking in the heat. Silence was then disturbed by the pat pat pat of little feet down the stairs. A tearful Essi, stricken by a bad dream, was welcomed into Snufkin’s arms as he gathered the child into his lap. Little paws going wild as she recounted it all, she was finally soothed by Snufkin’s stroke of her hair and the way he rocked her back and forth. All was quiet, as she began nodding off against his chest, when her tail batted once, then twice, against his leg. ‘Pah pah’ His breath hitched. But he said nothing. There was nothing to say, really, as everything seemed to click in that moment. He hugged Essi tight.

#moomin #moominvalley #moomin ocs #moomin oc #springdove children

[diaryofasupergroupie]

Retirement Doesn’t Exist

The trouble is with being a retired groupie the scene and the industry always tries to seduce you back into its clutches. Once you know what it is to have such talented, beautiful people and have them know you it isn’t easy to stay away forever. They show you an entirely different world where bills, nine to five jobs and commitment doesn’t exist. How could anyone ever leave that entirely behind? My relationships with the bands and crew are intoxicating but those I made with the other girls are made of steel.

My absolutely beautiful and loyal friend M is perfect and unapologetically a groupie devoted to the scene and her love of music. For those who don’t know she is as American as it is possible to be, big hair and bigger personality. She came from the South and was as sweet as it was possible to be. She has always been over the top and that was part of her charm. When she decided she would see in November with a party not only did I get roped into attending despite my apparent retirement I also got roped into making banners and setting the table the night before.

I was tired when I walked inside and counting the numerous places I wanted to be besides there – my bed was top of the list. I convinced myself I was past all of this and far too old for it all but when I saw all these people who were so wonderful and all knew me I knew I was in the right place. I love the noise that buzzes just under the surface when you see a guitarist or singer or drummer who thousands of people love yet when they see you they wrap their arms around you and whisper they have missed you in your ear.

By chance a band I know well were there, they are American and are probably in the top three funniest bands I have come across since being in the scene. I have a long history with the lead singer and we haven’t always liked each other as we do now. For those who have been following me for a while you will remember K from the time I threw a drink all over him and was escorted out of the venue by security. But I nicknamed him K because out of all of the men I have met he is probably the only person who is like me the most. We clashed massively and I didn’t understand that when he was being a complete arse he was actually joking and being funny. This is rather surprising considering my sense of humour matches his exactly so you would like to think I would have been able to notice this. But no, instead I hated him with a passion and was banned from all his gigs for years before he let me borrow his hair straighteners at a festival and fast forward a year and I was on tour with them in Europe and tattooing his cock. It’s funny how things happen.

K opened his arms for me and kissed my cheek while he got us some drinks and told me all about his tour that was starting. At any party he was always watched by a gaggle of new girls who had somehow gained entry. He was too good looking for his own good, he had such an angelic face. I had one up on the other girls though, they hadn’t seen him with no pants on. We got drinks and he sat me down in a secluded little corner of the party where we were hidden away. We had a drunken hook up in the summer but it was nothing more than one night and we hadn’t kept in close contact really. K had sent me a naughty picture of himself several days ago but I had shot him down and told him it all looked rather sad.

This is where I try to tell you that being a groupie isn’t all about sex. It can be, but it doesn’t have to be. I have been kept around a lot longer than some of the others and that is because a pretty face, good body and fun sex will only last you so long. Some may disagree and perhaps it’s the counselling degree in me but I believe that these musicians just want to be listened to. They are normal people who need to be listened to and by doing that I have somehow been kept afloat while bands and girls alike have gone under. K told me what had happened and how rough things had been. He told me a lot but I just listened and held his hand and told him I understood and everything was going to be okay. I saw a change in him, he was a lot more chaotic and scattered. All I could do was let him know I care and sometimes that is enough.

I’m careful how I write the next part of my evening for various reasons. Not everything is crystal clear and I don’t want to glamorise or promote binge drinking. I am very open about the fact I have struggled with alcohol dependence and to some extent I still do. The amount I drank isn’t something I want to promote so we shall say a lot and leave it there. I stumbled across another good friend of mine who for a long time worked as part of the crew of some of my top favourites. What I write next is some kind of assumption because as I said it is a little blurry. The next morning I awoke to see I attempted to call my honorary brother A five times and seven hundred pounds poorer. He had recently invited me to a party and gig he was throwing in America and I suppose in my drunken state I decided I just had to go and book a flight.

What I do remember is at one point in the night I had decided that at the top of my priorities was to dance with M to Bohemian Rhapsody on the stairs – to which I promptly fell down the stairs. The level of drunk I was must have been astounding because I pride myself at having a high tolerance and providing I’m not drinking and taking drugs at the same time I am a true English groupie who has been well trained to hold their drink since falling into a lake at a park while drunk on cheap vodka at 14. Everyone seemed to be worried about me which I can only assume convinced me I must be injured. Somehow I was convinced enough to let K take me to the hospital for my non-existent broken leg which was all very sweet but also very unnecessary.

I shall skip the whole dramatics of it all and K being extremely concerned about me. After an hour of sitting in A&E on a busy Saturday night I finally came to my senses that I was in fact fine and just had a flair for the dramatics. K wasn’t exactly pleased but I did try to sell it that I had made a full recovery apparently. Instead I took K to a fish and chip shop and we ate food together. I remember watching him and realising how sad he was. He was hurting and reaching out to anyone who would even pretend to care. I held his hand and smiled to him while he was so close to sinking lower and lower. K, he whispered and I felt chills, this time is make or break for me, this tour has to go well but I can’t do it without the drugs. I told him he could but he didn’t believe me. I’m not trying to tell everyone how his life is so hard because he has money and a lot of it and people love him but circumstance and sadness aren’t always linked. He should be fantastic and I’m sure some days he is. But some days that doesn’t matter and I think that is okay too.

We went back with each other and I felt I really understood him. Some men you meet in the scene and they’re there for a good time and a night with them is something you tell your friends about because they are exciting and it all seems like a whirlwind. But then there are others – like K – who just want to be held. The next morning I had to leave for work and he had to leave for a gig. But in some kind of twist I got a call from his tour manager telling me that he had finalised the arrangements and he was sending a car for M and myself. In my drunken state I had agreed to come on tour with him and his band – this sudden invitation was pretty typical of him and I had gone on tour for two weeks in Europe with him in the same way. Sometimes these things happen and you just have to go along with them. The truth is no matter how many times I say I am retired there is something alluring about the music, the travelling and the not growing up mind-set. Perhaps I am having a crisis of some kind where I’m trying to relive my youth. But I am in love with it and if I have the opportunity to travel and be with these people who are so so talented then I will, each and every time.      

#diary of a super groupie #groupie #story #party story #K #modern groupie #band aid #groupie retirement #tour #tour story #rock music #bands #rock bands #drug abuse #all access #diary #emo bands #indie bands

[danyka-fendyr]

Remind Me: Part 6

Alright so I’m dead tired and half sleep-drunk and it’s 3 in the morning and I absolutely SHOULD NOT have just started writing this whole thing but anyway if I’m going to die I want to die fangirling over Dream’s work. Anyway, this is more of a second part to the last chapter than it is it’s own chapter since it’s so short. Who knows? Maybe if I get extra time I’ll write an extra chapter some time and combine these two into one. Idk.

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli @binbons-is-theloml

Wordcount: 1110

Chapter 6: In which, things get serious

“So you’re telling me someone came after your girl, and we don’t have the slightest clue who it is?” Frank asked.

He didn’t seem mad at Billy if you were reading him right. He seemed madder at the circumstances. Like he wanted to find this guy right now, slice him open and rearrange his guts, and he was ticked off that wasn’t an option. Honestly, it sort of made you mad too so you could understand his anger.

“What if it was Carter? You said I broke off my engagement with him. Maybe he got angry and wanted revenge.”

Billy looked like someone had just told him it was his birthday and he was getting a pony.

Frank, on the other hand, scoffed. “I think we can safely rule out your ex. That boy was like a puppy. He wouldn’t have the guts to hurt you like that, not even on accident.”

“Okay, so then who? One of Billy’s exes? I have some fuzzy memories of having an...interesting relationship with the women he dated.”

“Do you mean you made it your personal mission to make all of them look as bad as possible when standing next to you while undermining their security in their relationship and flaunting your personal relationship with Billy? Because yeah, then you definitely had an interesting relationship with Bill’s girlfriend’s.”

“Frank, take it easy on her. She can barely remember that stuff,” Billy said.

“I can imagine. It’s actually a lot of fun to imagine.”

“You two are so unhealthy,” Karen said.

“That being said,” Billy spoke, “I don’t think it was one of my exes. Frankly, none of them are hardcore enough for that. Maybe Madani, but that’s really not her style. Besides, I don’t think she really keeps track of me much anymore.”

“Exactly how many enemies do we have?” 

You turned to face Billy, resting your elbow over the top of your chair. It was hard to keep the concern out of your tone. Maybe you really had been a bad person. Maybe you were all bad people. Maybe it’s Maybelline.

“Not that many-”

“A lot,” Frank interrupted.

“Okay, so who would have me as their top priority?”

“Well, let’s see. Anyone on the long list of people who wanted to either get at Bill and didn’t care if you had to die for it, or who wanted to kill you. The second one is smaller, so we’ll start with that.”

Oh good. Fewer people wanted to kill you than Billy.

“So we covered Billy’s exes and your exes,” Karen listed. “What else is there? Maybe, clients, you made angry for your work?”

“She works at an art gallery Karen, not in the mafia.”

“Worth looking into though. Do you remember anything about work? Your clients, maybe?” Frank pressed you.

You thought about it, letting them continue their conversation while you concentrated. Mostly, it was just blurs of paintings. Beautiful paintings, but nothing that wasn’t entirely mundane. Some old guys hitting on her, but nobody that seemed like they had it in them to try to kill her. Paintings, old people, whiskey, businessmen, skyscrapers.

You realized you were hyperventilating, eyes closed, and Billy was gently shaking your shoulder.

“Skittles? Skittles, stay with me, okay? What’s happening baby, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, trying to clear the images out of it. “Something about...something about clients. I don’t know. It made me remember something.”

“Something like what?” Karen’s voice wavered between fear and curiosity, that line she so often seemed to straddle.

“Some party. I got...I got drunk. And that’s all I remember. That’s all...that’s all I want to remember,” you said.

You picked a chip up out of the bowl in front of you and crushed it in your hand. It was less satisfying than you had hoped for.

“Is that the last thing you remember?” Karen’s voice was soft even as she questioned you.

You shook your head in response. “No. I remember being kicked down the stairs, sort of. It’s really blurry and spinny though, and most of what I remember about that is how bad it hurt. Other than that, I don’t remember much after I woke up in the hospital. It’s all in pieces. Sometimes I can’t tell one memory from another memory, and sometimes they get all spliced together. I don’t even trust my own mind.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That sounds...awful.”

You leaned into Billy’s shoulder, tired.

“Maybe we should be heading home,” Billy said, brushing back pieces of your hair which were reflecting the red, green, blue and yellow lights strung up above you.

“I haven’t even had a margarita yet,” You whined. 

A very large part of you just wanted to be drunk right now.

“Maybe it’s best you don’t have one of those, Dee,” Karen said. “I’ll bring you around a bottle of wine later, okay?”

“I’ll work on that list of names, brother. See what I can eliminate by default. Who has alibis.”

“Sounds good.” Billy nodded, already helping you up out of your seat and apparently not letting go of you for anything. “Let’s get you home, Skits.”

You let Billy lead you back to the car, past a waiter carrying a tray of tacos in Frank and Karen’s general direction. You followed a bit mindlessly, suddenly overbearingly tired. Apparently, having self-induced memory trips really did a number on you and your brain, and all you wanted to do was sleep.

You and Billy drove home in silence, the sun sinking slowly behind you as you headed back to your penthouse and he walked you to the elevator.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I think I just need to sleep. Thinking too hard about stuff I’ve forgotten about makes my head hurt. And it makes me tired too, I guess.”

“I’m sorry Skits.”

“Yeah, me too,” you sighed, walking into your penthouse.

He laughed, carefully picking you up. “Okay. I’m going to carry you to bed now, okay?”

“Okay.”

“But this time, I am not going to kiss you. And you are not going to kiss me. There will just be sleep.”

“That sounds a little boring.” You pouted.

“I’m sure we can make up for it later. We’ve got time Skittles. But for now, you need sleep.”

You couldn’t argue with him. Not when he set you down on a thick layer of memory foam. It was just too irresistible, the feeling of being swallowed up by your bed.

The darkness swallowed you up too, and the last thing you consciously thought was just idly wondering if you were a bitter pill to swallow.

#dreamwritesimagines #remind me #part 6 #remind me part 6 #billy russo #billy russo fic #billy russo imagine #reader insert #billyxreader #punisher

[do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them]

Til the End of the Night / Ch5: In which things go better than they could have, if not by much

Previous / Masterpost / Next 

Summary: This is fine.

Warnings: Mild injuries, Virgil talking bad about himself

A/N: listen... i love... platonic moxiety

Read on AO3

Virgil may have blacked out for a couple seconds.  One moment he was surrounded and panicking, and the next, he was sitting on the ground somewhere dark, cool, and quiet. He was already calming down, almost like- wait, it probably was magic.  He stood and straightened his robes, examining his surroundings.  There was just enough light to make out the smooth, curving walls that surrounded him.  He didn’t feel trapped, strangely enough; he had the feeling he could leave at any time, although he had no idea how he knew that.

He could still hear noise outside.  He wasn’t in some kind of pocket dimension or anything, then. There were voices, but too muffled for him to know what they were saying.  He was probably going to have to leave whatever this was and deal with what had happened at some point, but… he didn’t really want to.  Maybe he could just hang out in here a bit longer.  Wait until he had a clear idea of how he was going to deal with it, at least.

He jumped.  Something had just touched the outside of his little bubble for a second, and he felt it, somehow.  He walked cautiously up to the side it had come from.  The voices outside were louder now, closer.  He heard someone he didn’t recognize, and then… Patton? Yeah, that was him.  He wished he could make out what was going on, but he was only getting tone, not actual words.

What he did know was that Patton was still talking, and his voice was rising in both pitch and volume, and he was starting to stumble over words, and Virgil was getting worried.  He pressed his hand against the wall and wondered how to get rid of it.  He couldn’t leave Patton alone out there with the town guards, he was going to get hurt for sure if he wasn’t already, there was no doubt in his mind--

Another feeling that something had bumped the outside of the bubble, a cry of pain, and before Virgil could think the bubble was gone and he was moving.  There was Patton and a guard and Virgil was grabbing Patton’s arm, jerking him out of reach just in time, whirling around and yelling “MOVE” and the crowd defied the laws of physics to part for him.  He didn’t slow down or even look up until they were three streets away, and even then only because he tripped over a loose cobblestone and crashed onto his hands and knees, barely managing to avoid bringing Patton with him.  He pushed himself up and finally looked at something other than the next place to run.

They were in a narrow alley.  Patton was leaning on the wall of a building, winded.  “Looks like your old dad is a little out of shape,” he laughed between breaths.

“We’re the same age,” Virgil reminded him.  “Sorry about… that.”  He jerked his head in the general direction of the market.

“Oh, don’t say that, it wasn’t--”

“We can talk about it later,” Virgil cut in, hearing the shouts of guards approaching.  They weren’t safe yet.  “We have to get back to the inn before they find us.  Think you can keep up?”

Patton winced.  “Uh…”  He was still out of breath from the first bit of running, while Virgil didn’t seem affected at all.  “I’ll do my best!”

His best was not very good.  Virgil had a grip on his wrist to keep him from getting behind, but he was still struggling and nearly falling a lot.  Unsurprisingly, the side in charge of running away from dangerous things was fast when he wanted to be. He tried to slow his pace a little for Patton, but that let their pursuit start to catch up, and they had to lose them before they could go back to the inn, not just stay ahead.  Virgil turned a corner and stopped abruptly, and Patton didn’t have time to ask what he was doing before he was lifted off his feet.

“Do not mention this to anyone,” Virgil said darkly, already running again, somehow faster than Patton was capable of even when he was carrying him.  “Ever.”  Patton just laughed nervously and held onto his robes, trying not to fall.

Ten minutes later, Virgil deposited him behind the inn and slid down the wall, breathing hard.  Patton looked at him and got halfway through the word “sorry,” feeling bad for making him have to do all that, but before he could finish Virgil shook his head, as if to shake off fatigue like water, and stood back up.

“No- I mean- ugh, we don’t have time for this.  We have to get Logan and leave, now.”  His tone said it wasn’t a suggestion.  Patton looked down, nodded and followed him into the inn.

The innkeeper gave them a weird look as they rushed through her lobby, and Patton half-turned and waved awkwardly as he started up the stairs.

Logan was deep in a reference guide to local flora, and nearly threw his pen across the room when the door slammed open.  Virgil was standing there with his leg in the air, having apparently just kicked it open.  “LOGAN, HOLY-”

His next word, whatever it would have been, was muffled by Patton’s hand.  “Watch your- hey, don’t lick me!”  He pulled his hand away and wiped it on his pants.

“Instinctive reaction, not my fault,” Virgil claimed. “Logan, pack it up, buddy, we gotta go.” He was already kneeling on his bed, sorting his belongings into different pockets.  He’d been about three pounds lighter without all this stuff.

Logan’s brow furrowed as he tore off a scrap of paper to use as a bookmark.  “What? Why?  We have this room until tomorrow, do we not?”

Virgil sighed.  “I…”

“There was a little bit of an incident and some people got mad and it wasn’t anyone’s fault,” Patton interrupted.  He knew Virgil too well to let him finish that sentence.  He didn’t have much to pack up, so he wandered over to the window.  “Ooh.  That doesn’t look good…”

“What?” Virgil demanded, suddenly next to him.  “What doesn’t- oh.  We- we have to leave, Logan, right now, seriously…”  There were guards down on the street, methodically knocking on every door, and they would reach the inn soon.  In a town where nothing happens, it doesn’t take much to become law enforcement’s top priority.

Logan looked at the mess in front of him.  In his defense, there had been no reason to expect he would need to clean it up quickly. “This is going to take some time,” he said.  “I think it would be best that you go ahead and then wait for me.  There’s only one road, so you shouldn’t be difficult to find, and it’s not as if I have done anything to warrant suspicion, after all.”

Virgil hesitated.  He didn’t want to be separated, but he also didn’t want to be caught.  And out of all the other sides, Logan was the one he most trusted not to do anything too stupid when left to his own devices.  “Okay, fine, but you better actually catch up as fast as you can and not stick around to read a little more,” he warned.

“I would never.”

Patton giggled.

“I don’t see what is so amusing,” Logan huffed as the other two headed for the door.

“Like Virge said,” Patton reminded him just before leaving, “don’t be too slow-gan!”  He pulled the door shut before Logan could complain, which somehow diminished his desire to have an irritated reaction at all.  Logan didn’t understand why that was, himself.  Surely he should have been equally annoyed whether Patton was around to know about it or not.

The innkeeper had an almost resigned look when Virgil and Patton ran back down the stairs and approached her.  “Let us out the back and forget either of us was here,” Virgil told her, pressing a variety of coins into her hand.  At least some of those were probably valuable.  She just nodded, having somewhat expected something like this, and led them to the staff entry.

“Thank you, you have a very nice inn,” Patton told her on his way out.  She just smiled and nodded, then went back to the desk and added them to the list of people who would not be allowed to stay there a second time.

Virgil didn’t relax until they were well out of town. He kept pulling them around the side of buildings to hide at every little noise.  Patton just followed his lead, because trying to make conversation, or suggest that maybe it would be a better plan to just try not to look so obviously guilty of something, seemed like a bad idea when he was this tense. Finally, they came to a large rock almost Patton’s height by the side of the road, conveniently right next to a path that led towards the forest, and chose it as a good place to stop and wait for Logan.

Sitting with his back against the rock, hidden from anyone walking past, Virgil finally released the tension in his shoulders.  Well, some of it.  He was still literal Anxiety, and there was Logan to worry about.  Which, he realized, he should absolutely not do right now under any circumstances, because all he could actually accomplish would be to get himself believing something bad would happen.  Like when he’d been so sure Patton was going to get hurt back there.  Or when he’d just known someone would try to start something with him for pushing.  Or when he’d spent the entire time between learning they were going to a town and actually getting there obsessing over what people would think of him when they saw him in this outfit, and then, wow, what do you know, he was universally distrusted.  Somehow, coming to the conclusion that everything was in fact his fault only made him worry more.

Patton sat facing him, legs crossed, leaning to the side to rest his head against the rock.  He studied Virgil’s face for a moment.  “You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

Virgil sighed, frustrated.  “Yeah, sure, totally, except for how I’m the one who decided to show up in a fantasy world dressed like an evil wizard, and I’m the one who can’t navigate a crowd without making enemies, or control himself enough to not do scary-looking magic by mistake in the middle of the street, and--”

“Yeah, but you weren’t trying to scare people, you were just stressed out and they overreacted, and you’re also the one who got us out of there,” Patton pointed out, eyebrow raised.  “And the one who found his way back to the inn perfectly after running in circles for fifteen minutes, and didn’t leave me behind when I was slowing us down, and let me drag him around town all day in the first place, which made me very happy.  So you shouldn’t be apologizing, I should be thanking you.  It’s not like you made any of that happen, it was just… bad luck.”

Virgil looked stunned and doubtful, which was kind of his default when anyone said anything nice about him.  He shouldn’t let Patton keep thinking so well of him when it wasn’t true.  He should tell him what he’d figured out, that Virgil and his stupid constant worrying were causing their bad luck.  “But I- uh... wait, the, uh, the bubble thing, did that hurt you?”  He couldn’t do it.  Not when Patton was looking at him with actual admiration.  He wasn’t strong enough for that, he had to just… change the subject like a coward. “Or- anything else?”

“No, no, it- well, it sort of shocked me when I touched it, but it didn’t actually do anything, y’know, it just felt like it hurt.”

“...Okay.  I don’t actually know, but sure.  Really though, you’re not hurt at all?”

“I, uh…”  This was unfair, Virgil was looking at him all worried, he couldn’t flat-out lie. “I… might have a little scratch?” He held up his arm.  He didn’t have to say it wasn’t from earlier today.

Virgil looked at it and sighed, looking through his pockets for the extra roll of bandages he bought earlier.  “What, were you just not gonna tell me?”

“It didn’t seem serious enough to care about!”

“Not now, maybe, but it could get infected or something, we’re gonna be out in nature and stuff!”  He wrapped up most of Patton’s forearm, which he thought was a bit overkill, muttering under his breath about idiots who shouldn’t be trusted with swords.  Patton stayed quiet.

Virgil finished and leaned back against the rock, pulling his knees up to his chest, and winced- why did it hurt to bend them?  He looked down.  Oh.  He suddenly remembered falling in the street.

“Virgil,”  Patton said. “You yelled at me over a scratch and yet you weren’t going to tell me you scraped up your knees?”  He folded his arms in mock scolding, then moved to heal him.

“Hey, I forgot, a lot was happening,” Virgil defended himself. He watched Patton’s magic with interest. “Sure would be more convenient if you could just do that to yourself, too.”

Patton laughed a little too brightly, hiding a wince. He’d realized too late that healing this particular thing while kneeling was a mistake.  “Guess I’ll just have to try not to hurt myself again.”

It wasn’t much longer before Logan arrived, having somehow stuffed all his scattered papers and thick books into his satchel.  He almost dropped it in surprise when Patton jumped out from behind a rock and ambush-hugged him, claiming that he hadn’t seen him all day and therefore couldn’t help it.  Stories from the day were traded, some more exciting than others, and new knowledge shared.

By the time they paused at the edge of the Fae Forest, the sun was close to setting, but they couldn’t exactly go back into town for the night.  Virgil told himself firmly that everything would be fine, but he didn’t believe it.  Patton marveled at how tall the trees ahead were, not to mention how much more alive they seemed than anything he’d seen in the real world.  Logan just pushed his glasses up for the third time in a minute and stared into the brush, suspiciously looking for the weird things which supposedly resided therein.

“I suppose all we can do now is… walk in.”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #my post #my writing #til the end of the night

[jos-corner-of-the-world]

Big World - {13}

{1} – {2} – {3} – {4} – {5} – {6} – {7} – {8} – {9} -- {10} -- {11} -- {12}

You'd left the apartment donning a black mask and your hood over your head. You knew you liked like shit, you didn't need anyone else seeing you like this.

Your first thought was to go to Ji, but that would mean the studio where you'd run into others, or their dorm. Same problem at both.

You checked to make sure you had your credit card and drove to a hotel across town.  You weren't really sure where else you could go. Home wasn't an option yet.

Once you were checked in, you laid in the bed and let the emotion take you over.

Looking at it logically...it was a mess. Looking at it from an emotional standpoint...it was even worse.

You hadn't meant to yell at him. But you were so frustrated with being left out of those moments in his life. Moments you desperately wanted to help him through.

You were nearly hyperventilating from crying when your phone rang from your purse.  Even though you were sure it was Wonwoo, you still checked.

You were surprised to see it was Ji calling you.

“Hello?” You said as best you could. The crying had taken over your whole body at this point.

“Noona...noona where are you?” He asked. You could hear the panic in his voice.

“I'm fine Ji” you said.

“Bullshit. Don't lie to me Y/n. Where are you?” He asked again.

“Ji, I need to be alone.” You said.

That wasn't exactly true. You just needed to be away from Wonwoo for a bit, to clear your head.

“I know you. And I know you're lying. I need to know where you are. I'm coming alone, I promise you that. Right now you're my priority” Ji said, voice still emitting the panic he was feeling.

“What about Wonwoo?” you asked. This was putting Ji in the uncomfortable situation of “picking” between his two friends.

“I don't give a shit about Wonwoo right now. I told you, you're my priority. Now where are you?”

You knew Jihoon didn't mean that, about Wonwoo. You knew how Jihoon reacted when little stuff happened with you, this was major in comparison to everything else.

You told Jihoon where you were and waited.

Just talking to Jihoon on the phone had calmed you some, but once you'd hung up, and the silence set back in...so did the tears.

By the time Jihoon had gotten to you, you were worse off than before he called. Your heart was beating erratically and your breathing was labored.

You'd worked yourself into a full blown panic attack.

As soon as you opened the door, Ji’s arms were around you.

“Deep breaths Noona. Match your breathing with mine.” He said.

That wasn't a new occurrence for you, having a panic attack. But it's been a long time.  In the 16 years you'd known each other, he's helped you through half a dozen panic attacks.

He guided you over to the foot of the bed, keeping his arms around you and your face against his chest. You found yourself listening to his voice, and focusing on his breathing.  It took 20 minutes before you calmed down some.

Then the exhaustion set in.

“What happened?” Jihoon asked once you'd calmed yourself.

“We got into a fight.” You told him.

“I know. He called me to tell me you were probably on your way to meet me. He is worried because of how upset you are. When you didn't show up I called.”

“I was frustrated. Something happened today when we were at the company, and he came home and secluded himself into my bedroom.”

“Okay and then what happened?”

“I went into the bedroom to ask him to talk to me. It's not fair that he doesn't talk to me when he's upset. I talk to him about every single thing that's bothering me, almost to an annoying extreme, but he won't even let me help with the big stuff. I yelled at him. And then it just escalated from there. But I fucked up.” you told him.

“What do you mean you fucked up?”

“He asked me not to walk away,. He all but begged me not to leave, and I still walked out the door. I didn't know what else to do. We were getting nowhere by fighting, and I was already so close to breaking down that I did what I felt I had to do. But now… Now I don't know what kind of damage it caused.”. There were so many thoughts if the impact your actions could have on the future.

Jihoon just held you tightly as you cried. He wanted to tell you that everything was going to be okay. That things would work out, and you and Wonwoo would be stronger than before.

But he didn't know that for sure. He didn't know what Wonwoo was feeling, or what else had been said.

So those were promises he couldn't give to you.

It was nearly an hour later when you finally fell asleep. Jihoon sat at the top of the bed, noticing how distraught you looked, even in sleep.

His phone buzzed next to him, and he saw Wonwoo’s name pop up on ID.

He got off the bed as quietly as he could and walked to the bathroom to take the phone call.

“Where is she?” Wonwoo asked immediately.

“When she's ready to tell you that herself she will.” He said carefully.

“What, are you some weird mediator? I want to know where she is. Please, I need to know where she is. I need to see her.” Wonwoo's tone had lost the edge it had when he'd started the phone call.

“I just don't think she's ready for that yet. And as much as she respected your space all the times you were upset, you need to respect hers now.”

Jihoon heard him let out allowed sigh, but he didn't refute the statement.

“What aren't you telling her?” Jihoon asked him.

“What do you mean what am I not telling her?”

“When you came to pick her up in my office, you were really upset. It seemed to me it was more than what the CEO said. So what happened?”

“Mingyu happened” Wonwoo spit out, feelings if anger still fresh in his mind towards his best friend.

“What did he say?”

“I told him and Coups what the CEO said. I told them what I said. And Mingyu asked if I was ready to throw everything away that we worked so hard for. I snapped.”

“Jesus, he really doesn't think before he speaks does he?” Jihoon asked, rubbing his forehead.

“Not really, no. And here's the thing woozi if it came to it I am a hundred percent ready to step away. I will not, under any circumstances, let Y/n do this by herself. If he's going to fire me and kick me from the group, as much as that absolutely is something I don't want to happen, it's the better of the two options for me. She's it, Jihoon. She's my life. I've worked so hard and I'm so proud of everything that I've done these last few years. But now I have so much more to be happy with; that I can be proud of. I have her, I have the baby, I have everything I need. I just need her home.”

Jihoon listened to his voice. He sounded utterly broken, a mirror image of you.

Jihoon stood looking at your sleeping form from his spot in the bathroom. He didn't think this was necessarily breaking your trust. And if it was, he hoped you would not be too angry with him. But he didn't want to see you hurt anymore.

“She think she fucked things up with you.” Jihoon told him.

“What? We had a fight. How could she have fucked things up between us?”

“Because she walked away.”

“So? I don't care. I don't care if she walks away when she needs to. The only thing that matters is if she comes back.”

Jihoon thought about his next words very carefully. Because as much as he loved the group and as much as he loved the members, you were family, and he loved you just as much. So if he could, he was going to protect to everyone involved.

“Would you really give everything up for her? Would you step away from the group completely if it meant that you were able to stay with her and the baby?”

“Without hesitation” Wonwoo said, his voice strong and steadfast.

Jihoon felt oddly accepting of this. On one hand, it would change the group dynamic so much if that were to happen. But on the other, someone he considered his best friend, and his big sister would be happy together.  He knew that things could change drastically from within the company if Wonwoo was fired, but he wouldn't hold that against either one of them. They deserved to be happy, and live their best lives possible.

Jihoon smiled sadly to himself and then told Wonwoo where you were. He still wore the smile on his face knowing that, while you might be mad at him when you woke up, you would forgive him eventually because who you needed right now wasn't him. It was Wonwoo.

{14}

#wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonu #svt #seventeen #jihoon #lee jihoon #woozi #au #scenario #imagine #fic #series #wonwoo imagine #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo au #wonwoo series #wonwoo fic #svt au #svt imagine #svt scenario #svt series #seventeen au #seventeen scenario #seventeen imagine #seventeen series #seventeen fic #big world #joy-bangtan

[yana-of-the-arcana]

The Spy Who “Married” Me

Chapter 1: The Best Laid Plans

Character(s): Julian Devorak x Apprentice, Count Lucio, Asra, Muriel Warning(s): None

Summary: It was supposed to be a straightforward, simple mission. But as Yana has come to find out, things are rarely straightforward or simple with Julian Devorak.

She's never had a mission go so horribly wrong so horribly quickly.

They find out too late that their handler has been compromised in the field, and so instead of a rendezvous to don servant uniforms at the safehouse, Julian and Yana, two of Arcana's top agents, are immediately captured upon arriving on palace grounds.

It doesn't help the hostility between them as the two walk in silence with the guards who found them, each trying to come up with their own escape plan. As they walk through the halls, Yana recalls the castle layout that she's had memorized for weeks, and realizes they're going straight to the throne room. When she looks over at Julian, his wide eyes let her know that he's caught on as well and is also at a loss for what to do.

They aren't supposed to have direct contact with the Count under any circumstances.

Now they're forced to face him as the guards shove them into the throne room, the two agents stumbling on the plush carpet.

"And just who do you think you are?"

Lucio is...shorter than she thought he would be.

There's undoubtedly something intimidating about him, how he reclines in his throne with a cape lined in fur, as though he's expected in battle at any moment. However, it's the type of intimidation that Yana has come to expect from anyone with money – it feels compensating. Even as she knows her life (and Julian's) is in danger, she can't help but feel thoroughly unimpressed with the haughty man staring down at her like she's a roach he's had the misfortune of stepping on.

Before she can open her mouth to speak, Julian has taken a grand step forward and put on a smile that would shame a salesman. "Why, Count Lucio, what an honor!"

"You don't think I know that?" Yana closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, feeling herself growing as irritated as the Count. Still, when she opens her eyes, there's an amusement mixing into his features. She steals a glance at Julian and sees him in a deep bow and realizes that though she's less than pleased with his dramatic-as-ever approach, he's playing directly into Lucio's ego.

If he can keep it up, it might just save them.

Yana follows his lead and gives a gracious curtsy, only rising when Lucio snaps, "Now spit out who you are and what you're doing here before I decide your execution date."

Julian is three steps ahead, posture all confidence and charm as he straightens. "Why, I'm Doctor Devorak of Nevivon, one of the land's finest physicians." He flicks his hair with a flourish, and Yana fights every fiber of her being to keep from rolling her eyes; he's certainly laying it on thick. "I was sent to research the medical practices of other kingdoms as part of a diplomatic mission. I was so looking forward to visiting your court, as we all know what fine doctors Vesuvia brings forth under your guidance, Your Excellency."

Lucio is faltering, just on the edge of believing the story, but Julian remains steadfast in his roguish smile, and even throws in another bow. "And the get-up?" The Count gestures to their clothing, all black and clearly made for movement (except for Julian's cape that he insisted wouldn't interfere). There's also the fact that for a traveling doctor, they have a severe lack of equipment, with Yana only carrying a single cross-body bag holding their gear and a folder of papers pertaining to their mission.

"Ah, you see, my research is...top priority for Nevivon, and so I had to travel in disguise and in secret to avoid discovery." It's far-fetched at best, but to see Julian so expertly weaving the story, slowly stepping closer to the Count and gesturing just so with his hands, even Yana finds herself buying into it. "However! It was no use – we were set upon by bandits just outside of the city. They've taken everything from me, Your Excellency, and so I come here begging for your kindness, knowing you are a most gracious and powerful Count."

Yana feels like she might gag from the cheap praise, but Lucio seems to be lapping it up with a smirk as Julian remains on one knee just below the steps to the throne. Miraculously, Lucio's nearly convinced, and Yana can see in his eyes that one final push of proof will be enough to save them from the hangman's noose (at least for tonight).  

"And do you have your papers from Nevivon about your diplomatic mission? Or your research?" For just a moment, a sinister snarl curls on the Count's lips. "Or have the bandits stolen those as well?"

"I've kept all our papers and research safe, Your Excellency."

Julian turns, doing his best to hide his shock as he watches Yana step forward, reaching into her bag and finding the folder of their papers easily. A simple glamour should do the trick just nicely, and she feels her magic rush down her arm and pulse through the papers as she pulls them out, presenting them to Lucio with a deep bow. When she feels him take the folder, she looks up with a subservient smile, explaining, "I would do anything to keep the doctor's work safe, but of course the bandits could not see the value in these papers and weren't interested in anything they could not sell." Her eyes catch Julian's, and she gives a subtle nod.

If she's had to trust him this far, then he can trust her now.

His eyes flash with understanding as his gaze goes back to Lucio, who flips through the papers with pursed lips and a raised brow, clearly uninterested and finally, mercifully convinced of their story. He holds the papers back out with distaste and Yana quickly slides them back into her bag. "What unfortunate luck you have, Doctor Devorak," he purrs, though his eyes bore straight through Yana, and she can feel him searching her very soul for something.

"The most dreadful."

"And who is this?"

Yana feels her stomach drop as she realizes that she hasn't carved a place for herself in Julian's charade, but before she can come up with something Julian is on his feet and has an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She nearly protests out of habit but bites her tongue, instead leaning into the embrace and trying to calculate just what his next move could be.

"Forgive me, Count Lucio, as I was so scattered from the night's events that I've forgotten myself completely." He looks down at her with such sickly-sweet adoration that Yana feels her stomach drop to the floorboards. "This is my beautiful wife, Yulia."

On second thought, execution doesn't sound so bad.

The guards had shown them to their room, and Julian did a quick sweep for bugs while Yana searched for any magical surveillance. Closing her eyes, she let her magic reach out as far as it could and found nothing that might be listening in or waiting to strike.

"All clear," Julian reports from the other side of the bedroom, closing the wardrobe.

Yana opens her eyes. "Good." And she turns on her heel, dropping the bag on the bed as she storms towards the agent and hisses, "Because you have some explaining to do, Doc."

He scoffs, absolutely nonplussed by her show of anger and instead crossing his arms with a cocked brow. "What a strange way to say 'thank you' after I saved both of our lives back there."

"Diplomatic mission? Bandits? Your wife?" Yana huffs, throwing her arms in the air to avoid choking the man in front of her. Though she's over a foot shorter than him, her rage is enough to make up for the height as she steps even closer, pointing an accusatory finger. "Are you even taking this seriously, Devorak? If I hadn't put that glamour on the papers we would be hanging in the courtyard right now."

With a sigh, Julian pinches the bridge of his nose. "We both know Lucio is dramatic. If I didn't add a little flourish he would have killed us out of boredom."

It's a legitimate point, but there's still something irking her, something that claws at the back of her mind and makes her palms itch with discomfort. She waits for him to open his eyes and look at her once more as she chews her bottom lip. "But why did you go and make me your wife?"

He softens, something indecipherable flickers in his eyes. Before she can dissect it, he looks to the side, his eyes on the door as he explains, "This way they can't separate us."

She lets her shoulders drop, realizing that he's actually thought about this, and that of course he's made the right decision. Whether she wants to admit it or not, he's a good agent, and his quick-thinking and charisma did get them out of an encounter with the Count alive and with their mission still secret.

With a deep breath, she drops onto the edge of the bed, her back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. She can feel the bed shift with his weight as Julian sits next to her, but she keeps her eyes on the intricate mosaic on the ceiling. "Who would have thought I'd have to end up pretending to love you?" she mutters with a bark of humorless laughter.

"Shouldn't be hard at all." Though she can't see his face she knows exactly how his eyebrows are waggling and his one eye is shining with mischief.

"Well you don't make it easy."

Some final tension in him snaps; they've both had a long day, and he's at the end of his rope after creating entire fake lives for both of them. "I know you'd have rather been paired with your golden boy, but he's the one who got compromised in the field."

Yana frowns at the ceiling. It's no secret that her and Devorak were less than pleased to find out they'd be working with each other, but she was sure with Asra as their agent on the inside that the mission would at least have a chance at success. Instead, she couldn't sense a single trace of him once they stepped onto the castle grounds, and now she's left to chew her cheek in worry and wonder if her mentor's been captured.

"Careful, Devorak. Bitter ex isn't a good look on anyone, least of all you."

He rolls his eyes but senses the fear she's emanating. Truthfully, he's concerned, too. If Asra, Arcana's poster child, has been compromised, then there's no telling how much longer they have before they're in a similar position.

And now part of their safety rests on playing a convincing husband and wife.

Julian sighs, running a hand through his hair as he mutters, "He'll be fine, you know. We need to focus on keeping ourselves alive if we're going to find him."

Yana doesn't respond, just lets out a sigh. "You should go report to Muriel about the situation."

"Why me?"

"Because it was your stupid cape that got us caught."

He opens his mouth to argue but finds he doesn't have anything to back himself up. Snapping his mouth shut, he settles on muttering curses under his breath, standing and digging through the bag until he pulls out the handheld communication device. "If he didn't hate us before -"

"Oh, he absolutely hated us before -"

"Well he's going to personally call Lucio to tell him to go ahead and hang us after this."

Yana lets out a soft chuckle, and she misses the lopsided smile that Julian gives her before he turns, heading towards the bathroom. "Do that soundproof spell, will you?"

She rolls her eyes and waits for the bathroom door to shut before closing her eyes and focusing her power. With a deep breath, she coats the bedroom and bathroom in a deep purple aura, keeping the shield rippling with protective energy in her mind as she hears Julian start the call with a far too jovial greeting.

"Ah, Muriel, have I got a story to tell you...no I'm not in the servant's quarters...w-well the thing is -"

And as Yana listens to the one-sided tongue-lashing that he endures, she decides that maybe Julian isn't so bad as a partner after all.

As a husband, however, she has no doubt in her mind that he's only going to get more insufferable.

#the arcana game #julian devorak #lucio the count #fan apprentice #julian x apprentice #ilya devorak #yana the apprentice #spys!au #FakeMarried!au #you can pry the fake marriage / enemies to lovers trope from my cold dead hands #asra and muriel are only mentioned in passing but they will eventually make appearances #and they're crucial to the plot #;writing; #;tswmm1;

[jerryduke40]

Inflatable paddle boards vs. rigid paddle boards

If you are looking for a brand-new paddle board, it’s very easy to be bewildered by the wide range of alternatives currently offered. From different brand names to various sizes and shapes, there’s a whole lot to think about prior to buying a stand up paddle board..

In this write-up, we contrast the pros and cons of blow up paddle boards (iSUPs) and rigid boards. Both are popular choices in the SUP globe, and it is very important to comprehend the staminas and also weaknesses of each to make sure that you buy the kind of board that’s best matched for you.

Along with recognizing the distinctions between iSUPs and difficult boards, it’s additionally essential to identify what’s essential to you in a board. Having a clear picture of specifically what you require in a board is an additional thing that will certainly make your purchasing decision much easier.

Inflatable paddle board vs. hard paddle board transportability.

When it pertains to portability, the evident advantage goes to blow up SUPs. iSUPs can be deflated, rolled up to the approximate dimension of a lightweight resting bag, and also brought with you anywhere you go.

Along with suitable right into the trunk or rear seat of also the tiniest of cars and trucks, you can also bring a blow up paddle board along while treking, cycling, and also flying. An inflatable SUP can be thrown in a bag or box and also contacted your travel luggage, offering you the utmost opportunity to discover the world’s most unique paddling places.

iSUPs are likewise perfect for individuals that live in high-rise apartments as they can be deflated and also will conveniently suit any type of lift. This is an unfeasibility with large, tough boards, and carrying a 12′ 6 ″ tough board up numerous trips of stairs is exceptionally tough as well as can easily result in a damaged board (if it even suits the stairwell to start with).

Inflatable paddle board vs. hard paddle board performance.

While inflatable paddle boards have actually tightened the efficiency gap over the past couple of years because of advancements in materials and also building, stiff SUPs still have a total advantage when it involves efficiency. Difficult paddle boards are quicker as well as much more stiff, making them the clear option if profits performance is your leading concern.

If you’re surfing major waves or participating in SUP races, an inflexible paddle board stays the most effective selection for competition.

Blow up paddle board vs. hard paddle board price.

Generally, inflatable paddle boards have a small advantage over hard boards price-wise. While there are versions in a variety of price arrays for both iSUPs as well as tough boards, the very best inflatables are commonly less expensive than the very best inflexible boards. Include in that the cost to shop as well as transportation a hardboard if you do not reside on the water or currently have a SUP compatible roofing shelf as well as you’re taking a look at a substantial savings with an iSUP.

An additional important factor to consider is expense per usage. When you take the overall expense of your board and also divide it by the number of times it really gets used during its life expectancy, you wind up with a price per use figure. Due to the extraordinary ease of blow up SUPs, they generally get used far more commonly than stiff boards, causing a much reduced price per use figure.

Inflatable paddle board vs. hard paddle board storage space.

Due to the truth that blow up paddle boards can be deflated and rolled up, they’re the ideal option for paddlers who stay in apartment or condos or anywhere square footage is at a premium. An inflatable SUP can be stored in a wardrobe, on a shelf, under your bed or even in the trunk of your automobile when not in use.

Contrast that with a tough board which occupies an extraordinary amount of storage room. Unless you have a large garage to store a difficult board, you won’t be able to keep it up and down. You’ll need a 12 ″ lengthy wardrobe or most likely have to make it part of the design by hanging it someplace inside your home– absolutely not a decorative touch that many will certainly value.

Blow up paddle board vs. hard paddle board durability.

When taking into consideration the durability of blow up SUPs and tough boards, several would right away presume that inflexible boards are the clear winners in this category. It may come as a shock that a well-built blow up SUP will really be more long lasting as well as much better able to hold up against major misuse than a standard hard board. As a result of the truth that they are cumbersome and harder to transfer, rigid SUPs are revealed to more bumps and knocks as well as can quickly obtain dinged and fractured. Deliberately, an iSUP is totally ding evidence as well as able to withstand being left of balconies and run over with a car– extreme longevity tests that no rigid board can possibly survive.

Blow up paddle boards are really created with the exact same difficult material that bombproof whitewater rafts are constructed of. As opposed to suffering damage when entering into contact with rocks, sticks, as well as various other barriers, an iSUP will literally jump right off.

Blow up paddle board vs. difficult paddle board rapairs.

As for repair work go, this is one more classification that mosts likely to iSUPs. When a fiberglass as well as epoxy tough board obtains dinged or fractured, it’ll usually need an expert store repair service that is expensive and lengthy. Additionally, if water fills the foam core, there are numerous cases where a harmed inflexible board becomes worse gradually and simply isn’t the very same after having been fixed.

Fixing a blow up SUP that has actually been damaged is a much different tale. An iSUP that has actually been punctured or torn can be rapidly as well as conveniently covered at home making use of the materials provided by your board supplier in the included repair service kit.

Blow up paddle board vs. difficult paddle board weight.

Blow up SUPs are likewise the winner in the weight group, typically considering a lot less than tough boards. This benefit has actually gotten back at extra noticable over the last couple of years as the use of new iSUP construction strategies has led to inflatable paddle boards that are even lighter than formerly assumed possible.

The fact that blow up paddle boards are lighter as well as far easier to transfer than inflexible boards makes them an excellent option for females and children who may find it testing to bring about a heavy tough paddle board.

Blow up stand paddleboards are light-weight, enjoyable as well as risk-free for the whole family.

Inflatable paddle board vs. hard paddle board security.

Finally, inflatable paddle boards are more secure than stiff boards. Dropping the upside-down on a difficult board can easily lead to injury– something that you especially need to be cautious of when paddling in surf or with children.

While blow up SUPs are very inflexible, they still offer a percentage of “give” that can aid to support a loss.

Final thoughts.

We hope that this write-up has actually given you a clear picture of the various staminas as well as weak points of both inflatable and also inflexible SUPs. Both board types are very fun and also useful in specific circumstances– what is very important now is to determine what’s most important to you prior to making a decision. While we suggest tough boards for paddlers who put a higher top priority on bottom-line efficiency along with those who are associated with serious SUP competitors, the large majority of individuals are much better off with a blow up SUP. iSUPs supply even more benefits to the average paddler, as well as their amazing mobility, sturdiness, and also storage advantages make them a superb choice overall.

Despite what you eventually pick, we really hope that you extensively enjoy your brand-new board and that it serves you well for years to come.

Pleased paddling!

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from Paddle Board Inflatable https://www.paddle-board-inflatable.com/inflatable-paddle-boards-vs-rigid-paddle-boards/

[unljanell7536-blog]

What Makes Me Happy.

There are a lot of other reasons we may believe turned off coming from folks in our very own family. If you have any concerns relating to where and how to use yellow pages uk residential numbers (you could check here), you can get hold of us at our webpage. Listed here is a Health Target Instance: That is actually June 1st 2010 and I am actually so delighted now that I have accomplished my intended goal weight of 75kg. A buffet supper with glittering silver chafing dishes for the food could possibly also make a 75th birthday party event even more stylish. Our experts have an option what to perform about it. Therefore, stop take, knock, knockin' on the depressing gal's door and decide to more than happy about your partnership as well as your life. I am actually heading to create a reoccuring session in my job manager to consider a trip monthly - even if I don't have one that frequently. Our close friends perform have to stock up on fats to make it with those long chilly wintertime evenings. She is pretty, she is a gifted performer and also professional dancer which she has managed to manipulate and also make a lot from loan of, she is a star she even has kids. I would be much more than delighted to accomplish exactly what I could to show to you my earnestness on this concern. Greater than just about anything in a connection, a girl has to feel enjoyed to become delighted. Andrew was actually up next, and when he got out of bed to the mic he stated, Therefore, I decided to sing this considering that I really love a good track regarding daddy concerns." He introduced right into the tune, and also there was actually one thing regarding this that seemed fitting, although the track was actually incredibly other from Andrew's own tale. Older women that have accomplished their duties and also are now prepared for a laid back and also crazy time, might find their excitement concerned a shrieking standstill due to the fact that their partner has no enthusiasm in taking pleasure in sex. I am actually so pleased that i carried out not lose him to all appreciation and also the lady heads to DOCTOR Eze Malaka for his magnum opus. For even more famous quotes, check out the preferred, a website that concentrates on 'Best 10' checklists of quotations in loads of types. From all the romantic quotes to obey I have actually discovered, this has actually been actually the best effective. Our company have actually checked out physical exercise comprehensive before, as well as checked out exactly what it does to our human brains, including releasing proteins as well as endorphins that create our team feel healthier, as you can find in the photo here. I like you And also this is actually certainly not given that you create me delighted, certainly not given that you make me feel unique, nor since you are actually the sweetest individual ever before ... however considering that I just enjoy you. First of all, never suppose that if you come to know the best ways to produce your guy satisfied in bed, at that point you have won the battle. Always remember, although this may feel like a bunch of work, you are worth this and you can do this. The secret is to make an effort as well as create your action measures fun and also delightful and also certainly not just feel like a load from hard work. Recommendation 1: Self-reliance: Make a point of not relying off people to accomplish your targets in life. Exactly what happened to me is actually certainly not exactly what i may maintain simply to on my own however to additionally inform the globe to ensure that those that were actually once like me will certainly arrive relative back as well as enjoyed once more. You will definitely begin to watch the planet in adverse phrases and also you will really often bring in even more things to earn you unhappy. Before rumbling the seaweed and the rice, ensure that the seaweed is position on a timber mat used to roll the sushi (All these can be carried at the nearest Eastern corner store). In order to get begun you have to decide to create joy a top priority in your lifestyle. Locating solution to these inquiries and also placing them right into writing was actually certainly not a simple task, however doing this has create me more pleased in comparison to I have ever before remained in lifestyle. And if you were to inquire if they enjoyed during that time, they might discover the circumstance ludicrous even when certainly not six months before they believed they had actually located the elixir from life when they were actually proceeding with one more girl as well as experiencing the highs from a gathering. So despite the fact that I want my family members to consistently more than happy, I should never downplay their ache or even despair, however merely permit them understand that I enjoy them which when they prepare to permit that go, I'll be there that can help all of them. I'm certainly not worked with, I cannot fill out the blank, I'll never ever enjoy since filler in the empty again and so on, you include an additional brick to the wall structure from sadness. The colorful quiz along with brilliant components have to amaze the individuals in the Christmas gathering. That's difficult to end up being genuinely happy when you do not possess also a little ounce from liberty in your life. Enjoying papa throughout our childhood our experts find out the best ways to make our method the irritated race. Joy and happiness feels like a muscle mass - that gets stronger the more you exercise it. Keeping yourself pleased is like keeping in shape. If there's everything else I may do to earn this fic extra accessible by any means, simply do not hesitate to email me at iaminarage @ or message me on tumblr (where I'm additionally iaminarage). SpanishDict is dedicated to enhancing our website based on individual comments as well as presenting new and also impressive components that will continue to assist individuals find out as well as love the Spanish language.. Thus, begin being actually creative with your concepts as well as have the capacity to make decisions when they are paid attention to what they have in fact performed as well as do. Since that might lead to a revelation that effectiveness account, even if you happen up with some tips from garbage still chat concerning this. When I mention that books make me happy; at times that is actually the visibility of them, that is actually certainly not only the stories I enjoy. Exactly what creates me genuinely satisfied is staying home with my hubby and pussy-cats as well as from time to time traveling to brand-new areas. Right now, make an effort informing your partner that you wish to make love to him/her using this Spanish key phrase and s/he will absolutely feel exclusive. But I have actually know effective ways to create sushi in the best unique class: the on the web cooking activities. If you make a decision very seriously and then do something about it as well as don't give up, you will definitely be able to end up being an effective stay at residence mom that not merely enjoys being actually with her family and also kids - and of course her youngsters enjoy her presence in the home - but can clear up amount of cash. I am actually sad or not satisfied/ Only up or even down/ And constantly negative," she performs on the hazy ballad Happy." And also the album discovers merely that, the rooms as well as appears between sad as well as satisfied. Yet so as to be happy our team must unlearn whatever our company have actually ever dealt with or perhaps resided regarding happiness.