#mil's spring prompts

[milirii]

4. Listening to the sound of thunder with a cup of tea in hand with Joel/Aleksi

plot twist: one or both of them is scared of thunder 🥺

(I can’t sleep because of a thunderstorm so I thought that one is fitting 😂 I hope you’re doing fine! 🖤🖤)

I am so so sorry this took so long! This was my favorite from the prompt list and I hoped to get this and then I got it and couldn't decide how to write it and then life happened and all that XD But here you go! I hope you like it 💖

4. Listening the sound of thunder with a cup of tea in hand, words: ~1370

"I think this sweltering heat is about to break!" Joonas said with slight relief in his voice. Air had been hot and heavy since yesterday when they had arrived at their next stop on their tour and the only reason Joel could have catched a little sleep was because they had decided to sleep in a hotel instead of the tour bus. Another good thing for getting a hotel room, besides not having to sweat their asses off till they ceased from existence, was of course that he had been able to sleep in the same bed with Aleksi. First time in forever.

Despite these good things coming out of the too hot weather, it was great to hear Joonas, the weather interpreter, tell them how he could see storm clouds gathering in the horizon.

"This weather has been reeking of a thunderstorm all day, I really hope you are right!" Niko sighed tiredly.

 

Tommi nodded from his place under the tree, where he laid down on the ground  without a shirt. "It would clean this air, so I am with you."

 

Joel wasn't surprised to hear two of his bandmates waiting for a thunderstorm to break. He had witnessed them both standing outside and looking at lightning and how the storm progressed more than one time over the time they had known each other. Joel wasn't as eager, but he would be lying if he claimed that the rain and thunderclaps didn't feed his hunger of excitement. But he did prefer to enjoy his excitement indoors where it wasn't cold and wet.

The distant thunderclap made Niko's eyes shine and Tommi rose up from his place to join Niko to try to see first lightnings if there would be those. Joonas and Olli turned their heads as well towards the clouds that towered even higher.

But Joel's attention wasn't in the clouds. He locked his eyes on Aleksi, who seemed to focus even more intently on his laptop. Fingers ran through keys vehemently and Niko’s excited squeal from the first lightning made Aleksi’s writing become even faster.

“What are you doing?”

Joel frowned when Aleksi’ didn’t answer him, only focused feverishly on his laptop screen.

 

“Aleksi?”

When there was still no answer, Joel rolled his eyes and moved closer. “Aleksi? Oh fuck this..” Joel reached out and pulled the hair tie from Aleksi’s hair and made the black locks fall from his eyes. That made Aleksi lift his head finally.

“Why did you do that?” Aleksi combed his fingers through his hair to get it out of his face and reached the hair tie from Joel. Joel had already tangled it through his own fingers tho and was not keen to let go of his toy.

 

“To get your attention. What are you doing?”

Aleksi lowered the screen of his laptop when Joel tried to take a look of whatever was demanding Aleksi’s all brain cells. “Just… trying to finish this thing… before the storm comes.”

The supposedly relaxed smile on Aleksi’s lips was not fooling Joel in the slightest. He had used fake facial expressions enough in his life to know when others were trying to cover something they didn’t want others to notice. The smile dropped from Aleksi’s face when thunderclap carried over the nearby lake again, this time a bit louder.

 

“Are you okay?” Joel lifted his fingers to smooth the worried wrinkles that had formed between Aleksi’s eyebrows.

“I… yeah sure!” The fake smile was back and Joel raised his eyebrow to Aleksi. “Stop lying and tell me what’s up.”

 

Another lightning flashed behind Aleksi’s back and cheering from other guys made Aleksi tense up again.

 

“Hey it has started to rain on the other side of the lake!” Tommi observed, which made Aleksi hastily gather his things together. “We should get inside..” He mumbled. Joel grabbed his hand and Aleksi looked up at him. The worry wasn’t the only thing in his eyes anymore and Joel finally understood why Aleksi was acting weird.

The panic in his eyes told everything.

 

“We can go inside, I tell others we are going and I’ll follow you, okay?” Joel squeezed Aleksi’s hand and got a small nod from the other. 

****

The storm had progressed to its fullest in under half an hour. Aleksi was currently sitting in Joel’s lap, his face buried in the crook of Joel’s neck and hands covering his ears. Joel tried to calm Aleksi by running his hand up and down on Aleksi’s sweaty back and scratching his scalp and murmuring sweet nothings against his forehead. He was almost sure Aleksi wouldn’t hear him through the rushing of rain and constant thunder clapping, but he couldn’t help himself. Seeing Aleksi like that was breaking his heart and he wanted to try to help Aleksi through the worst.

When the lights in the room flickered off and the whole room filled with a new kind of silence that even the pouring rain couldn’t cover, Aleksi started to whimper. “Oh god, oh god, oh god..”

Particularly loud and long rumble shaked the whole building and once it was over, Joel forced Aleksi to lift his head enough to look at his eyes. Tears streamed down his cheeks and Joel brushed his thumbs under Aleksi’s eyes to dry them. “It is okay, the electricity will come back and the storm will end, you are safe here with me.”

“When will it end?” Aleksi’s voice was rough and quiet. Joel shaked his head and hugged Aleksi back as close as he could. “I don’t know, but it has been moving very fast so I guess it is already moving away. Just a bit more left.”

Lightning lit up the room for a moment and Aleksi squeezed his eyes shut. Joel counted quietly under his breath to calculate the distance and when the rumble came, he had counted only five seconds. It was a second longer than last time, so the storm was indeed moving away.

“I want it to be over already.” Aleksi breathed out. Joel nodded and pressed a kiss on top of his head. “It is moving away. You are being so brave, can you keep that up a little longer for me?”

Aleksi nodded slightly against Joel’s chest. 

****

Electricity came back when the thunder had moved over and was now over three kilometer away. Thunderclaps and lightning were still there but they were further apart.

“Can you sit there a little while alone, I could make us some tea?” Joel massaged gently Aleksi’s back. “Yeah..” Aleksi shifted down on Joel’s lap to sit on the couch instead. Joel pressed a swift kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I won’t be long.”

Kettle boiled the water fast and soon enough Joel had two steaming mugs of raspberry tea in his hands. He lowered them both to a coffee table and then took a comforter from the unused bed. He settled comfortably back on the couch and took Aleksi back to his lap before wrapping them both to a blanket and reaching the mugs from the table. Aleksi snuggled against his chest and took a sip from the tea.

“Thank you…” He whispered and reached to press a gentle kiss to Joel’s jaw.

“You're welcome.” Joel smiled at him, but Aleksi shook his head.

“I don’t mean the tea, although it is good. But… Thank you for being there the whole time.” Aleksi pressed his gaze to the tea. The distant rumbling made him tense a little, but it melted quickly away.

 

“Of course I am here. You are my boyfriend.” Joel moved his teacup back to the table to wrap both his arms around Aleksi. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be nowhere else than here with you.”

“I really wasn’t that fun companion.” Aleksi let out a little laugh and looked back at Joel.

“You needed me here. And I wanted to be here for you, it has nothing to do with your entertainment skills. I love you Aleksi, I want to help you through the hard parts and share the good parts.”

The fear in Aleksi’s eyes was replaced with love and affection when whispered “I love you too”, and pressed their lips together.

#This is making me nervous 😬 #I am one of those people who goes outside during thunderstroms to look at lightnings #So I hope I managed to write this even a little correct! #But I enjoyed writing this so much! #And like usually: I am very uncertain about Joel here 😬🥺 #mil's spring prompts #Joel/Aleksi #blind channel rpf #milirii writes

[ailendolin]

Mike Peabody/DI Bones, snow and tradition plss 🙏

Since it took me so long to write your prompt, I chose an Easter setting for your fic to fit the time of year, anon. I hope you like this little fluffy piece between Mike and Milton!

A/N: Milton is the first name I've given D.I. Bones in my fics.

List of prompts is here.

Filled prompts are here, here, here, here and here on AO3.

Prompts are closed.

————

Snowfall [AO3]

It was snowing when Mike woke up on Easter Monday.

For a moment, all he could do was blink at the window in quiet and sleep-addled disbelief. The last few days had been blissfully warm and no matter how much he usually enjoyed the sight of snow, he was longing for the gentle warmth and colours of spring now, not the harsh cold of winter. If nature wanted to cover the world in snow, he thought resentfully, it should have done so at Christmas.

With a groan, he turned his back to the window and shuffled closer to Milton, intent on ignoring the return of winter. 

“What is it?” Milton mumbled around a yawn. His voice was soft with sleep and when he instinctively wrapped his arms around Mike to pull him close, Mike smiled despite himself.

“It’s snowing,” he said.

Even though his words were muffled against Milton’s chest and barely discernible, Milton went still beneath him. “Snowing?”

Oh no, Mike thought, blearily realising his mistake. One of the first things he’d learned about Milton long before they’d gotten together was how much he loved snow. If the weather forecast even so much as mentioned the possibility of snowfall, Milton would keep glancing at the windows with a hopeful look on his face that made puppies begging for a treat look like amateurs. And when it did start snowing, his whole face would light up in childlike wonder and he’d grip Mike’s hand with a breath-taking smile before he pulled him outside.

Mike loved seeing him like this – happy, carefree and relaxed. It was a rare sight these days with work bearing down on them like it did and leaving at least one of them hurt or bruised nearly every other weak. If not physically, then mentally. But not even the prospect of that beautiful smile was enticing enough to make him give up their warm and comfortable bed at 7.30 am on Easter Monday to go frolic in the snow.

“Don’t you dare,” he warned softly when he felt Milton move in an attempt to grab his pair of glasses from the nightstand. “We’re not going outside to build a snowman.”

He didn’t have to open his eyes to know Milton was pouting at him. “But it’s tradition!”

“Not on Easter, it isn’t,” Mike said.

“But–“

“No one builds a snowman on Easter, Mil. The neighbours will laugh at us.”

Milton snorted. “As if that ever bothered you before.”

He had a point so Mike switched gears. “It’s too early. And too cold.”

“We’re already awake, and we can bundle up,” Milton said brightly. When Mike remained silent, he added a quiet, “Please? It’ll be fun.”

Mike groaned. How could he say no to that? Milton never asked much of him. If anything, he always put Mike first and his own needs second. He was the only person apart from Sam who had ever done that, and sometimes Mike felt guilty about how easy Milton made it to love him because he knew he wasn’t the easiest person to love in return. He came with his fair share of issues and struggles but Milton, the wonderful person that he was, had embraced them all with that charming smile of his and simply said, “I love all of you, Mike.”

And even though love was not and never should be a competition, there were times when Mike couldn’t help but think that Milton did most of the work, most of the accommodating, when it came to their relationship. Going out into the snow on a Monday morning didn’t seem so bad compared to all the nights Milton had spent softly talking to him after a nightmare had left him shaking or sleeping in an uncomfortable chair when another work-related accident had once again landed Mike in the hospital. He had a lot to put up with on a day-to-day basis so Mike figured the least he could do was humour him and join him outside to build a snowman. Even if it was April and way too early in the morning.

“All right,” he sighed in defeat and was rewarded with a happy squeeze and lingering press of lips against his forehead.

“I love you,” Milton said softly, almost reverently. “So much.”

Mike lifted his head and craned his neck to kiss him properly. “Love you, too. Can we stay five more minutes in bed, though?”

Milton huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, all right. But then we’ll go outside?”

“Deal.”

Happy with the compromise, Mike lay his head back down on Milton’s chest and listened to the steady beating of his heart.

————

Half an hour later, after getting dressed and shoving some hastily made toast into their mouths, they were standing outside in their small garden, each of them bundled up in several layers of flannel, a warm winter coat, woollen hat and fleece-lined mittens. The smile on Milton’s face was bright and full of familiar wonder as he turned in a circle and looked at the snow around them.

“I can’t believe it snowed so much!” he exclaimed happily and promptly let himself fall backwards into it. Mike watched in quiet amusement as he moved his arms and legs up and down to make a snow angel and helped him back to his feet once Milton was done and held out his hand to him.

“You have snow all over yourself,” he commented fondly and gently brushed it off the back of Milton’s coat. “There, that’s better.”

“Thank you,” Milton said, almost shyly, and leaned up to press his lips to the corner of Mike’s mouth. When he pulled back, he flashed him a smile before he turned around to admire his snow angel. “Not bad, huh?”

Mike glanced at the crushed snow at their feet. It didn’t look like much, if he was being honest, and the thought must have shown on his face because a moment later, Milton laughed and threw a snowball at him.

“Hey!” Mike protested. “What was that for?”

Instead of answering, Milton just grinned and bent down to pick up more snow.

Oh, you’re going to regret this, Mike thought before he did the same. He might not love snow as much as Milton did but he had one advantage over him: he’d grown up with Sam. She had always been merciless when it came to snowball fights so Mike had quickly learned to be merciless in return so as not to get soaked. Milton wouldn’t know what hit him.

He was right. Ten minutes later, he was standing over Milton with a look of triumph on his face. “Do you admit defeat?”

“Yes!” Milton laughed in-between gasps. His face was flushed red from the cold and ice crystals sparkled in his hair. His woollen hat lay somewhere near the snow angel, crushed and caked in snow.

He was the most beautiful thing Mike had ever seen.

Letting his last snowball fall to the ground, Mike knelt down, cupped Milton’s face in his hands and pulled him into a long, loving kiss. “Never challenge a Peabody to a snowball fight.”

“Noted,” Milton said breathlessly. “Can we build a snowman now?”

Unable to resist, Mike kissed him again. “I have a better idea.”

————

An hour later, they were standing in their living room with cups of hot chocolates in their hands and admiring their handiwork. Their garden looked like a battlefield but in the middle of all the carnage, right next to the remains of Milton’s snow angel, two little snow bunnies were curiously nosing at a carrot Mike had found in their fridge earlier.

“They’re perfect,” Milton sighed happily and leaned his head on Mike’s shoulder. “Thank you for indulging me today.”

“As if that’s ever a hardship,” Mike said softly and wrapped an arm around him to pull him closer. Nodding towards the bunnies, he asked, “Do you reckon we should send Sam and Bob a picture?”

Milton snorted. “If you want a report on the myth of the Easter Bunny and a series of emojis expressing Sam’s disgust over how cute they are, then sure, go ahead.”

Mike took a contemplative sip of his hot chocolate. “I think we might keep them to ourselves a little longer.”

“Might be too late for that,” Milton said, amused, and pointed at the two pairs of eyes curiously peeking over their fence. Mike followed his gaze and laughed. They gave the neighbour’s kids a little wave and received two wide-grinned thumbs-up in return. “You realise we’ll have to this every year now, don’t you?”

Mike had resigned himself to that even before he’d suggested they make little bunnies out of snow rather than traditional snowmen. “Good thing it’s not snowing on Easter every year.”

“We could always get artificial snow…” Milton mused with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, sod off,” Mike laughed and playfully shoved him before he pulled him into a kiss. He felt Milton smile against his lips and closed his eyes to savour the moment. Given their line of work, days like this were precious, and he’d learned long ago to hold onto what little happiness they both managed to carve out for themselves with all his might.

Sometimes, it was not enough. There were days when the exhaustion seemed to never end; when the worry settled so deeply into his bones it made his hands shake.

But there was also hope – hope that one day, things would be better. That the sound of carefree laughter would echo around the house every day and they’d always have a reason to smile. It was the kind of future Mike had always dreamed about, and with Milton by his side, it didn’t just seem possible but actually worth fighting for.

Even if it meant building snow bunnies in April.

#di bones #mike peabody #peabones #horrible histories #my fic #ask game prompt ficlet

[sweetfirebird]

A Little Wild

This is one of two prompts fills for Marianne who quoted A Suitable Consort as a suggestion:

“I think I would also prefer to do something wild—but not too much. Please and thank you.”

Content tags: passing reference to the very real attack on Mattin’s life in ASC. Spoilers for A Suitable Consort.

Mattin had learned his lesson about traveling through the capital, and not only made sure to inform his guards of his plans—and therefore inform Mil if he hadn’t already discussed his plans with his spouses-to-be that morning—but to now dress a little more discreetly.

Not that he had dressed loudly before, but he also hadn’t been known or recognizable before. That was he now was slightly worrying, although he was trying not to let that show around Mil or Arden. But removed his hair clasps and some of his jewelry before going out, if he remembered to, and planned to wear a hooded cloak until the weather warmed up too much to make it comfortable.

All of which was to say, he now took precautions and therefore it wasn’t his fault that he’d turned around after getting stuck in a particularly crowded section of the public market and been unable to find his guards. Or perhaps they couldn’t find him. He was dressed simpler now, and in a hood, probably did not stand out much from the others around him.

He stayed where he was, trying not to get jostled by distracted shoppers eager for the first fruits and vegetables of the spring, and all the goods now able to come downriver from the north with the winter snows, and then the thaw and resulting mud, all gone. He wasn’t worried. He wasn’t. The odds of someone who intended harm finding him when he happened to be alone were slim.

The odds of someone removing his guards in order to harm him, however, were unfortunately much higher.

Mattin considered standing on the nearest barrel he could to look over the market, or if that would attract too much attention and it would be better to slip away and return to the palace as quickly as possible. He didn’t get a chance to decide—a large figure in a black cloak and hood stepped in front of him.

His view and exit blocked, Mattin raised his head, only to stare at Arden in stunned surprise. His heart was still pounding with panic, but Mattin stared for another moment then frowned reflexively.

“You said you didn’t sneak out anymore.”

Arden, his head tilted down to keep the hood in place, gave him a hint of a smile. “I never said that.”

Mattin narrowed his eyes. “You let me believe it and that’s just as bad as a lie.”

“I suspect that is debatable,” Arden answered, unrepentant. “Anyway, it ended well, since I saw you. Speaking of things promised and agreed to,” his amused tone faded, “you promised to never go out without guards.”

Mattin nearly snapped his reply. “I have guards. They just seem to have gotten lost. I’ve been waiting for them to find me.”

“Sass,” Arden named him, not exactly placated, before giving the rest of the market behind Mattin a glance. “I see them. They’re looking for you.” If Mattin’s snappishness had amused Arden, that amusement did not last. Arden gave a nod, evidently to guards that must have spotted the king. Mattin did not envy those guards in that moment.

“The market was suddenly packed. None of us expected it,” Mattin excused them softly.

Arden’s expression didn’t change until he looked down at Mattin again. “If you won’t think of me, then think of what it would do to Mil if something happened to you.”

Mattin opened his mouth—although he had no argument against words that gutted him—then abruptly remembered Arden was in the market too, and if he had guards, Mattin didn’t see them.

“And if something happened to you?” he asked coolly, a perverse part of him enjoying Arden’s moment of surprise at being chastised. Then he wondered if it was more that Arden forgot that Mattin might worry over him too.

Or that anyone might. It was a brief thought but Mattin knew he was going to find himself sleepless over it at some point in the future. So he glanced around, not seeing that he and Arden had drawn any undue attention, then he darted forward to rest his cheek against Arden’s chest. At least he could feel leather beneath Arden’s vest and shirt. Arden had some protection.

Arden’s arms came around him, which was nice too.

“I was starting to worry,” Mattin admitted, although he hadn’t forgotten his point. “I’m glad you’re here. But why are you here?”

“Ah.” Arden said it like an embarrassed person might stumble over their answer. But Arden was rarely embarrassed about anything. “Cael is still recovering from her small illness. So are the members of the council who apparently shared their sickness with her. While I could be reading all the lovely research you did for me,” he paused when Mattin harrumphed loudly and pointedly, “I found myself with an afternoon off. And Mil said you were ‘off to do some tasks in town that please him,’ and I thought it might be a good way to spend a few free hours; seducing a pretty man I might happen to run into in the street.”

“So you snuck out,” Mattin said first without thinking, raising his head to regard Arden suspiciously. Then the rest of Arden’s words sent his mind whirling. “You what? What?” 

He had no idea why this made Arden smile, but it was such a distracting smile that Mattin couldn’t think to protest when Arden stroked the side of his face. “Seduce a pretty man I happened to run into in the street,” he said, low and warm. “One who I believe I once heard speak longingly of such a thing.” His fingertip grazed Mattin’s parted lips. “Of course, if he was not amenable to being seduced, I thought I might take him shopping. I’ve never done that, spent money extravagantly like a fool in love. When I should have, there was no need.” Outguards only needed what they could carry. “Except for good food or a night in a comfortable bed, with a hot bath for him when he was sore or especially tired. Those things I could provide then. Now… jewels, sweets, books… I could drown you in them. Both of you. But you’d have to show me the way.”

As though Mattin had ever done such a thing either. He drifted forward, catching Arden’s finger to kiss it, then recalling himself and inching back with a burning hot face.

“I….” He had no clue what to say in response to any of that. He didn’t even know his own voice. “Arden?”

“Unless that’s too wild for you, dear heart?” Arden prompted gently after several seconds of Mattin gazing at him in confused wonder.

Mattin resisted darting guilty looks around them to focus on Arden, who seemed patient and still on the surface like a palace fountain frozen in the winter. But his gaze was another matter.  

Allowing Arden to escort him through the market was the logical answer, the simplest and by far the least embarrassing, or potentially embarrassing.

“Too wild?” Mattin asked instead of whatever he ought to have asked while his hand strayed up to Arden’s collar and then to his throat to find warm skin.

Arden flashed a smile. “You did say you wanted to be ‘a little wild’ once, unless I heard you wrong.”

Mattin’s face was surely colors of red never seen outside of a sunset. He kept his gaze firmly on Arden and hoped his hood would preserve some of his dignity. He bit his lip and pretended to consider, even though Arden must know what Mattin wanted, since he took Mattin’s hand from his neck to press kisses to Mattin’s knuckles.

“What would…” Mattin lowered his voice even more “…seducing me entail exactly? Nothing too public?” Mattin was alarmingly breathless at the possibility.

“Mattin Arlylian,” Arden leaned in to pronounce the name, soft and careful, over Mattin’s ear, “that is your choice. A room if you like, or the nearest alley if you prefer.”

Mattin’s breath noisily caught in his throat and he ducked his head to wheeze and cough against Arden’s chest. “Arden,” he croaked.

As if that had told him Mattin’s choice, Arden practically purred over the top of Mattin’s head. “A room, then. Like secret, illicit lovers… though of course Mil will be delighted to hear of it.”

Mattin whined quietly but it was not an objection.

#a suitable consort (for the king and his husband) #a suitable 'verse #r. cooper #charity prompt #charity prompts 2023

[autumnalwalker]

Word Find Tag

Thank you for the tag, @sarandipitywrites.

My words to find were heat, voice, rumble, & silent.

Passing the (optional) tag to @mysticstarlightduck, @on-noon, @the-down-upside-finch, @writernopal, and the usual open tag for anyone reading this who wants to join in.

You words shall be trouble, sleep, skin, & condition.

Heat: The Melts

Besides, Mil genuinely liked working with weavers, they thought as the small swarm of arachnoid bio-tools began crawling all over them to get to the nutrient slurry.  It was important that the weavers were well-fed in the morning before any clients came in for a fitting lest they get either too tired or too carried away with their purpose.  As it was, a few of the weavers must have failed to recognize Mil’s scent and shape due to their illness and mistaken them for a client, forcing Mil to gently shoo the engineered creatures off before the threads of their turtleneck could be unpicked and reassembled into whatever pattern the weavers had last been installed with.  Most of the chittering swarm sloughed off to feed once the nutrient slurry had been dispensed and Mil was able to encourage the stragglers to depart from their body heat without too much trouble.

Voice: Kindly Basilisk

As the ship makes its way from port to port and salvage site to salvage site, the crew will slowly grow used to your elusive presence.  The other two pilots will see you as reliable for doing your job well and without complaint.  While out in the mech you will slowly become more talkative, eventually almost chatty even.  The fact that you actually seem to enjoy the job will shift from being annoying to refreshing for them.  By contrast, the mechanics will practically stop noticing you watching them as if you were just another piece of mech bay equipment.  The cycle you finally speak up and ask a question about their work you will startle them enough that it nearly causes an accident.  It will be an astute enough question that after the initial shock of hearing your voice for the first time in months wears off it will dawn on them that you’ve actually been learning as you watched them.  They still won’t let you do your own maintenance on our mech, but they will let you slowly begin assisting them.  Working two jobs is easier when you barely need to sleep.

Rumble: The Archivist's Journal, Day 60

This was enough to remind me that I hadn’t yet eaten lunch.  One audible stomach rumble interrupting her explanation of how she intended to fish without a pole or net later and she offered to share her catch with me.  Before I could properly decline she was already slipping into the water and paddling out toward the center of the spring.

From the shore I could see her dive down once she got over that dropoff.  Long enough later that I was starting to get concerned I saw her head break the surface long enough to take a breath and then go down a second time.  Another disconcertingly long wait and she surfaced again and began making her way back, somewhat slower this time.

As she got closer, I realized she was carrying a fish in her mouth.  Once she got in shallow enough water to stand up she threw a second fish at me that I failed spectacularly to catch, getting hit in the chest with it, flinching, flailing to catch it as it bounced off and fell, managing to sort of get it between my forearms and elbows, and then freaking out and dropping it at the sensation of wet fish scales on my skin.

Silent: Empty Names - 19 - Shire

“Speaking of your doll, what’s she doing over there?” Sullivan asks, gesturing to where Stella is still staring at the ceiling.

She doesn’t respond to him.

“Stella,” Morgan prompts.

“There is a disturbance some distance up,” the doll answers in her hollow monotone.  “I am attempting to determine if there is something above us or if it is merely interference from the safehouse’s defenses.”

“As you were then,” Morgan says.  “Let me know when you make up your mind.”

“Doll,” Sullivan says, “when did you first notice that disturbance?”

No response.

“Stella,” Morgan prompts again.

More silent staring at the ceiling.

Morgan shoots Sullivan a sidelong glance.

“Stella,” Sullivan addresses the doll, slathering on politeness sweet as rotten honey, “would you kindly tell us when, precisely, you noticed this disturbance?  Please.”

“Shortly after Lachlan Whelan called you an idiot,” Stella answers without taking her glassy eyes off the ceiling.  “Roughly zero point one zero two five seconds before either of you made a verbal acknowledgment of your realization of his condition.”

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #my writing #tag game #writing tag games #find the word tag #word find tag

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction - BONUS MOMENTS

Surprise!!! I'm back with a select few bonus #bamelia moments!! I just couldn't let the love story of Ben and Amelia die, I hope you don't mind. Love Always, Steph xx

PSA: To all new readers, you don't have to read the series (link below) to understand this, however it would help so that you can understand the preconceived emotions behind the chapter!

Champions Again | di nuovo campioni

warnings; none word count; 1865 writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. link to fic masterlist here

They had done it, again. The Chelsea boys were lifting their second team trophy for the year, they had just won the Supercup. This was Amelia’s first competition final with the Premier League giants and if she had her way, this wouldn't be last. She was beginning to get addicted to the feeling of winning, of proving to every little girl out there and every sexist male she had ever come across, that anything boys can do, girls can do better. She was letting her results speak for themselves, she was making history and there was nothing that could bring her down from the ninth cloud she was currently riding.

As proud as she was over her own achievements, she was equally as proud of her friends. Whilst she wasn’t part of their Champions League victory, she knew that this moment was just as special to the team that just loved to win. The scenes before her were ones she hoped she would never forget - the look on Jorgi’s face as he lifted his third trophy of the last few months, the crinkles beside Mason’s eyes as he grinned at the camera that was desperate to capture every moment of the evening, the tinge of pink on the apples of Ben’s cheeks as he stood with his hands on his hips while he watched Amelia give her first post-match tactical analysis to the Sky Sports reporter - proud that she was his girl. These were the moments that made Amelia forget all of the hard times, or rather made her realise that all of the hard times were worth it to see her friends, her team, her man smile.

With every great victory comes an even greater after party, and even though the Super Cup final coincided with the start of the season, the boys still believed that they deserved an afterparty to celebrate. Captain Cesar Azpilicueta had kindly offered the grounds of his Surrey home to host the bunch of rowdy boys, and their onslaught on mates and partners on the Sunday afternoon between the Super Cup final and the first match of the Premier League 21/22 season. Whilst they were under strict instruction from the higher powers of Chelsea Football Club (namely; Thomas Tuchel) to keep the drinking to a minimum and to keep themselves out of trouble, the boys were allowed to be boys for one more night.

______________________________________________________________

“Benj, what are you wearing? I don’t know if I should wear a sundress or denim shorts! Please, I need help!” I shouted out to Ben who was currently somewhere in his large house.

“Why would my outfit be able to help you with that decision” I could hear his voice getting closer, his footsteps getting louder as he began to ascend the stairs up to the main bedroom that I had slowly started to take over in the last couple months.

“An opinion is all I’m after - stop being cheeky mate” I shoot back at him as I begin to stand up from my place in front of his wardrobe. It was still his wardrobe, he hadn’t asked me to move in yet so it was still technically his even if it was half full with my clothes. As I got to my feet, I turned to see him leaning in the doorway with his arms and ankles crossed over each other. Wearing a tee shirt and some denim shorts himself with a cap covering his ungelled hair - a request from me because it was much easier for me to run my hands through if it wasn’t laden with gel...and because it gave me an excuse to push it out of his face whenever I felt like it (which was often).

“I wouldn’t mind if you stayed in that outfit to be fair, however, that would also mean we would be skipping this afterparty altogether and be spending the afternoon celebrating in an entirely different manner” He states staring at me while I’m currently standing with my hands on my hips, staring at the shorts and tank top combo I have laid out on his bed - again, his bed not ours - he hasn’t asked me to move in yet so it was technically his even if it did have the new bed sheets I purchased a couple weeks back with the matching throw cushions on it. The barely-there outfit that I was currently sporting and that had him licking his lips as he pushed himself off of the doorway to walk to me and wrap his arms around my body from behind was a bralette and a pair of his Chelsea shorts.

“Ok sorted, you’re in denim shorts so I’m going to wear mine too. Done ok move get off me I need to change or we’re going to be late” I exclaimed as I pushed him off me with my hips. A bad move? Absolutely not. I got to feel all of him against me and remind him of what he gets to come home to every evening, if he choses.

“Wow what's the rush now Mils? Why are you walking around like you’ve got ants in your pants?” He questioned as he tightened his grip on me and turned me so I was facing him, looking up into his curious baby blues.

“And don’t say nothing, I’ve picked up on all of your tells already” He further questioned as he could see the wheels begin to turn behind my eyes, desperate to come up with an excuse to mask my jitters so I wouldn’t have to tell him the truth.

“I regret ever letting you become friends with Fede, he’s spilling all of my secrets...Ok fine. I’m nervous to see Jack. I haven’t seen him since...ya’know and I haven't spoken to him since I gave him a telling off before international break and Ben I promise you I haven't thought about him once but I’m still worried that there's unresolved anger there from him and I don’t want to get into it again just when we’re getting back into the groove of us and it’ll impact your friendsh-” my rambling was cut off by his lips, which were simultaneously reminding me to breathe between my words and leaving me breathless at the same time. He always did have a way with his lips, the power they held over me was unmatched by anything.

“Calm down love, I promise it’ll be okay. Jack and I have had it out already, a long chat on international duties which may have only been prompted because Mase and Dec locked us in the kit room after our first session, sorted it all out.” Ben reassured me as he began to rub his thumbs over my cheeks and his hands held both sides of my face.

“I do know he wants to apologise to you though - so don’t be surprised if he tries to do that early on in the evening. You know just how awkward he can be so he’ll probably spring it on you before you’ve even put your bag down.”

“Oh great, I’m gonna need to do a couple shots before we leave the house - you’re good to drive right?” I said as I walked from his grasp and down the stairs to grab the bottle of vodka for some good old fashioned dutch courage.

______________________________________________________________

Ben was right about Jack, he had approached the couple only moments after they had arrived at Azpi’s house. Amelia had spotted him making his way towards them so she began to walk in a different direction to Ben, stretching their interlocked hands and letting him go as she mumbled something about needing to put her bag down. Ben really knew both of them too well. Jack gave Ben a hug hello, still in the grovelling stage of repairing their friendship.

“Hey bro, how’s it goin?” Jack spoke as he pulled away from Ben.

“Yeah bro all’s good with me, how are you? Congrats on the move again, million dollar geez you are, aren’t ya? Don’t forget me when you're mingling with Messi in a couple years” Ben joked back with the boy who has been literally a brother to him for the last few years.

“Ahhh you’re jokin me, could never forget a brother could I? We’re basically blood at this point I reckon. Where’d Mils run off ta?” Jack questioned with his arm around Ben’s neck, both of the boys looking out into the garden for the girl in question.

“Right here super Jack” Amelia spoke from behind them. During their brief discussion, Amelia had put her bag down and ran inside to grab herself a drink before walking out to face the music of Jack’s apology. Overhearing how lighthearted he was with Ben, coupled with the reassurance that Ben had provided her earlier in the evening plus the two or three vodka shots she had downed in their kitchen before coming to the afterparty had meant that she left her worries at the door.

“Mils, darlin', you already know what's coming but I truly am sorry...to both of ya ya’know. Benny, we’ve already had it out and it took me ages to get over that black eye but please believe me when I tell ya I am so sorry for treating you that way Amelia. From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry and I regret nothing more than how I made you feel.” Jack could feel himself getting teary whilst thinking about how he made the girl feel, how he made his best mate and chosen brother feel, how he really put a spanner in the works of their blossoming relationship.

“Jack, I’m not going to say it was ok because it wasn't. But it wasn’t just your fault, I also played a part in it that has me cursing myself every day for ruining things with Benj. I forgive you, Jacky.” Amelia spoke while reaching up and wrapping her arms around Jack’s neck to give him one of her signature squeezy hugs, to truly convey that she was moving on from their tumultuous past and hoped that he could stop beating himself up over it and do the same.

Jack had left the couple to return to the table and grab himself a refill of his drink. Ben’s arm had found its natural position around Amelia’s shoulders as they both stood there looking out at their friends. However, Ben was looking down at Amelia. Without missing a beat and keeping her eyes focused out on the yard, Amelia spoke only loud enough for Ben to hear.

“So, you gave Jack a black eye over me huh? That’s hot”

Amelia took a few steps forward before turning to look at the expression on Ben’s face as she continued to walk away from him, backwards. The slight shock turned into a full on smirk as he walked towards her eager to close the gap between them with a kiss. He knew she loved him with her whole heart, but he hoped that she would understand just how much he loved her right back.

The Proposal | la proposta

#football imagine #football fic #jadon sancho #ben chilwell #mason mount #declan rice #ben white #jack grealish #tyrone mings #kyle walker #ben chilwell imagine #jack grealish imagine #mason mount imagine #football one shot #tyrone mings imagine #x reader #a family affair fic #steph writes #stephspurs #italian national team #jorginho #federico bernardeshci #jorginho imagine #bernardeschi imagine #juventus fic #juventus imagine #italy nt imagine #england nt imagine #three lions imagine #azzurri imagine

[oboevallis]

Hi! Can you write something about the baby just coming home after he was born and he wouldn’t stop crying even if Link and Amelia tried everything like giving him his pacifier or Amelia trying to feed him and they get desperate and ask Mer for help or other or something similar idk. Have a good day!

thanks for the prompt! i hope you have a good day as well!

cries

“Welcome home!” Amelia cooed as the newly formed family of 3 walked through the door.

“Wow this is really real now. We’re at home with him. Alone.” Link chuckled nervously. He watched as his girlfriend uncomfortably lowered herself down onto the couch. “You okay?”

“Yeah, you know normal postpartum stuff.” Link nodded and sat down next to her.

“He’s been so good. He’s very mellow.” Link said as he stoked the baby’s cheek.

“Don’t jinx us Link.” Amelia chuckled.

“Oh come on you don’t believe in that stuff.”

_________________________________________________

“Okay I totally jinxed us.”

“You think?” Amelia’s voice broke. She was sobbing along their newborn.

“Just stop crying Amelia your provoking him.” Link said while pacing.

“If I could control my crying don’t you think I would have?” Amelia bit back angrily.

“Let me try.” Link held his arms out and Amelia shifted the baby into his arms.

“Have at it since you know everything.”

“Amelia I’m sorry I didn’t mean that.” Link apologized as she walked back in their room to get some sleep. “What’s the problem little guy?”

Link took off his shirt and unbuttoned his sons onesie to see if skin to skin contact would soothe the baby. It definitely didn’t help. So he stood up and tried walking around while slightly bouncing the baby. It seemed to be working but his howls just got louder. He concluded the baby may be hungry again so he went across the hall to their bedroom. He saw Amelia peacefully sleeping with the cat curled up next to her. Even though she’d never admit it she really did love the cat.

“Mils, I think the little guys hungry.” Amelia groaned in response, but sat up and took the baby into her arms. Link crawled into bed to sit next to his family. It took a little bit for the baby to latch on between his cries but once he did he seemed to calm down. Much to his parents relief. He fell asleep after awhile and Amelia carefully stood up to place him in his crib.

“I think he’s down.” The exhausted mom sighed in relief as she made her way to their bed and carefully lowered herself down to. Once she was situated the baby started to cry again. This causing tears of frustration to spring to her eyes.

“I got it.” Link responded getting up.

“It’s okay I’ll come too.” Link tried to coax her back into bed but with no avail. Link tried to reswaddle the baby but it didn’t seem to help soothe the baby.

“Maybe we should go for a drive?” Link whispered.

“Okay.” Amelia whispered back they were trying to be quiet, even though their baby was wide awake and crying. The couple situated their son into his car seat and Amelia sat with him in the back while Link drove around the neighborhood. The baby’s sobs not calming down, so he turned back and the defeated couple made their way back into their sons room.

“Hey! Music, that may soothe him. Maybe we’re being too quiet. I mean in my womb he always heard my heartbeat or me rambling.” Amelia exclaimed thinking she may of solved the issue.

“Oh good idea!” Link responded while pulling out his phone to put on some orchestral music.

They sat there for at least 5 movements of a treacherously long piece, and they still had a sobbing baby.

“Oh god, do you think he’s sick?” Amelia asked worriedly biting her nails. Link shook he’s head no, he wasn’t ready to go there. “I’m calling Meredith.”

“Amelia it’s midnight she’s probably asleep.”

“It’s 6 am Link, she’s probably getting ready for work.” Link looked to his girlfriend in shock, had they really been up all night?

“Hey Mer, yeah, no everything is really not great over here he won’t stop crying I think he’s sick.” Amelia placed the back of her hand against her sons head. “No, no sign of fever. No, no sign of jaundice either. Yeah no we tried that. Yeah and we tried that. He’s been crying all night I’m worried he’s gonna get dehydrated. No we haven’t tried that. Thanks Mer bye.”

“Okay here we go buddy.” Amelia scooped up the crying baby from her boyfriends arms and laid him in his crib. She took her hand and gently rubbed her sons stomach. After 5 minutes the baby’s cries were diminished and the baby was drifting into sleep. The relieved parents watched their sons chest rise and fall before the two snuck into their bedroom.

“Meredith is a life saver.” Link remarked wrapping his arm around his girlfriend.

“You got that right.” Amelia yawned sleep taking over the couple.

#baby amelink #atticus lincoln #amelink #amelia shepherd #greysanatomy #fanfic #meredith grey #greys fanfic #scout

[nevermoremagic]

aren’t you forgetting something? - jj maybank x reader

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write fics for JJ ever since I finished watching Outer Banks, but my writing is rusty as hell :) Nonetheless, I really wanted to post something, so here’s a fluffy little drabble!

It’s based on a prompt I found on @otpprompts ! Referenced in the notes at the end.

Pairing: jj maybank x reader

Prompt: You are about to leave for work. JJ asks you if you’ve forgotten anything, and you give him a kiss. JJ turns red and opens his hand to reveal your keys, saying “I meant this, but thanks.”

Warning(s): a bit of swearing, a lot of fluff and cheese

Word Count: 1k

--

“JJ… let go of me, please.” Only a piercing groan in response. Still, the muscular arms remain wrapped around your frame and the tufts of golden hair shoved into your face don’t move the slightest bit.

“JJ,” you whine, squirming in his hold. God, if you were late for another shift at Heyward’s, surely Pope’s father would have your head.

The culprit of your tardiness, the one whose arms have your body pressed tightly against his chest like an octopus, buries his head into the crook of your neck, moaning a mocking “(Y/N)” in response to your whine of protest.

“I’m gonna be late for work.”

“Yeah. That’s the point. So you stay here longer.” JJ’s chin hooks onto your shoulder, and when you turn to give him a pointed glare, he beams at you. The classic JJ smile. The one where your heart skips a beat at the sight. Your glare immediately melts, and instead you sigh and roll your eyes at the whining child you’ve unbelievably called your boyfriend.

Oh, you’d love to stay. In your experience, there’s nothing more blissful than laying in a hammock watching the sunset and feeling the sea breeze brush past you two. And JJ’s built like a furnace, always keeping you warm in his embrace during the windiest of days. It’s days like these where it’s hard to pry yourself away from him.

“Heyward’s going to fire me and I’ll be jobless and broke,” you warn JJ, but also make no move to escape his clutch.

He sucks air between his teeth and furrows his eyebrows, thinking of what you assume to be a solution to this dilemma of yours. Then, his eyes widen as a thought you were expecting to be ridiculous comes to him.

“I’ll be your sugar daddy.”

You scoff. “Oh, please. Your broke ass?”

He lets out an indignant squawk. “Broke? Who are you calling broke? Was the treasure hunt last summer for 400 mil a fever dream to you?”

“Oh?” Your eyebrow quirks. “You mean, the 400 million dollars that’s currently in the Bahamas? That’s the money you’re going to use to pamper me?” You smirk, fondly watching his soft blue eyes narrow at your triumphant teasing.

JJ quiets, shaking his head at the sight of your cocky smirk. Finally, he clicks his tongue, barking a “fine!” before unwinding his arms and springing out of the hammock in an instant, nearly sending you toppling onto the ground.

You gasp in shock, fingers frantically trying to find purchase in the netting beneath you as you cling for dear life. The snickers behind you serve as a reminder of the idiot that nearly sent you to your death. “Asshole,” you mutter, although it doesn’t sound nearly as resentful as you’d like it to be. You’re too whipped for JJ to truly be mad, and you knew it.

It takes a few seconds, but you find your balance and roll off the hammock with ease. You refuse to look at your boyfriend while you begin stomping towards your car, pettiness apparent. Your angry facade can only continue for so long though, as JJ’s happy laughs trail behind you.

“Hey,” he calls, and before you can guess what’s happening, his hands curl around your waist, holding you close. When you look up, you’re convinced you’re staring straight through heaven’s gates.

The last rays of sun peek through the tree leaves and cast a halo of light around JJ’s head, setting his golden tresses aglow. He looks angelic, and the sight sends bursts of love through you; so strong, they make your heart hurt.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he chuckles, still amused from earlier. His eyes crinkle when he speaks, exuding a boyish charm that you can never get enough of. But what were you forgetting?

“Huh? Oh, right.” Before you can stop yourself, you lean in.

You give him a soft and sweet peck on the lips, smiling as you pull away and watch his cheeks turn into a pale pink. It’s not often that you see JJ so flustered from affection, so you indulge in the sight of his blushing cheeks with satisfaction.

“Uh,” he says, buffering. “I meant these, but thanks.”

Your blood turns over in your veins when he holds out the car keys you left at the hammock in his palms, embarrassment flooding through you.

“Oh,” You say breathlessly, fumbling for the keys. “Oh, right, that.” You laugh awkwardly, still cringing a little from your sudden burst of affection. Too focused on berating yourself, you fail to see the soft smile adorning JJ’s face; eyes soft, heart soft. Too damn soft for the girl in front of him; whom he loves so easily, and who loves him just as much in return.

If you thought your heart could handle any more surprises today, you were definitely wrong. JJ pulls you impossibly closer to him, and he leans in and gives you another kiss on the lips; the kind only a playful, teasing-but-equally-loving-JJ could give. The kind you loved.

When he pulls away, you think you forget how to breathe. You and JJ have kissed too many times to count, and somehow, he still manages to sweep you off your feet every time.

“I’ll see you later,” he murmurs, face inches away from yours. You can only nod in response while your breath is - quite literally - stolen. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” you say, but it sounds too airy, as if your head was stuck in the clouds.

JJ grins at the sight of you - wide-eyed and a little spaced out. With a final peck on the forehead, he unwraps his arms from your waist and saunters back into John B’s shack, turning to shoot you a final wink before he disappears through the front door.

If anyone asks, you won’t admit it, but it did take you a few seconds to process where you were and where you were supposed to be. And like the typical lovesick fool, a dazed, euphoric grin adorned your face once you were reminded of the work shift you still had to cover. It was a happy grin that danced on your lips when you arrived at Heyward’s, a grin that Pope was quick to make fun of once you walked into the shop, because he knew there was only one person who was able to put such a lovestruck, happy smile on your face.

-

Notes:

lol the ending was shite

sorry if it’s garbage! again, I haven’t written in a while, so it might sound a little clunky.

thanks for reading anyways!!

Original prompt: Person A is about to leave for work [or insert any other suitable event/place]. Person B asks them if they’ve forgotten anything, and Person A gives them a kiss. Person B turns red and opens their hand to reveal Person A’s keys/wallet/etc., saying “I meant this, but thanks.”

#outer banks #outer banks imagine #obx #obx imagine #pope heyward #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n

[middtumisro1974-blog]

It a pet peeve of mine when people equate tretinoin to retinol. They entirely different ingredients. But they both retinoids. Since using it my skin is dewy, healthy, and smooth. I love it and apply it to my whole face including the eye area.Sunday Riley CEO Rapid Flash serum. Vitamin C is an HG ingredient for me but I can't settle on a serum. FIL played it off as a misunderstanding, and said it was all at DH suggestion (even though he was like 4). MIL is crazy on her own and also has her head in the sand, so she more than readily bought his story. Same thing happened with DH grandparents later on. "I got to the bottom of the stack, and saw this scan that was obviously pathological," he says, noting that it showed low activity in certain areas of the frontal and temporal lobes linked to empathy, morality and self control. Knowing that it belonged to a member of his family, Fallon checked his lab's PET machine for an error (it was working perfectly fine) and then decided he simply had to break the blinding that prevented him from knowing whose brain was pictured. When he looked up the code, he was greeted by an unsettling revelation: the psychopathic brain pictured in the scan was his own.. I watch 2 popular gurus who both mentioned this in their videos. They said they weren't going to show products they liked unless they were getting a sponsorship because they didn't want to give out free promo. One of them even talked about loving the colourpop concealers, but instead of buying them she emailed colourpop and asked them to send her more. Even in winter. Even if the curtains are closed.heyho10102 19 points submitted 3 days agoSo routine time. The first photo is from November 2017 and the second is from February 2019. The runway categories were great what? 나주출장안마 that was the first proper season without lots of generic best drag categories. Death becomes her, bearded and beautiful, half drag, ugliest dress were all great. Even simpler ones just like green and leather and lace and the fall and spring categories were good runway prompts. Grab your men razor! they give a closer shave and make your legs super smooth. Grab your shaving cream. If you want, use a men one. Egg white protein powder. I try not to go overboard on cheeses and dairy but I do drink some heavy cream in my tea. I love cabbage sauteed in 나주출장안마 butter. They have a strong sense of virtue and of right and wrong. The ability to resurrect a failing marriage or career, or regain self respect, prosperity or income is a natural talent among these natives. The person may become overly enamored of material well being and use it for selfish reasons, but will always return to the balanced, correct path. Notice that this statement is simple and straightforward. There are no unnecessary colons, semi colons, commas, or periods. Conventional wisdom dictates that a thesis has to be long and wordy, but such statements are usually far less effective than a simpler iteration of your arguments. Because that how real crime investigation works. When you don know what happened, you start looking for clues and see all sort of pattern that may or may not be relevant to the case at all. Most often than not the majority of what you found is really nothing noteworthy and only a few is worthwhile evidence.

[umasbobagensdamadcity]

Nola Prompt

New York. 2025. “Spring wedding. I was supposed to say it's Nian's time, but Emily planned it all, so she deserves the credits.”. Nola Jackson, point of view.

Ela não queria deixar a festa de sua garotinha favorita tão cedo, mas tinha um turno muito longo no Lower em algumas horas e ainda precisava dirigir até o Brooklyn pra colocar o uniforme e beber pelo menos um litro de café. Por isso, saiu de fininho de toda festa que ocorria num espaço longe da saída, sem dizer um adeus a Isabelle ou a família dela, estavam muito ocupados comemorando o casamento recente e o fato da marca de roupas da mais nova dos Qian finalmente ter sido colocada entre as mais famosas daquele ano. Eles sabiam que ela era assim, uma hora estava lá e se mostrava presente quando precisavam dela, e, quando desaparecia, era porque outras pessoas precisavam dela também. Sabia que a garota não ficaria magoada com ela, mas preocupada e querendo saber se ela tinha chegado bem em casa e se iria visitá-la em breve, como sempre fazia. Um traço muito sutil e doce de Isabelle Qian que ela, Nola Jackson, tinha a ensinado desde muito pequena: se preocupar com os outros acima dela mesma. O tempo todo.

A mais velha teve alguma dificuldade em localizar o presente de casamento que tinha comprado pra Isabelle no meio daquele monte de caixas e embrulhos extravagantes. Tinha certeza que grande parte dos parentes da menina tinham só pedido pra algum representante ir a uma loja e comprar o objeto mais caro de todos, colocar numa caixa e enviar pelo correio do outro lado do mundo, como sempre. Aquilo deixava ela enfurecida, mas conhecendo aquela família desde o nascimento de Kaden, sabia que, bom, um traço normal deles que, felizmente, os herdeiros de Sunshine não tinham.

Delicadamente, deixou um envelope branco lacrado em cima da caixa de presente destinada a Isabelle por ela. Não era um recado pra Izzy, já tinha falado muito com ela desde que se propôs a ajudá-la a se preparar pro grande dia e a menina mais nova sabia que ela estaria sempre por lá, mas o nome de Kevin Nixon estava formalmente escrito na parte inferior numa letra cursiva cheia de curvas e muito perfeitinha. Era o que não tinha falado pro filho único dos Nixon desde que se conheceram no hospital e mais um monte de besteiras que, bom, ela achava importante que ele soubesse, principalmente agora que tinha jurado num altar amar a garota que ela tinha ajudado a criar. Não conseguiu evitar um revirar de olhos só de lembrar o quanto tinha chorado nessa hora, deixou o ambiente da festa pra ir pro trabalho pensando em mil coisas pra dizer pro garoto do violão no primeiro passo em falso que ele desse com a menina favorita dela, mas esperava que ele encontrasse a carta e não a mostrasse pra Izzy, pelo menos não até achar que fosse a hora certa.

Para Kevin Nixon (Garoto do Violão), de Nola Jackson.

Antes de qualquer coisa, gostaria de dizer que espero que esta carta seja algo só entre nós dois e que não a mostre para aquela garota a qual nós dois amamos, a menos que você sinta essa necessidade e saiba que ela precisa. De resto, Garoto do Violão, eu tenho muito o que conversar com você.

Primeiramente, eu não odeio você. Seria incapaz de odiar alguém que a Isabelle ame tanto, mesmo com todos os motivos do mundo e tantas outras coisas e, além disso, você nunca me deu motivos pra odiá-lo. Vamos só dizer que sempre existia um pé atrás quando o assunto era você, seu violão e todas as outras porcarias que fui obrigada a ouvir ela dizer desde o primeiro dia em que o conheceu. Acredite em mim, quando ela resolve reservar um tempo para discursos que ela gosta, é torturante e bonitinho, já deve saber disso, acredito eu… Desde que conheceu ela. Mas vou te dizer como conheci Isabelle Qian - que não, não foi na porta de um banheiro com uma garota catarrenta atrás dela - e os motivos pelos quais eu não ia com a sua cara, de jeito algum. Ainda não vou, mas talvez menos do que ontem ou há cinco anos atrás.

Quando eu conheci Isabelle Qian, ela não estava sorrindo e nem fazendo coisas bobas como tenho certeza que tenha acontecido com você. Ela estava cheia de sangue, sendo sufocada por um cordão umbilical e tinha um corpo muito menor do que a maioria dos bebês. A mãe dela estava desesperada e a Isabelle não conseguia respirar, mesmo depois de semanas em uma encubadora e com todos os cuidados, ainda era tão difícil pra ela respirar sem sentir dor. Eu passei todas as noites com ela em um berçário, vigiando pra ver se ainda estava respirando e se ia sair daquilo ali e ir pra casa, talvez conhecer a família extremamente preocupada que ela tinha. Eu implorava pra que ela pelo menos tentasse sobreviver, sabia que ia ser difícil e que ela se sentia mal, mas ela precisava… O irmão dela não tinha dado esse trabalho todo, três anos antes.

Ela saiu um dia, mas ainda insistia em tentar sabotar a própria vida, não ela, mas o corpo dela. Sempre soube que ele não gostava muito dela, ou todas as vezes em que ela foi parar no Lower doente ou desesperadamente quase morrendo não seriam reais. Os pais dela não tinham muito tempo pros filhos, isso era um fato, mas sabia que continuavam preocupados com a filha caçula de cinco anos que continuava dando entradas em um hospital pelo menos uma vez por mês. Foi ai… Foi ai que tive a oportunidade de conhecer Isabelle Qian uma segunda vez e em situações mais favoráveis. Ela sempre foi tão fofa e alegre, mesmo com tubos ligados a ela e que algumas crianças achassem ela um pouco diferente, talvez “esquisita”, pra ser um pouco mais cruel. Eu me apaixonei por ela mais a cada vez que ela ia pro hospital com uma máscara no rosto. A garota podia estar queimando em febre ou com alguma infecção, mas ela ainda iria sorrir e me dizer oi. Um dia ela conseguiu parar de adoecer, mas voltava pro Lower com frequência, principalmente no aniversário. Eu sei que é deprimente e preocupante que uma criança escolha passar o aniversário com outras crianças, essas doentes, e doe todos os presentes dela pra eles. Mas eu preferia que ela ficasse ali, o dia todo, do que em casa com um bolo solitário e os pais marcando os minutos no relógio pra próxima grande viagem e acabassem deixando ela e o irmão sozinhos outra vez.

Ela nunca teve amigos, eu era a melhor amiga dela, as vezes mãe, mas ainda a única pessoa que a ouvia e que se certificava de que ela estava bem e crescendo pra ser uma mulher boa. Quando você e a outra garota entraram na história, confesso que fiquei com ciúmes; ela não deixava de me considerar e de me contar os segredos dela, mas dali em diante eu sabia que teria que dividir a atenção dela com uma menina cor-de-rosa e um garoto que andava com um vilão pra baixo e pra cima. E, como se o meu pesadelo não pudesse piorar mais, ela ainda se apaixonou por você. Droga, Isabelle. O quão clichê ela realmente pode ser? Juro que não sei. Mas, deixa pra lá, agora estamos chegando na parte boa! Todos os motivos pra eu não ter gostado de você no começo!

Você sempre a fez feliz. Mesmo quando eram só amigos ou colegas de turma, ela ainda iria sorrir e dizer um monte de coisas toscas sobre estar perto de você e como você era “o menino mais lindo, fofo, doce, talentoso e bom” que ela tinha conhecido. Fala sério, você é vesgo! Como é que ela poderia achar isso bonito ou sequer digno de um comentário positivo? Bom, não importa, é a Isabelle, acredito que você saiba agora mais do que eu como ela é, mas quer saber mais uma coisa? Soube que ela amava você primeiro do que ela se dar conta, tarde demais, mas eu soube. Agora… Por que tudo isso me deixava apreensiva? Bom, porque eu sou uma pra não acreditar nesse tipo de história de felizes para sempre ou sobre o amor no geral. Quase fui mãe de três garotinhas, mas elas escolheram simplesmente não passar por esse mundo antes de nascer e, quando o pai delas se cansou do fato de elas sempre estarem indo embora, ele me deixou, também. Eu estava com medo que, caso Isabelle Qian não conseguisse ser algo natural na vida dela, o mesmo pudesse acontecer e ela acabasse tão fechada e injustamente ferida como eu. Ela é muito especial pra se deixar apagar, muito boa pra se tornar alguém duro. Eu tive muito trabalho em fazer dela quem ela é, não estava disposta a deixá-la ser de outra pessoa muito facilmente. Eu não podia deixar que você fosse a alma gêmea dela, ainda não. Mas estava me iludindo, porque uma parte de mim sempre soube que estavam destinados pra algo grande e eu não poderia mais impedir.

E então, ela adoeceu. Outra vez, mas não porque o corpo dela a odiava ou porque tinha alguma dificuldade, mas porque ela odiava o próprio corpo e estava criando dificuldades. Eu só chorei algumas vezes durante toda a minha vida, todas elas em momentos realmente dignos das minhas lágrimas e realmente emotivos - entre eles quando meu pai foi deportado, quando soube que tinha perdido um bebê em três situações diferentes, quando o meu marido me deixou e quando eu a vi quase morrer no hospital porque não conseguia lidar com si mesma. Fiquei com tanta raiva dela e tão frustrada, não conseguia gritar com ela ou puni-la, mas ficava em silêncio completo me lembrando de todos aqueles dias dolorosos em que tudo o que ela queria era sobreviver e eu precisava ajudá-la sempre. Como ela teve coragem de se sabotar daquele jeito por que meia dúzia de garotas estúpidas diziam coisas sobre ela? Eu não era o suficiente pra ela? Os amigos, os pais, o irmão… Por que ela precisava se convencer de ser o suficiente pra pessoas que não éramos nós? Eu ainda não conseguia expressar minhas decepções com ela, mas você fez, e eu não conseguia julgar você. Sabia que aquelas palavras não eram pra Isabelle, mas pra garota que tomou o lugar dela e a machucou, machucando a todos nós também. Você não queria fazer mal pra ela, acredito que nunca quis, mas todos nós estavamos mal e a culpa, ainda assim, era dela.

Quando você deixou ela, naquele dia, no outro apartamento, bom, era como se eu estivesse com a Isabelle de cinco anos outra vez. Ela não conseguia respirar porque não conseguia parar de chorar porque o coração estava doendo e ela ainda se sentia culpada e com um monte de coisas nas costas. Me lembro de ter perguntado pra ela centenas de vezes o que você significava pra ela, ela não conseguia me dizer, mas os olhos dela sim, e então eu soube que ela amava você e tinha perdido a chance de dizer. Eu queria bater em você ou dizer as coisas que ela não conseguia dizer, mas depois de ver o quarto destruido e que ela insistia em dormir dentro do closet porque “aquele quarto não é mais meu”, soube que ela precisava mais de dizer que amava a si mesma do que a você. Foi a primeira vez que senti sua falta perto dela durante um ano e alguns meses, parte porque ela não conseguia ficar feliz com absolutamente nada e outra porque outro garoto resolveu se intrometer no seu lugar, ou tentar. Garoto do Violão, nunca vou te perdoar por deixar o garoto de ChinaTown perto da Isabelle. Ele era tão extremamente irritante e arrogante que tenho vontade de passar com meu carro em cima dele, mesmo que nem se falem mais, por escolha dela. Estava constantemente dizendo coisas irritantes e arrogantes, porque ele era irritante e arrogante, e ainda tinha coragem de dizer palavras em chinês quando eu deixava explicitamente o quanto eu o odiava. Não importa o que aconteça hoje ou daqui dez anos, eu e você, exterminadores de Alex Chang e suas tentativas frustradas de ainda tentar ser amigo dela, ouviu bem?

Depois do pesadelo, coisas boas costumavam vir, certo? Confesso que mesmo depois de terem reatado e eu ter ficado feliz com a coisa toda, ainda estava apreensiva, mas dava um jeito de tentar enxergar vocês dois de outra maneira. Não eram mais dois adolescentes birrentos e com cara de bebê, eram quase dois adultos e eram mais maduros e responsáveis, estavam de fato amando um ao outro e eu parei de pensar sobre quando você iria embora e deixá-la, como costuma acontecer com outras pessoas, pra começar a pensar em quando te diria que estava aprovado e que a vida dela, agora, era responsabilidade sua.

Kevin Nixon, sei duas ou mais algumas coisas sobre você, mas sei que é um menino bom e que foi criado por pessoas muito gentis e amigáveis. Conseguiu ver todos os lados da minha pequena Isabelle e ainda conseguiu levá-la pro altar, algo que ela jamais pensou que aconteceria, por constantemente achar que as pessoas não gostam dela. Então, digo que não odeio mais você, na verdade, até acho você um cara legal, mas isso não vem ao caso. Você é o único responsável em se certificar de que ela está se tornando uma boa pessoa e que ainda está respirando, entendeu? Espero que honre o trabalho que eu tive nos últimos vinte e dois anos e nunca afaste ela de mim. O apelido “Garoto do Violão” termina aqui também. Você é o príncipe encantado dela, agora.”

#nola #prompt

[protierras]

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[milirii]

For the spring OTP prompts, may I have number 7 with Joonas and Joel pls! (platonic or romantic, your call <3)

I was struggling to come up with ideas for this one 😂 But then I browsed through UMK's instagram posts from last spring and one of them said that there was riding a bike in boys schedule on free days and I finally got an idea. So here you go, I hope you like it 🤗

7. Thrift shopping, words: 1167, can be either platonic or romantic

Nowadays free days were a rare luxury for Blind channel. Life was hectic and they have been pulled in different directions by journalists and interviewers and important label peoples all the spring after Darkside came out. And even more so when UMK was over and they had wiped the floor with other contestants. Every fiber of their bodies and souls and the very meaning of their life aimed only for one thing: to get their asses on Rotterdam and on the big stage of Ahoy-arena and in front of cameras and live audience. To make the statement and force people to look at them and acknowledge their existence. 

But all moving parts around them made Joel anxious. To have constantly 666 things in their To Do-list was great for giving him no time to think too much, but now when their semifinal was only a day away and everything was ready and only waiting for them to step up on the stage, the life had quieted down enough for Joel to hear the anxious and panicked whispering of his head. It made him nauseous and fidgety and fucked up his already non-existent sleeping schedule. 

But if life had given him a mean head that didn’t let him have the peaceful moment, it has also given him five best friends who picked up the pieces when Joel didn’t have strength to do so and even prevented some of the breakdowns before Joel had fully noticed them even approaching. 

And especially Joel was thankful for having one specific person in his life.

“We are going to ride a bike and look around the city!” Joonas dragged Joel behind him towards the door of the conference room where they had spent the morning, doing last checks over things. 

Tommi waved them off with: “Don’t do anything reckless, we need to be able to perform tomorrow”, before turning back to his phone. 

“We know and we won’t get the plague”, Joonas rolled his eyes and tugged Joel more insistently with him and all but pushed him out of the door. “We will be back in three hours, bye!”

Door closed behind them and now Joonas turned to look at Joel. “This door separates you from all the Eurovision stuff we have been doing all spring. All of it is behind this door and none of it is on this side. We are going to now spend our free three hours doing basic tourist things and you can’t think of this Eurovision circus because it doesn't exist in the rest of Rotterdam.” 

Joel just blinked in confusion and Joonas gave him a smile. “You are restless and anxious and we need to fix that before you break. Best I can offer you now is to take you away from this for a while, if you are up to it.”

“Fuck yes, please let’s get out of here!” Trust for Joonas to see everything, Joel thought. Joonas’ happy squeal and swift kiss pressed on his cheek made Joel already feel a bit better. 

****

Warm wind felt nice on his face when they rode their bikes down the streets. Together with Joonas’ continuous talking and observing the colorful buildings and green parks, Joel could almost feel how the extra stress melted away. When they stopped to buy some ice cream from the stall they found in one of the parks, he didn’t feel anymore like his esophagus was about to wrap itself around his neck and throttle him. Breathing felt so nice without the heavy weight of the hoped breakthrough on his chest. 

“We need to get some souvenirs, don’t you think?” Joonas suddenly asked while he licked his ice cream and walked his bike next to Joel. 

“We can’t go anywhere, so just take a picture of your ice cream and consider it done.” Joel shrugged and continued to enjoy his own ice cream cone. 

“What if we twist the rules a little bit?” 

“How?” Joel sighed exasperated. “It feels nice to pretend we are not performing tomorrow in front of hundreds of thousands of people, but we can’t ignore the fact that we actually are performing tomorrow and we can’t get ourselves sick. This is too important, Joonas.” 

“I know! But there is an open-air flea market and I kinda want to go and see what we could find. There aren't too many people in there and we can keep our distance and use face masks.” 

Joonas’ pleading voice made Joel consider. Joonas loved thrift shops and Joel had sometimes made good findings too. Like old vinyls with some classic songs. Once he had rummaged through a huge box of C-cassettes just to piss off Tommi and found a record of Mäntypistiäinen, which he had later given Tommi as a birthday gift. No one had a proper player to actually listen to it, but it was considered a treasure anyway. Sometimes he found other cool stuff, like hockey cards or jewelleries and one time he had even ran into a hockey jersey in Kärppä-colors and Lasse Kukkonen’s number.  

So yeah, he actually wanted to twist the rules with Joonas a little and go visit the outdoors thrift shop. 

“Let’s go then!”

****

Circling among the tables full of books, clothes, CD’s and other knick-knacks was the final thing needed to pull Joel out of his Eurovision anxiety. It felt so normal to walk through the sales area where others had little to no idea who they were. No one was expecting anything from him. It felt refreshing. 

He didn’t even buy anything. Nothing really caught his eyes and when Joonas drifted away to inspect something he had considered interesting and came back with a smooth rock, Joel decided to just grab Joonas’ arm and drag him away from the place. It was time to get back to the hotel anyway.  

“What are you going to do with it? You could have just taken a rock from the ground?” Joel asked when they returned the rented bikes. 

“You’ll see.” Joonas smirked at him.

****

Flight from Rotterdam to Finland with no sleep and terrible hangover wasn’t the best thing Joel had experienced. But in all it’s horriblesness, Joel knew that the flight was not only the end of this mad Eurovision wringer, it was foremost the flight that got them towards the dreams that had kept them going. The breakthrough happened and now they needed to make sure the wave would take them as far as possible and that they would stay on the surface. 

Joonas was sleeping against his shoulder and snoring lightly. Joel would have liked to take advantage of the couple of hours they would be on air and close his eyes, but he was still too high on the adrenaline. 

He brushed his finger on the surface of the rock Joonas had given him before boarding. There was written: “Time to make a hundred million people listen”

Yes it was. Joel smiled and turned to press a kiss on Joonas’ hair.

#Actually the thrift shopping part is pretty short 😐 #And hey everyone consider this: i am old enough to know what c-cassette is 😎 (also meantioned just briefly but still) #Joel is btw the hardest one to write for me so thanks for the challenge! I hope this is adequate 😅 #Mil's spring prompts #Joel/Joonas #blind channel rpf #milirii writes

[delicrieux]

prompt; by moose-on-the-l00se <3  If you still write for Markiplier, can I request a Markiplier x Fem.Reader, where she comforts him after his 6 mil and 8 mil subscriber videos, and is always really strong and his rock and stuff, and then something really sad or upsetting happens to her, and he’s there for her and fluff?

warnings; fluff, angst 

words; 967

a/n; thank you for the request darlin, hope ya like it. and to answer your question - yes, i very still write for mark xx

MASTERLIST. KO-FI.

Being the loving girlfriend you were, you were always a shoulder to lean on, especially after those subscriber special videos where Mark would bawl his eyes out and seek comfort once the camera was turned off. You were the less emotional one after all and not once or twice did your boyfriend remind you that without you he’d simply ‘fall apart’.

But today was different. The afternoon was alien.  Sun shone bright led by soft breeze that sneaked into the apartment through the open window and tickled the back of your neck. Today the roles were switched - instead of him searching for tissues this time it was your hand that fiddled with the blank screen of your phone. A heartbreaking message – a passing of a dear family member – hadn’t taken its full toll yet since you were struggling to comprehend what had just happened. The phone call was quick curt and cold, the voice on the other line betrayed little emotion besides the obvious one – exhaustion. After that you fell into the couch, your back pressing to the soft cushions though you felt none of that and the mobile nearly slipped out your numb fingers. The quiet buzz of the room was strangely frustrating and numbing, the urge for any other sound, specifically the main entrance opening and his rapid footsteps approaching, was needed nearly as much as oxygen. Though, you knew full well that once you’d see Mark your calm façade would crumble and the weight of the world would crash down on you.

Jingling of keys, fiddling with the lock, a second later the door opened with an energetic click. Humming Mark swiftly passed the threshold and kicked the door closed with his foot. He called your name lost somewhere in the corridor – you didn’t know, you couldn’t turn your head – and receiving no answer he stumbled into the living room where you were seated.

“…Baby?” His soft hum was enough to make your chest cave and unconsciously or not you made yourself appear small by pushing your legs closer to your chest and snaking your arms around them, hiding your chin and the tight line of your lips behind your knees. You couldn’t speak. Not yet. Something crashed in your chest and a ripple of cool water washed over you and you shivered. “(Name)? Are you okay? What’s going on—“ his array of questions droned into an incoherent mess as you focused completely at a dot on the floor. What was this feeling? You questioned. The dip in the cushions and the sudden warmth that picked on your skin made you tilt your head to him. Dark chocolate eyes met yours, reminding you of sunrise in spring, and for a moment you entirely forgot what was happening to you.

“…Hi.” You whispered, a fake smile pulling on the corner of your lip like a fleeting note of happiness. Mark’s hand came to caress your cheek, cupping it as he ran his finger over your jaw and gently pushed away your falling hair. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes and savoring the feeling of something unquestionably real. The darkness was pleasant to your tired eyes yet spiked fear, picking at the iris and flowing over with salty tears. Your name left his lips in a heated whisper as he pulled you close, wrapping his strong arms around you to protect from the dangers of the world. Mark didn’t ask again what was the matter and you didn’t tell him either, instead you just bit your lip to hold in a throat squeezing sob and buried your face into his chest. Mark kissed the top of your head softly, resting his chin on it and murmuring quiet words that made your heart swell.

“…It’s okay (Name), it’s okay…I’m here, I’m always here…” His fingers trailed the outline of your shoulder and rubbed reassuring circles on your back, “You don’t need to speak, not ever if you don’t wat to…I love you. And I’m always here for you. Always.”

For the longest time you were quiet and he figured you wouldn’t reply. And then, his ears caught a meek rasp, “I…I…love you too.”

#markiplier #markiplier imagine #imagine #imagines #mark #markiplier x reader #reader #reader insert #youtube #youtuber #youtuber imagine #youtube imagine #mark fischbach #mark fischbach imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #fluff #angst #not my gif #one shot

[goblin-gardens]

Meet the Artist/Author

Is this a thing now? Let’s make it a thing. (I know @necroman-tic started it! :D)

Basics Name: Cheesecake. i have other names, but i like the air of mystery. if you want a more normal thing to call me, T works pretty well Age: 23 Astrological sign: Pisces Height: 5'2 and 3/4″ Moral alignment: neutral good, I guess? neutral evil before coffee Favorite smell: lavender Favorite color: purple and green, but like soft/pastel Favorite season: spring! What I’m currently doing with my life: working on getting into grad school and then working on getting a MILS (masters in library sciences)

Fandom Related First Dragon Age game: origins, in 2014 First romance: alistair, i think? but i didn’t finish that playthrough entirely. i got all the way through da2 and romanced isabela before i went back to it First book: still haven’t actually read any Biggest mistake: the first time i played adamant, i totally misread the “who stays” choice. i thought it meant who stayed with me Favorite class: warrior. i like to hit things Most-played race: overall, probably dwarves Favorite cast of companions: inquisition? maybe? just barely Most difficult choice: who to put on the orlesian throne. i don’t like any of the options at all What would the fearlings be for me: i don’t know, and i don’t want to Merchandise: a plaideweave pillow case and the inquisition tarot card deck Gamertag or PSN: i honestly don’t know. i never use it for anything

Art/Fic Related Unanswered prompts: quite a few. and some of them are really old :( i really do plan to fill them all, but i can make 0 promises about time-frame (except for patreon prompts) Favorite artwork: okay i didn’t actually draw it, but @milkymaccha‘s comic for my “iron bull adopts a baby hart” head-canon is one of my favorite things in the world and i.... helped create the idea? Favorite fanfic: today it’s Where the Heart Is and Peraquialus  How long does it take to draw something: How long does it take to write something: either forever (like, months and months) or an entire fic falls out of me in one day The art process:  The writing process: usually i come up with a line of dialogue or a phrase that sparks something, then i let it percolate for a while, until i can envision what happens before and after, that line. i write it then, usually in one go, then go through and take out half of the adverbs and italics that i wanted to use in the first draft, and replace them with better and more complete description. Then I leave it alone for a while before doing another run of edits. And I always get a second opinion, usual from @eugenideswalksintoabar <3 (she usually tells me to take out another 1/3 of the adverbs) Have I improved: absolutely. and i hope to keep getting better too!

Final thoughts: DA (the adoribull corner of it, anyway) is really my only big fandom experience. there’s lots of things that i’ve liked, but nothing’s ever really caught my creativity as much as these characters, and definitely not so consistently for so long. and sharing my writing and interacting with y’all is definitely a big motivator to keep creating. i really appreciate everyone who reads my fics and laughs at my dumb jokes, and i’m really glad for the friends i’ve made through this fandom

#about a cheesecake #sorry i got pretty sappy at the end there #long post

[yesdanielblisslove]

Car Cooling Systems and Emissions

At the point when the greater part of us consider present day cooling frameworks, we will in general think overheating, spills, and possibly poor lodge heat. In any case, another legitimate explanation behind keeping up and investigating cooling frameworks is their immediate effect on the motor's discharges level and efficiency. How about we start by investigating the ignition procedure. The motor packs the blend to raise pressure. This, thus, expands the temperature of the air/fuel blend and helps in burning. On the off chance that the ignition chamber is excessively cool, the procedure needs additional fuel to protect burning. Think about the old carbureted long stretches of thermostatically controlled stifles that enrichened the blend on cool beginnings. There is even a powertrain DTC doled out to this very issue...P0128, Engine is cold excessively long. A few producers have one of a kind code assignments for this issue. On the off chance that the burning chamber temperature gets excessively hot, Nox outflows will increment. While typically the activity of the EGR framework, it can just cool to such an extent. In the event that the motor itself is running more sweltering than typical, the advantage of included EGR is diminished. Diagnosing the P0128 Diagnostic Trouble Code The ECM (Engine Control Module) is accused of watching out for any framework that will affect what leaves the tailpipe. Regularly, the ECM screens the ECT (Engine Coolant Temperature) sensor after a virus start, searching for the motor coolant to arrive at ordinary temperature in a preset time span. On the off chance that the ECM doesn't see its limit an incentive in the apportioned time, it expect there is an issue in the cooling framework, keeping typical working temperature from being accomplished. This is a 2-trip code, implying that if the ECM gets similar outcomes after 2 back to back tests, it will record the code and turn on the MIL (Malfunction Indicator Lamp). The code model gives hints on what to test. To start with, the ECT sensor must peruse accurately. The ECM can just put together its choices with respect to the data it gets. Second, the cooling framework must be working properly...coolant levels must be right, no air in the framework, cooling fans cycling typically and the indoor regulator opening and shutting as it should. Luckily, every one of these variables can be tried at once with negligible exertion. As far as I can tell, the indoor regulator is typically the offender. Be that as it may, to ensure, I set up a couple of screens of my own during the test. In the first place, I connect the output instrument and show the ECT perusing, situating the sweep apparatus in the engine where I can watch it. Second, I utilize a temperature test connected to my DVOM (Digital Volt-Ohm Meter) and spot the test in the radiator blades as near the outlet hose from the motor as I can get. (Ensure it is the outlet from the motor and not the arrival.) Last, I utilize an infrared temperature firearm to quantify temperature on the channel side of the indoor regulator lodging. Presently I can begin my test. Turn over the motor and watch the ECT perusing. It should climb easily. You can even diagram the information if your sweep apparatus has this element to check whether the sign drops out during warm-up. I utilize the infrared firearm to quantify the temperature on the channel side of the indoor regulator lodging to contrast with the ECT perusing. While not precise, it is for the most part inside a couple of degrees if the sensor is perusing effectively. The shade of the surface, and the material it's made of, will influence your temperature firearm's perusing. Simultaneously, I'm viewing the temperature perusing on my DVOM. In the event that it, as well, climbs very quickly after beginning up, I realize the indoor regulator isn't shut. Obviously, you can tell this by feel too, however hold on for me...I'm not done at this point. In the event that the DVOM perusing remains cold, I continue checking the motor temperature readings. When I see the ECT perusing close to the determination for opening of the indoor regulator, I hope to check whether the outlet temperature starts to increment. Provided that this is true, the indoor regulator is opening as it should. If not, the indoor regulator is stuck shut, or there is potential air in the framework influencing its activity. In the event that the indoor regulator opens rashly, it might have been supplanted with one of the erroneous rating, or have a harmed spring or seat. In the event that everything is great to this point, the issue is absent at the hour of testing. This could demonstrate an issue in the wiring from the ECT sensor to the ECM, and electrical checks might be all together. Keep in mind, the ECM can just put together its choices with respect to the data it gets, and if the ECM thinks the motor is cold it will in any case modify its underlying fuel figurings as needs be. Obviously, if the cooling fans please quickly and remain on, the cooling fan control framework should be analyzed and remedied before continuing. While You're At It Since I'm as of now associated, I keep on running the motor to ordinary working temperature, ensuring it balances out. Running out of gear, with no wind current over the radiator, will enable the motor's cooling framework to be worried to perform at its best. I can test the activity of the electric cooling fans by estimating the temperature at which they please, and by the amount of a temperature drop I see as they cycle. As far as I can tell, the fans should come on between 210-240 degrees F as estimated at the radiator, and keep on having until fever drops by 40-60 degrees F. Evaluate your estimations on realized great vehicles to set up your very own demonstrative standard. On vehicles with thick fans, temperature should remain generally steady. In the event that motor temperatures continue ascending in the wake of running them for a little while, it's an ideal opportunity to take a gander at framework coolant stream and wind current as supporters of the issue. Presently we're in the region of higher than typical motor temperatures and emissions...specifically the arrangement of Nox. Higher burning chamber temperatures can likewise cause "sparkle thump", and this, in overabundance, can prompt motor harm. Investigate these frameworks as you would typically. check here radiadores industriales Business Name: Bufalo Radiadores • Street Address: Av. Miguel Aleman 100, La Victoria • City:Guadalupe • State: Nuevo Leon • Zip code: 67110 • Country: Mexico • Business Phone Number: 81 1644 7373 • Business Email :[email protected]  

[joroanblog]

Car Cooling Systems and Emissions

At the point when the greater part of us consider present day cooling frameworks, we will in general think overheating, spills, and possibly poor lodge heat. In any case, another legitimate explanation behind keeping up and investigating cooling frameworks is their immediate effect on the motor's discharges level and efficiency. How about we start by investigating the ignition procedure. The motor packs the blend to raise pressure. This, thus, expands the temperature of the air/fuel blend and helps in burning. On the off chance that the ignition chamber is excessively cool, the procedure needs additional fuel to protect burning. Think about the old carbureted long stretches of thermostatically controlled stifles that enrichened the blend on cool beginnings. There is even a powertrain DTC doled out to this very issue...P0128, Engine is cold excessively long. A few producers have one of a kind code assignments for this issue. On the off chance that the burning chamber temperature gets excessively hot, Nox outflows will increment. While typically the activity of the EGR framework, it can just cool to such an extent. In the event that the motor itself is running more sweltering than typical, the advantage of included EGR is diminished. Diagnosing the P0128 Diagnostic Trouble Code The ECM (Engine Control Module) is accused of watching out for any framework that will affect what leaves the tailpipe. Regularly, the ECM screens the ECT (Engine Coolant Temperature) sensor after a virus start, searching for the motor coolant to arrive at ordinary temperature in a preset time span. On the off chance that the ECM doesn't see its limit an incentive in the apportioned time, it expect there is an issue in the cooling framework, keeping typical working temperature from being accomplished. This is a 2-trip code, implying that if the ECM gets similar outcomes after 2 back to back tests, it will record the code and turn on the MIL (Malfunction Indicator Lamp). The code model gives hints on what to test. To start with, the ECT sensor must peruse accurately. The ECM can just put together its choices with respect to the data it gets. Second, the cooling framework must be working properly...coolant levels must be right, no air in the framework, cooling fans cycling typically and the indoor regulator opening and shutting as it should. Luckily, every one of these variables can be tried at once with negligible exertion. As far as I can tell, the indoor regulator is typically the offender. Be that as it may, to ensure, I set up a couple of screens of my own during the test. In the first place, I connect the output instrument and show the ECT perusing, situating the sweep apparatus in the engine where I can watch it. Second, I utilize a temperature test connected to my DVOM (Digital Volt-Ohm Meter) and spot the test in the radiator blades as near the outlet hose from the motor as I can get. (Ensure it is the outlet from the motor and not the arrival.) Last, I utilize an infrared temperature firearm to quantify temperature on the channel side of the indoor regulator lodging. Presently I can begin my test. Turn over the motor and watch the ECT perusing. It should climb easily. You can even diagram the information if your sweep apparatus has this element to check whether the sign drops out during warm-up. I utilize the infrared firearm to quantify the temperature on the channel side of the indoor regulator lodging to contrast with the ECT perusing. While not precise, it is for the most part inside a couple of degrees if the sensor is perusing effectively. The shade of the surface, and the material it's made of, will influence your temperature firearm's perusing. Simultaneously, I'm viewing the temperature perusing on my DVOM. In the event that it, as well, climbs very quickly after beginning up, I realize the indoor regulator isn't shut. Obviously, you can tell this by feel too, however hold on for me...I'm not done at this point. In the event that the DVOM perusing remains cold, I continue checking the motor temperature readings. When I see the ECT perusing close to the determination for opening of the indoor regulator, I hope to check whether the outlet temperature starts to increment. Provided that this is true, the indoor regulator is opening as it should. If not, the indoor regulator is stuck shut, or there is potential air in the framework influencing its activity. In the event that the indoor regulator opens rashly, it might have been supplanted with one of the erroneous rating, or have a harmed spring or seat. In the event that everything is great to this point, the issue is absent at the hour of testing. This could demonstrate an issue in the wiring from the ECT sensor to the ECM, and electrical checks might be all together. Keep in mind, the ECM can just put together its choices with respect to the data it gets, and if the ECM thinks the motor is cold it will in any case modify its underlying fuel figurings as needs be. Obviously, if the cooling fans please quickly and remain on, the cooling fan control framework should be analyzed and remedied before continuing. While You're At It Since I'm as of now associated, I keep on running the motor to ordinary working temperature, ensuring it balances out. Running out of gear, with no wind current over the radiator, will enable the motor's cooling framework to be worried to perform at its best. I can test the activity of the electric cooling fans by estimating the temperature at which they please, and by the amount of a temperature drop I see as they cycle. As far as I can tell, the fans should come on between 210-240 degrees F as estimated at the radiator, and keep on having until fever drops by 40-60 degrees F. Evaluate your estimations on realized great vehicles to set up your very own demonstrative standard. On vehicles with thick fans, temperature should remain generally steady. In the event that motor temperatures continue ascending in the wake of running them for a little while, it's an ideal opportunity to take a gander at framework coolant stream and wind current as supporters of the issue. Presently we're in the region of higher than typical motor temperatures and emissions...specifically the arrangement of Nox. Higher burning chamber temperatures can likewise cause "sparkle thump", and this, in overabundance, can prompt motor harm. Investigate these frameworks as you would typically. check here radiadores industriales Business Name: Bufalo Radiadores • Street Address: Av. Miguel Aleman 100, La Victoria • City:Guadalupe • State: Nuevo Leon • Zip code: 67110 • Country: Mexico • Business Phone Number: 81 1644 7373 • Business Email :[email protected]  

[takebackthedream]

A Southern California District Resists Bad Education Policy by Jeff Bryant

“Aren’t you cold?”

My hosts waiting for me in front of Millikan High School were wearing full winter wear—dark coats and scarves, knit caps pulled over ears.

I’m in shirtsleeves.

“No,” I replied. It’s 58 degrees—a February cold wave for them but a nice spring day for me.

Photo credit: Jeff Bryant

This is Southern California, where perpetually sunny, temperate weather can make the place seem otherworldly for the rest of us.

The region best known for Disneyland—a.k.a. “the happiest place on Earth”—is also home to Hollywood, world leader of the make-believe industry. Signs at some intersections alert you to surfer crossings. Both the beer and the wine are local. People pick avocados and limes in their backyards.

I went to Millikan High School, in the heart of Long Beach, to find out what makes the public schools there special, too.

Like other writers focused on education, I’m drawn to any place that seems to be performing above average in the perpetually difficult work of educating students who struggle hardest in school.

I’ve called Long Beach an unlikely success story. The city has a history of gang violence dating back many years, which prompted school leaders to make the district the first urban system in the nation to adopt school uniforms in grades K-8. The city is the tenth most ethnically diverse in the nation, just after its neighbor Los Angeles. Twenty-six percent of Long Beach residents were not born in the United States, placing it in the top twenty list of cities in the nation with highest percentages of foreign-born residents. Nearly 70 percent of students qualify for free or reduced-price lunch.

Yet Long Beach Unified School District has steadily improved its high school graduation rates—81 percent in 2013-14—and surpasses the rest of the state on key education measures, such as daily average attendance rates, percentage of high school graduates meeting state college level course requirements, and percentage of nonwhite students taking Advanced Placement courses in high school.

I was particularly interested in Millikan because high schools full of low-income students are commonly called a “disaster” in the public school system. High school students are “tired, stressed, and bored” we are often told, and it would seem that if the Long Beach story is going to have a weak spot, it would be most evident there.

More than half of Millikan’s roughly 3,600 students are Latino. Whites are a minority. Nearly half of the students are “socioeconomically disadvantaged.” And the school has a large share of dis-abled kids and English language learners.

Yet these kids tend to outscore their peers on statewide exams.

Graduation rates continue to improve, from 93.6 percent in 2012-13 to 95.2 percent in 2014-15, which beats the state average by 13 percentage points. In 2015, the most recent year measured, 100 percent of Millikan’s Latino and economically disadvantaged students graduated, along with 96 percent of white and 95 percent of black students.

Students are encouraged to take Advanced Placement courses, and the school picks up most of the tab. Millikan annually receives about $10 mil- lion in grants and college scholarships.

Singling out a school as a “success story” comes with considerable risks. Tales of “miracle schools” are routinely debunked. Some are test-prep factories. Others churn out students to inflate their graduation statistics.

But Millikan would be a good school even if test scores were not high. Its popularity in the community and its low teacher attrition are strong signs that the place is doing something right.

The entourage who meet me at the school’s front door includes lead teachers Leslie Gombrich and Gabby Mercado, who help direct two of the school’s “Linked Learning” initiatives.

Linked Learning strives to create career-oriented pathways to major California industries, including engineering, health care, and the performing arts.

In Carri Valdez’s eleventh-grade class, students are engaged in running a mock business or nonprofit, designing products and services, or advocating for a cause. All the projects are created by students who work in teams.

Volunteers from the businesses and nonprofits in Long Beach visit the classes to talk with the students about how enterprises work. And the students exhibit their work at local and state trade shows and compete in contests at the state, regional, and national levels – sometimes traveling as far away as New York City. A display case showcases awards the students have won over the years.

I watched teacher Michele Mize’s ninth-graders perform “nonfiction narratives” where they present stories, illustrations, and performances conveying the results of interviews they’ve conducted. The interviews must be with someone whom they know personally and incorporate lesson material from other classes they’ve taken.

I saw one student act out the story of her Mexican grandmother coming across the border illegally to the United States, and how she made a life in Southern California. Another student presented a collage about her Cambodian friend who traveled back to her native country only to return to the United States, and how alienated she feels.

Millikan teachers have clearly embraced Linked Learning. But not because they were forced to.

As lead teachers Gombrich and Mercado explain to me, Linked Learning was not a “program” mandated by the district. Not every district school offers these curricular pathways, and those schools that do customize them for their students. For example, Millikan’s PEACE pathway, which uses a social justice lens, was conceived by teachers who were concerned students weren’t sufficiently invested in their studies. District staff nurtured the idea, but teachers led the way.

Neither is Linked Learning a consequence of holding teachers accountable to standards or the outcomes of state tests.

When I ask Valdez how her lessons mesh with Common Core and prepare students for the state standardized tests, she replies, “I don’t worry much about that,” but then, glancing warily at her coprincipal standing next to me, asks, “Is that a problem?” He smiles reassuringly.

Mize says her classroom instruction has always focused on the “soft skills,” such as critical thinking and creativity, that the standards emphasize. “I’m very confident of what I’m doing in the classroom,” she says.

These flashes of teacher-driven creativity don’t come about through happenstance. It’s by design. District leaders value what teachers do, and they put in place structural supports that make it more likely the talents of teachers come out.

“We know everyone in our schools has the best intentions,” says Nader Twal, who taught at Millikan for ten years before becoming a teacher leader and, eventually, a district administrator. “Our focus is to build the capacity of our teachers, not to determine their incompetence.”

The Long Beach district’s stellar support of its teaching staff is reflected in its low teacher attrition rate of 7 percent, much lower than the national average for urban school districts.

Deputy superintendent Jill Baker and Pamela Seki, assistant superintendent of curriculum, instruction, and professional development, told me about the district’s approach.

First, Baker says, it addresses problems with student performance by asking, “What’s going on in the whole system?” This systemic outlook seeks to identify and address all drivers of student performance, not just individual teachers or school leaders.

Second, rather than focusing on hitting a specific mark on student tests, teachers are expected to be constantly working at improving their practice. To this end, the district has committed to providing ample opportunities and resources.

“The consequence for low performance is more support,” Seki says. “Our evaluative process is appreciative, not punitive, but it still pushes individuals toward continuous growth.”

Common Core is an imperative, but implementing the new standards has been governed by another nonnegotiable: collaboration. Teachers and principals received Common Core training together. Data from tests aren’t used as benchmarks of teacher and school performance as much as they’re used as diagnostic tools and conversation starters. And while the district keeps a close eye on students’ academic progress, that data is balanced with evidence of social-emotional progress.

Finally, change is a methodical process rather than a knee-jerk reaction. Ideas for new programs start with asking teachers and principals questions rather than imposing solutions. Advice from outside experts is always considered in the local context. And members of planning committees and work teams are expected to reflect multiple points of view.

“Instead of just handing principals a statement of seven things they’ll be evaluated on, we gave them voice in deciding what was worthy of being evaluated,” Baker explains. The downside of this is that “it takes time.”

“But it’s worth it,” Seki adds.

Education policies that focus on the nuts and bolts of what teachers actually do in the classroom, how administrators get the best performance from faculty, and how to work with communities to develop schools from the bottom up are generally pooh-poohed in influential think tanks and policy shops in Washington, D.C., and state capitals.

���Platitudes . . . learned in ed school,” is what Grover J. “Russ” Whitehurst of the Brookings Institute calls them.

That contemptuous attitude toward teaching still dominates education policy making. But there are signs its influence is on the wane.

Get-tough education-reform policies endorsed by President Obama gave states incentives to impose Common Core standards, rate teacher performance based on student test scores, open more competitive charter schools, and take steps to “turn around” low-performing schools by firing all the staff or handing the school over to a charter operator.

But California never adopted the reform doctrine across the board.

And instead of massive budget cuts, California is putting more money into its schools and has taken steps to make school funding more equitable. Long Beach’s increase in per-pupil spending now surpasses the state, and the district spends considerably more on certified personnel and instruction than is typical of California districts. Instead of tormenting teachers with constant evaluations, many California school leaders resist using student test scores to judge teacher performance. The state refused to include a teacher evaluation system based on student test scores in its application for a waiver from No Child Left Behind mandates.

Charter schools have proliferated in the state, principally due to the support of Governor Jerry Brown, who founded two charter schools in Oakland when he was mayor of that city. But in Long Beach, there are only two charter schools, and enrollment in these schools has dropped from more than 1,300 in 2011 to just 174 last school year.

And the adoption of Common Core has proceeded relatively problem-free. In the Long Beach school district, teachers trained on the new standards for two to three years before imple-mentation. These changes have turned “the education policy of the last four decades on its head,” argues Claremont Graduate University professor Charles Taylor Kerchner. The results are starting to show.

Late in the Obama Administration, No Child Left Behind was rewritten in a way that curtailed the federal government’s enforcement of evaluations based on standardized tests. No doubt many states will continue to proceed down this failed pathway, but many more can now pursue the alternatives California is embracing.

President Donald Trump and his Education Secretary, Betsy DeVos, have reinvigorated old conservative notions about a free-market approach that floods the education system with many more privately operated schools. But the teachers in Long Beach are showing that when given sufficient resources and supports to meet the needs and interests of students, they can get the job done.

And it’s not make-believe.

Cross-posted from The Progressive