#and also I want some energy for spending eight hours or so in an environment that's not exactly pleasant

[start-up-habbit]

What are the Some Good Habits for Successful Life

What are the Some Good Habits for Successful Life

We all know that developing good habits can be the key to success in any area of life. But have you ever stopped to think about why good habits are so important? Here are four reasons why good habits are essential to success:

1. Good habits help you stay focused.

When you have good habits in place, it’s easier to stay focused on your goals. You’re less likely to get sidetracked by distractions or procrastination.

2. Good habits lead to positive results.

If you want to achieve positive results, you need to develop good habits. Whether it’s staying fit and healthy, or excelling in your career, good habits are essential for achieving success.

3. Good habits create consistency.

If you want to be successful in any area of life, you need to be consistent. Good habits help you maintain a consistent level of effort, so you can achieve your goals over the long term.

There’s no doubt that getting more sleep is beneficial for your health. In fact, getting enough sleep can help improve your mood, concentration, memory, and even weight loss. Here are four ways to get more sleep:

Get More Sleep

1. Establish a bedtime routine. Establish a routine for going to bed and waking up, and stick to it as much as possible. This will help you get into a sleep routine and make it easier to fall asleep.

2. Avoid caffeine and alcohol before bed. These substances can keep you awake and disrupt your sleep cycle.

3. Make sure your bedroom is dark and quiet. Make sure your bedroom is dark and quiet and free of distractions. This will help you get a good night’s sleep.

4. Exercise regularly. Exercise can help you burn calories and increase your overall energy levels. However, make sure to avoid exercising right before bedtime.

How i Get up Early in the Morning for Productive Day

Drink More Water

Water is one of the most important things that we need for our body. Not only does it help us stay hydrated, but it is also essential for keeping our bodies functioning properly. It is important to drink enough water every day, both in the morning and at night. Drinking water helps to keep our bodies’ organs and tissues functioning properly, and it helps to prevent dehydration. Try to drink at least eight glasses of water per day, and make sure to drink before and after every activity.

Read More

Reading for Success is a habit that will help you achieve your goals in life. When you read for fun, you're providing your mind with new information and experiences. This can help you learn new things, make new friends, and fill up your knowledge base.

To be a successful reader, you need to be disciplined. Set aside time each day to read for an hour, preferably in a quiet environment. Find books that interest you and that will help you grow mentally and spiritually.

Be selective about the information you take in. Remember, you don't have to read every book in your library to be a successful reader. Instead, focus on reading books that will help you achieve your goals.

By reading for success, you'll be able to develop strong relationships, increase your knowledge base, and achieve your goals in life.

Organise Yourself

Organising yourself can be one of the most important things you do for yourself. It can help you to be more efficient and organised, enabling you to achieve more in your life. Here are some tips to help you get started:

1. Create a to-do list.

Start by listing all of the tasks you need to complete in the next day or two. Once you have a list, make sure to allocate specific times for each task. This will help you to stay on track and achieve your goals.

2. Create a filing system.

If you have a lot of paperwork to deal with, it can be difficult to find what you are looking for. Creating a filing system can help you to organise your documents by category. This will make it easier to find what you are looking for and reduce the amount of time you spend searching.

3. Set small goals.

If you are struggling to achieve larger goals, try setting smaller goals instead. This can help you in Organising Yourself. When you will be able to organise your life You will Become a Successful Person.

Keep Yourself Clean

Keeping yourself clean is one of the most important things you can do to maintain your health. Not only will it make you feel better, but it can also help protect you from infection. Here are some tips to help you stay clean:

-Wash your hands regularly. Not only will this help you avoid catching infections, but it will also make you feel better.

-Avoid touching your face unless you need to. Germs can easily spread from your hands to your face if you touch it without washing your hands first.

-Avoid touching your eyes. Germs can easily spread from your hands to your eyes if you touch them without washing your hands first.

-Avoid touching your food. Germs can easily spread from your hands to your food if you don't wash them first.

How to Inspire Others How to become a Good Person

Relax More

There is no need to be stressed out all the time. In fact, there are ways to relax more easily and reduce your stress levels. Here are some tips to help you relax more easily:

1. Make time for yourself. Whether it’s taking a 20-minute break in the morning or evening, carving out time for yourself is key to reducing your stress levels.

2. Exercise. Not only does exercise help you to relax, but it can also boost your mood and improve your overall well-being.

3. Connect with nature. Spending time outdoors, surrounded by nature, can help to reduce your stress levels.

4. Take a yoga class. Yoga is a great way to relax your body and mind.

5. Meditate. Meditation can help to reduce your stress levels and clear your mind.

6. Take a hot bath. A hot bath can help to relax your body and mind.

Patience is a virtue, and it pays off in the long run.

Patience More

It can be difficult to have patience, especially when things aren’t going our way. But the truth is, patience is one of the most important virtues we can cultivate.

If we can have more patience, we’ll be more likely to succeed in our goals. We’ll be less likely to get frustrated and angry. And we’ll be less likely to give up on our dreams.

There are times when patience is crucial. For example, when we’re waiting for something we want. Or when we’re trying to learn something new.

In these situations, it’s important to have patience. We have to be willing to wait until the right time comes. And we have to be willing to keep trying until we succeed.

Sometimes patience is also important when we’re dealing with people.

Forget Doing More

Forget doing more. The world is full of people doing more than they need to. It’s time to simplify and focus on what’s important. Forget working harder, working smarter, and working longer. Instead, work on what matters. Follow your passions. Pursue what makes you happy. And most importantly, enjoy your life.

Read More

#How to Become Successful Person #What are the Good Habits #Some habits for successful life

[david-watts]

I cannot live in this place anymore I’m going to go feral and live in the woods

#I just can't. #firstly my laptop was nearly knocked onto the floor it was teetering on the edge of my bed by my m*ther #and by the way my laptop was near the middle she had to have come over to my side looking for something #and she'd have had to notice but no!!! #'why aren't you working' it's sunday I need to sleep because the dog kept me up all night #and also I want some energy for spending eight hours or so in an environment that's not exactly pleasant #and then I broke a dvd case that was on loan from the fucking library #that she just left on the floor in a spot that should absolutely NOT have anything on the floor #I get in trouble for having tissues not even on the floor just in a pile for me to deal with later. #and then she dumps things on the floor! and it's fine! #I hate this mostly because it hurt #it's been months and she hasn't done anything I have begged her to do #fix her machine #take me to the doctors because I can't afford it on my own and also she won't let me make my own appointments #it's all 'no everything's fine you just need to be at uni!' #and won't let a single word in about why uni isn't where my fuckign priorities are #I need a new box of tissues but I can't do that because replacing the old one is a fucking jigsaw puzzle I can't do most times #it's just take your medication and ignore the constant yellings of things I didn't fucking do #that happened last night

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia Ch.3

WARNING DECEPTIONS OF A PANIC ATTACK

I understand seeing others go through this can sometimes cause panic or anxiety attacks in some and with the use of some imagery I've used I'd feel better if I gave a fair warning that there is a detailed panic attack early on.

,,,,,,,,,,

Whoever said eight hours of sleep was the right amount for humans has never met an insomniac who just spent the last six days and five nights awake. You hoped that fucker is in hell burning for his sins, he probably has more of them that you don't know of. But with bleary eyes looking at your phone you can barely make out that it's just a little past six in the morning. This is backed up by the slimmers of light shinning through the blanket you put over the window last night. Briefly the thought of keeping it up today passes through your mind as you try to curl into an even tighter blanket cocoon.

Stretching out your legs and toes you let your muscles melt into mush in the warmth and comfort of your bed. Closing your eyes and burying your head back into the pillow, you might not be able to go to sleep but resting is nice too. You're so relaxed it almost feels as if all your limbs are floating and you feel the buzz of energy come surging back through you, you hum along with it nuzzling into the pillows.

'Your car was broken into.' the thought flashes through your mind and has you jolting up right.

Chest heaving slightly as frantic eyes dance along the room that hasn't changed since the night before. The buzzing energy from just a few moments before turns into an icy feeling flowing in your veins. It chills you to your core and you've noticed the tremors in your arms causing you to tremble. There's a sick feeling that bubbles up your throat, as you feel the phantoms of tens of hands grabbing at your arms and torso. They move erratically all over and their grips are suffocating, there's a lump in your throat that you have trouble swallowing down.

Bringing a hand up to your throat you jab your thumb right above or right at where your larynx would be. The slight pain from the pressure helps ease the lump away and you're able to get out a few frantic breaths. You hardly notice the wetness on your face from the few tears slipping free from your eyes.

'Gross, gross, gross, gross.' is the only message that rings clear in your mind as you're assaulted by these phantom hands.

You're aware this is a panic attack, but it does little to calm you down. Putting more pressure on your throat and using your feet to propel you back into the mattress. Vaguely you're aware that tiring your body out should calm you or maybe it's the release of an emotional fit that calms you, you aren't sure which and you don't really care at the moment. So flailing your legs you let your feet forcefully slip off of their purchase as you push your muscles to their full extent with force. It doesn't take long before you can't feel your limbs and are gasping for breath.

The phantoms are gone, no longer touching you as they please, and while the lump still sits at the bottom of your throat making it hurt to swallow and breathe around you can begin to feel calm. Actually it's the numbness that takes over you, not a sense of calm. The sense of an empty shell broken from its exertion. One thing's for sure you can't take your car today. If you had a panic attack just by thinking of your car you don't want to risk actually getting behind the wheel.

Everything feels tense, the muscles in your legs are starting to ache and you're pretty sure you'll have a bruise at the base of your throat.  You check your phone with shaky hands to see it's now seven twelve. If you get up now and leave you think you can probably make it into town by eight forty giving you time to grab something from the Dunkin' on the corner across from the shop. Or you could call out, Nate would totally understand. But just the thought of being alone today sends a chill down your spine and the feeling of those phantom hands start creeping their way back into your personal space.

“I'm going to work!” jumping up and out of the bed, away from the grubby grabby specters.

Running around the room you throw on a pair of black shorts, unusual for you to wear at work but if you're walking you'll have to deal, sweaty jeans are uncomfortable and joggers aren't very cohesive to a work environment. Deciding on a binder made from a breathable swimsuit material for the same reason, sweaty bra is too uncomfortable and bra-less isn't really something you're comfortable with. Grabbing the first shirt you find, it's a black tee with the words “The only man for me is Mothman” printed on it surrounded by little white stars and a chibi lil mothamn.

Looking at your outfit altogether cheers you up. It's casual but cute, not to mention these shorts do a lot for your thighs and butt. But, there's no time to dwell on how handsome you are, you need to grab food and get out the door like ten minutes ago! Grabbing a mask printed with the word 'No' dead center and your headphones you leave your room. With the thought of grabbing Dunkin' before work you settle on a Pedialyte Pop to hold you over during your walk, nausea shouldn't hit you right away anyway. Checking your door was locked, thrice, you started your trek to town.

Most people would complain about having to walk or hike while wearing a mask, often times saying it was hard to breathe under the fabric. But you'd say they just didn't have the right size mask for their face shape. You'd run into a few masks that hadn't been the right shape or size throughout the years but you're thankful that your first three had been perfect. Had they been too big or small you probably wouldn't have fallen in love with wearing masks, they were so comfy and let you interact with people without your voice getting stuck in your throat.

You'd taken to wearing them after high school when you'd taken a job of watching an elderly hospice patient's corgi while her family worked on moving to Virginia and closer to her. Anytime you and little Russel went to visit her you'd had to wear a mask, so instead of wearing the disposables you'd bought a set of three reusable ones.

After noting the change in behavior she mentioned your Autism, she'd been a retired social worker and saw the signs when she met you and after spending nearly 40 hours a week together for half a year she was certain you somehow fell through the cracks. It was a shock to you when she threw out the off handed comment but after stating who your pediatrician was, she was sent into a fit of laughter.

“Anya is a dear and a great surgeon, but I think the cultural barrier has stopped her from diagnosing children for years.” she had said all the while wheezing through the oxygen mask, eyes crinkling in amusement.

She'd sat you down with a list of books to look into and written out all your symptoms, she said if you ever wanted to get tested having the list of symptoms would be more helpful than straight up asking for a diagnosis. Some doctors were too by the book back in the 40s so Autism has rarely been studied in depth. Only in the last decade or so has a movement gained momentum to spread not only a wider awareness of the disorder but also acceptance for it. But to a doctor it would seem like you were grasping for attention at least to anyone who spent less time with you than she had. But without at least six thousand dollars to spend on a piece of paper that confirms what you already know you'll just have to stick to coping by using methods you read about from forums and blogs made by people with Autism rather than their parents or someone who's “very close” to them. And like Mary Anne said before she died, “just because you don't have a diagnosis doesn't mean your symptoms aren't there.”. A statment that reassures you from time to time, when you think you must be faking it for attention. And that somehow you managed to fake tics your whole life.

Snapping out of your memories because you could hardly tell your mask was on, and has been for the past forty minutes or so since you'd finished your pop. It wasn't too hot at the moment and like the previous day Kepler's climate has no humidity whatsoever, a huge change from the coast. Checking the time again on your phone you see the clear white numbers stating boldly that it is eight o' nine. You don't feel any closer to town but figure that's normal when all you've seen is the old over grown road. You feel you should have seen the road leading to town by now,  you hope you see it soon or else you'd really over estimated how long it would take to get to town, then you'd be hella late and sweaty. With the way you still had signal to the spotify you doubt you've even made it far enough to reach the dead zone.

Sighing you look down as you walk hoping to maybe find a rock to kick, walking's really boring when there's nothing to explore and you're on a time crunch. A loud honk takes you out of your head and you startle looking up. Doesn't take more than a second before you see a car stopped in the middle of the road in front of you. It's well taken care of for sure but not necessarily new or anything, you don't know too much about cars other than it looks like a black Camry no wait that's the Hyundai symbol. Some type of sedan then.

The back window on your side of the car rolls down and a man leans out and calls to you, you don't hear him at first. Slipping your headphones down to hang around your neck he repeats himself, “Do ya need a ride?” He has a southern accent on the thicker side, not abnormal for West Virginia but you can tell it's not the same dialect, probably from further down. The man has blonde hair styled in that fluffy swooped faux hawk that a lot of gamers had back in 2017/2018. He's got slight thin stubble along his jaw, not quiet five o'clock shadow so he probably has trouble growing facial hair. His eyes are that hazel color everyone wishes they could have, the kinda that had the orangish yellow glow about them. He looks like a fuck boy.

You're nearly ready to point at your mask in an indication of 'no I don't know you creep' when you catch sight of the driver. A boy around your age maybe who looks apathetic, that's not what catches your eye everyone looses the will to live at some point. What draws your attention is the mask he's wearing on his face. He could potentially be like you, or maybe he's just sick and being considerate, or he could have allergies. Whatever the case may be you can't honestly be considering getting into a car with two random men just because one wears a face mask. Hell for all you know they've orchestrated this situation, they could've been watching you analyzing your every move to know that breaking into your car would send you into a state of panic where you wouldn't use your car the next day or two, then you'd be out in the open to kidnap on your walk to town where you couldn't call for help due to being in the dead zone. Why else would they be this far along the old dirt road?

“Ah...miss?” the southern drawl brings you out of your inner ramblings, and the words cause you to bristle.

“I'm not a woman.” you say calmly but firmly.

“Oh, ah sorry sir.” you can't help but huff a laugh at the quick apology, your eyes catch movement through the window. Oh they have a dog with them, a rottweiler at that. Cool kidnappers with a dog, who's wearing a vest how...wait dog in vest oh he must be a service dog. Cool not kidnappers then, just strangers, nice. Seemingly trans allys, slight common ground with the driver, and a service dog it might be safe to engage...or at least humor these men.

“It's fine, I'm They/Them for the record.” You say approaching the car, you make your way to the man leaning out of the window, somehow the presence of a service dog puts you more at ease, especially when the dog only spares you a single glance before his attention's back on the driver, who's not even pretending to pay attention to the two of you. His leg is bouncing up and down, it's not rhythmic and no one's paying attention even as it shakes the car. Probably has ADHD, your dad does that all the time when he's at a stop light, it's a subconscious movement he even does it in waiting rooms or anywhere where he has to sit still really.

“Oh, well sorry 'bout that Mx.” the man in the window stresses the “Mx” but not in the typical fuck boy way, more like he was reinforcing it to himself. “We just saw you walkin' and wanted to see if ya' needed a ride anywhere.” he says.

“If you're going to town, I'd appreciate one, but I wouldn't want to be a bother.” his smile brightens at this but you notice it doesn't reach his eyes, probably just being polite.

“Sure thing, hop on in.” He moves to slide back but you've already opened the passenger door and slid into the seat. Effectively snapping the driver out of whatever haze he was in to look at you, he looks back at his friend with confusion.

“Hi” you say to the driver who gives his own wary 'hey' in response as you buckle yourself in. The driver looked even more apathetic up close, dark eye bags under his eyes that were such a deep brown you couldn't see his pupil he also had that fluffy brown e-boy hair. Not the frizzy hair marketing itself as fluffy but the type that's genuinely fluffy looking forming soft waves in his hair.

If they are kidnappers they're really bad at it, especially if all you have to do to stun them is sit up front in a seat that has the second most control in the car and can escape quicker if the need arises. However, glancing back at the dog you notice his attention's still on the driver, it would be really dumb if a kidnapper brought their service dog with them to do a kidnapping so you're reassured that it's just two southern boys driving through Kepler. And they happened to spot a “damsel” in distress, so they came to the rescue.

“Oh, don't mind Connor he won't bother you. He's here for Toby right now.” The man in the back says and you see the man beside you grip the steering wheel tighter. You nod in response and feel a tickle at the base of your skull, you'll try holding back the tic to not freak the two out.

Just as “Toby” is about to put the car in drive, a bark is heard from the back seat. A frustrated sigh leaves Toby as his hand leaves the gear shift, scowl clear even on his masked face. You guess Toby needs Connor to let him know when he's safe to drive, it's rude to ask about these things but you can't help but guess why that'd be the case.

Another bark leaves Connor right as your head snaps to the right moving back to place, then right, right, up, and right before cracking violently.

“There we go.” you verbalize.

Toby's looking at you in what you can only guess is shock, not the worst reaction you've had to your tics, meanwhile you notice Brian's looking to Connor who's looking directly at you now. Then his head whips around to Toby and he barks, like clockwork Toby's shoulders jerk forwards and his hands jolt up. Connor looks back at you and gives a bark, your head jerks three times cracking your neck two of those times. Connor's gaze is still on you and you know he'll be in an ongoing ping pong game between you and Toby if you keep triggering each other's tics the entire drive, if you'd even be able to get to that point.

“I'm fine, thank you.” you said looking at Connor while holding the sides of your head, trying to as your friend Emonie once said 'keep the bobble head away'.

Thankfully Connor must have had a training course similar to ones you've helped with because he looks away from you and focuses on Toby, who he gives several barks to. Following those barks Toby pops his knuckles and makes a 'mrrwo' sound, sort of imitating a cat, before his head jerks sharply into his knee that jerked up at the same time. You cringe at the sight knowing that must have hurt, hands still firmly pushing your head you see Connor settle down in the back, still on alert but laying down as if to say the muscle spasms have passed. You won't risk removing your hands, you still need a ride into town and this whole situation's put you behind to where you won't make it if you walk now.

“pfft...” you look back to the blonde and he looks ready to burst with laughter from what he just watched. Heat creeping up your face you turn and look away, sure the situation's funny but you don't know these two men and honestly you just feel so embarrassed right now. Especially with last night's incident at the mini mart still fresh in your memory.

“Will you fucking shut up!” Toby barks out, and the blonde tries harder to suppress his laughing fit. Toby glares at his friend before turning his attention back to the road, hand on the gear shift he waits for an alert before putting the car in drive and doing a U-turn back to town.

It's been a while since you've been a passenger in a car, you actually get to take the time to relax and enjoy the passing scenery as Toby drives. He's a surprisingly good driver, most guys his age are speed demons and always want to see how fast they can get away with driving. Toby on the other hand is abiding by the limit even on this open stretch of road with no other cars. But you guess it comes with the territory of needing a service dog to be able to drive, have to abide by the rules. The drive's quiet, you take it as a good thing that the men aren't trying to question or get to know you. If they were kidnappers or up to something nefarious surely they'd be trying to distract you right now with endless chatter to let your guard down. Especially if they'd been watching you and knew what a total chattering encyclopedia you could be when given the right topic. You're gazing out into the window seeing the sign of the town get closer finally when the thought hits you.

“So, your name's Toby, is it short for Tobias?” turning to look at the man, he spares a single side glance with his furrowed brows before responding with an uneasy 'Yea'.

“Cool, sorry if that was a weird question. Tobias is like the best name I've ever heard but I've only met three Tobiases, including you. Could I call you Tobias or do you prefer Toby?”

“I don't really care.” gotta love apathy.

“Cool, cool. Thanks for the ride Tobias!” you chirp out.

“Hey, forgetin' that I'm the one who offered the ride?” The man in the backseat speaks up.

“No, you just never gave me your name. You said Connor's” and ear twitch is all you get such a good boy, “and you said Tobias'. Never mentioned your own.”

“It's Brian, sugar.” you were correct, this man is a fuck boy.

“Yikes, that's gross.”that was a reflex and it was now Toby's turn to laugh at his friend. The man didn't even hide his snickers even had his shoulders bouncing up and down, you think you even caught a mumbled “I won't hesitate bitch”. Meanwhile Brian sat stunned, guess he was used to people finding his nicknames more endearing, meaning he probably meant nothing by it and it was probably the southern accent but it just made you think of the senior men who'd hit on you back before you moved out here.

“Yea don't call me 'sugar', anyway, I'm YN, it's nice to meet you three.”  Toby just nods as his laughter dies down a clucking sound resonates from his throat, Brian however goes right back to his friendly persona with a 'good to meet ya.' Again it's slightly off, it doesn't feel like he's trying to be polite...it feels like...you can't put your finger on it but it's familiar. Like when you fake a conversation with Nate or your mother on the days where exhaustion is nearly killing you, but Brian doesn't seem tired or sluggish.

The rest of the drive is relatively quiet as you direct Toby how to maneuver the streets and he parks in the parking lot of Dunkin'. While you were getting out you'd asked the men if you could get them anything from Dunkin' as a thank you for driving you. Brian tried to decline but Toby spoke over him with what “they” wanted.

“Ok cool, can Connor have a pup cup?” unsure if service dogs could have treats while working.

Sparing a glance to the good boy in question Toby shrugged “Yea, he's due for a break any-anyway.” he ends with popping his knuckles. You assume Connor only alerts motor tics when Toby is driving or about to start driving, since that tic didn't get clocked.

You repeat the order to the cashier once inside. You also get a frozen caramel coffee and an iced caramel coffee for you and Nate along with a box of donuts to pick from for the day. When she hands you everything you're able to balance Toby's order on top of your box and your drinks in the other hand. Walking out with the help of the next man coming in, nodding thanks as you pass him, you see Toby leaning against his car with Connor sitting next to him, no vest on.

It's terrifying how well trained Connor is, because the dog you left in the car barely paid you any mind. While this hyper pup's tail is wagging at just the sight of you, his paws lifting slightly in a tiny dance as you get closer. But he doesn't dare move from his sit, looking up at Toby for cues and looking at you who holds his treat.  Had you not worn a mask for so long you may have missed the smile Toby gave Connor as he pat the dog's head. The slight crinkles around the edges were a dead give away though. With a quick snap Connor is released from whatever command he'd been held by and runs up to you once you're five feet from them.

Drooling mouth opening and closing in an odd mute bark for a dog this size. You take note of the fact that while he's jumping excitedly and pawing the air he hasn't laid a single paw on you. Whoever trained him knew what they were doing that's for sure. Looking up to Toby you hold the one hand outstretched for him to take his items, a tray with Connor's pup cup and his iced coffee, and a white baggie with three donuts, strawberry glazed, maple glazed, and an apple fritter.

Once he's taken his items you balance your drinks on top of the box. Connor's attention hasn't moved from you even through the exchange. You're a little confused by the pup's antics but he probably thinks he can get a donut off you.

“Sorry bubbie, your dad's got your treat not me.” that dopey little face tilts to the left not understanding you aren't the treat giver at this time. You laugh letting him smell the hand that had the coffee in it so maybe he'd understand you didn't have his treat. He excitedly sniffs you, and gives you a few licks before sitting back right in front of you with a blur of a tail behind him. Such a silly boy, he deserves some chin scritches.

“He's smart, told him you'd give 'im this.” Toby says holding out the pup cup to you, as you bend at an awkward angle balancing food in one hand while scratching his dog with the other.

Connor's a little disappointed when his pets stop but jumps to all fours when he sees the pup cup. His tail is wagging so fast you'd be afraid his butt will fall off, if that was a thing that could happen. You go to put the cup in front of him but Toby stops you.

“Hold on, Connor sit.” As soon as his name was called his bottom was on the ground. “You already know his release word so when you want him to take it just say the release.” He says offhandedly while placing the bag in the passengers seat and his drink in the cup holder. You can hear murmured arguing from inside the car, but choose to ignore it. These guys clearly aren't kidnappers, and if they were it's so stupid to kidnap you in broad day light after you just made a purchase and with literally a street in between you and your work, where your boss is waiting for you.

Placing the cup in front of Connor you didn't think it was possible for him to get any more excited but his tail is now undetectable by the human eye. He looks from his treat to you, back, and back to you. Toby said you already knew the release, and there's only one thing you've said to Connor throughout the trip.

“Thank you.” it's immediate, for such a well mannered service dog on and off duty this pup has no table manners. There is whip cream everywhere it's on the ground, his paws, even behind his head. How on earth did he manage that? This must be Connor's only character flaw because Toby is back with what you can only assume are all the napkins he had received in the donut bag, and service vest under his arm.

Once the pup cup was utterly decimated Connor sat happily, butt wiggling, as his dad wiped the rest of the whip cream off of him. Showing the pup the huge glob he had behind his ear only had him licking it off the napkin before licking his dad's face.

“Wrong.” Toby called, a little bummed the pup calmed down a bit but his tail was still going. Toby paused before he slipped the vest back on Connor. Head jerking back twice he looked over to you.

“You wanna say 'bye'?” you perked at the question, if you had a tail of your own it'd probably be wagging just as fast as Connor's.

Do you want to pet a dog, what kind of question was that? Of course you fucking do. Yea you might be late to work but petting a dog is always worth it. Setting your breakfast and coffee on the hood of the car you bent down with Toby to Connor's level.

If that dog could talk he'd tell everyone you gave the best ear scratches, sure you may have smooshed his wrinkly face a ton. But you were so nice and was that baby coos, ah he loves you new best friend. Connor jumped up when you started cooing and gave you a ton of kisses to the face. You couldn't stop laughing and the repetitive motion triggered a tic. Thankfully your mask was on so Toby couldn't see you tongue poke out repeatedly as you said “bleh” in between giggles.

“Wrong.” he says gently pushing the drooling pup away. Shaking the spit off his hand before scratching the pup under the chin, right where the bottom of his ear met his jaw. The pup instantly melted calming into his handlers touch. With his dog now calm he whistles and Connor is standing up straight, Toby slips the vest over his head and secures it. Connor the puppy has turned back into Connor the good boy working pup.

Grabbing your stuff from the hood of the car you turn to Toby and Connor, “Thanks again for the ride, and for letting me pet your dog.”

You're met with a simple shrug, not much phases Toby you've noticed. Aside from his tics that is.

“See ya later Tobias!” with that you're on your way to cross the street legally, and by that you totally jay walked out into traffic in front of the sheriff. You may have jay walked in front of the sheriff, but he didn't do anything so you're fine.

#A cure for insomnia #proxies x reader #proxies #ticci tobyx reader #ticcitoby #ticci toby #timothy wright #timothy wright x reader #brian thomas x reader #brian thomas #masky x reader #masky x hoodie #masky #hoodie #creepypasta fanfic

[farfromsugafanfic]

Waiting For Superman

Genre: Superhero AU, Comic Book AU?, Journalist Namjoon, Journalist OC, best friends to lovers, Action, Angst if you squint, Fluff

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader

Warnings: cursing, violence, injury, hospitalization, bombings, hostage situations, kidnapping, uses chloroform to make someone unconscious, alcohol, physics lol

Synopsis: After your father, one of the top antimatter scientists is killed in his laboratory by villain Outlier, you and your best friend, Namjoon survive the only known antimatter bomb, you both go on to be two of the top journalists in Metropolis. Only, there’s something off about you that most people can’t put their finger on. Namjoon is the only one who notices, not even you know your biggest secret. Hoping to protect you from Outlier, Namjoon also guards a secret of his own.

Note: This is the beginning of a new AU series. This is also in the same universe as my Jin imagine, Heartbreak Weather. This story will continue in the background of future installments.

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"Damn," you said, looking through the article proposals for the week. "I have five proposals to do a story on the two weathermen that got together. Is nothing else interesting happening in Metropolis?" Reaching into your desk, you pulled out your lunch consisting only of a slightly too brown banana. You frowned. "I hate to say it, but it's really too bad that Outlier has been so quiet lately."

Namjoon chuckled. "You'd wish for a little peril in Metropolis if it made a good story." His lips curled upward and he adjusted his slightly too large glasses.

You smiled at your head writer's sarcasm. "Just a little peril. Not too much." Turning around to place the accepted and rejected proposals in their respective boxes, you returned to find a bright yellow banana sitting on your desk. It made you pause, but you shrugged as you peeled it open. "Besides, Antimatter Man always stops whatever his antics are."

"It's not always Antimatter Man."

You hummed in response, already marking up an article in red pen. "Most of the time though."

The conversation lulled, but it didn't feel awkward. You'd worked with Namjoon for nearly three years now, but known him much longer. You were his soundboard and he was your common sense.

"Maybe we do a piece on his recent quietness?"

You looked up. Namjoon already met your eyes. He sat with one leg on top of the other, forming a triangle and his arms crossed over his chest. You'd noticed the way his clothes began to fit tighter, stretching over new muscles. It surprised you. Namjoon never seemed like the athletic type. You were more likely to find him studying physics at the city library for his newest piece on Antimatter Man than in the gym building a physique rivaling a marble statue.

"That seems like a good idea." The pen pressed to your lips you didn't notice the way the ink blotted against your lips. "You wanna take it on?"

"Sure." He pushes one leg off the other and stands up. "I'll try to have it to you by morning."

You nod, trusting him fully to have his piece ready for the morning edition. He moved towards the door and you felt as he paused. Even though you weren't looking at him, you could tell the way he stood, with his hand gripping the door frame, his body half in, half out.

"Don't stay too late, Y/N. He might be quiet now, but you know that won't be forever."

You did know. Maybe more than anybody.

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Outlier first started terrorizing the Greater Metropolis area when you were twelve. It started off typical. A few particularly successful bank robberies netted him more than enough money for a lifetime. If it were you, you would've taken the money and moved far away, lived out the rest of your days peacefully. But, Outlier didn't want just the money. 

When you were fifteen, however, it all changed. 

It was nearly 9 pm. Your father had not returned home from work. It wasn't all around unusual. He often pulled long hours at the lab. But you felt an itch at the back of your spine. Like a spider crawling up each vertebrae like a ladder. 

You called Namjoon. He was the only person you knew with a car, and the only one you knew wouldn't ask too many questions. Twenty minutes later, his headlights showed through the curtains of your bedroom. 

"Hey," he said. His voice greeted you, full of exhaustion and the buoy that had bounced back and forth in the water between you. 

Namjoon was your longest friend. You met in Kindergarten when you'd come across Namjoon in the back corner of the playground. Pushed against the pavement, two second graders tore off his glasses and put them on, mimicking his front teeth that stuck out before he got braces in high school.

You'd chased them off, managing to pick up his glasses off the ground. They were still broken, but you helped Namjoon tape them to get through the rest of the day. Since that day, you'd become almost inseparable. That was until you got a boyfriend.

You, of course, accused Namjoon of being jealous when he didn't immediately take to the idea of you and Vincent. Though, despite the accusation, you knew it was far from the truth. It wasn't hard to see that Vincent was bad for you. He was the reason your grades began to drop, why you knew the familiar burn of whiskey down your throat, and why were spending that night--Valentine's Day--alone.

"You haven't heard anything from him?" Namjoon backed out of your driveway before you even managed to get the seatbelt hooked. 

You shook your head. "He normally calls if he's running late."

It takes another twenty minutes to reach your dad's work. Located just outside the city, you could see Longevity Labs ten minutes before you reach it. Up on a hill, it was agonizing watching the building cycle in and out of view with every turn and switchback.

When you get there, you look up to the fourth floor where your father's lab was. The lights were still on and you felt the coil in your chest unravel a little. Though not completely. 

The elevators in Longevity Labs had been broken for years now and you didn't pay them any mind as you walked to the staircase and climbed the four floors. Namjoon stayed close behind, though you didn't speak. It wasn't the first time the two of you had come to the labs together when you'd become worried. After losing your mom when you were young, a burr of worry attached itself to your heart and poked you when your father wasn't home by eight.

The metal of the doorknob felt warm. There were plenty of reasons for that, you rationalized. Your father was one of the top scientists in Metropolis, he worked with all sorts of dangerous things that could need a warm environment, or cause one.

You pushed the door open and met your father's eyes. They were wide open and empty. A silent scream falling from his wide open mouth. Your vision blurred and the thing you remember next is feeling Namjoon's hand on your shoulder as his voice elevated. It was only then you noticed that you weren't alone.

"What are you doing here?" Namjoon asked, his voice like the bark of a guard dog. It surprised you. For a boy of barely sixteen at the time, it felt like he suddenly was a man standing beside you. You were still just a tiny girl.

The man wore a mask. Of course he wore a mask. It was white with two diamond shapes for the eyes, only revealing a small bit of his pupil. The man didn't speak when he opened his hand, a metallic orb drifting upwards. He didn't throw it, but the orb moved quickly, like it was falling.

It was only later you learned that it was rigged to move upward like that. Real antimatter would act just like regular matter, nearly indecipherable. This--while true antimatter--was meant to hold your attention long enough. 

The explosion pushed you towards the ceiling. You woke up to a firefighter reaching for your hand. It was only when you took it and tried to place your feet on the ground that you noticed that you and Namjoon ended up pushed through the wall and into the vent system near the ceiling. He wasn't fully awake, yet his arms still reached for you after you were peeled away from his body.

The two of you were the only known survivors of an antimatter bomb. Well, it was more like a grenade. Your father's lab, body, and work was largely destroyed in the explosion, but for some reason, you and Namjoon survived. It's wide believed that there was something wrong with the bomb. That it didn't attack your living cells. 

You and Namjoon did not come out unscathed. Somehow, you got off fairly easy with a broken collarbone, a concussion, and a few deep cuts around your body. Namjoon, on the other hand, never fully awoke for a week. He'd broken three ribs, one of his lungs collapsed, his head injury much worse than yours, permanent damage to his spine. When he woke a week later, you wanted to envelope him in a hug and never let go. 

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Namjoon found you curled up in the newspaper archives at midnight. He was the only one who knew your Valentine's Day ritual. He moved the papers from your lap and took the glass of wine from your hand before it spilled. Just like every year, the paper was open to your dad's obituary and the news coverage of the explosion.

The edges of the paper were brown and crisped as if they were sixty years old instead of ten. His brow furrowed as he touched them. Between his fingers, the brown edges lightened as he brought them towards the light. 

Ever since that night, your mission was to expose Outlier. You knew he wasn't some superhuman. Your dad worked with antimatter to harness its capabilities for good. For medical applications and using its destruction for renewable energy. Outlier wanted to use antimatter in the way everyone feared. To destroy. 

As he moved the paper with your father's smiling face, he saw another, a jolt running down his spine. The headline took up almost half the page, "New Hero Emerges In Fight Against Outlier."

Outlier's antics became more calculated. Everyone knew he had the capability to use antimatter, but his subsequent movements involved raids of laboratories outside the city and taking a graduate student hostage. No one else died.

It was during the hostage situation that Antimatter first saved the day. It was around a year after your attack and Antimatter Man successfully infiltrated the laboratory and got the hostage to safety before the entire lab exploded. It was only in his next act of heroism that the city realized he was more than just someone who risked his life to save someone. He had powers.

Next time, Antimatter Man disabled a device strapped around a victim's neck with just a touch. It was determined to be a miniature explosive that would've destroyed the man had it gone off. The hero could manipulate antimatter. Destroy it--and was later determined--create it. 

When Antimatter Man caused an explosion in an alleyway, he was lucky that only one bystander died. Like all the previous times he disabled one of Outlier's antimatter devices, he placed his hand on top of it. Instead of feeling the molecules burst like boba, he felt an energy build until it exploded.

Outlier purposely placed a more standard bomb that would explode in the presence of antimatter. It was a test. One Antimatter Man hadn't anticipated. In fact, it was rumored the hero had no idea the full scale of his abilities until that moment. The only reason he came out unscathed is because he was able to clock himself in antimatter to prevent the explosion from destroying him.

Namjoon knew that Outlier knew who Antimatter Man was. While the general public may not know that Antimatter Man was a victim of Outlier, or that he used chunky glasses and the Metropolis Daily to control the public's view of Kim Namjoon and Antimatter Man. Outlier was the only one who knew, not even you.

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The authorities always told you that Outlier may come back. Your father was the most prominent scientist working with antimatter technology and there were likely things Outlier had not figured out yet. He may come for your father's notes. Yet, he never did. 

You weren't too worried about it anymore. It wasn't as if Outlier had a personal vendetta against you or your father. You hadn't seen his face. You'd practically passed out when you saw him, and probably would've had he not dropped the grenade when you locked eyes.

Still, you always watched your back when you walked from the Metropolis Daily office to your apartment. It was only a few blocks, but normally traversed after dark. Sometimes Namjoon came with you, though most of the time you persuaded him to just go back to his own place. Especially this night, you did not want Namjoon to know you didn't plan on going home.

Normally, when you hid your plans from Namjoon, it was because you were heading somewhere dangerous for research. Like the time you drove out into the forest on your own in search of Outlier's supposed hide out, or the time you decided to follow a man suspected to be Antimatter Man. Even as an editor, you still wrote, tending to keep the most hard hitting stories for yourself. Besides, few of your journalists were willing to possibly get close to Outlier. You'd survived once, you felt you could again.

However, this night, you were headed to the club. There was no reason or ulterior motive. You simply wanted to let loose. You knew Namjoon wouldn't like it. He wasn't smothering, he let you make your own decisions and do what you want, but his disapproving and worried looks always cut you deep.

You knew it all came from a place of concern. He always told you how thankful he was that he was with you that night. But, you always fit a pit of guilt in your stomach. Namjoon nearly died because of you. There was no way you were going to let that happen again. 

You'd changed into something sexier before leaving the office, leaving your office clothes in your desk drawer. You always kept an extra set there any way in case you needed to pull an all nighter at the office. It was rare you got to go out and enjoy yourself on a Friday night and you already felt the contentment rising in you as you approached the club and heard the rhythmic thud of bass.

This particular club wasn't one with a line of people which was why you chose it. There was no wait. You could get in and out easily and without fuss. When you didn't get to do things like this often, you wanted to truly get to do them. 

It wasn't long until you lost yourself. In the crowd. In the music. In your thoughts. Or rather, lack thereof. This is why people liked clubbing and loud music. It drowned out your worries. Everything became a constant hum in the back of your skull, where, for once, you could ignore it.

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Namjoon had suspicions. It started when no fruit stayed ripe around you. The way that the microwave always sparked when you tried to make popcorn. And no matter what you did, it always ended up just a little too burnt. Nothing you did was ever quite right, but never quite wrong. 

He always found his way to you whether he wanted to or not. It was as if the particles in his body were attracted to yours. Recognized them like their reflection. You got into a car accident two years ago and Namjoon had left work early that day, having felt an aching in his lower stomach. Fearing appendicitis, his supervisor sent him home. 

He'd walked a block when he came upon it. You were sitting on the sidewalk, your hands pulling at the roots of your hair and your feet pointed towards each other. Something caused you to look up then. Namjoon wondered if you had the same uncanny sense he did, if you could put together when the other was in peril. When you saw him, your arms came around him and your shaking body burrowed into his for warmth.

When he was eighteen and you were seventeen, the two of you briefly shared an apartment. Namjoon had started taking classes at the university and you were in your senior year. While your dad had left everything to you--you were all he had--you sold the house a year after your dad died, unable to live there alone. 

You'd come home one night after a basketball game. Namjoon always encouraged you to go, wanting you to feel like a normal high schooler. Though, while he was well intentioned, the efforts were ultimately fraught. You'd left at halftime because you think the concession stand hot dog made you sick. 

Yet, when you came home. You found Joon spread out on the couch, bottles of alcohol spread around him like the crime scene markers around your dad's body. He'll never forget the light touches on his shoulder, then forehead, then bicep. The way it reminded him of feeling just a little too warm on a winter's night, pleasantly so.

His feet brought him to the entrance of the club and his heart sped up. You never came to places like this, but Namjoon knew you had the secret desire to. You'd always loved to dance even though you weren't particularly skilled at it. He walked inside, loitering at the edges of the dancefloor. 

Namjoon had to keep himself from sneering at the sweaty bodies and couples dry humping each other. He never really understood the appeal of clubs. His eyes flit across the crowd, spotting your hair first. Even though you'd worked all day, you looked beautiful still. Your hair a little frizzier than usual and he recognized the tiredness in the way your moved your body to the bet. It wasn't lazy exactly, but it didn't have the same gusto as some of the others around you. 

He wondered if his feeling had been off. Maybe he was just too on edge lately because Outlier had gone so silent. There was a parasite in the back of his mind that fed him anxieties. Was he planning something big? Had he finally figured out to build the bomb he wanted to? Was he committing lower level crimes Namjoon wasn't privy to? Did he know about you? 

Watching you dance, he shook his head. You weren't in any danger. It was just in his head this time. Turning with his hands in his pockets, he took two steps towards the door of the club when he looked back and caught a glimpse of your smile. It was rare these days and not something he wanted to ruin with his worries.

With a small smile of his own, Namjoon left.

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You ended the night at around two a.m. You'd had two drinks, not enough to make you stumble out on the sidewalk, but enough to make you feel like you were. Taking off your heels, you gripped them in your fingers as you walked back towards your place. The walk should take fifteen minutes, but in your current state, you found yourself sauntering along as if the streets of Metropolis were perfectly safe in the wee hours of the morning.

If it were not for the alcohol in your system, maybe you would've sensed the presence behind you. Maybe you would've seen the dark shadow lingering behind you for the last two blocks. It wasn't until a hand clamped over your mouth, the other clamped around your jaw to prevent you from biting down on your abductor's fingers.

It was then you tasted it on your tongue. The rough, bleached taste of fabric. Something mildly sweet. Like laughing gas at the dentist.

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Namjoon prided himself on his intuition. When you called him the night your father died, he almost ignored it. Nearly blinded by his teenage jealousy, it was a small pain in his stomach that made him answer his phone and rush to you that night. 

He had the same pain now. Just below his ribs this time, he rubbed his fingers along the cotton of his button down as he glanced at your dark, empty office. You hadn't come in for work this morning. No one heard from you last night or this morning. And, despite this being unlike you, no one else seemed concerned. 

You'd gained a reputation for your independence and ability to take care of yourself. You hardly ever asked for help--and while your own mind tended to think that an admirable trait--it only made Namjoon's mind race more. However, this made everyone else go about their day. 

A half hour later Namjoon stood in his boss' office. "I'm not feeling well. Would it be all right if I took the rest of the day off?"

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When you came to, you immediately noticed the lack of rough rope around your wrists or ankles. When you opened your eyes, however, you noticed the white cuffs floating half an inch from your skin. One cuff circled each wrist and another two around each ankle. You knew enough about how Outlier operated to know about these.

First seen in his second major hostage situation following your father's death, these cuffs did not touch the skin. But, if the hostage moves or tries to escape and their skin brushes the edge of the cuff, the invisible antimatter will attack the matter rich skin, flesh, and bone.

The first hostage to have worn these cuffs lost a hand before she understood how they worked. Now, Outlier gained easy compliance with even just the threat of his antimatter cuffs.

"Ah, so you've heard of them?"

Outlier sat across the room. HIs diamond slit mask shrouded in the shadows of the dimly lit room. It made your heartbeat easier knowing he still wore the mask. It meant he didn't plan on killing you. At least, not yet.

"You know--" Outlier paused, a soft lilt in his voice that annoyed you. Normally, the sort of singsong quality he had would make you flutter your lashes at him across the bar. Outlier's voice though, sounded like a children's song slowed down and played backward. "The technology for those cuffs I developed from some of your dad's research."

He stood up, moving closer. "The ability to suspend antimatter around a given object using the only gas in our world that antimatter cannot destroy. Quite brilliant, really."

As a teenager, you really did not know much about your father's research beyond its main goal: make the world better using the one thing that could destroy it. Your father had seen success in his lifetime. The use of antimatter in some medical technology aided the treatment of cancer and detecting major illnesses. It had saved lives. 

You'd looked over a bit of your father's surviving research, of course. The things you had mainly consisted of experiment notes, a few crude sketches, and one report about a failed experiment. Nothing of value, really. It's why you always brushed off Namjoon's worries that Outlier would come back for it. What did you have that he would want?

"I imagine you know why you're here." Outlier was now only a few feet away and he leaned leisurely against the wall as if he were an old friend visiting your new apartment.

"No, I--"

"But, my assistant has something they want from you first."

Your head turned to the darkness in front of you from where Outlier had originally come. You made out the figure of another man. Smaller in stature, he shuffled slowly into the dim light. He didn't wear a mask, his hair falling into his eyes. 

"My report," he said, his voice hesitant, almost scared. If you didn't know any better you'd believe he was the one being held hostage by Outlier. "Do you have it?"

"Your report?" Your brow furrowed as you thought about the one report you had. It detailed only the attempt to create an anti-oxygen particle. "I-I don't think so." 

The air in the room became stuffy. Outlier seemed not to believe you, his arms crossed. You had no idea who Outlier's assistant was, but you were certain that whatever experiment he was a part of, your father would never have done something to make this man resent him. You almost wished you had the report.

"My assistant, you see," Outlier began in his singsong voice. "Suffers from a particular ailment brought on by one of your father's experiments. It tends to leave people, breathless. Isn't that right, Yoongi?"

The other man--Yoongi--glared at his supervillain boss. Something turned in your stomach. Yoongi didn't appear to be overly loyal to Outlier. Maybe he would be your key to getting out of this. 

"Well, that was merely a favor. His report was never recovered and I thought there was a chance you may have it. But, now onto the real reason I've brought you here."Outlier crouched down, coming face to face with you. "Now, for an experiment of my own."

From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a short rod. Holding it above your bindings, the cuff fell limp and motionless against your wrist. You nearly flinched, worried it would begin cutting through the skin. But, it didn't.

Despite his mask, Outlier's form seemed to perk up at that. As if he had the first evidence that his hypothesis was true. With his thick, black gloves, that you were assumed were made of antimatterium--an element created by your father to make the handling of antimatter safer--Outlier slipped the ring off your wrist.

Reaching pack into his pocket, he pulled out a new ring and placed it around your wrist. It looked identical to the last, white, vaguely metallic with a visible field of matter--or possibly antimatter--surrounding it. Stretching it over your hand, he slipped it around your wrist. 

"It should only take a few minutes." 

Outlier stood back up.

"What's the point of this?" you asked, becoming more frustrated that nothing was happening. You knew you should be thankful you are still alive. It would be easy enough to kill you and rummage through your apartment for whatever he wants. Yet, for some reason, he refrained.

"I imagine you can figure that out on your own." Outlier watched the ring around your wrist carefully. "My biggest foe can only have a mind that rivals my own."

Biggest foe? Your mind turned over the possible meanings of his words until it clicked. "You think I'm Antimatter Man?"

Outlier didn't flinch. "Of course."

You laughed. You couldn't help yourself. While you'd never come to face to face with Antimatter Man himself, it was obvious that the superhero was easily many inches taller than you and his shoulders were easily the entire length of one of your arms.

"Me? Of all people?"

"It would make some sense, wouldn't it? Very few people survive the blast from an antimatter bomb. And those that do often acquire certain--capabilities."

You shook your head. "But, I'm not the only one who survived, Nam--"

You were interrupted by the sound of Outlier's surprise as well as the sound of banging from outside the room. Yoongi--who hadn't been paying attention--suddenly popped his head up and glanced towards the door to your left. With so many things happening at once, you chose to only focus on where Outlier's eyes went.

The ring around your wrist had begun to crumble like cheese. Bits falling off as they became too heavy or lost their support. Squinting your eyes you wondered how this was possible. You didn't get a chance to hop on your train of thought before the door burst open.

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Antimatter Man burst into the room. He never wore a specific costume like superheroes were often penchant to do. Normally, he just wore an all black ensemble and a mask, obscuring most of his face. A hat usually then kept his hair hidden, beyond the tiny wisps of light brown you saw peeking out from underneath.

"Let her go," he said, his voice matter of fact and deep and familiar. 

Outlier--to his credit--did seem genuinely surprised. Though, he bounced back quickly, ordering Yoongi to shut the door. The other man did so slowly and pathetically, letting it scrape against the splintered hardwood floor.

"Hmm, well, it would seem your presence here would confirm that my original hypothesis was wrong." A pause and he points down at you. "But I may have a new one."

For some reason, it took you this long to put together that you were destroyed the ring imprisoning your left wrist. Why hadn't the first one crumbled into nothingness like this?

"That ring is made of matter. Like most things in our universe. However, it is designed to crumble when it detects antimatter energy. She produces antimatter energy. Probably in small amounts which is why she and the world haven't destroyed each other yet." He looks back at Antimatter Man who's dark eyes are flitting between you and the villain. "Much like you, my nemesis. You destroy all antimatter you come into contact with through the latent production of pure matter. You really should correct the press on the name, you know?"

Your mind swirled. You created latent antimatter? Did this explain why everything in your life with a timespan seemed to die or wilt quicker than usual? Why people found you just slightly off?

"She has the potential to be my greatest weapon. If I can harness the antimatter inside of her. Determine whatever is producing it, I would no longer need to spend weeks producing such tiny amounts." You were certain that if his mask was off, his face would be lit up like a child's. His hand reached for yours and he pulled you up off the ground. The cuffs shifted with you since both you and the antimatter cuffs were under his control. Would they even work on you though?

Outlier held your back against his chest. It surprised you how much he felt like a normal man. Of course, that's all he was in the grand scheme of it all. Outlier was nothing more than a man desperate for something.

"No!" Antimatter Man sounded almost desperate. "Don't hurt her! She's been through enough. She didn't ask for it. She didn't even know about it. Please just let her go. I'll--" You can also hear the thoughts turning in his mind. "You can have me instead."

Your eyes went wide. Antimatter Man seldom placed himself directly into Outlier's hands. He was known for foiling the villain's plans remotely, sometimes even not showing up to the scene. And, even when they did come face to face, it was usually brief. What made this so different? What made you different?

Also, why did he talk like he knew you? Sure, your story had been in the papers a long time ago? You occasionally met a stranger who would recognize your name, but it was becoming less and less common with every passing year. How did Antimatter Man know you?

Outlier's grip on you tightened. One of his hands reached down for your wrist and held it up. Taking hold of the cuff, he brought it within millimeters of your skin. 

"Now, let's be civilized about this. If you were truly worried about this girl because of her past, you wouldn't have let me take her in the first place."

Antimatter Man gulped. His body was stiff and his hands opened and closed. It reminded you of how Namjoon kept a stress ball in his desk drawer for whenever he had a stressful day. He'd squeeze and release it a few times in time with his breaths, getting out of his head. 

"Yoongi," Antimatter Man said, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. "Open the back door for me would you?"

Yoongi didn't move. His gaze was hard, but not in a way that felt piercing or like he was looking through you. He was thinking.

"Yoongi," the villain said again. 

Yoongi didn't move.

Antimatter Man took the opportunity and lunged. It was a risk. The cuffs still encircled one wrist and both your ankles. As you fell backward, it felt as if the world moved in slow motion, you watched your wrist fling back, hitting the ring of the cuff and bounce back, completely unharmed.

You land on Outlier's chest, but his grip on you loosened. You got up but immediately felt your legs give out. Someone caught you and you looked up to see Yoongi looking down at you. He didn't speak, or really show any expression beyond motioning to the back of the room where there was a door concealed within the wall. Likely, this was the back door Outlier wanted him to open earlier.

Even though Yoongi was working with Outlier, you felt like you were free. Something told you he was helping you. The man obviously did not swear much loyalty to the villain. You reached and pulled the cuffs off, causing Yoongi's eyes to widen and you felt his arms waver as you tossed them in Outlier's direction, hoping one would at least chink his antimatter protective armor.

Someone winced. And you recognized it. It was the same pain you heard that night when the bomb went off and you felt Namjoon's body wrap around yours. When he woke up in the hospital and you couldn't help but hug him, forgetting he had multiple broken ribs. Even in his pain, he didn't stop you.

"Oh my God." 

You wrestled out of Yoongi's grasp. Outlier--seemingly not really wanting to fight--ran as soon as Antimatter Man fell to the ground. The cuff had sliced through his clothes and a gash opened on his leg. You crouched next to him and reached for the gash, applying as much pressure as possible 

"It's not as bad as it looks. It'll heal by tomorrow."

You looked up at him and met his eyes. It was him. It had to be. You reached up for the edge of the mask. He didn't stop you, his dark eyes watching your hand as you reached up and revealed his identity. 

Namjoon.

#bts #fanfiction #bts imagines #fan fiction #farfromsuga #bts fan fiction #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #btsfanfic #btsimagines #namjoon fan fiction #namjoon one shot #bts superhero AU #namjoon fanfic #rm oneshot #rm fanfic #kim namjoon #kim namjoon fanfiction #namjoon au #Namjoon fan fic #bts au fic #bts au fanfic #bts au #Namjoon friends to lovers #bts friends to lovers #namjoon x reader #Namjoon superhero au

[radiosandrecordings]

So @pitviperofdoom wrote a beautiful piece I have not stopped thinking about a while ago with QPPs Jon and Gerry that you should go and read here. They kindly allowed to let me go off on a tangent inspired by it, so here’s a conversation from the night before that fic where I just get emotional over these two and let myself indulge in their dynamic. 

Background GerryOliver and JonMartin. Warnings for alcohol consumption and general drunkenness. 

“Who’re you gonna bring, eh?” 

It was rounding on eleven o’clock, and they were both sprawled about the room, letting the dull buzz of alcohol set in. Jon was slumped on the couch, and Gerry had, at some point, collapsed into the IKEA chair with the weird curved bar holding it up that Jon had never quite trusted the stability of. He’d kicked off his boots after they’d finished eating, his socked feet now resting on the coffee table, nestled between discarded takeaway boxes and bottles of drink. The scotch still stood there uncapped, and minus three glasses. Jon had taken one when Gerry had poured it for him, and Gerry a second after that, while Jon switched to some dark, fruity cider Gerry had found for him at the back of the fridge.

Jon jolted slightly. “What?” He was on his second bottle and the only thing stopping him from nodding off then and there was the fact that suddenly, the fridge was humming incredibly loudly and it was a great distraction. That’s what he gets for getting hammered on a friday straight from work. Was he hammered? A bottle and a half of cider and one glass of scotch didn’t seem like enough to do that but the way that persistent buzzing was pounding at his skull suggested maybe that was enough for the evening. 

“Well you get a plus one. Two, if you want, best man privileges and all that.” 

Jon’s mouth was dry. He should really get some water. But also, he didn’t really like the thought of having to stand up. “I… Don’t know. I usually bring you.” He pulled a face. “I’m not sure I know anyone that you wouldn’t be inviting anyway.” 

“No one from team spooky you’d want to bring to cry on after you walk me down the isle?” 

Gerry let out an overdramatic ‘Oof’ as Jon half heartedly attempted to reach over and slap him on the leg. “Stop! Calling us! That!” 

“I’ll stop calling you it when the shoe stops fitting. You’re a spooky little team that investigates spooky spooky things. You’re gonna have to accept that one day.” 

“Says the man in the process of opening an exclusively horror-based bookshop with his- Well I suppose he’s going to be your husband now. Huh. God, I feel old.” 

“I will not hear the good name of ‘Spine Chilling’ slandered in my household Jonathan! And- Well fuck, yeah, you’ve got a point there don’t you. Shit, when did I become ‘Bookshop Husband #2’. We used to be cool. Now we pay taxes and shit. Ripe old age of thirty.” 

Jon laughed, and it only hurt his head a little bit. Small mercies. “I would argue you’re still rather cool. In my books at least.” He paused for a moment, letting the air settle into a more sombre tone. “Do you… Do you regret any of it?”

“Not for a second,” Gerry said, running his fingers along the ring that rested on his left hand. He shifted in his seat, and began to tug his hair out of the plait that had been draped over one shoulder. “You never answered the question though. What’ll it be, are we going to have to drunk find you a date? I’m sure there’s an app for fake wedding dates now. Bloody app for everything.” 

“Do I need one?” Jon replied, and it came out dangerously close to a whine. 

“Well no, but I can’t pay attention to you all day because apparently I’ll have a husband to stare in wonder at or some shit, and Georgie might snap if you spend more than an hour crying on her. And don’t give me that look, you’ll cry! You always say you won’t but you teared up earlier when I told you so I am doing my duty and trying to get you a cuddle buddy.” 

“That’s-” Jon started, sounding almost tetchy, before deflating slightly. With Gerry, at least, he knew when to admit defeat. “Okay, so you might have a point… Has Oliver picked anyone out already?” 

“You won’t like it.” 

“Oh, christ.” 

“Yup. Well what did you expect? Jane is his best friend, I’m sorry I know you don’t get on but I can’t exactly tell him no, you can tolerate each other for a day!”

“Worms! All over my archive! How she got them past Rosie still boggles the mind, and really-” 

Gerry waved a hand as he tried to cut him off, “Okay, okay, yes I’ve heard the story more than once, I get it, I won’t even put you at the same table. If it makes it better I’ll see what whatever venue we choose’s policy on animals is. Admiral seems like he’d make a good emotional support cat. Get him a little tux or something.” 

“As much as I like the idea, I’m not quite sure he’d appreciate it. Unless you’re getting wed in somewhere with copious amounts of radiators, I think he’d be better off at home.” 

“You don’t know!” Gerry said, pointing wildly, some of his energy seeming to kick back in after managing to maintain a conscious conversation, “Could be getting hitched in a radiator factory. That’d be something.” 

And Jon was glad Gerry was starting to feel more lively, but by the way laughter made his head pound he certainly was not. He smiled through the grimace. “Maybe so.” He had apparently, in a stroke of genius earlier, left himself a glass of water on the table. He’d take that about now, thanks. 

“What about Martin?” 

And now there was water spilled down his front. Great. “I’m sorry?” He sputtered. 

“Don’t apologise, it’ll dry.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jon growled, setting the water back down. 

Gerry gave him a faux sweet smile. There was a lapse in the conversation while Jon tugged his jumper off and tossed it onto the sofa next to him. Once he was done wrestling with the wool, Gerry spoke up again. “Seriously though, what about him? I haven’t seen you act like that with anyone since Georgie.” 

“I act like that with you!” Jon cried.

“Yes, but I’m special,” Gerry said, pressing his fingers to his lips and blowing a kiss across the room. “And also, you did just admit you act a specific way with him, so. Check and mate.” 

“I hate drunk Jon,” he muttered. “Okay, so, we go out for lunch sometimes, and that means I have more anecdotes to tell about him than Tim or Sasha, so I end up talking about him more. And I notice more things about him, like how he has more freckles in the summer than the rest of the year, but that’s just because he spends more time in my office because he seems determined to win the record for most tea made in a workplace environment in a year. So what?” 

Gerry looked intolerably smug. “Oh, no, you keep going with your list there, really proving your point.” 

Jon groaned. “Shut up.” 

“Okay, I will, I will, I just.. You do clearly like him Jon. And I won’t pressure you into anything, obviously, but just give yourself a chance, huh? You’re discarding the thought out of hand.”

Jon made a ‘humph’ of petulance. “Right. Fine. Okay. When’s the wedding?” 

“Will you refuse to come if I say Halloween?” 

“I will get around to mocking it later, but no. That’s what…” And admittedly, the alcohol was enough that he had to count on his fingers for this one, “Nine? Nine months away?” 

“You got it in the end.” 

“Once again, Mr Delano-Banks, shut your mouth-”

“Hey-”

“I will update you in eight months time. Until then you are not to bring it up. Deal?” 

Gerry stuck out a bottom lip, “Not sure I was expecting that to be how I heard that name for the first time, but wow, okay. And yes, that’s a deal.” 

“Good. Now if you excuse me, I am promptly about to pass out on your sofa.” 

Gerry got up and stretched, the sound of his knuckles popping making Jon cringe. He glanced up at the clock, before moving the offending jumper away and letting himself drop down on the sofa next to Jon. “Not even midnight yet. What’d I say. Old men, the both of us.” 

“Shush. Pillows can’t talk,” Jon muttered, gently manoeuvring his partner so they were both lying horizontal on the sofa, before burying his face in Gerry’s shoulder. 

“G’night” he muttered into the sofa fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m really happy for you.” 

“Thanks,” Gerry said, pressing a quick kiss to Jon’s hair. “I am too.”

#My Post #god I struggle to write for SO LONG. and then these two have me writing 1.5K in one sitting. huh #Jongerry #The Magnus Archives #Jonathan Sims #Gerard Keay #Gerry Delano #the professional tag and the better tag #... okay so it has it referenced so I can get away with tagging it #Jonmartin #My Writing

[leam1983]

On Grief

This is a long one. You're under no obligation to push further if you don't want to. It's a personal post, so I'll more than understand if this isn't to your tastes. The normally-scheduled pedantry, commentary and memes will resume shortly.

One of my relatives was diagnosed with ALS. What started as an odd case of palsy in her left set of vocal cords that could've been far more benign was just confirmed by her referred physician. It's Lou Gherig's, and with her age and current condition, her prognosis is of three to five years, tops. Sure, Stephen Hawking blew his own prognosis out of the water, but a combination of notoriety and luck enabled him to eke out as much existence as medical tech could've possibly allowed.

We knew things were suspect when my aunt, a marathoner with a monthly sub to Runner's World, stopped running. Her food intake dropped like a stone, and she soon took to increasingly simple painting and drawing styles. At first we thought it was just her wanting to explore simpler rendering techniques, but then...

Then we noticed the twitching. How awkwardly her pens and brushes were set in her hands. She was in great shape and didn't mind living in the ass-end of Sutton, basically in the open country and with a path leading up to her front door that was all in rough cobblestones. She broke a hip against them, last year.

Her speech started to slur, lately. Her last bike trip also landed her in the ER. She doesn't bike anymore. She doesn't run, and being a gourmand by nature, feels obligated to restrain herself, for fear of gaining weight. She's aggressively vegan. Not towards others, but towards herself. No meat, no eggs, nothing. Most of us ovo-lactos and omnivores in the family know her constant snacking meant her seventy-plus body is desperate for energy.

From the look of things, it feels like the diagnosis broke through her bullshit reasoning for being vegan. She wasn't vegan for the sake of limiting her carbon footprint or making more responsible choices at the grocery store, but because she, as a lifelong anorexic, thought she was ugly and needed to lose weight. That's been a constant with her. Age catches up and skin sags? She mistakes it for a love handle, cuts out virtually all sources of protein and carbs safe for tofu, seitan and bean-based preps. Of course, like a lot of anorexics, she'd have bulemic episodes. I used to sleep over at her last bachelor pad, as a teen, and I remember her pantry was loaded up for bear with Danish cookie tins, Nutella jars and whipped cream. I remember she invited me over specifically when she intended to cheat. Then it was back to yoga, pot-smoking, meditation and shopping runs - and she probably kept her purging for when I was gone.

So yeah. I'm betting Belgian Asshole (see one of my previous posts) convinced her to break her vows and went looking for a "slice of authentic Tikka Masala", to quote his email. The entire family is made up of ethnic food diehards, so we spam-flooded his inbox with recommendations. Looks like she'll be eating meat again, soon. Her own email mentioned concerns of strength and stamina, so I get it.

Otherwise? We're gobsmacked. Imagine spending an entire weekday both at work and off work, aggressively goofing off because you're trying as hard as you can not to think of your favourite aunt's mention of assisted suicide as an option.

Three to five years. Maybe one, or two good Christmases. After that, her condition should probably have started to deteriorate quickly.

I'm not close with a ton of my own family. I love them all, but it's more a sense of polite respect than anything involving solid bonds. The only two folks I know I'll be devastated for when they'll die are her, and my youngest cousin on the other side of the family.

I'm mostly okay now. No doubts, no crisis of unbelief, no anger, no rage... But then I'll see her in a more diminished state, one of those days. How am I going to take to it?

Part of me keeps a tally of the deaths in the family. First, it was my uncle on my mother's side. Ruptured abdominal artery, with a leak small enough to pool into the gut's cavity for months. Decay settled in, guy got anesthetized for an intervention...

They didn't even bother sewing him back up.

Second one was my other paternal aunt's new husband. First one was great, but left the country in the seventies to go live in Stockholm with his medical assistant. Second one was a geologist and physicist at the same campus she taught as. French guy, the son of innkeepers four generations down. It showed, too. Our Christmas tables haven't been the same since he left us his recipie books, all his corny jokes on provincial eating habits, and his obstinate focus on turning every 25th of December into a Roman orgy probably befitting of the old Saturnalia traditions. I mean, when's the last time you've had an eight-course meal, outside of Thanksgiving?

Tumors in his mesenteric artery lined the blood vessel's inner walls, deposited virtually everywhere in his body. He was diagnosed in June and dead by August. He'd always been the lanky type, bone-thin even if he hoovered food like he'd never have enough. He looked even thinner in his hospital bed.

Then, my maternal grandpa bit it. Decades of casual alcoholism, cirrhosis more or less jumping on him around his seventy-sixth year. He looked a bit like John Keston, the actor who played Gehn in CyanWorlds' Riven. Same hairline, same hawkish nose, same eyes - just more Cajun and less New England-esque. I don't know if it was youth or stupidity or - anything, really, but I dropped by to see him, just two days before he died. I didn't realize he was tallying my life, asking me if I had everything in order, if things were planned.

Now, I understand.

Next one on the chopping block is Aunt Doris, still on Mom's side. She of the serial mooching, she of the concept of not needing much to get by if you were the cute one of the family. She was pretty enough in her prime, sure - if by pretty you meant "cigarette-butt blonde with a discount Farah Fawcett blow-up and an unfinished High School degree". First husband was an abusive ass who gave her an uncommonly sensitive son, second one figured she'd stick to the minimum-wage circuit while he tore out rotator cuffs or busted his C7 while on his outboard like clockwork. By the end, she roped my grandmother into living with her, spent her days sloppy-drunk and died on her ratty couch while falling asleep and choking on her own vomit.

Before them all, the youngest of my uncles died at age two. Cancer. Never knew which one, was told it didn't matter. You didn't survive much of anything cancerous, back in the late fifties.

Ping-pong this back to three years ago, and my oldest paternal uncle dies. Paul, who smoked like a chimney for most of his life and successfully stopped after discovering Champix. He got to live five great years as the high-IQ oddball he'd always been, smoke-free. Paul was the weird bird in the family, the type to remember a really engrossing story at two in the morning and making a note to call you up first thing in the morning to share it. He always had a project of some sort to work on, like a simulated investors' tank for young entrepreneurs looking to learn the ropes, or a Byzantine arrangement of coaxials allowing four of his lakeside neighbours to pirate his cable sub. He'd invite us over for dinner, gather all the ingredients we'd need for whatever it was he wanted to treat us to - and then he'd let us cook it - just sitting by the sidelines, chatting away.

He was also a bit of a narcoleptic, and looked a bit like William Howard Taft if you'd worked him out of these old sack suits and into modern shirts and suspenders. He fell asleep practically everywhere, with his more wakeful environments being his workshop and his property's dock. He took me out fishing, once, and knew what the entire family expected.

"Oars're here, Gremlin, fish're that way. Wake me up when you've got a bite."

At this point, it wasn't even a point of concern; it was just an Uncle Paul Thing, the exact thing you'd have expected out of this kind, eccentric blob of a man whose idea of fishing involved pushing his hat over his eyes and basically all but ensuring that his roaring snores would scare prey away. He'd been a supposedly high-IQ type, terminally bored with almost everything, only really getting agitated and interested back when I asked him for help for my Junior High Computer class's Javascript calculator. Once the syntax hit something familiar and he realized that JS has some similarities with FORTRAN, he was on a roll, acting like someone had snuck a Red Bull in his coffee.

Well, fibrosis caught up with him. His last hours were spent directing us on how to cook what would've been his last meal. I think he really just wanted to know we were alright, that we still could exchange laughs around the kitchen counter. He clocked out the way he always did, except he had an oxygen tube running under his nose. His head bobbed down, he snored loudly for a few minutes, then turned increasingly quiet...

And that was it.

And now there's Isabelle. The marathoner, my partner-in-crime when it comes to professing to have a healthy diet while occasionally cheating in glorious, weekend-defining means, my gateway to cannabis and also the first person who took my cringy self-insert fanfic fodder and went No, that's worth it! Push it, develop that universe of yours!

I wouldn't be almost two-thirds of the way through my first decent manuscript, if not for her, and I wouldn't be shopping for publishers with the same energy you'd reserve for weekend-grade Facebook putzing-about. I owe her part of my self-acceptance, and part of my discovery of what defines my routine to this day. Isabelle was my first meditation coach.

And in three to five years, she might be gone.

I just thought grief might be... noisier, is all. Louder. Right now, it's just germane to confusion, and it's sitting there. There's a pinch of fear in it, too. My parents are in their mid-sixties. How long do I have left with them?!

And the family and I just covered that up with jokes and, well, cooking. I've been told I'd make a half-decent therapist but - navigating your own emotions is hard work...

I don't know. I guess I needed to put this down somewhere.

#personal life #tw: cancer mention #tw: alcoholism mention #tw: death mentions #grief #coping

[matchagency744]

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HomeThemed VacationsTop 8 Weekend Getaways for Singles you should really do once in...

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Safe sex ToDaY or tomoRRow It's been a long week and luckily I have a 3 day weekend with absolutely no plans. I'm single, caucasian, real (no rain Local Dating Centerville Oh today!) and ready to meet a fun, clean guy to drink and mingle with. Minute Dating Near Willoughby Hills Oh, dating agencies in mapleton utah, auto hook up in north babylon ny, single dating events abington ma.

Just because you’re single, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you can’t partake in a getaway. In all actuality, there are an abundance of vacation destinations that are located all over the world, that specifically cater to single individuals who wish to take a vacation by themselves but still be able to enjoy the opportunity of being able to intermingle with other people who have a similar agenda. In this overview, we’ll take a look at the top weekend getaways for singles.

Cooking Vacations

One of the most sociable forms of weekend getaways for singles is cooking vacations. If you are looking to meet people – this is a great choice. Cooking is full of energy and activity. The experience of learning how to make a delicious dish is a great one to share. Situations are usually funny, laid back and generally fun. Plus – you always get the chance to eat together and try your own meals at the end of the day. What better excuse to sit around and get to know a new and exciting group of people?

Singles cooking vacations are, of course, also great for those who love food or want to learn to cook. You learn skills in a fun and practical way. And you get the joy of doing so with new people around you. Cooking is no longer a chore, but a new skill, and once you have learned through an exciting and fresh experience. Visit this website for the best cooking vacations.

2. Yoga Retreats

Yoga retreats are an excellent choice for weekend getaways for singles as they have a strong and simple focus. For those who are new to the activity, or for those who have practiced it for a while, these vacations are simple and relaxing. They revolve around the practice of one of the world’s most calming exercises. You can push yourself to new levels with the help of expert instructors. Or you can learn for the first time about a practice quickly becoming a universal fad.

The experiences of a singles yoga vacation are those that you take home with you. Not only do you keep the memories, but you also retain the knowledge of greater yoga skills. You carry the relaxing techniques back into everyday life. Not just an experience, these singles vacations are an investment.

The settings are usually beautiful. The people are often of a similar mindset. Beyond the yoga, there is much to enjoy about these vacations. You can share a calming experience with new and similar people. Or, you can relish the solitude, and enjoy the calming setting in peace and quiet. Have a look at this website to find the best yoga retreats.

3. Detox

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Detox vacations are becoming more and more popular as people are striving for a chance to step back from their busy and frantic lives. In a fast-paced society, with increasing pressure from work and social life, people are often yearning for the chance to be alone and get back to basics. This is exactly what singles detox vacations offer.

Many people lack the knowledge to create their own healthy meals. Many people lack the discipline or structure to stabilize their sleep. Many people lack time to step back and take a break simply. During singles detox retreats, experts organize all these things for you. You do not have to plan or structure your day, but simply go with the flow and feel the positive effects.

In this time, you also get to learn how to improve your lifestyle back home – and meet some friendly faces along the way.Have a look at this website for some great detox vacations.

4. Meditation

Many people want to try meditation but don’t know where to start. Participating in a singles meditation vacation is a great way to combat this conflict. Meditation is a fundamentally simple thing, yet we require some guidance to realize its full potential. The result is a set of skills and practices to take home and apply to your daily routine.

Although meditation is a single activity, it can be surprisingly social. The taught practices inspire many interesting discussions and in-depth conversations. Consequently, you get to meet many like-minded people and share an abundance of thoughts. Alternatively, these vacations are a great opportunity to be alone and embrace the chance to get back to yourself.

These weekend getaways for singles often offer healthy fresh meals and calming activities alongside meditation. Altogether, the result is a holiday of relaxation and simple joys. To spend a week, or weekend, in this state of mind can really make a difference. And the results of a meditation vacation can go far beyond the immediate effects of calmness, influencing the way you live your daily life, even for years afterward. Visit this website for the best meditation holidays.

5. Rancho La Puerta – Mexico

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Regarded as being one of the best weekend getaways for singles and located approximately 3 miles from the U.S. border, totaling a 3-hour drive from Los Angeles, the Rancho La Puerta is a family owned weekend vacation destination that has been receiving an influx of positive reviews since it was originally established in 2007. What makes this destination so unique is that they have a variety of packages that have been specially customized to suit a single individual which starts from approximately $400 for a weekend. The 3000 acres of private gardens of Rancho La Puerta are a perfect opportunity for nature lovers who would love to visit a ranch like destination and be able to intermingle with other nature lovers in a safe environment.

6. Grand Oasis – Fiesta In Cancun Weekend Package – Mexico

One of the getaway packages that have been rising in popularity for declaring themselves as an ideal destination for singles is the Fiesta In Cancun All Inclusive package that the Grand Oasis offers. The Grand Oasis is highly regarded for being the premier hotel for entertainment. The hotel proclaims that they have the largest pool in Cancun. They are also on a property that features a 1/2 mile beach front.

The hotel also announces that due to is 14 bars, 3 of which are swim-up bars, professional staff of over 50 entertainers and its proximity to a variety of nightclubs, its weekend getaways for singles package essentially attracts singles from all over the world on a yearly basis. They also proclaim that a vast majority of their clients are in fact, single individuals. And as such, there are plenty of opportunities for any single person who has a profound love for nightlife activities.

7. Club Getaway – Connecticut, United States

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Unlike most vacation destinations that offer a single weekend package along with a variety of other packages that range from 1-4 weeks. Club Getaway on the other hand specifically deals with weekend getaways for singles only. Club Getaway is on a property that spans over 300 acres. It overlooks the beautiful lake in the Berkshire Mountains of Kent, Connecticut. Their weekend packages feature a variety of activities, such as:

Water sports activities like wakeboarding, kayaking, canoeing, and sail-boating.

Adventure sports such as rock climbing, mountain biking, and zip lining.

Late night campfires and dinner parties

8. New Orleans Plantation Country – Louisiana, United States

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If you’re located in the northern, western or eastern side of the U.S. but would love to experience the cuisine and distinctive customs of The South, this getaway location is for you. New Orleans Plantation Country gained worldwide notoriety after a series of Hollywood producers utilized the property as a backdrop for a variety of movies. What makes this destination unique is that vacationers have the opportunity to stay at either the Poche Plantation B & B or the Ormond Plantation B & B. Both of which are located on the property and both of which were established in the early 1800s.

Essentially, besides giving its visitors the opportunity to enjoy some truly authentic southern cuisine and offering a variety of Cajun pride swamps and wild Louisiana tours, there is more. Many visitors have proclaimed that the aura that the destination procures gives them a sense of what it was like to live in the times at which the property was originally established. Despite the whole concept of its name, the company proclaims that they invite races from all walks of life. They also proclaim that their staff is also racially diverse.

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[lihikainanea]

Vibe of the Week 06/08

First off, I am happy to announce that the very second Live Tarot Hour will be this Friday, 11 September. It’ll start at 8PM ADT, 7PM EST, 5PM PT, and gah just figure out your time zone from that. I really enjoyed the last one we did, and it’s great practice. I’ll post the rules later on this week, most will be the same as last time but this round I’ll be accepting questions in advance--that was selfish of me last time, for all my bubs in wayyyyy different time zones who weren’t awake when it started and couldn’t submit a question.

As always, you can blacklist #tarot or #Lei does tarot if you don’t want to see.

Now, on to business.

Ah, dat Full Moon vibes from last week. Real talk it gave me some crazy energy, just some weird things I couldn’t shake, and kicked off a whole week’s worth of odd dreams and weird premonitions and dug up a whole bunch of shit from my past and threw it at me.

Including Photographer Boy, if we can count him as being part of my past? He seems to stay pretty...current. And he was being real sweet to me over the weekend, and just being the Good Dude I know he can be, and like a moron that somehow erases all the copious times he was a dick. Ugh, Lei you’re smarter than this.

Double ugh, I’m mad at myself.

In any case, last week we spoke about action, but also about the need to kind of....hold off. That maybe now is not the time to go after that big thing, because there are too many little things happening for you, maybe you’re not in the frame of mind or heart that you NEED to be in to go after what you’re going after, and have it work out. The universe works in many ways and often times if she sees us running headfirst into a wall, she might hold us back a bit. It’s for our own benefit.

You may have noticed, too, that in English I tend to have trouble with homonyms. Nose and knows. Seize and cease. I know the difference between all the there/they’re/theirs but the apostrophe one still fucks me up because I think it’s possessive instead of they are. In any case, I ended the reading last week on a resounding note that what is truly meant for us will be there, waiting to be...ahem...ceased. Oops. I obviously meant seized (I think?) and I’ve corrected it now.

LE SORRY.

The decks this week: Moonology for Oracle, and the Wheel of Fortune for Tarot.

The Oracle of the week is the Supermoon:

I didn’t pull this one, it jumped out at me as I was shuffling.

Look, can I just say that it does wonders for my confidence as a reader, as the granddaughter of a great woman and a steward of part of the great family history, when I FEEL my intuition tell me something is off, and then it gets proven right? Look, intuition is hard. My intuition is hard. I just tend to think very differently from the masses and it’s incredibly frustrating, because I’ll see something and observe it my way and everybody else seems to be on a different page and it’s just...you feel crazy. I feel like I spend at least 1/3 of my life going “Are you all PRETENDING not to see this? This is a joke, right? Or shit, you really think that? Oh fuck...”

I KNEW something was supercharged with that damn moon last week.

The affirmation: Emotions are running high

Words to meditate on: emotional balance, yin and yang, peace, quiet mind, look closer at the obvious, opportunity.

That thing last week, that the universe told us to back the fuck up on for a sec? This may be the week we’re allowed to charge forward and pursue it. The Supermoon is supercharged, emotions are high but they’re positive--this is a rare moon, one that tells us that the answer is right under our nose. There’s opportunity here, rare opportunity, whether that’s the solution to your challenges or something new and exciting altogether. The Supermoon is when a new moon or a full moon happens at the moon’s closest point to Earth--so the universe is rooting for us, she’s with us on this. Don’t blow anything out of proportion, don’t fucking ignore the obvious in search of something better, and just keep putting one foot in front of the other because your path now leads you to something real exciting.

HAHAHAHAHAHA. Everybody say hi to my grandmother, kids. Because she’s definitely smirking over my shoulder for this reading. Hiiiiiiiiiiiii Lei’s grandmother, definitely the HWIC and one of the most powerful matriarchs of the Stregoneria in Sicily.

Good to see you again, Nonna.

1) Ten of Wands

2) Eight of Wands

3) Five of Wands

4) Queen of Wands

5) Knight of Wands

Overarching theme: the Moon (Major Arcana).

Hahahahahaha oh god I’m still laughing.

All Wands this week. Wands are the action cards, the “go out and get’er done” Suit, the fire Suit in all its glory and horror, so it looks like the universe has opened the barriers that she put around us last week. Not only did she open the barriers but she gave us a one hour pep talk, she brushed our hair, she told us how pretty we were, she poured 397587568458 tons of sugar down our throat, blasted gangsta rap, got us all ragey, showed us the target, slapped our ass--and then she opened the barriers.

Full steam ahead. 

Look, keep the overarching theme of the Moon in mind. Keep your fucking eyes open, and--like the Oracle says--look for the obvious, it’s right in front of you. The Moon speaks of deception, of hidden ways, of secrets, of dual personalities. Of trickery. Bear in mind that interactions you may have this week, people you may encounter--they may be trying to trick you, they may be trying to deceive you. Don’t let this hinder your interactions and don’t close yourself off, just keep this tidbit in the back of your mind so that there are no surprises.

I think the reason why the universe held us back last week is simply because we just had too much. The ten of Wands speaks of a need for reduction--reducing workload, reducing emotional stress, in general just....letting things go. Let it go. It’s too heavy, there’s too much, and it’s just impossible to carry. Trim the fat and just bring it back to the basics--surround yourself with a few people who make you feel good. Reduce your amount of stuff. Know when you’re beat at work, and ask for help. Reduce the space in your mind that you give to worry and anxiety and increase the space you give to things that make you feel good. We had too much last week, and the universe saw that we were just too exhausted to go after what we wanted but we are too stubborn to not go after it, because we are taught from a young age that opportunity is rare and we need to take it.

Opportunity is only as rare as you make it. When you look for opportunity, you will find it. Stop looking, then you stop finding.

And you know that old adage, that an arrow needs to be pulled back before it is launched forward? That’s where we’re at. The Eight of Wands is the most dynamic card in the deck, moving forward at fast speeds. It bears in mind the need to keep lines of communication open--and the Five of Wands, a battle, warns us of the consequence if we don’t. The Five of Wands is the bar fight that we don’t know why we’re in. The Five of Wands is us getting drunk and belligerent as shit, starting something with somebody who didn’t even look at us funny but we thought they did. Calm down--emotions are high, remember? Don’t start shit. It’s not worth it, and you’re likely wrong in the situation anyway. 

Communicate instead. You know people may be trying to deceive you, which already gives you the upper hand. You don’t need to smash a pool cue over their head.

Balance, kids. The Queen of Wands is there to reinforce that message. Dis bitch--I love dis bitch, she’s so much better than the Queen of Cups--love and sensuality, fire and ice, the balance of fiery passion and emotional balance that results in this incredible, never-ending burning ember that will just keep smouldering. And the thing with an ember is it can turn into a full fledged fire at any second, and it can also light other fires. You’re on the right path, kids. And not only are you on the right path, people are watching and you’re inspiring them too. Be loyal to yourself, know your path, and off you go.

And remember--dat Moon Major Arcana Energy, echoed here in the final card of the Knight of Wands--do not seek vengeance over those who deceived you. But don’t forget, either.

TL;DR: Deception is at play this week, evidenced in the Moon and ending in the Knight of Wands. Be aware--don’t let it make you bitter, but be aware. Communication is key as you surge forward here, and it can help you avoid a lot of conflict that doesn’t have to happen if you’re just open and honest. Don’t ignore the obvious, make sure you create an environment where you can succeed, eliminate that which you do not need--and rage on, you fucking flame of awesomeness.

#tarot

[happyvoidharmony]

Just a look.1

rating : M pairing : Miraxus (Mirajane/Laxus) found : fanfiction.net 

Chapter : 1/7 (proof-read by @aconstellationofmemories)

Unfortunately for her, defeat was not something he was used to. If she wanted to play that game, then he would play with her and only God knew who had the most experience in this area.

Chapter 1

The mage turned the page wearily. It had been several hours since her magazine stopped provoking the slightest interest in her without her knowing what else to do. She was sprawled on her couch with a warm blanket, a mug of steaming hot tea in hand and the unappealing magazine on her lap. It was one of the few days when she was released from her role as a barmaid, cook, waitress and manager of the guild so that she could take a break and get some rest.

Only this rest was unnecessary for her. She had never had any trouble fulfilling her duty because of fatigue since a good night's sleep was enough to her to be able to do the same the next day. But when prompted by all the members to have a few days off each month, she could not refuse. Despite everything, she appreciated these moments disconnected from the rest of the world taking care of herself or hanging out in her shared apartment with her brothers and sisters. At least, it was enjoyable in the beginning.

It had been a long time since the article in women's magazines had stopped entertaining her. Her eyes glided over the pages of glossy colored paper without finding a single catch. The printed words had lost the appeal that once captured her interest. Sometimes her name appeared, sometimes along with one or two photos of her posing. She admired the beautiful stranger who smiled magnificently at her with all her white teeth.

She had stopped modelling months ago out of a need to distance herself from that life. The editors of the magazine had recycled her old photos. They turned up everywhere, in magazines, fashion catalogs… It was not disturbing for her, for she was neither complexed nor followed by a horde of paparazzi ready to damn their souls to know her favorite tea brand. But this majestic smile that lit up the population like a sun was seeming more and more terribly artificial to her.

She had stopped modelling suddenly to avoid becoming superficial. So that this row of carefully brushed and aligned teeth always and forever remains sincere. She had offered it to the whole world and to strangers whose silhouette she didn't even know just as much as she did to her guild, her friends, and her family. She had given it so often that no one saw her without it. This comforting row of immaculate soldiers which she ended up freezing on her angelic face.

Now all her time was entirely dedicated to the guild. Her adorable younger sister wanted to offer her the freedom of any source of stress imaginable during the holidays, thus Lisanna had taken over her barmaid duties. She was so successful that the eldest Strauss had to crack her head in order to invent new occupations to kill the boredom. She had read, hummed the tunes she knew by heart, strummed the strings of guitar to accompany them, took extra care of her skin that didn't really need it, and stared at the ceiling to witness the agony dreaming of tomorrow. Of her comforting routine that would resume.

Suddenly, she heard the doorknob turn and a cold breeze drifted in from the entrance, making her shiver. A white head quickly slipped through the opening and closed the door behind her. The young Strauss took off her surprisingly thick coat for this mid-autumn season and headed to the living room where her eldest sister was waiting for her.

"Hey Mira-nee," she called out, taking off her boots. "How was your day ?"

"Restful." She replied with a peaceful smile fixed on the lips.

"I'm exhausted." The youngest sighed. "The boys were very excited today. I thought they were going to start the third great war."

Her sister chuckled.

"Were they so terrible?" She asked tenderly.

"You can't even imagine! Natsu and Gray were so unbearable that they didn't even wait until Erza's back was turned to start insulting each other again, and I'm not even talking about Gajeel…" the youngest said, sprawled in the armchair in front of the sofa.

"Poor Erza, she must be tired of always doing the police." Mirajane's breath puffed out.

"Not so much, if you ask me. She does it so well that I sometimes believe she trains at night."

The two young women were taken by a laugh at the idea of Erza in pajamas, standing on her bed, studiously repeating with her most theatrical air the lines intended to calm her friends.

"She really doesn't need it.", replied the eldest between two hiccups of laughter.

Lisanna straightened up and took a deep breath to calm her heartbeat. She looked at her elder sister with a smile as she tried to calm down from her laughter. Her gaze was attracted by the mass of colors that she held in her left hand. A Sorcerer's magazine that must have dated from last week. And she thought her sister now found these readings boring and terribly superficial. Perhaps she was bored enough to find them amusing.

"What did you do today ?" She asked, not looking away from the magazine.

"Oh, three times nothing," the other replied. Then she noticed her sister's gaze and abruptly closed it before placing the magazine on the coffee table. "I didn't want to go out so I just stayed home."

"I see…" The youngest Take Over mage exhaled, looking down. "you never want to go out ?"

The woman was surprised at this question and turned her head thoughtfully.

"Sometimes. I like going to the park and well someone has to do the shopping." She said, laughing.

The youngest smiled and tried again to express her thoughts.

"I mean… you don't want to go out ?" To meet people other than the guild members or even just go out with Cana or Kinana to do something else ?" Lisanna questioned.

The demon mage opened her mouth to answer but no answer crossed her mind. She looked at her younger sister without knowing how to answer her. However, her ideas did not mix or contradict each other. The only answer that came to her mind was so obvious and simple that she never bothered to even think about it. No. She had no desire to go to a bar for a drink and to meet new people – not in the slightest. She was already contented with her calm life and her comforting routine.

"No," she finally replied. "Not really." She paused, then stammered out her explanation, which was so obvious to her. "I don't really see the point."

Her younger sister smiled gently at this answer. She was sort of expecting it. Her elder sister was not one to consciously deny herself pleasures for others, even after her personnality change. When you paid attention to her behavior, you could see that her main character traits had remained intact. Her desire to protect others, her energy, which she now spent behind the bar and in the service to the guild, her pride that was well recognized during her fight against Jenny at the Great Magic Games – they were all unchanged from the old Mirajane. The only thing that had changed was the way she expressed them.

You couldn't really say the same about her tastes.

"You used to like this before. Going out, going to concerts… "

The young woman sighed at the insistence of her sister.

"You don't go out any more than I do even if you're quite old enough now, you know," she replied with a slight smile.

The woman blushed at this remark, clasping in her hands the tea she had poured from the teapot her sister prepared earlier. Another trait that had persisted in her. Her ability to divert the conversation when it bothered her.

"It was never my thing," she thought it good to attest.

"It is no longer mine," her elder sister gently and firmly closed the conversation.

Lisanna glanced at her – she was enjoying her tea quietly, closing her eyes. There hadn't been an ounce of wickedness in her response. Just a deep desire to close the subject. Nor had she seemed to be lying to avoid it. She was even deeply sincere and honest with her younger sister.

Lisanna took a sip of her tea. The silence that had taken hold disturbed her a little. Usually, she enjoyed these peaceful moments with her eldest, welcome after spending the day in the midst of the guild's incessant hubbub. But at this time, she felt uncomfortable. As if this silence had settled at the wrong time.

"Elf-nii-chan is coming back from his job tomorrow, right ?" She ended up asking.

She obviously knew the answer. She just wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible and break that awkward silence. The eldest Strauss nodded as her smile widened. She was grateful to her younger sister for not insisting ; she didn't want to create any friction between them. She couldn't stand the idea of disappointing her or having to impose silence on her.

"and it's only eight o'clock, so we still have time to watch a movie without being too tired for work tomorrow !" She said cheerfully, winking at her younger sister.

The sun struggled to rise on this autumn day filled with fresh air. Shivering from the cold, the demon mage wrapped her coat around herself. She enjoyed the mornings when the city woke up little by little, starting with the bakers whose smell of hot bread and pastries already perfumed the shops. The young woman always ordered an astronomical quantity to feed the mad rabbits of the guild.

The inn provided the restaurant function for the mages but also for the non-mages who wished to benefit from the warm environment. It was one of the main sources of income for the guild and the barmaid. Like a true cook, she filled the stocks, cooked, ran the bar and served customers, accompanied by her younger sister, Kinana and a few extra wandering hands.

The master had entrusted her with the entire management of the restaurant except for the accounting part which he kept. So she got into the habit of doing some shopping in the morning to get fresh produces and ordered the most from a supplier she was used to now.

With her shopping bags in hand, she went to the second large building that overlooked the city after Kardia Cathedral, turned her old key in the lock and pushed open the huge wooden door. The atmosphere was so different at this hour. The shutters were closed and the vastness of the empty room gave it a somewhat disturbing and religious aspect, like a church waiting for its faithful ones. She put her purchases in the kitchen then went to the windows to let the soft light of day invade this much too quiet space for her taste.

She settled behind her counter and began to prepare the first drinks which would soon be ordered. In just an hour, excitement and provocation would reign supreme.

She remembered the evening before. After a meal closer to a picnic, she and her younger sister had watched a cheesy romantic comedy. Two hours during which a handsome young man, rich, charming and slightly macho, finally discovered the meaning and love of his life after meeting a beautiful young woman, vainly presented as banal, who opened his eyes to the world thanks to her kindness, her gentleness and her determination to make the world a better place.

The young woman gave a small laugh at the memory of the final act when the hero finally declared his love in a quavering voice but just as inflamed while his future fiancée – because he was proposing to her – listened with teary eyes before accepting – not without a terribly fake sob – the fabulous ring – surely plastic – that he was offering to her.

Admittedly Mirajane was a big romantic. She dreamed of a happy ending with a loving man who would kiss her like it was the last time throughout her life. She liked to look at the couples in the guild – already decided in her mind – and imagine the life they would surely have in a few years, without however clearly imagining her own possible future.

She did not see herself with anyone and did not feel the need to live a passionate love with any lover. She dreamed of course, but these dreams had never taken on concrete dimensions. They remained as a fantasy out of reach, while all tried without success to make her understand that it would only take a few efforts to make them real. She knew that life was not a romantic comedy that two sisters watched in the evening to relax between two giggles.

Never had she really hoped for passionate declarations of love. If given the choice, she would choose a love as simple and pure as a snowball, although part of herself would yell at her that it would be far too boring for her to thrive there. Perhaps it was a sign that she hadn't changed so much from the adventurous teenager as she had been in the end.

In any event, she had no serious candidates for the position of great love and was not really looking for one. Perhaps it was the parade of heavier contenders who tirelessly presented themselves to her every day pretending to buy a drink. This day would be no exception.

It did not miss. When the frenzy had followed the disturbing calm that reigned a few hours earlier, the barmaid - constantly on the move - slid from one table to another with her high heels and relentlessly distributing orders. She offered her biggest smile to each face she crossed and gently rejected the many advances that many made to her.

Advances, she had heard it was normal for a young barmaid or waitress to be hit on and stopped by consumers. It was commonly accepted by all. Of course, it always bothered her when a man whose face she saw for the first time came to offer her a drink after closing, or when Macau and Wacaba kept reminding her that she just had to blink to have a date.

Although the latter stituation had become more of a recurring joke than a real invitation. It was, but without the hope of a positive response.

The door opened slowly as four mages appeared on the doorstep. A brunette with wavy hair and rectangular glasses, a man wearing a large knight's helmet, another smaller with long and green hair and the last, a tall, muscular man with blond hair. The latter went upstairs and collapsed on one of the sofas.

The barmaid brought the blond-hair man his usual beer and went downstairs to resume her activities. He followed her with his golden eyes and detailed her as usual. His bangs took in her bangs restrained on her head, her warm blue eyes, curly lengths at the end of her white tresses. They continued to roam over her fluttering black dress which hid her generous chest, her slim waist, her hips, her long tapered legs.

She was beautiful, maybe even more than beautiful. She served her customers while singing in the middle of the guild. The noise did not bother her – on the contrary, the noisier it got the louder she sang. Surely convinced that no one could hear her behind the yells of her friends. It was wrong – he heard her very well.

Her black dress twirled around her fair legs as they danced between the tables. Her arms, constantly in action, kept moving from the two trays to the top of the tables. One would have thought it was a dance from India, one of those where the entities were provided with a multitude of arms.

Her snow-white hair waved around her angelic face. She put each foot in front of the other, swaying slightly subtly so that only people looking at her for a long time could see it. He noticed it. Even though she knew he stubbornly stared at her to decipher her gestures, she didn't throw him a glance.

It had become a game between them, to communicate without words, without ulterior motives. He watched her from his pedestal without anyone paying attention to him. Several pairs of eyes were focused on her as she moved in the center of the huge scene that was the guild. She responded with her brightest smile but did not hesitate to discreetly caricature her gestures in order to make fun of the attention that was offered to her.

No one paid attention to him. He was sitting on one of the few sofas on the first floor where no one ever went. He liked to retire there to take a break, find some relaxing solitude and be able to watch the other mages as he pleased from a higher level. Especially the demon mage. He didn't have the same hopes as her suitors, but to see her making fun of their behavior was somewhat distracting.

We also had to admit that she was far from being unpleasant to look at.

She had turned her eyes to him only once today. she had served him his drink and he had glanced at her with a suggestive look. Nothing serious, just to annoy her. Because seeing her cheeks flush under his gaze was just as much fun as enjoying a little of her false prudishness that she tried to pretend was real.

But her reaction was different from what he expected. Instead of being embarrassed that he stared at her like that, she had stared back at him and smiled. Not a fake smile, but a playful and amused grin. She straightened casually and turned slowly to continue her activities.

She knew he was trying to play with her. After all, he had been doing this for a few weeks, and it had to be said that being able to have fun with his own behavior and that of others was refreshing. She also knew that none of these so-called silent advances were serious. He just wanted to push her to the edge as he always had.

She has reached her limits – she was finally tired of seeing him play with her daily. The young woman didn't like allowing people to laugh at her embarrassment. After some time looking for the solution to tell him about it, she concluded that he wouldn't stop, especially if he realized that it was actually working.

So the mage decided to act the opposite of what he expected while knowing that he would not stop his actions immediately. She had to get into his game if she wanted to get him out, but the consequences of such an act were still unknown. Was he going to be surprised ? Amused ? Satisfied ? How could she even have a clue ?

From that moment, she began to move differently, softer and more fluid. She took her time and danced between the tables. She looked and offered her brightest smile to everyone except him. She was completely ignoring him.

A strange ballet that intrigued him a lot, as if her angelic side had escaped her and her demonic side suddenly revealed to him. He was never going to see her again, this sweet Mirajane who smiled benevolently at him. Instead he would see something else that only he could see, a more evil and seductive side of her. He could say that the old Mira had returned but that was not entirely true. The old Mira would never seduce him like that.

But it didn't bother him – on the contrary, it greatly amused him. A new challenge that she launched to him, a secret game, beyond the eyes of others. How to win ? He had absolutely no idea and he knew she didn't either. He just didn't know something : just exactly how far she was ready to let this thing go and what she wanted out of it. Until then they had only jokingly played with each other, but this game was much more complex.

He went downstairs sighing. He wanted to think about it in a more private place. He headed for the door but something warm touched him in the opposite direction. He turned and his gaze fell on her cyan eyes, her irises shining with mischief and amusement. Her demon smile was teasing him on her angelic face. He raised his eyebrows and continued his way out.

The young man understood she just wanted to take him by surprise and make him fall into his own trap. Unfortunately for her, defeat was not something he was used to. If she wanted to play that game, then he would play with her and only God knew who had the most experience in this area.

#fairy tail #Laxus Dreyar #Mirajane Strauss #miraxus #laxus x mirajane #lemon

[vantaestummy]

Could we get your take on Taehyung and Yoongi both getting carsick on a road trip?

A/N: ofc baby! here we go. sorry it took so long! also major thanks to @d3t3rm1n4t10n91 for being so amazing and helping me greatly with this one!!!❤︎

TW: emeto & carsickness

———————————————

Screw. Road. Trips.

There's little one can do while being inside a car in motion. Yoongi decides none of those things are a great idea right now, though. Reading a book will possibly trigger the nausea that has been sitting mildly inside of him, like a dangerous dragon in its sleeping state. Scrolling through his phone? Not a good idea either. Looking out the window at the road that passes under them almost too quickly? No, definitely not.

The only Min in the group desires nothing more than to crawl into the cool sheets of his bed and take a big nap. He longs for the comfortable quietness that his room never fails to provide. For once he doesn't want to be in a van with eight people. Not that he doesn't enjoy his bandmates' presence, no. He's almost always glad to listen to Jimin and Taehyung singing in the backseat, Jin and Jungkook bickering and playing around, Hoseok's music blasting through his earphones and Namjoon tapping beats with his fingers on his thighs. He's almost always glad to be there with them, when the seven of them are together, when the seven of them are healthy.

Keywords: almost always.

The road up ahead looks like it stretches for forever, the sun dipping beneath it as the oranges and yellows and purples bleed into one another. The boys have been on the road for hours, dramamine having sat heavy in both Taehyung and Yoongi’s systems.

However, it’s been hours now since they left and the medicine has long worn off. They are only an hour or so away from their destination, the beach house in which they will be spending the next few days together, filming RUN BTS as well as a dispatch photo shoot.

Taehyung seems to be fairing a little better than his older band mate. There is a slight bout of queasiness that has woven its way through his system, however it is quite faint and nothing more than a bit annoying. Still, as Taehyung tries to get some shut eye, the whirring of the vehicle as well as the random bumps are far too unsettling.

Taehyung places a hand on his stomach, palming the skin there and taking a look out of the window, the world blurring past and doing nothing to ease the ache of his nausea. He thinks he’ll be okay since, they have less than an hour to go, however, the singer isn’t the only one that the jagged motions of the car are getting to.

“Hyung? Hey, you okay?” Taehyung whispers to Yoongi who, is leaning his head against the fogged up glass of the window, his breathing labored and a bit forced. Hoseok, as well as Jimin and Jeongguk, are asleep. Seokjin is driving and Namjoon is reading a book in the passenger seat. How he can read while the car is in motion, Taehyung has no clue.

The smallest –in size– hyung has unquestionably no energy for trying to hide the nausea that's slowly growing back to life in his stomach, each bump in the road a piece of firewood adding to the burning ache inside of him. He ridiculously thought he had the beast tamed. Well, joke's on him.

“Not at all” he manages to admit to the second youngest singer. He's not very fond of the idea of unnecessarily making Taehyung worry, but there is no way he can possibly lie about how he is currently feeling. Yoongi finds himself helplessly rubbing his belly as if that would lull the dragon named nausea back to sleep, where it can't be a bother. The movement is not welcomed positively, though. He muffles a small burp and a whine in the back of a black hoodie he decided to wear. Thank heaven it's not white, considering how sure he is that he's close to making a mess.

Admitting to Taehyung that there's definitely something bugging him appears to only rise the nausea further up his system. So, he tries taking a few deep breaths that can give him at least a bit of confidence that he's not going to throw up right now. That would make his dongsaeng's own tummy upset, and that would make two sick members too many. Three if Hoseok woke up and saw.

Taehyung, however, still manages to chuckle at his hyung's response, his own stomach beginning to simmer with a bilious feeling that is much too strong to control.

Seokjin continues to drive, the car rumbling and bouncing a bit as the oldest member of Bangtan makes to change lanes. Taehyung sighs deeply, stifling a quiet and yet, sickly belch into his fist. The taste is rancid as it is nauseating, and Taehyung's head becomes swimmy with the motion of the car.

Fourty minutes. All he needs is fourty minutes. They'll be there soon.

He looks over at Yoongi, who is now slumped over the seat in front, his warm forehead pressed firmly against it. His cat-like eyes are wide open, not daring to close them in fear that it might aggravate the overwhelming queasiness, the same that has him constantly swallowing down bitter saliva. It was frustrating to feel each movement of the vehicle inside of him as if his stomach followed every turn ten times harder. The disgusting acrid taste of bile is beginning to coat the insides of his mouth, quickly managing to make the rapper gag on the back of his hand. He gulps heavily, not knowing what is left to do to distract himself from the horrendous fate that's awaiting. His vision is spinning too briskly, worsening the fierce attack of the beast that's spitting fire in his guts, writhing and tugging at the knot of restraint, letting it come undone.

Oh oh. He's in big trouble.

Yoongi snatches a plastic bag from Namjoon's lap –bless this kid's weird habit of using random objects to mark where he stops reading– and opens it just fast enough to let a stream of saliva fall inside. He barely listens to his tallest dongsaeng whining about how he's going to lose the page, but at this point he doesn't even care.

“Hyung, pull ov—” he manages to say before a gag cuts him off. If this was a one-time thing, he'd be okay with just getting it over with. Still, he knows that once he vomits, he won't stop until his stomach is completely empty. Plus Taehyung will definitely throw up as well. The most convenient thing at the moment is to pull off.

Seokjin looks up in the rearview mirror, brows furrowed at the sounds behind him. He’s too focused on the road to have heard correctly, however the sight in the mirror is enough for his heart to nearly stop.

“Shit. I knew we wouldn’t last the whole ride. Namjoon.” Seokjin looks over at Namjoon who is still grieving his lost bookmark. “More bags, or cups, or something!” He yells.

Namjoon raises a brow in befuddlement before turning around, spotting Yoongi with his head deep in plastic, his spine curved as strangled, bloodcurdling sounds force their way out of his throat.

Taehyung groans, trying his damndest to cover his ears or, anything so that his hyung’s own sickness won’t set him off but, he’s far too close for comfort, and the vehicle is still hot and moving and Taehyung feels really, really sick.

“Hyung... hyung you gotta pull over.”

“Tae it’s a straight shot to where we are going and there is no shoulder in sight. I can’t just pull over in the middle of the road.” Seokjin grits between clenched teeth, not as angry as he is panicked.

Yoongi can't see a thing where he is, his head almost completely inside the plastic bag. Still, he's able to sense Taehyung's discomfort. He knows that the poor guy is wincing at the sound of acid grating his throat, of stream after stream of saliva dropping into the plastic, he knows it must be torture for him. Even so, he can't do more than to push himself as far from the singer as possible.

Namjoon springs into action a little too late, after the older rapper's gags become productive and he's faced with a mouthful of sick almost spilling on the floor. He retreats another blastic bag from his backpack and another one from the glove box, putting both at their reach. He has a feeling Taehyung is going to need it soon. Using one of the multiple wristbands he's wearing, the middle Kim brother crouches down to tie Yoongi's hair back before he must pat his back in fear that he might not be breathing enough. By the hard way, Namjoon learns that he can't entirely focus on Yoongi when Taehyung is showing signs of getting sick too. He learns his lesson when a considerable amount of spit lands on his shoulder.

Muttering a curse under his breath, the maknae of the rap line pushes a bag under the singer's chin just in time. The plastic crunches and gets heavier as the youngest Kim meets the undigested remains of the meal he forcefully ate hours ago. Namjoon can't reassure him with any physical contact since both of his hands are busy, but he tries to calm both of them down with quiet words, being extra careful not to wake anyone up.

Being the only one awake besides two sick friends and a stressed driver has to be terrible.

Taehyung’s hands quiver around the plastic bag, his own resolve crumbling as he tries to hold it but, can’t. Bile rips the lining of his throat, clattering into the plastic below with a loud and scratchy retch. Jimin is quick to massage his tense shoulders, shushing his intense and violent heaves. The middle child of the maknae line has always been a very dramatic puker, but with the sway of the car as well as the altitude that they are speeding along, Taehyung’s stomach is simply a punching bag against the environment.

“H-Hyung, please pull over.” Taehyung manages to slur before he’s back to retching, a particularly thick stream of bile pummeling into the bag so hard that is almost falls out of Taehyung’s grip.

Seokjin curses at the wheel. “I’ll stop as soon as I can, I promise. I’m really sorry you two.”

Taehyung whimpers, his stomach sour and not done with him yet. “‘S okay...”

Jeongguk is fully awake now and caught up in the turmoil of the vehicle. He’s closer in proximity to Yoongi and so, he rubs a calm hand up and down the rapper’s back, the second oldest member groaning and gagging into the rippled plastic.

In between the cacophony of gags and bile hitting the plastic bags, Namjoon notices the two of the maknaes having gotten up to help. He sighs in relief, seeing that the middle kid of the rap line and the one with the most sensitive stomach is still asleep, not having noticed yet the commotion involving his bandmates.

“Someone keep an eye on Hoseok-hyung.” the leader asks, holding Yoongi's bag as he appeared to grow too weak to do it by himself. It feels like hell broke loose inside of him, the queasiness not residing for a single moment. The car's still swinging through the bumpy road and both his stomach and Taehyung's are actively working to empty themselves. The sound of his retching, of the others' voices, the movement, it overwhelms his senses, his ears feeling like they're stuffed with cotton. Thinking of resting on the floor once they pull over is the only comfort he has right now.

Trying not to lose balance, the eldest rapper puts his hand on Namjoon's shoulder, but the feeling of spit soaked cotton on his skin has him gagging once again. The tall dongsaeng moves to shake his hand off, instead grabbing the bag with one hand and holding him up in place with the other. It seems like making a mess is going to be unavoidable.

“Tae-ya, hold on to me if you need.” he suggests, lamenting the fact that there's nothing more he can do. Namjoon stretches his elbow out to him, his shoulder still wet and gross and his hand occupied with the plastic bag that is constantly growing in weight.

Taehyung whimpers, listening to his hyung’s suggestion as he grabs ahold of him, tight. His stomach is contracted, quivering and throbbing as it literally tries to expel itself from Taehyung’s throat. Yoongi seems to be fairing no better, the older rapper only becoming increasingly nauseated by the loud, forceful heaves that Taehyung gives out.

Without warning, the car sways sharply to the right, Seokjin finally finding an opening as he approaches the shoulder, unfortunately, the movement of the car wreaks havoc on both Yoongi and Taehyung’s stomachs once again.

“Sorry!” Seokjin cringes sheepishly, the car coming to a slow stop. Taehyung groans, his throat on fire and tasting of rancid acid.

Once there is no movement, Namjoon considers it's a good moment to open the door as quietly as possible, waiting for Yoongi to regain control of his upset stomach so he can pull him out to recover. Two arms aren't enough in situations like this– there bags that need to be held, hair that has to be pulled back, backs that need to be rubbed and two men in need of support.

“Jiminie, can you help me with Taehyung?” Namjoon asks, stepping out of the car with Yoongi's bag to place it on the floor, coming back immediately after to help his hyung to get up. He offers a hand to the second youngest singer, using a little strength to pull him up and out, then gestures to Jungkook for him to stay with Hoseok. Two nauseated members are more than enough. Three of them would be utter chaos.

A little of Yoongi's saliva ends up in Namjoon's shirt, but before he can worry about it, the tall child brushes the matter off, instead pulling him and Taehyung to the ground in case he has more to bring up.

“Almost done, guys.” he encourages, focusing more on the small rapper since Jimin –sweet and good Jimin– is already taking care of his baby Tae. He's so good at bringing people the comfort they need. There's something in the way he rubs his dongsaeng's tense shoulders, cards his tiny fingers through his hair and mutters soft words of encouragement that makes Jiminie the best member at caretaking. Namjoon wonders if he's doing a good job with Yoongi, and if he'll ever be at least half as good as Jimin is.

Yoongi retches again, a stream of sick dropping onto the floor beneath him; the sound brings the youngest rapper's attention to him. His hands are holding him upright and trying their best to dissolve the tension on his back.

“That's it. Don't hold back.” he's cringing at the desperate sounds that make their way out of Yoongi's lips in between mouthfuls of bile. “We'll get you both some time to rest once we arrive, don't worry.”

He then remembers it's better to stay silent around the rapper when he's sick. So he does just that, instead patting his back and massaging his almost always sore neck.

“I'm getting you some water, hold on.” he whispers after long, torturing minutes of Yoongi expelling his guts until there's nothing left. As he makes to stand up, he notices that his hand is intertwined with the older's. Weird. He doesn't remember linking their fingers so strongly.

The sounds from the other side of the vehicle do more than set Taehyung off. As soon as the door whips open, Taehyung has fallen to his hands and knees, his eyes screwed shut as he retches, his throat crackling and his voice grated with nausea. Sick jets from his lips at a rapid pace, plopping to the grass as Taehyung struggles to grasp onto something, his hands clawing at the dirt and bugs below.

“Oh baby no, don’t do that.” Jimin coos, whipping out a hair tie that he’s found from his bag and tying Taehyung’s hair up into a little bun. He holds the boy up, the singers hand darting out to hold his hand. “You’re okay. Let it out TaeTae.”

Taehyung whines, coughing violently as mouthful after mouthful of vomit pours from his lips to the grass. “Jiminie... it hurts.” A few tears have fallen into the puddle of puke below, tearing at the edges of Jimin’s heart. Yoongi’s heaves are still clear and apparent, ripping through the already wild air of the road. Jimin sighs, giving Taehyung’s hand a tight squeeze.

“We’ll be stopped for a minute baby. Relax.” He says. Just then, Jungkook is at their side, a hand on Jimin’s arms and eyes wide with worry.

“Anything I can do? Hobi-hyung looks a little green so I told him to stay in the back.”

Jimin smiles, so proud of how responsible and able their maknae has become, or maybe he’s just always been that way. “A water and some napkins would be great. Thanks Kookie.”

Jungkook nods, kissing Jimin’s head and giving Taehyung’s shoulder a comforting squeeze before running off to the trunk to get the things that were asked of him.

Taehyung groans with desperation, his stomach still at war with itself, his skin burning as his insides churn all gooey and hot. The other side of the car seems a bit quiet so, maybe Yoongi’s one sickness has died down a bit. He hopes this is the case for him.

Seokjin rounds the front of the car. “Talked to the managers. They understand and we have all the time that we need. Just, breathe for me, okay Tae-ah?”

Taehyung nods, Jimin’s soft hand still alongside his back and skin. It was easy to breathe like that, with Jimin holding onto him, smelling of citrus and something sweet. “Okay.”

After one final heave, the feral beast inside Yoongi's stomach appears to have subsided, at last. It takes just a second to realize the way his throat feels like it's been ripped apart, his abdomen too sore from continuously retching, his hands shaky and unstable. As he feels he's going to fall face-first into the puddle of mess he's done, a pair of firm hands bring him up and away from it.

“Easy there.” Namjoon mumbles, letting him rest against the open door of the vehicle, avoiding to give him more physical contact than needed. He just knew the rapper liked to be touched only when prompted. “Are you done?” a small nod is the reply he gets, but it's enough to release the tension accumulating on his shoulders. “Good. Don't move for a while, okay?” he asks, raising his sun-kissed, long hand to card his dark hair lovingly, just like a worried younger brother would do. That's what he is, isn't he?

“What about the—” Yoongi starts, raising a hand slightly to ask about the schedule they still had to complete. There's so much work to do, and look at him, his small body limp against the van after having puked his guts out. His eyes are staring at nothing, but before he can realize he's spacing out, there's a small face looking back at him, soft but manly features that he knows like the back of his hand.

“Hyung, don't. Take your time to rest.” Seconds before realizing what he's doing, he's rolling his eyes. “As hypocritical as it may sound, please rest” Namjoon adds, gifting him with a smile with dimples. When his eyelids grow heavy, his tallest dongsaeng is still there, his little eyes looking hesitant wether to bother him with holding his hand or to let him be. To end his internal doubt, the tiny rapper stretches out his arm and pulls him closer, not using too much strength to not stir his barely calm stomach.

“How's Tae?” he slurs a little, basically using the younger as a pillow to rest his tired body. Other than his nervous breathing –poor Joon is trying to measure his breaths to not disturb his exhausted hyung–, he doesn't seem to mind at all. That's all he needs to stay close and let the tallest carry his weight.

“I believe he's done too.” fortunately, there were no gags coming from said singer that proved him wrong. “Both of you gave us quite the scare, huh.” although he's serious, his tone has a hint of sweetness, only confirmed with how softly his hands are holding Yoongi's face, as if he's not mad at all. Actually, he's not even mad.

“'m sorry...” there is a silence that makes Namjoon think that the rapper is finally drifting off, but then he adds “I got spit on your shirt.” Yoongi genuinely feels guilty, but the younger lets out a laugh and messes up his hair, looking the least worried about it.

“So did Tae. And I'm not mad at any of you. You'll have to see me shirtless for a while, though. I'm so sorry.” the older dismisses that last part, wriggling his way out of the hug he unconsciously started. Ignoring how lethargic he feels, there's a concern still burning within him. Namjoon seems to comprehend as soon as the name of the sick dongsaeng falls out of his lips. “Want me to take you to him?” there's a tiny nod as a response, once again.

“Jimin-ah, how's Tae? Can I bring Yoongi-hyung to him?” the leader asks loudly to the air, waiting for said dancer to respond.

Jimin calls back to Namjoon from the other side of the vehicle, his voice a little shaky but, nothing too drastic.

“H-He’s good, and yeah, you can!” He replies, prompting a sigh from Namjoon.

He looks to Yoongi who, has his cheek smashed against the the car door. “Think you can walk over with me? Lean against me if you have to.”

Yoongi thinks that nodding probably isn’t a good idea anymore, and so, he slurs out a wet “yes” and allows Namjoon to carry his nearly dead body to where Taehyung lies in the grass, a towel covering where he had vomited. His eyes are hazy, his lids droopy, but he’s alive. That’s all that really matters.

Taehyung smiles lazily, giving Yoongi a wave. “Hey hyung...” He slurs, sounding almost drunk. This makes Yoongi snort, his pouty lips curved into a small smile.

“Hey Tae.”

Namjoon helps Yoongi to Taehyung’s side, the cool breeze helping to ease the surrounding edge of anxiety, as well as the dwindling nausea plaguing the daegu line. Taehyung takes this time to lean heavily against Yoongi.

“I threw up a lot...”

Yoongi sighs. “I know. Me too.”

Seokjin is now at Namjoon’s side, eyeing the two sick boys with worry etched into his features. “No rush at all but... we’re so close to the site. Do you think... you guys can make it through the rest of the trip?”

Yoongi and Taehyung share a look, not willing to make any promises but, certain that they’ll be okay since their stomachs are as empty as one can get.

“Yeah. We’ll make it.”

——————————————

A/N: school is a bitch. but more requests to come!

#bts sickfic #sick bts #sickfic #bts emeto #emeto #sick #my fic #tw emeto #sick!yoongi #sick!taegi #sick!taehyung #caretaker!bts #caretaker!jungkook #caretaker!namjoon #caretaker!jimin #carsick #carsickness

[realmadridfamily]

The year is ending and Pilar Rubio is already preparing Christmas. But they are not the same : certainly she will remember them especially, because for the first time she will celebrate Christmas as a wife. On June 15, 2019 she said "yes, I want" to the captain of Real Madrid and the Spanish National Team, Sergio Ramos, father of their three children: Sergio Junior, Marco and Alejandro. Woman of bewitching, Pilar says that 2019 has been a full year for her and her family and, with optimism and energy, she is already prepared to put the right foot in the new year, that 2020 would smile again or more. "Year 2019 was a very good year for me, both personal and professional, and I hope 2020 will be the same" - says a popular presenter who poses with wonderful dresses for this Christmas.

Pilar, how did you plan this Christmas? You know what's going on, I used to plan Christmas thinking about myself, but not now. Now I'm just thinking about my children. Everything changes with three little children, right? Of course! Earlier I used Christmas to go somewhere. It was when I could take a week off. However, now I only think about plans with my children. Remember that Christmas is really created for children. They are those who, with their innocence, enjoy everything that happens and live it more intensely. I will try to do with mine a lot of things and escape in cultural plan in Madrid. For example? I will use the days we spend in Madrid to visit museums or take them to the theater, which I try to do practically every weekend. I also want to see Christmas lights, especially in Torrejón. I am from there and Christmas atmosphere is amazing there. In addition to many activities for children, lighting is great. I don't know if we're lucky enough to go outside for a few days, so I don't know where we would go. What is the most beautiful memory you have? When I was a child, there was always a day when the Three Kings arrived and left us presents. I was amazed when I got up, and checked if they ate the cookies I left, and if the camels drank milk. I couldn't believe it! I always said "How could they go through the window of my room if they didn't fit?". What has changed during Christmas since you were a mother? As I said, I focus everything on my children and care less about me. It's another way of living them. Make a small balance of the year that ends. What was the best thing that happened to you during 2019? This year had special and unique moments such as our wedding. And I'm lucky to continue the same, personally and professionally, and enjoy both inside and outside the house. Here is what I am asking for in the new year: to continue this, enjoying work and health. I look like a talking mother, huh? Well ... this is who you are. I am, but I don't feel this way, with this role of mother: "dress warmly because you will catch a cold!" and similar things. Do you remember the moment when Sergio asked you to marry him? It was a night I didn't expect. Because we have somewhat chaotic daily plan, he just told me: "Don't do anything on the 19th of May, because after eight o'clock we have a reservation". When that day came, we parked in a place I already knew. It was in front of the club where we sometimes go with friends. On this occasion it changed that only he and I were there. It was a very romantic dinner, but I didn't think that Sergio would propose to me. I was completely surprised when, at dessert, they appeared with a shell. When I opened it, I found a proposal. Sergio is, in the end, a romantic. Oh yes! Every day since he wakes up. Really? Well ... no. We are both retailers, but not every day. We try to make it happen not only on the dates indicated. I like the surprise factor that on a day you don't expect, he will appear with a romantic letter or a special plan. How has your relationship changed since the children appeared? Well, you have to spend more time when you have less. I noticed this difference and even felt a little tired of the child, which I have three. The time I have to devote to them is the same, the day lasts forty-eight hours. It's still twenty-four hours and you must divide this time equally. My feeling is "Oh ... I don't want to attend to one and disregard another". Sometimes it overwhelms me that I want to be with all three at the same time and I want to take care of them at the same time, so that none of them is missing anything. Who needs more attention? All three. And because they have a different age, each in their own way. The smallest, which is obvious, needs more attention at the level of primary care, you need to feed him, bathe, dress him up etc. In turn, his older brothers want to go outside, want to have fun. In fact, I think that work is more sacrificed, because I don't like to leave them at home all day watching TV. I'm inventing activities all day and I even record movies for the days we can't go out because it's cold. Your life is a little crazy, isn't it? Because I see that you are the one who you drive a car. No, no! Each of us, when we are at home, tries to spend as much time as possible with children. How is your day? My everyday life is getting up, training and after finishing I train for the next challenge in El Hormiguero, record some advertising, if I have it, generate content for my social media (@pilarrubio_oficial) or take part in the event. When I'm done, I go home and try to be with my children. There are times, when it's different, because my days are not the same. You don't have a routine? No, because in the morning, as soon as I get up, the first thing I do is look after children. I organize them and prepare breakfast to send them to school. When I do this, I start training, but sometimes I don't have time for it. I will tell you a few words and you will tell me what comes to your mind when you hear them. Family. Love. Job. Satisfaction. Complications. Calm. Happiness. Everything. What comes to your mind when you hear "Sergio"? Well ... I'd say it's love. To love someone you have to admire him? It's not that you have to admire someone, but respect him and find things that complement you. I guess in the relationship with Sergio there will be good and bad times. What is the secret of success? Fortunately, Sergio and I get along very well and we usually don't argue about anything. Only when I turn on the reggaeton (laughs). I really can't complain about issues regarding children and home matters. We always agree and we have no problems. What is your best virtue? I don't know ... Maybe I'm always trying to give my best. And your worst default? Well, sometimes I don't have much patience, even with myself. I am very impatient. What motivates you or who motivates you every day? Obviously, my children. In general, my family is the driving force of my life and makes me wake up happy and happy every day. They also motivate me to continue working on what I like after twenty-four years. Pilar, you are always on the list of the most beautiful and sexiest women. What or who makes you stand on earth? I never attached that importance. There is always someone better or worse than you. It doesn't make me feel good at forty-one. There are more important things and I have different values. I like to take care of myself, but I don't feel better or worse because one day they call me the most or the least beautiful. How do you see yourself in five years? I hope, like now, with my children, with my husband and with my work. I'm already telling you that few things could change. I would like to be able to extend the days, but because it's not in my hands, I think the rest is perfect. How would you define each of your children? Sergio, the oldest, is very sensitive. He's like magic, he has a special aura. Marco is very independent and I can't define Alejandro's personality yet, but I think he will dominate the other two, he is like a survivor. What is your favorite plan with them? I like to take them to the theater and they love going to the cinema, concerts ... What is the moment of greatest peace in your home with three children? When all three sleep (laughs), but I like it. I lie in bed with them many times and fall down earlier. With four men at home, what would a girl's arrival mean to you? To be honest, if I got pregnant again, I don't care if it was another boy. I wouldn't mind having another one. But if it was a girl, it would be fun. How would you define yourself as a mother? Well I don't know. I think that sometimes I'm too demanding in terms of food and I try to make the time spent with them quite productive and learn from everything. My mission as a mother is to stimulate them and let them make the most of all their possibilities. Looking ahead, what is overwhelming or worries you most about your children? I hope they will be in a healthy environment because I can't control them outside the home as inside. And that they will value and respect everyone. It's not about giving them everything they want and when they want. If they do something right, they will have it. Being children of a TV presenter and a football player, how do they deal with fame? They don't realize that what dad and mom do is different from others, they don't talk about it at school. They understand that their parents go to television, but it doesn't matter much to them. What makes you lose patience with them? They eat very slowly. You can't waste an hour eating. It's two dishes and dessert and it takes them more time. And when they don't want to eat, I have to negotiate. I became an expert. You said you were very maniacal with food, in what sense? I like to know the origin of food and control the meals so that they are balanced. In fact, I talk a lot with my dietitian to control this problem, trying to make everything organic and not undergo ultra-processing. I also try to take care of everything I can. Not always, because with this job, if you're out, it's a bit more complicated, but the better you eat, the more consciously you think. I see that you are the captain at home? No! At home, we're both of them. One day a journalist asked me if Sergio is helping me with children and this is a macho approach. We divide the work as much as possible. When you have a problem, who is the first person you call? My mother. Considering everything you have fought and fight every day in your work, do you dislike being linked to Sergio Ramos? I have never heard that. First of all, because we met seven years ago and I have been working for twenty-four years. What sport do you like most? The «kickboxing» which is what I practice. Are you afraid of getting old? The turn of the years is quite positive because all you gain is experience and you know how to face the world and matters better. You take it all with more peace and confidence. Physically, you are not obsessed about wrinkles and stuff, right? No, because they didn't come out. I don't think about it because I train, I take care of myself and I didn't notice a brutal physical change, which doesn't mean that maybe in five years they will show up. What is the dream of your life that you have not yet realized? Well, I still haven't met Mick Jagger. The rest are things I have not been able to do, but I will do them. And if you could have a superpower, what would it be? To be invisible. I would love to! I could be anywhere and find out everything. Professionally, what are your plans? I will continue the adventure with "El Hormiguero". I am very focused on this. Because Alejandro is so small, I don't want to take a job that forces me to spend my days away from home, as before. Are you still with fashion and design? Yes, but I do everything in small doses, because Alejandro absorbs me. In a few months there will be a collection that I designed, but I can't say anything yet. I am still connected to this world because I love it.

#Alejandro Ramos #Marco Ramos #Sergio Ramos Rubio #Pilar Rubio #Sergio Ramos #Real Madrid #Interview #christmas

[kita-lavellan]

OC’s Spell List - Kita Lavellan

In an attempt not to overpower my Inquisitor in battles and fights, (since it’s the easiest thing in the world to overpower a magic-user character), I spent several hours figuring out which spells she knew, pulling from all the games, making any small edits for my Inquisitor’s backstory, and deciding when and under which circumstances she learnt them. WIP but I wanted to show my friend what I had so far...[Edit: This is taking forever to work out and type up *sobs*]

Natural Inclinations/Starter Spells

A) Veilfire - Age 6

Kita learnt Veilfire as her first spell by conversing with Spirits in the Fade. She only stopped speaking to the Spirits when the Keeper of her Clan finally realised the girl had magic, and began warning her of the dangers of Demons, forbidding the girl from interacting with the creatures of the Fade if she wished to stay with Clan Lavellan and her family.

She knows how to write with Veilfire, a skill thought lost to the ancient elves, but after her Keeper’s reaction to finding out she even knew how to cast the comparatively simple Veilfire flames, Kita has kept that piece of information a secret from everyone except her mother, and later her sister.

1) Winter’s Grasp - Age 7

The caster locks their target in a thin sheet of frost and ice. Some targets can be frozen solid, the smaller the target the higher the chance of it being frozen. The target gives off waves of cold that can cause discomfort in other nearby enemies. A frozen target takes additional shattering damage from a melee blow.

This was the first spell Kita cast outside of the Fade. Her mother would tell stories of how, when her daughter’s porridge was too hot, a small shower of snowflakes and frost would settle across it’s surface.

2) Cone of Cold - Age 9

Cone of cold produces a blast of ice in a 90 degree angle, with the caster as the point of origin, reaching out 4 meters (13ft). Cone of Cold is more effective against larger targets than Winter’s Grasp, but similarly to Winter’s Grasp, Cone of Cold can freeze targets causing them to give off waves of cold that cause discomfort to nearby enemies, and take additional shattering damage from melee attacks. Cone of Cold can also be used to freeze environments such as stones, puddles or put out fires.

Kita used to use this spell to create paths across ponds, or to create small area’s covered in snow for her baby sister, Nel, to play in.

3) Chain Lightning - Age 11

A bolt of lightning hits a target of the caster’s choice within 2 meters (6ft). It then splits into two (2) bolts, each jumping to another target, within 2 meters (6ft) of the First Target, and doing half the original amount of damage. Each of those secondary bolts then splits into two (2) more bolts, jumping to different target, within 2 meters (6ft) of the Second Targets, and doing a quarter of the original damage. Overall, Chain Lightning can hit a maximum of seven (7) targets, and 300% of the base spell damage.

Kita learnt this spell instinctively after watching a bolt of lightning hit a tree in the Emerald Graves during a summer storm. The hot and muggy weather that followed the rainfall brought many biting insects to the clan’s camp, and after growing tired of batting the offending creatures away from herself and her sister, she sent small sparks of chain lightning at the insects.

4) Hand of Winter - Age 13

Hand of Winter sends of a blast of ice and snow in every direction for 7.5 meters (24ft), with the caster as the point of origin. Since this direction also includes up and down, this spell can be used to partially freeze lakes, or create a floating glacier-like structure. It is almost guaranteed to freeze any living target in it’s path, unless the target is a magic user of exceptional will themselves, able to resist and overcome the spells effects through sheer willpower.

When Kita was twelve (12) years old, she fell through the ice on a lake and drowned. Her five (5) year old sister, Nel, summoned spirits that lifted her sister from the icy lake, and resurrected her by guiding her departed spirit back to her body from beyond the veil. For almost a full year after the event, Kita practiced her ice based spells over and over. They grew stronger, but not enough that she felt safe enough to use them crossing lakes and ponds as she had as a child, until her mana exploded in a wave of ice cold. She learnt Hand of Winter through practice and determination, and with a stubborn desire to no longer be afraid of the water. While her spellcasting was a success, Kita still doesn’t love water above her waist, or swimming in water where her feet can’t reach the bottom.

5) Telekinetic Burst - Age 15

A simple defensive spell, Telekinetic Burst sends out a wave of magical energy, with the caster as the point of origin. Anyone within 1.5 meters (5ft) of the caster is either stunned and left staggering, or physically knocked back by up to 3 meters (10ft). The strength of the blast is determined by the spellcaster’s willpower, and the amount of mana thrown into the spell.

Kita and Nel often explored the area’s near where the Clan camped, running off alone in the Brecilian Forest or exploring the grasslands of the Exalted Plains. On one such occasion, they stumbled upon a group of hunters who didn’t take kindly to the teenage elf or her eight (8) year old sister, threatening to cut off their ears or send them to the nearest Alienage. Desperate to get the grown men, with weapons, away from herself and her sister, Kita’s will manifested in the form of a Telekinetic Burst, giving the two girls the chance to run and lose the hunters in the wilderness. She had to tell her grandmother, Keeper Deshana, about the encounter and the Clan moved on quickly, but it did bring about the Keeper’s decision to officially name Kita as her First.

Keeper Taught - Learned as the Clan's First

Chosen to be the Keeper’s First at Age 16, Kita spent a year learning how to use a Mage Staff correctly. The Keeper refused to teach her any new spells until she could manipulate a staff as a weapon in it’s own right as well as being able to pass her small repertoire of spells through the wood correctly. Kita shattered many training staves, before learning to regulate the flow of her mana.

B) Arcane Bolt

One of the first lessons Deshana gave Kita was how to use a staff to form an Arcane Bolt. An Arcane Bolt can be used even when a caster’s mana is near depleted because it relies less on the caster’s mana, and more on the power infused in whichever Rune is crafted into the Mage Staff. While it needs a mage to activate the Rune, it draws power from the energy infused in it’s crafted form, not the mages abilities. Because the spell doesn’t draw from the caster’s mana, it’’s ability to cause damage is weak, but it’s range is exceptional. Able to hit a target up to 30 meters (100ft) away, the Arcane Bolt is best used on either a retreating enemy, or as a way to redirect an enemies attention away from an injured companion. Arcane Bolt is also useful in teaching a young mage accurate aim, casting techniques and staff movements, because there is little chance of them causing damage with a miscast Arcane Bolt.

1) Spellbloom - Age 18

Spellbloom creates a sphere of revitalizing energy that can span up to 10 meters (32ft) in diameter, with the caster as the point of origin. When touched by this restorative energy, mages find their mana pool replenishing faster, and fighters find their stamina bolstered, while the weary traveller might find the strength to continue their trek for several more hours.

One of the first spells Keeper Deshana taught Kita, this spell is a staple of Dalish Clan life. Sometimes the Clan is not in a position to stop and make camp when the Halla are tired, or their warriors begin to flag, and the Spellbloom spell allows the Clan to continue on until they can find a safe place to spend the night.

2) Energy Barrage - Age 20

This spell sends a group of small orbs of magical energy at up to four (4) targets. Energy Barrage produces no less than eight balls of energy that attack either a single target, or up to a maximum of four random targets, depending on the caster’s intention. The maximum number of energy sphere’s created is determined by the strength of the caster, and the amount of mana poured into the spell making this a potentially draining cast. For a Circle Trained mage, the magical energy takes the form of whichever elemental type their staff is crafted to best attune to. In the case of a Dalish Elf or an Apostate Mage, whose (often makeshift) staves have no such elemental alignment, the energy takes it’s type from the power-type that the mage is most proficient in.

In Kita’s case, this spell takes the form of a mixture of lightning & ice blasts. This is unusual, and after spotting the puzzled expression on her grandmother’s face at the sight of the two elements mixing, Kita limits this particular spell to Lightning only. It uses more of her mana to limit it in this way, but to the teenager, it was worth the additional effort to avoid standing out.

3) Fist of the Maker aka Veilstrike - Age 22

This spell, known as the ‘Fist of the Maker’ among Circle Trained Mages, is taught primarily in the Circles located in the Free Marches. An elf who escaped the circle taught Deshana, and Kita, the spell in exchange for being allowed to stay with the Clan. Fist of the Maker draws energy from the veil, and uses the force to slam enemies against the ground. The spell can target a single enemy for massive damage, or span an area 4 meters (13ft) in diameter to stun all targets caught in the area of effect.

Kita first used this spell in battle when the Clan stumbled across a nest of corrupted spiders in the Brecilian Forest a couple of years after the end of the 5th blight. In an attempt to stop the spiders overwhelming the Clan’s warriors, and potentially infecting them with the blight, she used Fist of the Maker to crush the arachnids, the force of the spell shattering the creature’s legs and stopping their advancement. Once Kita begins discussing magic with Solas post-Conclave, she discovers that, among Apostates, and Rift Mages, this spell is also known as Veilstrike. Since Kita has no affiliation with the Andrastian faith, she begins referring to the spell by the much more neutral name.

4) Stinging Swarm - Age 24

Stinging Swarm summons a cloud of stinging insects that converge in an area of approximately 2 meters (6.5ft) in diameter, attacking any enemies within that space. If the mages will falters, the swarm will disperse harmlessly.

Another staple of Dalish Keeper’s, this spell is often used to fend off local wildlife, such as wolf packs or gurguts. Most animals will leave an area where a wasp nest resides for a few days before venturing back, and this often allows a Clan to camp safely without having to put the clans hunters at risk. Once Kita meets, and gets to know, Sera she often helps the young elf play pranks by summoning swarms of bee’s for Sera to bottle up. When Sera claims not to remember how she got bee’s inside of Commander Cullen’s training dummy, it was to keep Kita’s involvement in the prank a secret.

5) Fade Shroud - Age 26

Fade Shroud is an advanced version of the spell Arcane Shield. While the Arcane Shield uses mana to deflect incoming attacks, increasing a mages chances at avoiding weapon attacks and projectiles, Fade Shroud allows the mage to briefly become spirit-like and incorporeal.

Kita finds this easier than funnelling her magic into a physical barrier that deflects attacks, and when Deshana questions her about the unusual technique, Kita describes it as pressing up against the sail of a ship that is blown full with a strong breeze. You can press against it, and into it, but the veil is constantly pushing back to force you out again, which is why Fade Shroud can only be used in short bursts of up to five (5) minutes at a time. While active, however, the rush of energy from the Fade energizes the mage and replenishes their pool of mana.

6) Nature’s Blades - Age 29

Vines grow up from the ground, wrapping around the caster’s ankles and immobilizing them for the duration of the spell. Additionally, thorny vines then sprout from the ground for 4.5 meters (15ft) in all directions, with the caster as the point of Origin. Enemies caught within this field can be knocked back up to 10 meters (32ft). Any enemies not knocked away from the caster by this spell have to contend with reduced maneuverability, and the constant slicing attacks of the sharp thorns as the vines whip at and wrap around enemies within the spell’s range.

This is a spell that Kita created herself. It is a blend of the ‘One With Nature’ and ‘Thornblades’ spells that Keeper Deshana attempted to teach her. To this day the Keeper still believes that Kita simply casts the two spells in quick succession, and only Nel is aware that her sister crafted an entirely new spell to merge the two magical attacks.

7) Lightning Bolt - Age 31

A powerful lightning strike arcs down from the sky striking a single target, causing massive damage and paralysing the target for up to a minute. Up to four enemies within 2 meters (6.5ft) of the target can be blasted away from the target by up to 4 meters (13ft) from the force of the Lightning Strike.

When news reached the Clan about the Chantry of Kirkwall being blown up by an apostate mage, Keeper Deshana encourages Kita to study the Lightning Bolt spell. In addition to causing damage, and stunning an enemy, Lightning Spells also drain a warrior’s energy (stamina) and the Keeper wanted her First to be able to defend against potential attacks from Templars or Town Guards now on the lookout for Apostate Mages.

Learned Throughout Inquisition

1) Barrier - Age 32

3) Fireball/Flashfire - Age 32

4) Crushing Prison - Age 34

5) Lightning Cage - Age 34

Specialization Spells - Rift Mage & The Anchor

1) Stonefist/Fadefist - Age 32

2) Pull of the Abyss/Devouring Veil - Age 32

3) Mark of the Rift (Open Small Rifts in Inquisition/Parts the Veil post Trespasser) - Age 32, 34 & 36

4) Aegis of the Rift - Age 36

5) Magical Discharge (Weaker post Trespasser/Uses Mana not the Mark) - Age 36

Post Trespasser/Arbor Blessing

1) Blizzard - Age 36+

2) Tempest - Age 36+

3) Firestorm - Age 36+

4) Custom Spell - foci based magic TBD - Age 36+

5) Custom Spell - foci based magic TBD - Age 36+ Link to Kita’s Masterpost

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age Inquisition #DAI #RPG #Roleplay Stuff #Arbor Blessing #kita lavellan #Kita #Lokita #Lokita Lavellan #Mage #Rift Mage #Inquisitor #Female Inquisitor #Inquisitor Lavellan #Spells #Magic #Keepers First #Faerelden #Fairelden #Skekiss

[tetch-a-sketch]

I have created this post to attempt to articulate why I believe veganism is unethical, negatively impacts the environment, and is unsustainable in the long term.  I tried to make this rant largely evidence-based and have tried to limit my own personal input on these subjects.  Nonetheless, this rant still has a clear bias.  Lastly, I do not care about your own opinions on the information I am about to present, so please do not send me anons about this post unless you want to add helpful information or have a genuine question.  

I want to start off by discussing how veganism negatively impacts the environment and local ecosystems, as well as the livelihood of individuals in other countries.  The reason why I am starting off with this is that it is a very common misconception that veganism is somehow “better for the environment,” when that isn't necessarily true when you look at the statistics.  

To start, the scale at which produce is grown for export to other countries negatively impacts the lives of individuals in the country of origin by destroying the local economy, leading to massive deforestation, and affecting the overall national market.

For this example, I am going to be focusing on the avocado market in Mexico.  This is a popular topic in the news right now, but there are dozens of cases just like this with other produce and products around the world, but you can search for those on your own time.  The Guardian reports that in Mexico the avocado, which “used to be a dietary staple, is now too expensive for many ordinary consumers. And, now the country where the avocado is believed to have originated is considering the unthinkable: importing avocados from abroad.”

Economic secretary Ildefonso Guajardo further expands on this by reporting that “we’re not ruling it out” as “avocados are so popular on the international level that it’s generating price pressure in the national market.”  Avocados have now become so expensive that regular citizens who do not have much extra money to spend cannot make enough to afford them.  As stated in the articles above, this even applies to avocado farmers themselves.

Before this article was published, The Guardian published another article in 2016 titled, “Rising avocado prices fuelling illegal deforestation in Mexico.” It briefly illustrates how “the size of the market ... has become a lucrative business for Mexico’s drug gangs, with extortion money paid to criminal organizations such as Los Caballeros Templarios (The Knights Templar) in Michoacán – the state that produces most of Mexico’s avocados – estimated at 2bn pesos ($109m) a year.”  

The mass avocado farming in Mexico has also lead to rapid deforestation. This rapid deforestation not only affects the local environment but also the global one.  This is because there is a massive number of species that migrate to Mexico’s forests for breeding, shelter, food that now have to compete for land and die off.  This includes Monarch butterflies and raptors, among other birds.  

Not only is this horrible for the natural ecosystems, but Greenpeace Mexico reports that people are also suffering from this for a multitude of reasons.  They write, “beyond the displacement of forests and the effects on water retention, the high use of agricultural chemicals and the large volumes of wood needed to pack and ship avocados are other factors that could have negative effects on the area’s environment and the wellbeing of its inhabitants,”.  Not only is this issue leading to deforestation and killing populations of animals, but the chemicals used in these illegal operations also poison the land and the inhabitants nearby.  

On the topic of human health, as stated briefly before, veganism is not a viable option for a large population over a period of time.  

There was a biophysical simulation done in which a team of scientists “calculated human carrying capacity under ten diet scenarios. The scenarios included two reference diets based on actual consumption and eight ‘Healthy Diet scenarios that complied with nutritional recommendations but varied in the level of meat content.”  Overall this study found that carrying capacity (X,X) was “higher for scenarios with less meat and highest for the lacto-vegetarian diet. However, the carrying capacity of the vegan diet was lower than two of the healthy omnivore diet scenarios.”  To summarize, this study found that the average “vegan diet is actually less sustainable than two of the vegetarian diets and two out of the four omnivorous diets they studied.”  PBS has analyzed this study and many more; someone wrote an entire article breaking down why “going vegan isn't the most sustainable option for humanity.” In this article, PBS/NOVA also states, “Even partially omnivorous diets rank above veganism in terms of sustainability; incorporating about 20 to 40% meat in your diet is actually better for the long-term course of humanity than being completely meat-free.”

Not only is the diet unsuitable, but it is also unethical as it can actually lead to more fossil fuels being used, which overall is worse for the environment. Paul Fishbeck, a professor at Dietrich College of Humanities and Social Sciences, states that: “eating lettuce is over three times worse in greenhouse gas emissions than eating bacon,”  This is because some of the most common vegetables require more resources per calorie than meats like pork and poultry.  Chris Hendrickson, a Professor of Hamerschlag University, and Ph.D. student Tom Michelle Fishbeck studied how the obesity epidemic in the U.S. is specifically affecting the overall environment. Carnegie Mellon University states: “On one hand, the results showed that getting our weight under control and eating fewer calories, has a positive effect on the environment and reduces energy use, water use and GHG emissions [X] from the food supply chain by approximately 9 percent.

However, eating the recommended “healthier” foods — a mix of fruits, vegetables, dairy, and seafood — increased the environmental impact in all three categories: Energy use went up by 38 percent, water use by 10 percent and GHG emissions by 6 percent.”

Lastly, I want to talk about prison labor in the U.S.  I am aware that this is old news to some, and doesn’t necessarily always apply to vegans and choice food suppliers, but after the infamous Whole Foods prison scandal (X,X,X), I find it necessary to add, especially since Whole Foods suppliers defended their use of prison labor back in 2015. American slavery was technically abolished in 1865, but a loophole in the 13th Amendment has allowed it to continue “as a punishment for crimes” well into the 21st century. The private prison labor industry is still growing at a rapid rate in America because of this loophole and has been since the ’80s.  Section 1 of the 13th amendment states that “Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.” As linked above, there are dozens of articles and hours of research that people publish in which they go into details about which corporations are the biggest offenders of using this loophole.  If this subject is new to you, I recommend you researching it on your own time (X,X,X). Lastly, on the subject of forced prison labor, I briefly want to touch upon this short documentary and corresponding article by the Atlantic (X).  This overviews the Louisiana State Penitentiary at Angola.  In their short documentary/article titled  “for Life: Rehabilitation and Reform Inside the Louisiana State Penitentiary,” they reveal: “There are more than 6,000 men currently imprisoned at the Louisiana State Penitentiary at Angola—three-quarters of them are there for life, and nearly 80 percent are African American.” Not only is the heinous, but they are reporting that this prison is an old southern slave-plantation-turned-prison, they also in passing state that there are prisoners in this prison/plantation whose ancestors were slaves at this exact plantation when slavery was still legal in the U.S. I will warn you that this documentary does try to focus on the rehabilitation of the prisoners and paints attempts to paint this loophole as a beneficial, when in reality a lot of these plantation prisons are supplying produce for those areas and corporations around them. (X,X)  Forced prison labor is used extensively in the U.S., and it is ironic how many vegans, who claim to care about the wellbeing of others, buy products (especially cheap produce) that are supplied by corporations that use forced prison labor.

I just wanted to conclude this post by saying that I personally think that veganism can be applied to a large population eventually, but for right now the vegan diet wastes too many scarce resources that can be better spent feeding more people effectively in other ways.  There is no ethical way to be vegan while still relying on capitalism.  If this post does for some reason end up getting popular, I might make a second one going into the vegan “ethical treatment of animals” and beekeeping for honey vs sugar cane plantations.  But for now, this rant is already very large.

#vegan #veganism #capitalism #this was formatted moreso on a google doc but tumblr fucked with it so whatever #solarpunk

[theperksofbeingbarbie]

New Kids On The Block (Intro)

Summary: Based on my post about what happened to the other 36, Sir Fuckface Reginald is contracted by the government to help train four of the children they got their hands on. Here is an excerpt from his journal. 

Word Count: 1,218

Warnings: None

Parings: None in this but planning on Klaus x Gender Neutral!Reader

A/N: This idea has been scratching at me since I made that post and since I finished with the first half of The Empath, I thought it was a good time to get this out. I honestly have no idea where I’m going with it, but I’m excited lmao. And honestly, most of these characters are inspired by X-Men (some more than others - looking at you Masego.) 

They’re currently 13. Thinking about doing a bit at 13, 16, and adults? Thoughts?

December 3, 2002

With the success of the Umbrella Academy, the government has contacted me to offer my expertise in four of the children they acquired that were born on the same day. I am taking the Umbrella Academy with me to the compound upstate so that they might be able to access their powers more in a truly scientific environment. 

Number Eight

Masego Kenya Acquired at age 5

Number Eight shows plenty of promise. When out in the Sun, Number Eight absorbs the energy and power from the Sun. He is then able to change his form into one of pure light, what the scientists are calling his ‘solar form’. From the trials I observed, his solar form gives him the ability of increased strength. I do not believe he is as strong as Number One, but it is worth looking into more. Number Eight is also able to produce beams of light from his hands, using that light as a sufficient weapon. In the trial, Number Eight also showed an increase in durability, able to take many attacks until he began showing signs of distress. 

He does, however, become much weaker in darkness. Number Eight sources all of his power from the Sun. I am currently unsure if he would react positively to artificial UV light, which may be needed before embarking on late night missions. 

Number Eight shows signs of being a natural leader. He typically spoke on behalf of the new group of students, will have to win his favour to earn the rest. He also shows signs of being reckless, willing to do stunts as a way to show off for those looking on. Will have to get that in line right away. He needs to fulfill his need for adventure in other ways. Number Eight seems fond of Number Three, which will surely cause issues between him and Number One. Have to assure his affections for Number Three get completely crushed to assure a strong team. 

Number Nine

Shreya India Acquired age 2

Number Nine is able to control electricity. Due to her gift, she developed an interest in creating and fixing electronics from a very young age. She currently manufactures experimental weapons. Will have to see how she responds to gifts of gadgets for good behaviour. Number Nine is also able to control objects powered by electricity. She was able to change channels on a television by blinking her eyes. Under extreme stress, Nine was able to create a force field of electricity to protect herself from gunfire. 

Currently, the only weakness I can see for Number Nine is rubber. To avoid any accidents, all of her restraints are rubberized. The guards in charge of Number Nine wear rubber gloves and boots for an added layer of protection. 

Number Nine is a very quiet girl, content with reading or working on her latest project. Number Six seemed to take a liking to Number Nine. The pair sat in the library reading next to each other during their hour of ‘free time’. Will have to ask administrators to cut down on silly free time. 

Number Ten

Enzo Peru Acquired age 10

Number Ten has a number of interesting gifts. Most notable: his night vision. In a pitch black room, he was able to singlehandedly take out 10 armed gunmen. Number Ten also possesses the ability to scale walls and ceilings. It seems he produces some kind of sticky fluid from the tips of his fingers at will. He also has the brilliant ability of a ‘sonic scream’ as the scientists have named it. Number Ten will have to learn to control it more, but it seems he can use a softened version of it to echolocate. Will have to see if he can use it underwater. 

Number Ten must wear extremely darkened goggles when the lights are on, or if he is outside to filter some of the light. Without them, he is prone to migraines as his eyes allow too much light in. His sonic scream can deafen humans and break glass, will have to watch to make sure he doesn’t harm any of the Academy. 

Being the newest addition to the facility, Number Ten is still improving his English. Number Two seems eager to spend more time with Number Ten, the boys instantly speaking in his native tongue. If Number Ten can use his sonic scream underwater, Number Two would make a good partner for him. Number Ten is very charming, convincing the guard bringing him lunch to bring him an extra serving of pudding. I don’t believe this is a super human gift, just him getting everyone to like him. Ten does have a habit of getting distracted easily, always wanting to make a joke. Will have to teach him not everything is a game. 

Number Eleven

[Y/N]  America Acquired age 4

Number Eleven seems to be the most powerful of the group. They have great control over their telekinesis that I hope to get Number Four to reach as well. Number Eleven is able to move objects of many different sizes and shapes. In their trial, they were able to move everything from a can to a small car. They can also produce a shield made of telekinetic energy, as well as weapons. Eleven seems to be fond of the whip, I assume it is because they are able to keep some distance between them and the threat unlike with the sword they produced. Number Eleven also shows various telepathic gifts, though these aren’t nearly as developed. They are able to cloak their presence by controlling the minds of those around them. Eleven also has a basic ability to read minds and insert illusions into threat’s minds. 

Number Eleven’s shield does not seem to protect them from anything heavier than basic weaponry. They are, however, able to take control over the object coming toward them. I had Number One throw a car at Number Eleven. It was able to breach their shield, but they were able to hold it in the air before throwing it back a short distance. As for Number Eleven’s telepathy, they have to be fairly close to the target and can get exhausted. During the trial to showcase their cloaking ability, they were able to last five minutes with twenty minds in the room. 

Number Eleven is quite... Peculiar. They currently have bright blue hair that I have been informed was a reward for good behaviour. Their handler has mentioned Number Eleven’s request for a nose piercing, and it has been promised to them for their sixteenth birthday. Will have to discuss that more with the administrator. Eleven, toward the other children, is very kind. Able to hold a conversation about almost anything, they are extremely well read and personable. With people that are not their peers, however, they do not show the same kindness. Number Eleven was extremely reluctant and frankly, rude, to me when I asked for them to demonstrate their various gifts. They have a rebellious streak that runs deep, which has been attracting Number Four to their side. While I believe Number Four and Number Eleven will make a strong alliance, I am afraid they will stoke the fires of rebellion in each other and I will lose two strong assets. 

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagines #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy #umbrella academy imagines #umbrella academy imagine #tua #tua imagines #tua imagine #ua imagines #ua #ua imagine #the umbrella academy oc #umbrella academy oc #tua oc #ua oc #luther hargreeves #the umbrella academy luther #umbrella academy luther #tua luther #ua luther #space boy #00.01 #diego hargreeves #the umbrella academy diego #umbrella academy diego #tua diego #ua diego #the kraken #00.02