#jokes on you! I could just buy those pre-made ones in a tube you just roll up and bake!

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

when i say i'll get you back for that cliffhanger i mean it 👀 i hope you're prepared for my next fic to contain copious mentions of really awful dishes to cook like beef wellington and handmade croissants and puffer fish and-

(i feel compelled to tell you that this is a joke, HOWEVER-)

Ahahah I think I deserve it after that cliffhanger tbh!! Using my fic-writing powers for evil 😈

And I do kinda want to try making homemade croissants one day, so…

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Disclosed

Pairing: Bakugou x reader x Kirishima

Warnings: Like, two sex jokes? Nothing that crazy. Once again, gay, bi and poly as fuck. Oh and language too.

Author’s note:

So uh, I guess this ends the saga of Little Secret. I’m still doing Kiribaku fics, but I guess I just had a bit of a theme going here in this trilogy. I tried to focus more on Eijirou in this one since he kind of got pushed to the side a bit in the other two stories. Little Secret had more of y/n’s omniscience, while Big Secret was more Bakugou driven (big brain hehe).

You can probably ignore the ending of this since it’s really really cheesy and it was the only thing I could think of at the time I wrote it (I think this is another one of my fics that I finished at 3 am or something).

Anyhow, I’d say this is my favorite part of the trilogy in some ways! It’s super soft and fluffy, and I really like how I wrote it out. I seriously hope you enjoy it!

I love you guys!

-Sugar

☆*･゜ﾟ･**･゜ﾟ･*☆.☆*･゜ﾟ･**･゜ﾟ･*☆

As much as Kirishima loved being a hero, honestly, he loved his days off more.

He watched from in front of the counter as you amicably bickered with Bakugou, bustling around the kitchen still in your respective pajamas.

"I'm just saying we could have something other than cinnamon rolls for breakfast," the blond man pouted, tailing you as you walked from the fridge to the oven.

"It'll be fun," you said. "Geez, we don't have to keep up with that hero diet you set up every day. It's our day off, let me have my sugar and carbs."

Bakugou began to grumble something about the amount of chemicals that were probably in the pre-made pastry dough, but you paid him no heed. The little cheerful beeping tones of the oven sounded through the room as you set the temperature.

"How long is that going to take?" Kirishima asked.

"Like half an hour," you said. "Need a snack 'til then? We need to eat these oranges before they go bad."

"Sure, I'll take one." You tossed the orange fruit to him, which he caught easily and began to peel.

"You want one, 'Tsuki?"

Bakugou grumbled a "Fine" and you handed him his, taking a third for yourself.

Normally, you may have been able to wait until the sweet pastry rolls were done, but instead you'd spent the last two hours very slowly waking up and cuddling in bed.

As per usual, Katsuki had woken up first, letting his eyes adjust to the warm tones the room had taken on with the rising of the sun. He remembered today was his day off, and a final bout of tension left his shoulders. His back had previously been pressed against Eijirou's, but now he decided to turn himself over to face him. Peeking through scarcely opened lids, Bakugou glimpsed your form on the other side of Kirishima, scarcely visible as you snuggled into his chest. Bakugou allowed himself something he only saved in silent, private moments like this: a smile. Just a small one, barely even lifting the side of his mouth. But he couldn't help it. The sight of his perfect boyfriend and girlfriend fast asleep in each others' arms brought him such an overwhelming feeling of compersion, he simply couldn't help himself.

Bakugou draped an arm over Kirishima's side, rubbing at your forearm with gentle strokes of his fingers. You hummed in your sleep, pushing yourself even closer into the red-haired man holding you. The blond breathed in Eijirou's heavy, musky scent, letting it flood his nose and instill a sense of unparalleled calm over himself.

The shifting motions on either side of him caused Eijirou to begin to blink his own eyes open, shedding the foggy haze of sleep from his mind. Dreams from his previous night's rest danced and fleeted at the edges of his memory, before they were ultimately discarded and lost to the unrelenting abyss that is abandoned remembrance. He felt warm. Warm, and comfortable, and happy, and perfect.

Eijirou noticed the steady movement of the arm placed over him, signaling that Bakugou was awake. You, on the other hand, slept on; eyes lightly closed, lips parted with breath, gently clasping the front of his shirt. Kirishima slowly pressed a kiss to your forehead, followed by another and then another.

His soft lips combined with the soothing motions of Katsuki's hand finally brought you smoothly out of your slumber, groaning a bit in your consciousness.

"You two awake yet?" Bakugou's voice sounded from over Kirishima's broad shoulders. It was a little gruffer than usual from sleep and it made you smile.

"Yeah," Kirishima answered for you, meeting your (E/C) orbs with his own.

You pulled your arm from under Bakugou's hand, moving it until your fingers were able to intertwine and lock with his over Eijirou's side. He felt safe under your loving union, tying yourselves together over him so the three of you became one unit.

That was how your morning had started. For a long time, the three of you laid there, chatting in low tones as you and Katsuki snuggled into either side of Eijirou, who later turned to lie on his back to tuck each of you under an arm. The experience was nothing other than peaceful, the three of you content to simply lay in each others' presence.

Ever since that one fateful afternoon nearly two years ago, your lives could scarcely have improved more. Inviting Bakugou into your relationship was the best decision you'd made, and now here you were. The three of you had graduated from UA and begun your lives as heroes; Eijirou still worked as an indispensable sidekick under Fatgum, while Bakugou was still in the process of getting a hero agency of his own off the ground. But today was a day you had settled on to spend completely together, and it was all going just wonderfully.

Somehow, the idea had gotten into your head that you'd make cinnamon rolls for breakfast, so once you and your boyfriends eventually crawled out of bed, you set about fulfilling the urge.

Kirishima popped another orange slice into his mouth, watching you absentmindedly as you pulled out everything you would need. Which, to say, wasn't much, seeing as you were simply baking them from a can. As you pulled out the pan and cooking spray, Eijirou's red eyes flicked over to Bakugou, who had removed the cardboard tube from the fridge again. The redhead fought back a smirk as he watched his shared boyfriend scowl at the ingredients, thinking back to his almost monthly 'your body is a temple and you should treat it as such' lectures he'd give the two of you.

You caught sight of him as well, striding towards him and plucking the container from his hands. Bakugou started grumbling again, turning and exiting the kitchen to presumably go get dressed or something.

Kirishima took the opportunity to come up behind you as you popped the cardboard cylinder open, letting the preformed dough puff up as it met the air. His arm wrapped loosely around your waist as he bent a little to place his head on your shoulder. "Need help with anything?" he asked.

"No, thanks," you said, taking the unbaked rolls and filling your pre-sprayed pan.

He hummed and straightened, moving so he could lean against the counter. He noticed your orange next to him, partially peeled and abandoned. Taking one of the remaining slices from his own, he held it out towards you. "Hey, babe."

You turned and caught sight of it, smiling as you took the little slice between your teeth. You pulled it into your mouth as he pushed from his end, and you began to chew. "Mmm, that one's good."

Eijirou grinned back in agreement and ate the last slice. He reached for your abandoned one, working his nails beneath the pliable peel. "So what made you buy cinnamon rolls? Other than the fact that they're delicious, that is."

"Cold nostalgia," you said, tweaking the dough in the filled pan so it looked right. "I saw them at the store and thought to myself, 'Hey, I remember eating those. I could totally make them myself. Tasty.' Also I thought you might like them. We can all share." You picked up the pan in one hand and carried it to the oven, checking that it was the right temperature and sliding them in.

"I'm not sure about Katsuki," Eijirou said, picking some of the white fibers off another orange slice. "He didn't seem too thrilled."

"Meh," you said, fingers tapping out twenty-seven minutes on the oven timer, bringing more happy beeps to your ears. "If he doesn't eat any of them, there's just more for us, I guess. But you know how he is. You think he'll crack in front of us or wait until we leave?"

Eijirou smiled as you walked back to him, running your hands up his sides affectionately as you grinned up at him. "I'll bet one of us will find him having one in the middle of the night," he wagered.

"You're on," you giggled, swiping another orange slice from him.

"Hey! I would have given you some if you had asked, you know."

"Oops." You slid the slice slowly into your mouth, keeping your eyes on his own. A burst of sweet citric juice filled your mouth as you bit down, and you shut your eyes for a second just to fully enjoy it.

The sensation of a finger poking at your nose caused your lids to flutter open. Your eyes crossed to look at the offending digit, rolling back up and focusing on Eijirou's face.

"Bep," he said, the note accompanying his action.

You booped his nose in unhostile revenge, beginning to giggle as a mini-war began. Eijirou used the pad of his pointer finger to jab lightly at your face, making a new sound effect with each one. You had the advantage since both of your hands were free; tapping both your index fingers on his torso, face, and shoulders.

"Boop."

"Beep."

"Bap."

Bakugou shuffled back into the kitchen and watched your cheerful assaults on one another, both his cheeks and his heart warming at the sound of your giggles. "What the hell are you two doing?"

"Being in love," Eijirou said, proceeding to poke at your cheek. "Get over here, Katsu."

Bakugou just tched and wandered over to the oven to look at the baking rolls. "Dumbasses."

"Better hurry up, 'Tsuki," you said, stepping closer to Eijirou. "Or else you're going to miss out on the kisses."

"Oooooh-," Kirishima drew out for a second before your lips met his. He reciprocated, noting how you both shared the same orange-citrus taste. Out of curiosity, he peeked his eyes open to meet Bakugou's.

The blond man scowled, finally stomping over to you. "Fine. But I'm going in the middle." He wedged himself between you two.

"Yay!" Your arms wound around his slim waist, resting just above his hips. Your lips attached themselves to the base of Bakugou's neck, while Kirishima smooched at his mouth. It was quiet and sweet for a moment, each partaking in another's lips until you were satisfied, swapping positions when necessary.

You separated from Bakugou, running your thumb over his cheekbone for a moment as you looked into his eyes. He'd gotten better about asking for and receiving affection over the years you'd been dating, but it still brought warmth crashing through your system every time.

"Eiji Baby?" you asked, keeping your eyes on Bakugou.

"Yeah?"

"How much time is left on the oven?"

Kirishima glanced up at the glowing digits. "Eighteen minutes."

You hummed. "I'll get started on the icing for my rolls."

"Our rolls," Eijirou corrected, grinning at your over-the-shoulder eye roll you gave him as you made your way to the pantry to grab some powdered sugar.

Bakugou had the same reaction as you, tsking under his breath and moving to lean against the counter next to Kirishima. His position wasn't held long however, since you soon returned with your bag of sugar and the carton of milk, shooing them away so you could use the space. You pulled down a bowl and poured in some sugar and milk, beginning to mix it into a thick liquid with a spoon.

"Need a taste tester?" Kirishima asked hopefully.

"Eiji, this is pure sugar."

He glanced back at the ingredients. "Yeah."

There was something undeniably satisfying about watching the powder mix with the milk, going from fine and crumbly and turning into a sweet liquid mixture to later be drizzled over your pastries.

Maybe it was the motions of your hand as you manipulated the spoon. Maybe it was the ambiance of the room, surrounded by the two men you loved and planned to spend the rest of your life with. Either way, the song that had quietly been thrumming at the back of your mind wandered to the front, and the next thing you knew, you were humming.

Bakugou and Kirishima looked up at the sound of your voice, small smiles spreading their lips. Eijirou recognized the tune you were quietly singing to yourself, quickly adding his voice to your own. Your cheeks heated when you met his eyes, yet you continued to hum along with him. For a moment, you were both content with hitting the notes (or at least, trying to in some people's cases) wordlessly. But then you came upon the chorus, and it was as though you simultaneously reached a shared agreement that it should be belted out properly.

"S'GONNA TAKE A LOT TO DRAG ME AWAY FROM YOUUUU! THERE'S NOTHING THAT A HUNDRED MEN OR MORE COULD EVER DO! I BLESS THE RAINS DOWN IN AFRICAAAA—"

Bakugou watched you with an expression of general disgust and confusion. This was an act, of course, for the most part. He could never quite get used to the spontaneous concerts you both would occasionally throw, singing whatever obnoxious song that came to your minds. You probably only had one brain cell between you two, and it was a tossup of who got it for the day. But there was something about it that made his heart stir and his neck prickle. Maybe it was the absolute glow about Kirishima as he threw back his head to belt out lyrics. Maybe it was the way you had taken the spoon out of the icing bowl, singing at it as if it were a microphone. Bakugou would die before he ever joined in, but he never objected to watching.

The moment the song finished, you started on another. Kirishima turned to you as a new idea struck you. You lifted your hands to a sort of air guitar, playing a bit of the intro to the song in your head before beginning to sing again:

"We're no strangers to love. You know the rules, and so do I~"

Kirishima smiled, liking the way you thought. He admired your sense of humor and how well you went along with goofing off with him. The redhead let you sing the first verse, dancing around the kitchen space from him to Bakugou, looking at each of them as you sang some of the lyrics and wiggling your eyebrows.

It wasn't long before Eijirou jumped in again, joining you as you sang to Katsuki. "Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and, desert you~"

Eijirou took your spoon as you rocked out on your personal invisible guitar, going to town on chords that didn't exist.

Bakugou fought down the butterflies swarming in his stomach at the sight of you two having fun. You would lean against him and grin up into his face from one side, while Kirishima draped an arm over his shoulders and passionately sang into your spoon. Katsuki noticed that some of the icing had dripped down onto his hand, but the redhead seemed to not have noticed.

You paused to giggle at Kirishima, who started taking the song as seriously as he could. His eyes were squeezed shut, fist curled into a ball as he drew out some of the lyrics as though it were so much more than an old-timey memed love song. You let your voice fade as he did his own thing, only offering it as further back up vocals. Eventually, he reached the final reiteration of the chorus, and let himself riff on the final lines as a finisher. When he was done, he opened his eyes, finding that he had even kneeled down on the floor a little in his passion. He stood and grinned, and you enthusiastically applauded his performance.

"That was for you, babes!" he said, pointing at his small audience of two.

Bakugou scoffed, but you could hear how it was a little choked from how cute he had found it. The liar. Both you and Eijirou could see how his cheeks had changed a few shades darker right in front of you.

Kirishima strolled confidently back up to you, swooping each of you into an arm and kissing Katsuki full on the lips without warning. Bakugou's eyes widened at the contact, cheeks burning even more than before. Eijirou pulled back with a satisfying smack of his lips, diving in to give you the same treatment. As per usual, you were more receptive to the kiss, more than happy to throw your arms around his neck and partake in his lips.

"Enjoy the song, there?" you teased once you pulled back, tracing your fingers under his jawline.

"Hell yeah!" Eijirou flashed those perfect sharp little teeth of his in yet another heart-stopping grin. Did he have any idea what that smile did to both Bakugou and you? He had to know it turned your hearts to pure hot chocolate, right?

"Got a song rec, Bakubabe?" you asked, turning to your blond boyfriend. "You mustn't be excluded from our concert on this fine morning."

Katsuki rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Doesn't matter anyway because your shit rolls are almost done."

You glanced at the oven timer, which was, in fact, counting down the seconds until it went off. "Ha ha ha! My children!"

You slid out of Eijirou's hold to grab your oven mitt out of its drawer. The oven went off with a drawn-out beep the moment you stepped up to it, cracking the door open and taking a peek inside. A wonderful smell hit you in the face along with a gust of hot air, and the sight of six perfectly golden cinnamon rolls greeted you.

"Look at them!" you said as you pulled them out with your mitted hand. You turned off the oven and canceled the timer before walking back to the counter to let the pan cool.

"Can I ice them?" Eijirou asked, coming up behind you to get a good look.

"Not yet. They have to cool first."

"Aww, man."

You pulled out a new spoon to use for frosting, since the previous one had been breathed all over. Next you began to clear off the counter, picking up any pieces of orange peel abandoned from breakfast.

Kirishima leaned against the counter again, taking a deep breath of the cinnamon roll smell that had flooded the kitchen. "I love it when you bake, (Y/N)," he said. "It's so much fun. The kitchen smells great, everything always tastes great—"

"Always?" you asked skeptically with a smirk.

"I guess there was that one time," he admitted. "That was—that was probably not a very good idea."

"If it weren't for me," Bakugou cut in, "you would have burned the whole house down."

"An artist must experiment with her craft." You flipped your hair a bit, turning back to your kitchen maintenance. There wasn't much to do. Between both yours and Bakugou's preference for a neat house, your counters usually stayed pretty clear.

Eijirou glanced at the bowl of icing, dipping the tip of his finger into the white mixture. "You know what this looks like?"

"No," you and Bakugou said at the same time firmly, understanding what he meant immediately.

"Shot down," Eijirou said. "You're right, that wasn't that good."

You putzed for another minute, finally hovering your hand over the cooling pan. "That should be good enough."

You had Eijirou harden the tips of his fingers to hold the pan as you began moving the rolls out onto a plate. He started humming again as you drove the spatula under the baked goods.

"Seriously?" Bakugou asked, having inched closer to watch. "Again with the singing?"

"I've got a song in my manly, chivalrous heart," Kirishima said, turning to grin at him. "Can't help it. I'm in the zone."

"I'm liking this zone," you said. "It's fun."

You pushed the icing bowl to Eijirou and took out another spoon for yourself, dipping it in and allowing the sugary liquid to drizzle over the golden brown confections. Kirishima did the same on his own, still humming the tune of Be A Man from Mulan and nodding his head to the individual notes. You danced along with him, moving your hips to his favorite Disney song.

Kirishima's eyes wandered down to your swaying movements. You really did wear those shorts nicely.

You jumped at the sensation of a large hand gently grabbing at your butt. Turning, you saw Eijirou's slight smile on his lips. "Eiji?"

"What?"

"Didn't you get enough last night?"

Kirishima shrugged, finally removing his hand. "Can't a man admire his woman's perfect body?"

You rolled your eyes, tapping the sugar-coated spoon to his nose.

He blinked at the cold sticky sensation, going cross-eyed in an attempt to look at the drop of icing. "Yeah, I probably deserved that."

You smirked and rolled your eyes as you went back to icing your cinnamon rolls, watching Eijirou out of the corner of your eye. He was trying to figure out if his tongue was long enough to lick it off the tip of his nose, but so far, of course, he was having difficulties.

"Idiot," Bakugou said, taking Kirishima's chin and turning his face to his. He captured the sweet white droplet between his lips and swiped his tongue over it.

Kirishima's eyes widened at the gesture. "Katsuki?"

"What?" Bakugou shot him a teasing grin. "You had something on your face."

You chuckled at the two of them, tearing off a roll from the bunch. Eijirou noticed your action and took one for himself, cheeks a little pinker than usual. Bakugou watched as you both bit down.

Eijirou bounced a little on his toes as he chewed the sweet bread. "So good!"

You smiled and nodded in agreement. "Mhm!"

Bakugou looked from you to Kirishima, then to the plate of warm rolls.

"Sure you don't want one, Katsuki?" you asked. "They're pretty good."

The blond sighed, finally grabbing a roll for himself. "It's too late to be cooking breakfast now."

"He cracked!" you said, turning your gaze to Kirishima.

"Did not." Bakugou aggressively took a large bite out of his cinnamon roll.

"You said you weren't going to have any." You cocked your head at him, taking another bite of your own.

"Did I?" Bakugou smirked at you and licked a bit of frosting off his lip.

You thought back for a moment. Maybe he hadn't. He'd certainly acted like it though. 

"Well, do you like it?" you prodded.

"Sure." Bakugou shrugged and examined the cross-section of his roll. "Probably would have been better if you'd actually made it yourself."

You folded your arms. "Too much work. I wanted a cinnamon roll and they had them in the store. Simple as throwing them in the oven."

"But the preservatives," he argued.

"But my lacking baking skills. Besides, now I'll live forever."

"Hah? That's not how that works, dumbass."

"Well, I think they're perfect." Eijirou cut in. He put an arm around you and Katsuki and pulled you into either side of him. "You've got the spice—" he kissed Katsuki on his cheek, "—and you've got the sugar." He kissed your cheek.

"What the fuck, Shitty Hair."

"I'm not always sugar," you half-heartedly protested, snorting a little at his cheesiness and ignoring Bakugou.

Eijirou paused for a second, considering. "Yeah, okay. But . . . my metaphor."

"Your metaphor is stupid."

You swatted at Katsuki. "Oh, shut up. What are you in this situation, Eiji?"

He thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"Hmm . . . maybe you tie us together," you said, beginning to run your fingertips over his forearm. "Roll us up tight in your arms."

Both Kirishima and Bakugou blinked at you for a moment, cheeks dusted a shade darker than normal.

"So we're a cinnamon roll?" Kirishima asked.

"Ye—"

"I AM NOT A CINNAMON ROLL!" Katsuki shuffled against Eijirou's arm without really trying to get away.

"I think you are," you said. "What do you say, Eiji? He's an adorable smol bean—"

"No."

"—too precious for this world—"

"NO."

"—protecc at all costs—"

Bakugou threw the remaining third of his cinnamon roll at you, and it bounced off your head onto the floor.

"HEY—!"

He slipped out of Kirishima's arm for real this time, making an advance towards you. You ducked out of the redhead's hold too, running off to the living room.

"I PUT MY HEART AND SOUL INTO THOSE ROLLS, KATSUKI!" you called behind you.

"Sure."

"JUST ADMIT YOU'RE MY PRECIOUS BABY CINNAMON ROLL."

"Never!"

Eijirou listened to the sounds of his partners chasing each other through the house. Finishing off his morning treat, he smiled, thinking about how lucky he was to have the two of you. You no longer hid anything from each other, and everything was laid out in the open. Your futures were bright, and Kirishima knew in his heart that you'd forever be happy as long as you were together. From now on, your feelings would remain disclosed.

☆*･゜ﾟ･**･゜ﾟ･*☆.☆*･゜ﾟ･**･゜ﾟ･*☆

[Big Secret]

[Little Secret]

Taglist: @loxbbg @runrabbitrun3 @basicaegyo @iiminibattlehero @katsugay @nabo39 @pyrofanatic @sendhelpimstupid @sokkasangel @xoxopam4

[voiceless-terror]

all those sleep prompts are so killer and such big jon vibes!!! i would love to read anything on "- a character who refuses to share a sleeping space with anyone else, and it’s because he doesn’t want to disturb others/doesn’t want pity/is ashamed of his nightmares" with jon. bonus points if tim is involved and extra bonus points if tim also has experience with insomnia/nightmares, either himself or used to taking care of someone in his life with those issues...

Hey there! Here I am, finally writing the promised Jon/Tim that I should have written ages ago. Feels good to be on this train! I’ve placed this in pre-canon, when Jon and Tim are researchers and have just started dating. Hope you like!

“That was...really nice, Tim. Thank you.”

“Thank you? Jon, we split the check,” Tim throws an arm around his shoulder and it’s heavy and warm in all the right ways. “You know my policy on that. The person who asks you out pays the bill! Ergo, me.”

“I know, I know,” Jon relents under the pressure and burrows into Tim’s side. The wine’s gone to his head, he’s sure of it. Shouldn’t have had those three glasses. But the waiter was so attentive and Tim’s smile was infectious so he couldn’t help but say yes, of course, thank you, to every pour. “I just...I really enjoyed myself, is all.”

“I did too,” Tim’s voice goes to that soft, fond register he’s only just started using with Jon. Before it had been all gregarious charm, winks and nudges that he used interchangeably with friends and acquaintances alike. When Tim first asked him out, Jon thought he was joking; he rolled his eyes and went back to work, ignoring Tim’s look of hurt. Jon was used to practical jokes of this nature- he’s not exactly an attractive prospective partner, and several people have implied he was more trouble than he was worth. But a week later, on their usual coffee run, Tim offered to buy him dinner, his voice serious and shy and utterly unlike him. The look in his eyes was genuine and Jon had to say yes; who could refuse him, in the face of such sincerity?

It’s been a month and they’ve fallen into a sort of routine. Every week is a new spot- Tim’s a bit of a foodie, and he overheard him making a list of places with Sasha. It took up an entire page in his notebook, and Jon wonders if Tim will get sick of him before they finish it.

He stumbles on the sidewalk and Tim catches him with a steady hand on his waist. The cold air should be bracing but it is not; his dizziness increases two times over and it’s a long journey home. Tim knows this, which must lead to his next suggestion.

“You can spend the night at mine,” he says, voice purposefully light. Jon freezes. They hadn’t broached the topic yet, but he thinks Tim has some sort of idea. Rumors abound in research, after all. Tim must notice his nervousness because he stops walking, turning to face Jon with that same unbearable sincerity. 

“Nothing untoward, I promise,” Tim says, and Jon believes him. Tim hasn’t lied to him yet. “I just don’t feel comfortable putting you on the tube, and you’re a long way from home while I’m right around the corner.” Jon still doesn’t respond, so Tim continues. “No pressure, honestly. I could call you a cab, it’s not a big deal-”

“No, that’s-that’s too expensive.” Living in London is hard enough, especially on a researcher’s salary. But to spend the night at Tim’s, as innocent as it may be, fills him with dread. There’s a reason he lives alone. There’s a reason it took him almost a year before he stayed the night at Georgie’s.

Sleep has never been kind to him.

Jon has nightmares. Terrible, horrifying visions of make-believe that leave him screaming and crying and choking on his breath. Georgie had been about ready to call an ambulance the first time she witnessed it, but Jon was able to talk her down.

“These happen every night?” she’d asked, her face a mix of pity and concern. 

“Not every night,” he insisted. It was true. If he stayed up late, working himself to exhaustion, he could usually manage a dreamless sleep of at least five hours. But that came with its own difficulties; crankiness, irritability. It put a strain on most of his relationships. 

Tim, though- Tim is kind and understanding. Beneath the mask of sociability and flirtation lies a serious, determined person. Compassionate, loving, but in a quiet way and with small gestures. He makes lists. He puts in time. He asks Jon what he wants when they go out to eat and he doesn’t laugh or roll his eyes when Jon carries on for too long. 

“We can go to your place,” he whispers. “I-I think I’d like that.” Tim smiles and hooks an arm through his and Jon knows he’s made the right decision. Maybe tonight will be different. Maybe the wine will dull the terror that rules most of his life. The night is dark and Jon’s flat is cold and lonely. 

Tim’s flat, on the other hand, is warm and cozy. It’s neat and organized, but cluttered enough to give it personality and charm. There’s a couch calling his name and he answers it, practically collapsing in the cushions as Tim lets out a little laugh.

“No going to sleep yet,” he instructs and Jon can’t help but let out a groan. The warmth and safety of the spot and the closeness of Tim has suddenly made him comfortably tired, and he’d like to slip off to sleep in this pleasant haze. “Not until you’ve had some food and water. I’ve even got those crusty little granola bars you like so much.”

“They’re not crusty,” he grumbles, his voice stifled by a pillow. But he’s not in a fighting mood and his mind’s currently swimming with the fact that Tim stocked his favorite snack. 

“Very crusty, indeed,” Tim’s nudging him up into a sitting position and forcing water into his hands. “Drink up!”

“You’re very irritating, I hope you know,” Jon says as he leans his head onto Tim’s shoulder. Tim makes for a comfortable pillow. 

“Aw, you love it.” 

Maybe he does.

By the time he’s choked down the last of the bar, his eyes are fluttering and he can’t keep in his yawns. Tim puts a warm hand on his arm and it burns pleasantly as he pulls him up. “Time for bed, I think.”

The words startle Jon out of his haze and he blinks his eyes open, focusing on Tim’s gentle smile. “Er, I think-” he doesn’t want to disappoint the man, but he would rather be as cautious as possible. “I think it would be best if I slept out here.”

“On the couch?” Tim asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Oh- would you rather sleep alone?” Tim doesn’t seem too miffed about it, just confused, so Jon answers as honestly as he can.

“Yes.” He doesn’t want to, not really. But he needs to.

“Alright,” Tim agrees easily enough. “But you should take the bed, then. The sofa’s comfy but I know you have a bad back-”

“It’s fine for one night,” Jon responds. Forcing Tim to sleep on the sofa in his own flat seems terribly selfish.

“If you’re sure…”

“I am,” Jon assures, trying to convey his affection in a gentle smile. Tim returns it.

“I’ll just get you some sheets, then. Change of clothes, too.”

By the time Jon’s head hits the pillow, comfortably attired in Tim’s old joggers and t-shirt, he’s already half asleep. He thinks Tim’s already left the room but then he feels the warm pressure of a kiss to his forehead.

Perhaps he dreamed that, though.

__________

There’s a thread and it’s pulling Jon forward.

It’s not comfortable. Jon would rather stay here, in the library, surrounded by books and dim lights and knowledge he has control over. But there are whispers in the hallway, and someone’s telling him to go, go, go. 

And go he does. Down stairs, so many stairs, more stairs than the institute ought to have. There is something watching and something pulling; Jon is being split in two and somehow this is worse than actually seeing the spiders and the eyes that have haunted him all these years. This, he feels in his soul. Something is at stake.

There’s a door. This is how it always ends, you see- with a door. And Jon’s fist, small and childish and grubby, raises to knock against the wood. It echoes too many times as Jon tries to step back, get off this porch and out of this nightmare but it is too late, the deed is done and the door is opening and a single, spindly black leg creeps out of the door hello, Mr. Spider-

“Jon!”

There are limbs holding him but it’s not the many-legged creature of his nightmares- they’re familiar and strong even as he thrashes against them but someone is screaming and the sound is haunting and painful-

And it’s him. Jon wrenches his eyes open to find himself safe and sound, held in place by Tim’s arms. His heart continues to stutter and he wheezes- Tim’s got a hand on his back and a soothing murmur going.

“You’ve got to breathe, Jon. Slow.” Tim takes his shaking hand and puts it to his own chest. “Like this. In and out. There you go. Nice and slow.” The words are calm and practiced; Tim’s done this before, with someone else. As his heartbeat resumes a normal rhythm, he wonders who. 

There’s a hand on Jon’s face, gently wiping away tears he wasn’t aware he shed. Tim’s eyes are far-away, sort of, like he’s just going through the motions, slow and loving. “There we are,” he says as he finally meets Jon’s eyes. “Better now?”

“Y-Yes,” he croaks back. His hand is still gripping at Tim’s shirt but he doesn’t let go until the reality of the situation sets in. “Oh God- I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you-”

“Is that why you slept out here?” Tim asks, his voice patient. “Does this happen a lot?”

“M-More than I care to admit.” Jon feels a sudden need to explain himself, to let Tim know he tries to keep it under control as best he can. “I’ve tried everything- tea, therapy, p-pills- it doesn’t work.” A note of frustration creeps into his voice. “Something doesn’t want me to sleep, I guess.”

“Just thought you were a workaholic, to be honest,” Tim pulls him into his side and Jon melts, the tension slowly leaving his body. “Should’ve known better. We work at the Magnus Institute, after all.” The laugh that comes from both of them is bitter. “D’you want to sleep in my bed, maybe? Just- just for company. I’ve been told that helps.”

“I-I don’t want to wake you.” The argument is weak and the both of them know it.

“You already have, love.” The endearment slips out unnoticed by Tim, but Jon hears it. “You’ll wake me either way, but I’d rather you didn’t wake up alone.”

“O-Oh.” There’s a lot of care in those words. Jon doesn’t know what to do with it, except agree. “Yes, I’ll- if, if you don’t mind-”

“Wouldn’t offer if I did.” He wouldn’t, Jon knows. Tim always means what he says when it comes to him.

So they curl up in his bed, an arm slung across Jon’s waist, his back to Tim’s chest. There are no spiders here, not in this bed that smells of dryer sheets and detergent and Tim. He’s almost asleep when the arm around his waist tightens suddenly.

“My brother always said the pressure helped. When he had bad dreams.” Jon opens his eyes.

Tim never mentioned a brother; it never came up in any of their conversations. Tim knows Jon is an only child, that he was brought up by his grandmother and had a lonely childhood. He didn’t realize, in all of their time together, that he knew so little of Tim’s own background, besides his publishing career.

Nobody liked to talk about what brought them to the Magnus Institute. It was like some unspoken rule, some shared trauma that somehow kept them all silent and apart.

“Your brother?” he whispers, turning over to see Tim’s face. Its dark, but he thinks he can see a brightness in Tim’s eyes like unshed tears. 

“Danny.” Tim says the name like he’s asking for forgiveness that Jon can’t give. He sees a tear drip down the man’s face and he reaches for it, just like Tim did before. “He was...he was my little brother. And he was so, so good.” Tim’s voice breaks and something in Jon breaks too. “And something took him from me.” His expression is hard but his hand reaches out to lovingly trace Jon’s face, as if trying to memorize its shape.

“I’m sorry,” Jon knows his apology is not enough, that it will never fill the gap in Tim’s heart. Instead, he finds words spilling from his lips, as if sharing his own pain will help too. “I-I saw someone get taken, once. I didn’t- I didn’t love them, but- but it was because of me.” Tim’s hand is in his hair, tucking a curl behind his ear as his voice wobbles. “It should’ve been me.” 

Tim draws him close and squeezes; Jon buries his face in the crook of his neck and inhales. “I’m glad it wasn’t you, Jon,” Tim whispers as he runs a hand down his back. “I’m glad it wasn’t you.” Jon isn’t Danny and Tim isn’t offering him absolution but it’s fine, for tonight.

Jon doesn’t dream.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27494077

[littlecrookedheart]

Imagine • Prompt Request One Shot

Prompt : “You come to my room and wake me up at 4am, to cuddle?” / “You’re getting crumbs all over my bed”

Requested by some anons!

Pairing : Maxwell x Farrah

Rating : None! Pure fluff.

Word Count : 2,561

Author’s Note : This variates from canon but...most of my stuff does? I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer : I do not own these characters. I’ve added a bit of a flare to them for the sake of this piece, but they do not belong to me.

Typically, during these hours the castle was still, even the staff remained quiet as they dozed off sitting upright at their stations, security being the only select few ridden with energy. But tonight, as it had been for nearing a week, one man roamed the halls, clanking around the kitchen for a late night snack, slipping across the polished floor on the balls of his feet.

At the foot of the staircase, just before the turn into the kitchen, a stout man with graying hair and a long moustache sat at his position, shining a row of shoes.

"Lord Beaumont," he nodded, his nose whistling as he breathed.

"Just Maxwell, Grover. No formalities necessary."

"As you wish, 'Just Maxwell.' May I suggest something?"

Maxwell raised an eyebrow and smiled to the man, who looked up to him over thinly rimmed copper frames.

"If you'd like to continue these midnight walks through the halls, perhaps you'll wear shoes. You slide so quickly 'round the corners, I fear you'll knock your head into the wall."

Maxwell chuckled softly, sticking one foot into the air, admiring his doughnut printed socks.

"They're so fashionable, though."

"It would be more so a tragedy if their owner could only wear them while in an infirmary, yes?"

"Good point, Groves," Maxwell said, giving him a small salute. He peeled his socks off, leaving them in a bundle at the bottom step, making his way into the kitchen.

"What's for breakfast, Marjorie?"

Marjorie, a young girl with braided blonde hair, blushed from behind a large bag of flour, slowly peeking around to see his face. She was small and likely ten years his junior, but there was no doubt she awaited his company each day. She never said much, and neither did he, but he made it a point to share a smile with her as often as possible.

"Can you believe it, Maxwell? Queen Mother has requested berries and waffles yet again."

Maxwell hopped onto the counter, grabbing a handful of chocolate chips from a nearby tin.

"I don't mind that, so long as I get some, too."

Marjorie's lips curved into a small smile, looking away as she said, "Yes, but you aren't the one who leaves for the day smelling of frying oil."

"You fry the waffles?"

"Yes?"

Maxwell's forehead creased, a grin spreading across his face as he shrugged. "You learn something new every day." He slid off the counter, walking over to the pantry doors. "But you know why I'm here. Do you mind, Marjorie?"

"Of course not. Just be sure to let King Liam know to clear my panel so I'm not accused of stealing."

"Have I ever forgotten?" Maxwell smiled, grabbing a plate of saran wrapped cookies from a higher shelf. "Are these fresh?"

"They're from this evening, yes."

"I'll take these. Thanks, Marj. Gotta take these to Farrah."

"Lady Farrah is up so early? Today's festivities don't begin for six more hours."

"She's an early riser," he lied, rushing out of the kitchen and up the stairway, handing Grover a cookie as he passed by.

Farrah's room was second to the end of the hall, a far walk, one that socks helped speed up. The sound of Maxwell's feet on the floor made him cringe, but he didn't care enough to back track to his own room for slippers. He knocked four times, nearing a fifth before the door flew open, Farrah's face riddled in confusion.

"Morning, sunshine!" He said, squeezing in through the crack in the door. Farrah rolled her eyes, locking the door behind him and flipping on the switch to her bedside lamp. Maxwell had already propped himself in her bed, unwrapping the cookies.

"What time is it, Max?"

"Late. Or early, depending on how you'd like to see it."

"What I'd like to see is me asleep in that bed."

Maxwell smiled at her, gazing at her in awe. He adored the way the waves in her hair scattered across her shoulders, a few flyaway strands poking up from her head. She always seemed to glow in the morning, so soft and beautiful he couldn't believe it.

"Come sleep, then." He patted the bed beside him. "Or have a cookie. I grabbed these for us."

"What did you need, Max?" She asked, climbing into bed next to him.

"The truth or a lie?"

She glared at him and he laughed, ruffling her feathery locks in his hand. She grabbed his arm, reading the watch fastened around his wrist.

"I just kinda...wanted to cuddle."

"You come to my room and wake me up at four in the morning...to cuddle?"

He nodded, eyes widened like a puppy dog, lower lip pouting. Farrah drowsily smiled, handing Maxwell the plate of cookies and sliding over to him. She lay her arm across his chest, head on his shoulder, lulling herself to sleep to the sound of his heart beat.

And then a crunch, cookie crumbs raining down his shirt and onto her sheets.

"Aw, damn it, Max. You're getting crumbs all over my bed."

"Sorry," he mumbled, holding a hand to his lip.

"Bite it?"

He nodded, wincing. Farrah got up and made her way to her en suite, gathering a warm washcloth and healing salve from the cabinet. She sat next to him, soothing and tending to his bloody lip.

Maxwell caught the hazel reflections in her eyes, holding in a dreamy sigh as she softly dabbed his lip with the tip of her thumb. Her lips looked like roses, supple with morning dew, shining in the lamplight as she spoke to him.

"Next time, come to bed with me, and you won't have to sneak around so late for a cuddle."

"Maybe I like the sneaking," he teased, pulling her to him.

"I mean it. Come to bed with me."

"Farrah...you know the castle will be in talks the moment the lock clicks."

"So let them be," she whispered, drawing his lips to hers in a tender kiss.

"We aren't in New York. Cordonia...expects...more from us."

"Can I be honest?" She asked, Maxwell's hand caressing her hair.

"Of course."

"I hate that."

"Me too." Maxwell sighed, breathing in the fresh coconut scent of her hair. "If I could write our story, there would be so many nights where I just held you."

"Why can't we? I mean.. I know why. But convince me to believe it."

"There's nothing that can convince you. Nothing convinces me. But we do what we have to."

"Don't you get sick of playing by these rules?"

"I'm sick of anything that prevents me from loving you to the fullest."

Maxwell held her close to him, draping a knit quilt around her shoulders.

"Let's play the imagine game," he whispered, leaving a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"You first."

His fingers ran along the length of her back and to her neck again, gentle yet secure.

"Okay. Imagine...we could skip festivities today."

"Oh my god, please. What would we do?"

"Play cards in the sitting room at the Beaumont estate. You could teach me how to bake. I could give you my best Jerry Maguire impression."

"I've seen that impression, I think."

"Would you say it's...impressive?"

"Well, now I'm not going to."

"Wow! Sometimes, Farrah, I don't know how I fell in love with a bully like you."

Farrah laughed, nuzzling her face into his neck.

"Imagine we could buy a little house somewhere far away. Somewhere on the beach, maybe."

"We could watch the turtles."

"And eat so much ice cream."

"In fairness, I already eat a lot of ice cream," Maxwell said, reaching to grab another cookie. This time, Farrah grabbed it away from him, shoving the whole thing into her mouth. Maxwell bent his brows and burst into laughter before saying, "They're really good, right?"

"Does Marjorie still have a crush on you?" She asked, leaning to her bedside stand for a drink of water.

"Are you still jealous?"

"I've never been jealous, you goon, just observant. I think she made these cookies for you, they might be perfect."

"I've never met a cookie that I didn't like."

"True," Farrah smiled, "This could be pre-made dough and you'd love it."

"What?"

"It's a joke, Max."

"Pre-made?"

"You know, the tube kind."

Maxwell looked into space, a confused expression on his face.

"Tube cookies?"

"You can't be serious! You've never seen pre-made cookie dough?"

"What does that even mean!" Maxwell cried, dramatically chomping two cookies at once.

"Imagine a life where my fiancé didn't litter my silk sheets with cookie crumbs."

“Imagine a boring life, why don’t you?”

Farrah took the plate of cookies and walked them to the other side of the room, jumping on the bed, Maxwell’s strong hands catching her mid air. She pulled his shirt off and nestled her head on his chest, meeting his gaze.

“Hi,” he whispered, kissing her forehead sweetly.

“Hey,” Farrah sighed, filling the spaces between his fingers with her own.

“Imagine sitting in a cute little café where nobody recognized either of us.”

“Or how about…adopting a sibling for Chance?”

Maxwell’s face lit up at the idea. “How about two?!”

“Dare I say three?”

“Dare. But not four, that’s so much puppy love. I don’t know if I could keep up.”

“I have no doubts. Hmm, what if we went in one of those underwater tunnels to watch the fish swim all around us?”

“We could order pizza and watch reruns of Fresh Prince all day.”

“That sounds like a dream.”

Farrah listened to Maxwell ramble off ideas for while before drifting to sleep, the sound of his voice carrying her off like a lullaby.

Maxwell looked down, hazily brushing fallen strands of hair from her eyes before closing his as well.

–

In the morning, a quiet, repetitive knocking sound came from the door. Maxwell clamored over, opening it to reveal Marjorie.

“Maxwell, you’ve missed all of your morning calls, breakfast, and your ride. Your brother was so preoccupied with a phone conversation that I’m not so sure he noticed. I’ve let you sleep a bit, but I thought I’d try to let you know.”

“What? What time is it?”

“Nearing noon.”

“We slept…two hours…past time to leave?”

Marjorie nodded, a solemn look on her face.

“Thanks, Marj. You’re the best.” He closed to door, hopping into bed next to Farrah.

Her eyes opened slowly, becoming more alert when she noticed the amount of sun soaking through the curtains.

“What time is it?”

“Time to skip today’s festivities.”

“Good one. How behind are we?”

“Farrah, I’m serious. We’re not going. I have a better idea.”

Farrah sat up, checking the time on her phone, swiping through dozens of missed calls and messages.

“Max, what have we done?”

He was profusely padding away at the keypad on his phone, grinning as he looked up.

“We overslept. And I hearby decree that today we have an imagine day.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Never had one to begin with, baby. Put on your best pajamas.”

–

Marjorie handed Maxwell and Farrah each a small packed linen bag, nodding toward an empty hallway.

“Head straight out. Just beyond the trees.”

“Thank you, Marjorie,” Farrah said, a warm smile on her lips.

Maxwell took her hand, running out the door and past the trees, surprised that no security had returned to their postings yet. There was a parked car with tinted windows and civilian license plates, a set of keys tucked under the driver’s side tire. He unlocked the doors and got in, Farrah’s face lit up in excitement as he started the engine.

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here.”

Farrah connected her phone’s output to the radio, playing a throwback playlist from when they were growing up.

“Oh, make sure our locations are turned off,” Maxwell suggested, knocking his knee gently against the center console.

“You’re brilliant.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know.”

–

After belting out ‘Bye Bye Bye,’ and a few handfuls of other classic 90s songs, Maxwell turned down an unmarked road. Farrah straightened her posture as they approached a modest yet grand looking house with old Victorian architecture.

“Whoa,” she exlaimed, looking to Maxwell with curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

“Welcome to tiny House Beaumont.”

“What? What is this place?”

“Come on,” he chuckled, elbowing her playfully. He walked to her door, opening it for her and taking her hand, unlocking the entrance with a small iron key from his pocket.

The foyer was dark but inviting, like a cozy house you’d see in a film. The wallpaper was ancient but beautiful, colorful florals strewn with vines and hummingbirds with more detail than anything you’d find in modern time. Maxwell locked the four steel locks on the door, turning into the sitting room and drawing two sets of curtains hanging over large bay windows. Along the walls were built in bookshelves, a dark oak shade, the scent of antique pages lingering in the air. Farrah sat back on a large sofa, its high back comforting her bones after the car ride.

“Maxwell, this is incredible.”

“Wanna know a secret? It’s mine.”

“What?” She leaned forward, grabbing his wrist and pulling him to her. “How?”

“I bought it during an auction a few years ago. I was sick of Bertrand and needed a break.”

“And it’s just been empty since?”

“I came here a few times since then. But there’s a staff that tends to it bimonthly.”

“How does nobody know about this?”

“I know how to cover my tracks when needed. Plus, the staff doesn’t know I’m who owns the place. They think the guy’s name is, 'Reed Starling.’”

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Not necessary, baby. Sometimes we all need a break. Plus, I did promise you an imagine day.”

“There will be chaos at the castle when they realize we aren’t there.”

“I called in a favor. Liam…he gets it. He will keep this a secret for us.”

“How long do we have?”

“Until morning. It’s as good as I could do,” he said, frowning.

“That’s perfect. So which one are we having, then?”

“Hmm?”

“Imagine day. What are we doing?”

“Well…Reed Starling may have placed an online order for pizza delivery.”

“Don’t tell me-”

“And my collection of Fresh Prince happens to be in that bag Marjorie packed for me-”

“Maxwell!” Farrah shouted, climbing onto his lap, scattering kisses over his face. She met his lips with intensity, fingers in his hair and happiness in her heart. She could feel him smiling against her, which made her do the same, leaning into the couch as they gleefully held one another.

“You deserve this, Farrah.”

“We deserve this. There is no 'me,’ when it comes to my happiness.”

“Maybe our life won’t be like this every day. Maybe when we marry and we reside in the duchy, things will be a little bland and a lot busy. But you’ll be with me and I’ll be with you, and that’s the happiest thing I’ve ever realized.”

“As if anything could be bland with you next to me,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Imagine being so in love you didn’t know how to comprehend it. So in love your heart could burst.”

“Imagine being in love with someone who loves you even more than that.”

[erickadracula]

Uncertainty - Chapter II

   They had finished filling the last tube with that liquid that he had trouble ignoring, although it was true that for years he had domesticated his passion for blood, there were times, from time to time since Ericka had arrived, where that sweet essence made him to be curious and have an itching in his throat. He felt very guilty the first few times in which he had apologized to the blonde during a confession in which he felt like the worst of monsters and which she only found funny and also some excitement about those dark thoughts.

   "You crave it, right? Don’t deny it." She looked at him mischievously as she withdrew the arm in which they had just injected her.

   That joke took him out of those thoughts and he broke with seriousness that scene

   "I ... I ... Ericka! why do you say that and in front of the doctor?” He felt slightly embarrassed at that inquisition, his wife knew how to make macabre jokes.

   "I would say it's more like a statement, dear." giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek, while trying to calm him down, Drac looked like a mess, his impatience was reflected in his feet that repeatedly hit the ground and the sound of him grinding his teeth.

   The doctor gave one of the nurses the tray with the samples, hoping that they would not throw them away with one of her clumsy movements, while preparing to continue with the consultation.

   “Countess, there are some routine questions that I want to ask you to make your medical history, luckily you are in good health and had not had the opportunity to attend you.” He approached her with a notebook.

   "Excuse me, could I get up while you ask me your questions?, I'm tired of being here and it would be good for me to stand up a little bit." Feeling like a patient in a hospital did not help her at all and it was making her bad.

   "I would recommend that you do not, you could suffer dizziness, wait a bit to stabilize." He approached with a chair and started to fill out a pre-designed form.

   When she heard him, she remembered how a couple of days ago she'd felt sudden dizziness, but she had considered them insignificant enough to not have mentioned them before, it must have been something that had made her feel bad or some kind of decompensation. She wondered if it was reasonable to say it in front of Drac, who would probably start with a reproach full of exaggeration for not having said it before. The vampire was a being who cared for her continuously and she avoided feeding that behavior.

   “I felt dizzy ..." she turned to see him quickly and then returned the look again to his interlocutor "A few days ago"

   Gillman did not have to be a genius to guess what that could be about.

   "Excuse me Count, but what I'm going to ask your wife is necessary." The doctor could not deny that it really bothered him that Dracula was there, but what could he do, he was used to that behavior every time someone from the family came to consultation.

   Ericka saw this situation very strange, the doctor was afraid of Dracula and did not allow him to do his job well and she frankly wanted to finish all this as quickly as possible. So, she should interfere for the poor guy.

   "Dear, maybe it's better for you to wait outside and let me talk to him alone." The doctor seemed to thank her for that suggestion deeply.

   "But why?" he raised his voice surprised, "If I am the kindest and most attentive husband there is, I have behaved well..." crossing his arms and pouting, he did not understand why he could not be present, he was not doing anything bad, more than worrying about his beloved wife, like any normal husband would do.

   "Come on! in return I promise not to work overtime, yes?” Winking at him and hoping that would work, she had played her trump card, which she reserved for special occasions. With this, he could not say no, and it happened. The poor vampire had not realized that he had left Ericka's hand red because of all the nervousness that he had, he had kept it all this time firmly grasped.

   He left as if he were a punished child, slowly and with the eyes of a puppy, she felt certain tenderness to see him like that, but now she understood why Mavis and the others disappeared to go to the doctor without telling anyone, surely this was the reason.

   She had been sitting in a chair where she could be more comfortable, or at least that she believed so, because she did not deny that getting out of bed had been a very bad idea. Each of her joints had hurt at the time of getting up, but she would not simply recognize it. She did not want to stay in that place, she had never been in a hospital and she hated it.

   “Let the formalities outside please.” She tried to break the ice and tried to remove all those formalisms that she detested, even while being a captain and while having an education based on status, titles, rankings and positions, she had never got used to that.

   "I'm more comfortable like that, Countess. The series of questions I'm going to ask you will seem intrusive..."

   "Go ahead, I know you are just doing your job." She tried crossing her legs but immediately uncrossed them because of the pain.

   “Do you and your husband take any kind of precautions?” biting his tongue at that audacity, he thought it would have been a good idea that another doctor had attended her and who would not have been cornered by those fangs. He did not want to be on his skin right now.

   “Do you mean that if we are taking care of ourselves with some type of contraceptive? I understand what you are referring to Doctor.” She laughed a little at the shyness of someone who looked professional enough to have all the confidence of the Dracula family.

   "Yes, the dizziness and fainting make me believe that you could be..."

   "Pregnant? I don’t think so Doctor, Drac and I have talked about that and we have not considered it, it is not within my plans." That was ridiculous for her and for some reason it was making her get the creeps.

   “Countess, it is not that you consider it or not, I’ll ask you the question again: Do you and your husband take any kind of precautions, use contraceptives?”

   "Are you serious? No, vampires don’t use condoms, it's not like they could use them anyway, you should know." That was starting to irritate her, that possibility was not pleasing her at all and she was starting to feel terrified. “And as for me, I don’t take any kind of pills or hormones."

   "Please, keep it only as a possibility, it can also be anemia or something minor, do not get upset." He did not know how to handle things, he would only have to wait for the analysis to be ready so he could not be blamed for anything, that blonde woman also looked dangerous.

   Gillman and Ericka were aware of what the statistics on fertility among vampires said, which was much lower than that of humans and also the chances that she could get pregnant drastically decreased because of other factors: like her age. She knew that to at age 35, pregnancies could not only be riskier, they were less frequent and some did not come to an end. She had never cared about this topic, she had not really thought about motherhood and although her great-grandfather had once touched the subject by telling her that it was necessary to marry in order to procreate -- that it was an obligation and her duty to the Legacy, for her it had only been foolish words that had been ignored but that was before meeting Drac. Then, like any couple, they had spoken about it and he had been open to the possibility and had even told her some stories of when his wife was pregnant with Mavis. He sounded very happy with those memories and she could not deny that all this caused a little jealousy, doubts and many insecurities. What if he could never love her in that way? or worse, love their child as he loved her daughter? it hurt to think of those possibilities. He was a model father, she could see that, but she did not think it would be the same in her case, although it was true that Drac had previously joked that he was too old to have children and she was not exactly a young girl.

   A few months after having married, just returning from her honeymoon, she had missed a menstrual period, she had felt those nausea, everything pointed to that she could be pregnant. She did not want to say anything to the vampire to avoid any disappointment, she had decided to take a trip to a nearby city. She had entered a pharmacy and had bought with all the embarrassment in the world a pregnancy test. She had gone to the bathroom of a restaurant and having waited for the necessary minutes and with her hands trembling, she saw that result: negative. She decided to go buy two more, it could have been a mistake. She had to be sure that she had not gone there in vain. She tried the second one, she was afraid and when she looked at it she only saw a vertical line, a resounding no again, what if the third one the difference, what if two vertical lines appeared but sadly it was not like that ...

   Leaving the bathroom, with her eyes on the ground, on her cheek ran a single tear. Her face reflected sadness, she had murmured hundreds of times on the way there that should not be any hopes up, that it could be a false alarm and that they were not looking for it anyway.

   That memory came to Ericka as a whirlwind, suddenly reality hit her. She was sitting there, still in pain listening to the doctor's words, the last thing she understood was that he was recommending vitamins and that their sleep schedules to be more regular.

   "Thanks doctor, can I ask you one last thing?"

   "Yes of course whatever you like," he said while signing a recipe with some kind of scribbling that could not be distinguished well. “When your results are in, I will contact you.”

   She tried to choose her words and rubbed her hands nervously “Don’t tell my husband, I would prefer to tell him myself. Also, we have to see what the results say."

@hellodrerickarulzht3

[jessjessjojess]

2018. A mixed bunch.

Settle in for quite a story children... 

So its pretty early in the year for one of these yearly roundups (I can guarantee I’ll be doing another one in like December) but I have the extra time on my hands, so why not. 

2018 can seriously get stuffed, but then also (after I’ve meditated and thought about it) have a little (actually minuscule) cuddle. Let me clarify, this year has been absolutely shite, but it’s given me a lot of time (many thousands of hours) to reflect on who I am, who I want to be, and what I should do. Sense a common theme, its I, of course it is because I’m a millennial (or the one that comes right after that one) so I’m very egotistical (I’m working on it, I bought a book). 

Let me give you a play by play, great January, did my usual tan, beach, sleep, repeat motto, with a splatter of sport in there for good measure. the problem came in February. It was my birthday (5th in case your wondering), and a girl came, we were pretty good friends, but we’d had a bit of an issue over a boy of course (I thought she was a snake, she thought I was pathetic, that fun stuff that girls do to each other because society tells us we are in competition with each other). Anyway she showed up to my dinner, (so did the boy because I suck) and she did not speak to me, which left me so pissed, at least have the decency to say happy birthday. So in response to this I said absolutely nothing (because I’m so freaking British), but I thought some awful things, (which of course left me with some really bad karma obviously displayed by the next weeks events). 

I have my birthday and my kids at school are cute and buy me presents and everything is great until the 8th February 2018, when I quite literally sat down and could stand up again. Skip to the 11th when I am in A&E with a broken ankle, FROM SITTING DOWN, 6 hours, a moon boot, and a pair of crutches later, I’m home not happy. So at this point I am just noticing what a joke my life is, when I realise I can’t drive, its my right foot, I can’t work, drive or walk, happy 23rd birthday Jess. I mean its not really that bad if it was a broken ankle but it wasn’t. One month later I still didn’t have a diagnosis, other than “it’s not broken, but the MRI is showing the joint is really not happy.” The rest of me wasn’t really jumping of the walls either. But let’s leave the ankle for now because 2018 had so much more instore for me.

You know the saying when it rains, it pours, weelllll I’d never really bought it until now, I mean it didn’t hail on me or anything but i was very freaking wet. We are into March now, I get a call from the hospital, I get excited thinking it’s about my ankle (note: it definitely wasn’t), which I still didn’t know what was happening with. I’ve been recommended for a Gastroscopy, (if you don’t what that is, its a camera on a tube that they put down your throat to look at your insides -sounds fun right? It’s not). They want me to have my gastroscopy next week, I have to explain I’m in a moon boot, they really don’t care, but I have something to take my mind of my ankle, this wild minor surgery that has appeared. All is sweet, I don’t really worry too much because its about my anaemia, which honestly is like the least of my health problems. Even the surgeon thinks its a joke that I’m there, quote “it’s weird your here, I probably won’t find anything, this seems extreme”. He was just filling me with confidence, which he promptly knocked down after surgery with “we found something, its not great, we need to run some further tests, you’ll hear from us this week. Oh and your have Coeliac Disease. CATCHYAAAAA.” Okay I embellished the end there, but that’s was it felt like. Upon a lot of googling the words on the piece of paper he handed me, Dr Google informed me I had 2 tumours in my stomach, and an auto-immune disease which meant that when i ate gluten (literally every meal), my body attacked itself. 

I had a week of absolute torture wondering what these tumours meant for my future (also had a breakdown in a supermarket when I realised that Cadbury chocolate may contain gluten!!), but then I got the call, yesssss they were all clear, but I was now booked in for a COLONOSCOPY in a months time. It was basically the same dealio as gastroscopy, but instead of the mouth they use your butthole. Now I’m no prude, people have seen my bum before, I mean I’ve had laser hair removal, but this felt so intrusive. Turned out the colonoscopy part is absolutely nothing, but the colon prep is a whole different ball game. I’m not going to get too gross, but I definitely felt VERY empty afterwards. ANYWAY colonoscopy is something I can check of the bucket list (not that it should ever be on there.) So they say bad things come in threes, I figure ankle, coeliac disease, and tumours, I’ve got to be clear right? NOPPPEEE they found another 2 tumours, I’ll cut to the chase quickly one was clear, one was pre-cancerous. Which means FUN I get to have colonoscopy every 3 years FOREVER, and if you missed it before I’m 23, so thats a whole lot of butt stuff! 

After March, I spent most of April moping, as I couldn’t work, or drive myself anywhere, in the self pity of my bedroom. In May though I finally got to see an ankle specialist, 10 weeks after going into the moon boot, who confirmed I would need ankle surgery. I was torn because I finally had a solution, but i knew I would still have to wait some time for the surgery, in fact almost 3 months. FINALLY on August 3rd I went under for my ankle arthroscopy and reconstruction, I was rapped. Lets be honest surgery and recovery are pretty shit, but at least I was in recovery now and I could get back to normal soon. 

That’s all the bad stuff out of the way now to talk about what made my 2018 a mixed bunch. I’m a high school maths and science teacher at the moment, and don’t get me wrong I love the teaching part of my job, I could spend everyday in the classroom, and never feel like I was working a day. However, I’m a bit like Australia, I’m not very good a politics. As a young woman, who is pretty driven, strong-willed, and kind of loud, I’d never had to deal with too much politics in the workplace. I’d been in hospitality at a theme park for the 5 years prior, as long as you weren’t obviously drunk when you showed up for your shift you were good. But in a school, especially one as big as mine there is a lot of people to please, and not all of those people have opinions and values that match yours, which can be a bit shit to be honest. As I mentioned before I’m not a shy girl, my entire life I’ve been called bossy, annoying and assertive, but I’m rude and I would never go out of my way to make someone else uncomfortable,  but that was not the opinion others had of me. This something we struggle with everywhere, women who are confident and driven are seen as arrogant, and “stuck-up”, and I was a bit sick of it. I started to look inwards towards the end of May, what did I want from life, who did I want to be, and what kind of legacy did I want to leave behind. The answer to most of these questions was not teaching, and I started to think back to high school and university, remembering my dream of becoming a surgeon, and as i did this i realised that was still something I was really passionate about. 

Goals and dreams are such difficult things to deal with, because once you starting thinking about it, it’s like giving away a part of you, you want it so bad you don’t know how you cope if you fail. But here’s the thing I’m learning it’s hard to reach for your dreams but if you don’t give it a crack then you’ll never know, it will always be playing on the back of your mind. I made the decision to start working towards getting into medical school, it’s not going to be easy it’s going to be a lot of work, and a long time coming, but when you feel something is right everything else is easier. 

We are definitely into the second half of the year now, and I’m definitely feeling more positive, I’m happier and lighter to be working towards something I’m passionate and excited about. My next focus is going to be on inner stillness, and finding myself in the present, focusing on living in the now, while creating a better and more exciting future. Moral of this story is you can deal with shit and come out better and stronger, sometimes the hard times are exactly what you needed to create a better you. Be your own role model, work hard, love hard, treat yo’self, and love yo’self. 

Well, if anyone made it this far, thanks for reading my story, I would love any ideas, feedback or advice you guys may have, and I will update you again probably in December!  

[iwriteficsnottragediesladies]

Search and Seizure Pt 1

A/N: In honor of getting over 100 followers. This fic is near and dear to my heart. I struggle with epilepsy. I decided to write an epileptic reader into one of my fics because it helps me process it. I hope that’s okay.

Pre-read Epilepsy Disclaimer

You were on your way back from your pharmacy run. You buy something innocuous as well, this time toothpaste, to disguise why you really went to the drug store–to refill your prescriptions. You head back to Brendon’s and knock on the door. He lets you in with a smile and a little kiss.

“Hey Y/n,” he says “Where’d you sneak off to?” “Had to get toothpaste,” you reply. “You know there was a full tube in the closet,” he says, feeling bad that you went out just to get it. “Oh oops, I didn’t know,” you reply easily with a smile. “Oh well, just one less thing to buy on the tour,” Brendon says happily, kissing the top of your head. You smile up at him and go to your room, closing the door behind you.

You sorted your pills into each slot of your weekly box.

Three of these in the morning and night One of those day and night too One of that, but only at night Two of the others, but only in the morning Damn, you are one heavily medicated person. Whatever it takes to stay healthy, you guess it’s worth it. You had never been on tour before, and you were so excited. It was your last couple days of packing up before you leave. You were nervous though. Your epilepsy usually flared up when you don’t get enough sleep.

Brendon doesn’t even know you have seizures. He’s obviously noticed you take medication, but you’re discreet about it and he never asks. You don’t want him to treat you differently, or have him worry about you all the time. You’re sure he would overreact. You had been with Brendon for a year now, and your epilepsy had been so well controlled, you haven’t had a seizure in almost two years. It wasn’t really important for him to know. Until now. Who knew if your epilepsy would remain under control in such a new environment. You worry the craziness of touring might mess with it.

Once you begin the tour, all of your worries fade away. Every show Brendon performs is like pure magic and it keeps you going. And the celebration sex? Mind blowing. You are so proud of Brendon. You watch him from off stage pretty much every show, usually with Zach, and unabashedly jam out. Zach stands by while he silently judges you, but you occasionally force him to join in. He’s so tough looking, but he has a soft spot for you.

It’s two weeks into the tour and you’re getting exhausted. One night, you’re less enthusiastic than usual back stage during the show. Zach nudges you with his elbow.

“You okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” you brush it off as convincingly as possible, “just tired.”

The show ends and you make your way back to the bus. You climb into the bunk after putting on some pjs and you feel Brendon join you. He wraps an arm around you. You turn over to face him and he strokes your arm.

“Hey babe,” he says, “how are you feeling? You seem like you’re draggin.”

Zach totally told on you. Damn him.

“I’m fine,” you reply cooly, “not everyone is used to touring the whole goddamn world, ya know?” You laugh.

Brendon smiles and kisses you gently. “As long as you’re okay…” Brendon trails off.

“Yes,” you reply confidently, “and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He leans in and kisses you again. His face then becomes serious.

“Get some sleep.” He starts to move from the bunk but you grab his arm. He looks back at you surprised.

“Don’t go,” you say, and he looks concerned. “I’ll get lonely,” you added with a smile, covering up your anxiety. He seemed convinced that it was the only reason you wanted him to stay. Truthfully, it was because you’re scared. What if something happened? What if you had a seizure in your sleep and choked on your vomit and you never woke up?

Brendon stripped down to his boxers, tossing his clothes out from behind the curtain of the bunk. You cuddle up next to him and fall asleep nearly instantly.

You wake up the next morning and the bed is empty. You sit up quickly, but you hear Brendon’s voice coming from the tiny kitchen talking to Dallon, and you calm down. You stretch and roll out of bed, padding into the kitchen area. Brendon is manning a pan on the stove top. His eyes light up as you enter.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Brendon greets you.

“Well hi there, sleeping beauty!” Zach joked.

“What time is it?” You ask as you lean into Brendon’s chest and he kisses you on the top of your head.

“Eleven,” Dallon replies.

Your eyes grow wide. “Gees why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I wanted you to get some extra sleep,” Brendon says, rubbing your back. You nod gratefully and step away, sliding into the booth next to Dallon. Dallon puts an arm around you.

“Want to eat? We’re making pancakes,” Dallon announced.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply happily. The door to the bus swung open and Kenny and Dan climbed up. They both sat down on the couch.

Pancakes were served up soon after. The boys start talking about the set list for their show tonight. Dallon lists off the songs on his fingers, everyone nodding as he went. As soon as he mentioned Sins there was a collective groan, especially from Brendon. You smirked.

“Oh come on guys, do it for the fans!” You coach.

“Fine,” Brendon pouts. The conversation continued.

“We could close out with Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time,” Dallon suggested.

“I kind of li–” you started, but didn’t finish.

Everyone’s attention was on you, but you said nothing. A blank stare took over your face.

“Y/n?” Brendon asked you. You don’t respond at all. The boys are unsure what to think, but worry consumes Brendon. “Y/n?” He called loudly, leaning over the table to shake your shoulder. After some delay, you speak,

“–ike when you close out victorious, though.”

You see everyone staring at you with the strangest expression. Gees, was closing with Victorious that bizarre of an idea? You realize Brendon is touching your arm. When did that happen?

“Y/n,” Brendon says, confused, “Are you okay?”

Suddenly you realized what must have happened. You probably had an absence seizure. They’re weird–they’re not like seizures you see on tv. It looks like you’re staring off, but nothing can break you out of the trance. It lasts just a few seconds and you have no idea that they happen. You just jump back in where you left off, sometimes in the middle of a sentence like you just did, apparently.

You need to cover this up. Pretend like you knew it happened.

“Sorry, I just zoned out so hard,” You laugh.

You feel everyone’s gaze on you. 

“Yeah, you really did,” Dallon said with a furrowed brow, “Are you sure you’re okay?” He was in full dad-mode and the thought of it almost made you smile.

“Yeah I’m fine!” you said reassuringly, “I just lost my train of thought.”

Brendon sits himself back down, releasing your arm but continued to stare you down. The boys seem convinced, but Brendon does not. He’s trying to read your eyes, but you put on your best disguise.

“Well, by request of the lady,” Kenny spoke up to lighten the mood, “I think we should do Victorious.”

Everyone was nodding in agreement, including you. Brendon was still looking at you intently.

“Shit,” Zach said looking at his phone, “We gotta be at sound check in 5 minutes.”

Everyone threw their plates in the sink and scrambled to get their things together. You were all ready to pour out of the bus in a matter of seconds.

You push the events of the morning out of your mind, and make yourself busy at soundcheck, helping out where you can. Then it was down to the dressing room for a bit.

You hang out behind the paneling during the meet and greet. You play with the apps on your phone and wander around the internet. You’re tired and end up sitting on the ground up against the cool concrete wall. You can hear the happy squeals of fans meeting the band, and occasionally Brendon’s beautiful laugh. It makes you smile to yourself.

You all go back to the dressing room once the meet and greet is over. The boys begin their usual shenanigans after getting their outfits on. Brendon still seems to be watching you from the corner of his eye. You make sure to laugh and react appropriately to everything happening, not wanting to let on to your exhaustion. They are a hilarious bunch, so it’s not too hard. Brendon’s skin tight pants are your main point of focus, as usual. God he looked so good. He comes over to you and sits, asking again if you’re okay, after this morning. You reassure him with an annoyed laugh.

“I’m FINE, babe. I love you,” you smile, planting a kiss on his lips.

It’s finally go time and you head up to the stage area. Brendon leans over with some weird body language to Zach and says something quietly into his ear. Zach nods dutifully in response. You wonder what he said.

[“Keep an eye on Y/n for me, okay?”]

Brendon approaches you one last time. “Break a leg, Bren,” you smile. He nods and kisses your the neck. Once Brendon steps out, the arena bursts with cheers.

You look on as usual during the show. The lights and sound of the show seem… louder than they normally do. You try not to seem overwhelmed, since Zach is standing so close by the whole show. The show ends and you’re grateful that you’ll be going to bed soon.

Brendon runs off stage straight over to you and you are enveloped in his arms. “Congratulations babe,” you exclaim, “another amazing show on the books!” He pulls back and kisses you.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He whispers. The goofiest smile overtakes your lips and you feel like a five year old. He takes your hand and you walk over to where the band has gathered in a circle along with Zach. They were chatting about the show. Brendon is putting in his two cents.

Their voices seem to dampen. You feel sick to your stomach. 

Oh no. Oh NO NO NO NO.

You think back and remember you never took your medication that morning, too caught up in getting to soundcheck on time. You have the distinct feeling: you’re about to have a seizure. You step back from the circle. You don’t want to tell anyone, but you can’t possibly go through it alone. You will yourself to tug on the sleeve of Brendon’s jacket like a child to get his attention. He turns around and the smile on his face instantly disappears.

He wraps an arm around you with concern growing in his eyes, and starts to walk you away from the group. “Y/n? What’s wr--”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” you interrupt him.

His facial expression widens and he looks up, spotting the nearest trash bin and rushes you over to it. You’re grateful that it’s out of the view of the boys, blocked by a wing curtain. You grip the bin and lean over. Brendon gathered up your hair and placed his hand on your back. You hesitate and then finally gag and vomit.

“Okay,” Brendon comforts you quietly, “it’s alright baby.”

Brendon’s voice fades in and out. You’re crying now. You try to speak but it’s difficult.

“I’m so sorry,” you try, “I lied to you.”

Brendon knows something is horribly wrong when you start to speak. You sound confused, your voice slurring. You’re becoming less coordinated. He leans you into him, half to comfort you, and half to steady you.

“Baby?” He inquires, much more concerned about your health than what you were talking about. Your eyes wouldn’t focus on any one thing.

“I lied, I’m sorry I lied,” you continue to cry incoherently. You’re words are so jumbled, Brendon can barely understand what you’re even saying.

You were so stupid. You should have told him about your epilepsy, but you lied instead. You stumbled over your own foot and Brendon grabbed you, holding you up.

“Okay, it’s okay,” he reassures you again, “Come here baby.” He’s walking you to a nearby chair. He all but carries you the three steps over to it, your legs unable to cooperate.

You feel the chair beneath you now. Brendon kneels down in front of you and looks like he is saying something, but you don’t hear anything. His face is fading away. You’re scared. You’re screaming internally, begging him not to leave you. Your cries stop quite abruptly and that’s the last thing you remember.

Brendon notices your expression fall blank as you became silent. It is the same look you had on your face that morning. His heart sinks. He places his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/n?” He calls to you, trying not to panic. You don’t respond. “Y/n?” He pleaded. He needs to go get help, get Zach. He glances around but there’s no one around.

You shift stiffly and you start to fall off the side of the chair. Brendon lunges forward and catches you around your chest.

“ZACH?!” He shouted over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off of you, “ZACH?!” You were moving around in his grip but he held you, keeping you from hitting the ground. “Shhh, it’s okay baby,” Brendon whispers to you.

Zach knows by Brendon’s voice that something is terribly wrong and he instantly locates us. Zach comes running around the side of the curtain and the boys are only two steps behind. Zach arrives at Brendon’s side immediately to assist him.

“Shit shit shit,” Zach is muttering under his breath. He grabs your knees and helps Brendon ease you onto the floor. Your arms and legs are moving erratically and you nearly kick the chair, but it is suddenly removed. Dan is passing it off to Kenny who sets it aside.

You lay shaking on the floor. It becomes clear to everyone: you’re having a seizure. Brendon instinctively slips your head into his lap to keep it from hitting the ground. Zach keeps a firm hand on your hip so you stay on your side.

“Medics,” Zach called out to a stagehand that responded to the commotion, “We need medics now!”

All Brendon could do was look down at you, struggling aimlessly, your gaze blank. He stroked your hair and spoke softly to you, even though he knew you probably couldn’t hear him. 

“It’s alright, baby, I’m right here, you’re going to be okay, everything is going to be okay…” Brendon whispers to you.

His beautiful girl. There you were, completely vulnerable, and there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t help but cry. Dallon then squatted down behind him and placed a hand on Brendon’s shoulder for comfort.

“Okay, okay Y/n,” Brendon overheard Zach whispering to you. Brendon knows Zach has always had a soft spot for you.

Brendon wanted to make it stop. He felt like an idiot, he knew you weren’t okay. He wiped away the spit from your mouth onto his stage pants. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay.”

Your movements are becoming less violent and you slow down. Your breathing sounds labored and it scares him.

There is shuffling around and bags are set down. The paramedics are here. Dallon stands up and everyone makes room, stepping back. Brendon remains, sitting on his butt with his legs crossed like a kindergartner, with your head cradled in his lap.

Brendon is prepared to fight with them if they ask him to move or leave. Luckily, they don’t bother. The paramedics are satisfied with the position you’re in, since it’s safe and they can still work on you. Plus they obviously recognize it’s Brendon Urie, and you, his girlfriend. They weren’t going to mess with him.

They crouch down and start asking Brendon a barrage of questions. What the seizure looked like, how long it was… Occasionally Zach chimes in with an answer if Brendon is unsure. An oxygen mask is slipped onto your face.

“Does she take any daily medications?” They ask.

Brendon realizes that he knows you do, but he has no idea what it’s for. He never really asked about it because you never really talked about it. He always assumed that it was probably something simple like allergy or acne medication. You seemed perfectly healthy, so he had no reason to believe the medication you took was for a serious medical condition. Plus, he assumed you would say so if it was.

But you didn’t. So now, here you are, on the ground backstage in some arena, multiple borderline-panicked people looking on, Brendon crying above you, and just to top off the scene you’ve made, paramedics. Poor Brendon, he probably thinks you’re fucking dying. Brendon responds to the medics.

“Uh, um, yes, but I don’t–don’t know what it’s for.” He felt like an idiot.

“Did she take it today?” They ask, a logical train of thought.

“I didn’t–uh,” He glances up to Zach for help, but he doesn’t know either. You were always stealthy about taking it, so he wouldn’t know the answer regardless. “I don’t know, I’m not sure.”

Brendon feels like the least helpful piece of shit. This was the love of his life, and he is completely useless in a time where he is so desperately needed.

Your vision pulls out of the darkness slowly, like a sunrise. You hear voices miles away. You can’t focus your eyes, but you can make out a few figures above you. You realize they were touching you—two pairs of hands. You can’t speak or move, but the word “no” reverberates loudly in your mind.

What the hell is going on?  Stop touching me. Get away. Escape.

You feel some awareness entering your body and you begin to move. You try to pull your limbs out from under the touch of the strangers, but you felt so heavy.

Everyone looks down at you as you start to move for the first time since the paramedics had arrived. One of the paramedics tries to speak to you, but you still can’t hear.

There is something on my face. What is on my face? I am suffocating. I am dying. Get it off. Get it off now. 

You pick up you arm and your hand searches for your mouth. Your limp hand lands heavily on the side of a large hunk of plastic. You feel hands trying to prevent you from moving it, but you whimper and pull your head away in protest. You continue the backward momentum of your elbow to drag the suffocating device onto your cheek.

“Hey, hey,” Brendon calls to you, “It’s okay.” You still can’t hear anything. The paramedics and Zach are also trying to calm you, but you don’t hear them anyways. You don’t understand who these people are, and you certainly have no idea where you are. More desperate than ever, you attempt to kick your legs and squirm under their touch. The paramedics are explaining to everyone that this is normal behavior after a seizure.

Fight.

The more you try to get away, the stronger the contact on your body becomes. Sound is beginning to reach your ears. Now you could hear them talking, but it was too muffled to understand. Then, you hear it:

“Y/n,” one of the faces sang to you and the voice finally became clear. You still yourself. Brendon.

Your vision sharpens and you see him above you, upside down. What the… You realize he’s holding your frantic hands that were still clawing at the air. You stilled yourself and let your hands drift down to the ground on either side of you. Brendon realizes you can actually hear and see him.

“Y/n, it’s okay,” he says quickly now that he has your attention. He places a hand on your head, smoothing back some of the hair in your face. “You’re okay.”

“Hey, can you hear me?” An unfamiliar voice sounds. Your eyes shift over to the source of the sound, someone sitting very close to you, getting up in your face.  You don’t recognize the person, and it throws you into a panic again.

You jump up to sitting, scooting away.

“Easy sweetheart, easy,” Brendon tries, but you back up into him. You realize you’ve landed in his lap and attempt to hide away in his chest, clinging to the one thing you are sure is safe. He is warm and his familiar smell is like a sedative to you.

Brendon holds you and you hear him speak to you.

“You’re alright,” he says soothingly, “They’re just here to help you.”

You trust him and try to calm down. You panned your eyes across the people surrounding you, seeing two strangers and one familiar face. Your gaze pauses on him. You watch him and he tilts his head, looking at you. Zach.

“Hi Y/n,” He says gently with a sad smile. The strangers seemed to have learned the lesson that you needed space as they sat back, further away from you than before. One of them spoke again.

“Y/n,” The stranger began to explain slowly, “My name is Jamie and this is my partner Steve, we’re paramedics.”

You nodded, realizing you should probably demonstrate your understanding.

“You had a seizure just now,” Jamie said, “Has that ever happened to you before?”

You nod again. Brendon furrows his brow and looks to Zach. The boys exchange glances. Apparently this has happened to you before, and none of them knew anything about it.

“Okay, you have epilepsy?” He presumes. You nod.

“Do you take medication for that?” Jamie asked.

“Mhm.”

“Okay, what do you take?”

“Keppra, lamictal, sertraline, and tegretol,” you reply drowsily.

Brendon is dumbfounded as you list off all of your meds. How did he not know about such a severe medical condition? He felt like the worst boyfriend on the planet. He wonders why you didn’t tell him.

You take notice that Dallon, Dan and Kenny were also standing around you.

“Did you take those as usual today?” Jamie asks.

You shook your head, embarrassed by your failure to complete such an important and simple task.

You answer more of the paramedics questions and they take your vital signs.

The paramedics finish checking you out and you feel better, just very sleepy.

“Do you want to go to the hospital?” Jamie asked.

“No,” You replied simply with a fleeting sad smile.

“Baby, shouldn’t you go?” Brendon asks, concerned.

“Well, not really,” You explained. “It wasn’t a long seizure, I didn’t fall, I feel okay now, and I know I had it because I forgot my meds. There’s not really a point to going to the ER, there’s nothing they would do for me there.” Your explanation was completely rational, and the paramedics were nodding, agreeing with your reasoning.

Brendon looks at you dismayed, a little worried. You look up and give him a little smile, trying to show him it was really okay. Although, you realize he had absolutely no reason to trust you after the stunt you pulled just now.

You signed the forms the paramedics gave you and they packed up. You thanked them. Brendon did too, quite profusely.

They leave and you’re left in this awkward silence. You’re still sitting in Brendon’s lap, and the boys just standing around you.

Where do we go from here? You just dramatically unleashed this bombshell of a medical condition and scared everyone half to death. Everyone undoubtedly has a lot of questions. You’ve probably broken their trust, especially Brendon. Poor Brendon. All he’s ever done is love you to the end of the earth, and this is how you repay him? Keeping secrets and telling lies? The combination of guilt and throw up sat uncomfortably in your throat.

Dallon, being the dad as always, speaks up quietly.

“Do you want to go back to the bus, Y/n? Get some rest?”

“Yeah, that’d be good,” you reply.

Brendon slips out from underneath you and scoops you up in his arms. You could probably walk, but you don’t protest. Everyone proceeded in silence to the bus. You pretend to fall asleep, really not wanting to talk or explain yourself. Avoidance is your coping mechanism of choice for the time being.

Eventually you hear the familiar sound of the bus door being pulled open. Soon Brendon is placing you down onto a bunk, an extra pair of hands guiding your head onto a pillow.

“Thanks,” Brendon says.

“Yep,” you hear Dallon respond.

One of them exits the bunk area while one of them climbs in next to you pulling the covers over you both. Brendon’s scent surrounds you and you feel his arms wrap you up. He’s still kind of sweaty and gross from the show, but you don’t mind and find it oddly comforting.

“She asleep?” You hear Zach in the kitchen area of the bus ask quietly.

“Yeah,” Dallon replies.

“Jesus Christ,” Kenny sighs. You hear each of them plop down on various couches an chairs.

“Poor thing,” Dan adds.

No. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. Pity. Worry. Awkwardness. You wince to yourself in disappointment. Dammit.

They go quiet, probably getting on their phones and laptops for a while. They’re never tired this early, so usually they hang out for a while like that.

Your thoughts swirl. You will have to explain this to everyone in the morning. If you even wake up, that is. You could just die in your sleep, who knows. At least you wouldn’t have to talk to them. You scold yourself for having that thought.

You’re so tired, but you feel guilt climbing up your throat still. Brendon shifts beside you with a small sigh, clearly awake. He’s stroking your hair, assuming that you’re asleep. Your anxiety runs wild.

You’re a horrible person. You keep secrets. You don’t deserve Brendon. You put yourself in danger. You scared everyone. Brendon is definitely mad you didn’t tell him. You had your seizures so well controlled and you fucked it all up. God, why are you so stupid?

Your eyes water, filling to the brim until droplets fall heavily onto the pillow. You try desperately to hold it together. You want to breathe but you know you’ll fall apart if you do. You can’t hold your breath any longer and try to inhale delicately, and it’s only a bit uneven. But when you exhale, you are wracked with sobs that make you shake, but you stay silent.

Brendon immediately props himself up on his elbows, worried that your trembling body might be having another seizure. He’s ready to scream to the boys for help again but you let out a little sobbing sound. He gently encourages you to roll over with his hand just to make sure, and he can make out your crying face in the low lighting.

He lays back down and tries to pull you closer. You whimper and resist.

You don’t deserve his affection. You’re a terrible girlfriend and a terrible person.

“Baby,” He whispers simply and pulls you again.

“No,” you whisper back, your lip trembling. He responds only by pulling you a bit more strongly. God, he knows exactly what you need before you even do. You give in completely, latching onto him, even wrapping a leg over him.

“It’s okay,” he says. You realize he’s basically giving permission for you to cry. So you do.

You cry so hard and so loudly, you’re sure the boys can hear you, but you just can’t help it. You bury your face in Brendon’s chest, attempting to dampen the sound.

You don’t know it, but you’re right about the boys hearing you. They all look up at each other and exchange looks. You were like a sister to them and it pained them to hear you so upset. Since Brendon’s is taking care of you, they silently agree that it would be best to leave and give you some privacy. You hear the door to the bus creak open again as they all exit. They uber to an IHOP. You are very appreciative, just wanting to be alone with Brendon.

“I’m sorry,” you got out between sobs, “I’m s-so s-sorry.”

“Baby, it’s alright,” he replies soothingly.

“No, it’s not,” you shake. “It’s not, it’s not,” You continue mindlessly.

“Y/n,” Brendon tries, but you interrupt.

“I’m so sorry Bren,” you repeat, “I’m a terrible p-person. Why?” you questioned yourself aloud, becoming more upset, “Why am I such a terrible person?”

“Y/n, look at me,” Brendon says. You don’t reply. “Y/n, look at me, baby,” he repeats, placing a finger under your chin. Your head emerges from his chest and you look up at him, trying to quiet yourself as much as you can. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” He says slowly, “And I love you so much.”

“I should have told you,” you cried, “I lied to you. I’m stupid and I’m broken. You deserve better than this–than me.”

“Y/n, don’t you ever say that,” Brendon replies seriously, gazing at you with those beautiful eyes, now glistening with tears. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t care that you have epilepsy. I don’t care that you didn’t tell me.” He sniffles. “It doesn’t change a thing. I love you so much.” A tear fell from his eyes.

“You’re, you’re not mad?” You stuttered.

“No,” he gushed, “No baby not at all. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He wiped away your tears that were dripping sideways across your face. “But why didn’t you tell me?” He asked sweetly.

“I just, I didn’t... I don’t want to be different. I want to be okay, like everyone else. I didn’t want you to treat me any differently,” you continued to cry. “I hadn’t had a seizure in so long and I felt like I had a fresh start with you and I could leave it all behind. But now I screwed it all up.”

“You didn’t screw anything up baby, and this doesn’t change anything,” He reassured you, “We’re going to get through this, together. You are perfect.”

“I haven’t had a seizure in so long,” you’re tone changing, now upset about the seizure, “I thought I was better. But tonight,” you pause, “Tonight I felt it coming and I was so scared and then you weren’t there anymore, I couldn’t see and then you were gone–and I was gone–and I then I didn’t know what was happening and I was so scared, Bren.” You spoke a mile a minute and shook, crying harder, recounting the traumatic experience.

“Shhhh,” Brendon stroked your arm. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere, okay?” You nod and hold him tighter. “You’re safe, Y/n.”

You take a deep breath and gather yourself. “Brendon, I don’t want you to treat me like I’m weak or sick. I’m the same person I was before tonight.” He nods at you and you continue. “You don’t have to worry about me like I’m a child.”

“I know y/n,” he says with a small smile. “But I want you to be more open with me if you’re not feeling well, okay?”

“I will, I promise,” you say honestly. “I love you so much, Bren.”

“I love you too, Y/n,” He replied, “Get some sleep, okay?”

You nuzzle into him with a sigh and fall fast asleep.

A/N: I hope you liked it. Let me know what you think with a comment or ask if you want! I love feedback. Please like/reblog if you’re feelin it!

Read chapter 2 here: https://iwriteficsnottragediesladies.tumblr.com/post/162375567733/search-and-seizure-pt-2

[ariannepremo862-blog]

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This was especially the case in Thailand where the girls were used to dealing with dozens of guests each shift, both backpackers and tourists. After seven weeks of travelling south-east Asia and meeting people abroad I kind of had it figured out. The effect was twofold. It also meant that they would remember me and would be more likely to assist if I needed anything during my stay.

As she unlocked the room she stepped inside to begin turning on the lights and air conditioning. After having my passport scanned I grabbed my bags and followed a young Thai girl called Jo up the steps to my room. There were two beds in the room, one for my absent companions and one for myself. Naturally I chose the bigger of the two and began to unload my rucksack on the nearby table.

"And this is my bed is it? Checking into a resort style hotel to end my trip was no different as I shamelessly flirted with them during the check in process, asking questions about their favourite places to go swimming and dancing were. " I jokingly asked Jo, who was pointing a remote at the air conditioner and pressing buttons with limited results.

" Her English wasn’t superb but it was a damn sight better than my Thai. The receptionists were usually pretty friendly and somewhat flirty, especially the younger ones. "Oooh lots of girls down at the bars, plenty of choices mature female feet pics for you" she said, referring to the local sex workers who worked at local bars and formed the backbone of the sex tourism industry.

"Nah they’re not for me, I only go for nice girls" I replied. She looked around and, seeing that I had chosen the bigger of the two beds, began to laugh. I didn’t see Jo for the following day as she had scheduled time off. "Ah, who say’s I’m going to sleep in the bed by myself, perhaps I’ll make a friend while I’m here" I said with a smile. I noticed her upon my return to the resort one evening, or rather she noticed me.

With that I heard the beep of the air conditioner which Jo had finally got working and she bid me an enjoyable stay before leaving me to enjoy my room. Firstly it allowed me to find out a bit more about the area and where the locals go to avoid the tourist crowds.

"You’re silly, very big bed with no one else. "Oooh hello, how is your search going? "Not good" I admitted, "too many bar girls and not enough nice ones. It was a light hearted question but I knew it had an ulterior motive. But if you like I take you to local beach tomorrow and we find you a nice girl.

"Lots of girls here, not all of us are nice" she admitted. naked mature female porn women Was I simply another sex tourist staying at the resort or did I distance myself from those sorts of activities? She was riding a small red scooter, typical for tourists and locals alike and as she dismounted I went to meet her. " she asked, before I’d even had a chance to say hello. I cast a fleeting glance at the scooter again, I wasn’t sure it was made to hold two people but, having seen as many as three share locals sharing a similar scooter I agreed that sounded good.

" Never one to turn down an opportunity for some authentic sightseeing I agreed and Jo said she would pick me up from the resort at 10am the next morning. She handed me a second helmet which had mysteriously appeared and, climbing back onto the scooter, she instructed me to wrap my arms around her waist while she drove.

"Good morning, I didn’t know we were walking" I said, surprised that our destination was so close. With precision timing that is largely unheard of in Thailand Jo arrived at ten sharp the next morning. Like an expert Jo navigated it all, even swerving around several chickens that had wandered onto the road. " "Many bar girls are nice" Jo said diplomatically "They always nice to us when they visit the resort.

Jo laughed, "We’re not, silly, I drive and you sit on the back". After fifteen minutes of riding we arrived at a beautifully secluded beach that looked like something from a postcard. White sand was dotted with palm trees and rock pools where the beach met the water’s edge. My attention, however, was firmly fixed on Jo who had removed her loose fitting top to reveal a colourful red and blue bikini top which stood out vividly against the creamy brown of her small perks boobs.

"Oh wow, ferang boy needs a tan" Jo joked as she ran her eyes up and down my body, paying particular attention to my toned stomach. "You had best put some sunscreen on for me then" I replied, fishing a tube out of the day bag I brought with me. She eagerly obliged and insisted on rubbing the sunscreen onto my chest and stomach as well as my back, before she turned and took a running dive into the ocean seeking some respite from the warm sun.

No doubt it looked a little ridiculous, a five foot five Thai girl riding a little red scooter with a six foot white guy sitting on the hot mature women back, but as we rode to the beach the thought didn’t cross my mind as I was too concerned about the oncoming traffic and frequent noisy congestion we encountered.

"You turn red by the end of the day" she said, wiggling out of her jeans to reveal small red and blue shorts that matched her bikini top. It tasted amazing and when I told her as much a large grin crossed her face. The rest of the afternoon was spent swimming and playing pool at a nearby bar. While not as tanned or as toned as I would have liked I had nonetheless been going to the gym regularly for several months and was in reasonable shape.

Across the other side of the cove you could see a beachfront littered with dozens of deckchairs and eager tourists tanning themselves in the morning sun. I removed my shirt and chucked it on the scooter, revealing my upper body. "Most ferang’s don’t like Thai, too spicy for them" she said. Jo took me to a concealed rock pool hidden at the top of the cove and there we ate a traditional Thai lunch that she had prepared for us.

" As we returned to the bar and began playing pool I bought Jo and I a couple of cocktails as my way of saying thank you for lunch. " The return journey was even scarier than the initial trip that morning. Darkness had set in and the edges of the road seemed to melt into the trees running alongside the road.

"You like Thai though, you good boy. After the moment of surprised passed she responded passionately, running her lips over mine as she tried to remove my shirt. "You know I really shouldn’t be here" she whispered, as if we risked being overheard by someone at the reception desk inside.

"Let’s go back to the resort. "Ok" she giggled, before leaning in to kiss me again. "It’s fine, here take my room key and I’ll distract them" I said, handing Jo my keys. Cars, motorbikes and scooters all sounded loudly at intersections as they tried to fight there way through traffic, yet Jo was able to once again avoid the bulk of the traffic and before too long we found ourselves back at the resort.

" I asked the receptionist. As we began walking along the sand back to her scooter I turned and gave her a kiss, catch her off guard. "I’ll be waiting for you" she said, before pushing me towards the entrance. She asked for a description before heading out the back to search lost property.

Jo noticed her leaving and quickly opened the door and made for the nearby steps towards my room. After several hours, and feeling somewhat tipsy, she offered to give me a ride back to the resort. "I lost my sunglasses yesterday, has anyone handed them in? It was clear this girl didn’t want to waste any time and so I obliged by kissing her as we shuffled backwards towards the bed.

As I opened the door to my room I was met by a topless Jo walking out of the bathroom. Giggling, she lay down and tried to pull me onto the bed. I followed her lead and crouched over her, kissing and licking at her dark nipples while she ran her hands through my hair. I thanked her before following the same path Jo had taken moments ago.

Eager to move along I began kissing slowly down her stomach until I reached the hem of her jeans. I was greeted with the sight of her gorgeous dark brown thighs that and a small landing strip of mature Black women porn hair just above her glistening pussy.

I decided to slow it down a little began to kiss the inside of her thigh, just above her left knee, and slowly working my way toward her pussy. Just seconds later the receptionist returned and apologetically said that no sunglasses had been handed in, however she would keep an eye out for them. As I got to her outer labia I stopped and breathed a single puff of warm air directly onto Jo’s clit and I felt her shudder in response.

She began to moan and I felt them stiffen as I lightly flicked my tongue over the tips of her nipples. As I walked into the reception area I had a brilliant idea to buy Jo a couple of minutes of time. I complied began to lick and suck at her outer labia, enjoying her response as she squirmed and wriggled on the bed, enjoying the sensation of having her pussy eaten.

As Jo came down from her orgasm I took my own pants and underwear off, revealing my erect cock which had begun dripping with pre-cum in anticipation. Grabbing a condom off the bedside table I slid it on, before lightly smacking Jo’s ass to indicate I was ready to go. Jo responded immediately with a small squeal and I felt her rocking her hips back and forth as she climaxed with my finger motioning inside her pussy.

As I felt her beginning to nude matures build towards an orgasm I slid a finger inside of her tight little hole and began to stroke her g-spot as I turned my tongue towards her well defined clit. She moved on to all fours and motioned for me to fuck her from behind.

I felt her hands close in around my head as she began to pull it towards her pussy and it was clear she wasn’t in the mood for being teased any more, she wanted me to focus on her ready and waiting pussy instead. As I guided my cock into her tight little hole she let out another long moan and I lightly smacked her on the ass.

Grabbing her hair from behind I began to fuck her slowly, feeling her slide up and down on my cock as I worked my way in and out of her. As I smacked her ass again, this time a little harder, Jo let out another moan and mature black women porn with that I began pulling her hair as I fucked her from behind and smacked her hard with my other hand.

I felt her hands move from my head as she slipped two thumbs inside her jeans and wiggled out of everything, including her underwear. As I moved behind her I couldn’t help notice how amazing her pussy looked from behind, nestled beautifully underneath her tiny Thai ass. As I slowly slid my cock out of her pussy she let out one final small moan before burying her face in the pillows in front of her.

So good" was all she could say as she lay there gasping for breath. She didn’t seem to mind at all. PM's and feedback are encouraged. With her pussy so tight around my cock it didn’t take long for me to finish and as I began to feel the familiar build up towards an orgasm I began to fuck Jo rougher and smack her as hard as I could. S: On an related note Jo was also the first girl I was with who really got off on having her ass smacked and her hair pulled.

A firm outline of where my hand had been connecting with her ass was visible and there were strands of hair on her back from where I had been pulling quite hard. Teasingly I moved to her opposite thigh and began kissing in the same spot as before, just above the knee. It also means that most recollections from now on have more of a light BDSM element to them.

That was enough to send me over the edge and as I came I pushed her down onto the bed, laying on top of her as I pumped load after load of cum into her pussy. She let out a shrill shriek of pleasure before I felt the familiar clench of her pussy as she came for again while I smacked her now visibly marked ass. It not only made me want to find other girls like her it also made me want to learn more about BDSM and kink play.

For that I am eternally greatful to her.

[shanghai-dublin-blog1]

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The reel holds the bait fisherman can feel even the smallest bite. This feature prevents twisting and tangling, swelling at the canter. A variant is the slide sinker that implies 'apparatus for fishing'. Here's How to Tackle It A salt-water fishing tackle weight! The weight or this salt-water fishing plummet or sinker is around a couple fact, it features as 'one of the top twenty tools in the history of man'! This device is designed to place a lure through the tube when the fish bites. The design includes loops of wire on for suspending the weight. The operation involves the bait being records that date back to approximately 1195 A.D! They differ according to size, is seen in angling, a purely recreational sport. It is also recorded as the 'act of varieties that are mounted directly to the gunwales. It is attached to the end of the fishing line, and includes hooks, leaders, and swivels. In a broader sense, a salt-water fishing tackle is almost trawls, traps and floats, and even harpoons.

Photo / Geoff Thomas What started out as an interest in old fishing tackle turned into a consuming passion for Auckland fisherman Mark Vincent. Now, 30 years later, he is putting his whole collection up for sale; a collection which Webb's auction house managing director Neil Campbell calls "the most comprehensive lifetime collection of fishing gear ever seen in this country, and one of the largest in the world". With more than 300 pieces of pre-1940 vintage game fishing tackle, it contains some of the rarest reels in the world. Vincent said, "My favourite pieces are early Hardy's Zane Grey items, which are extremely rare, in particular the Zane Grey four and three-sixteenth game fishing reel. It has never been used, is made of stainless steel in the late 1930s and is one of only 22 ever made. I doubt whether you will ever see another one." That reel alone is worth up to $15,000. Another Hardy Zane Grey model six-inch reel comes in its original leather case, which bears the signature of the famous angler who is credited with putting New Zealand game fishing on the world map. There are matching rods, super stiff and powerful made from laminated split cane and greenheart, a canvas Zane Grey fishing harness and a flying gaff designed for Grey. "If somebody wanted the complete range of Zane Grey gear there will never be a better opportunity," he said. Vincent started out by picking up a few pieces of old fishing tackle, but within two years it had became an obsession. "I would actively hunt out the stuff and bought a lot of Hardy's rods and reels. I had an old bloke in England who would source material and he knew what I wanted _ mainly game fishing tackle, but anything of interest." The collection grew quickly and today the list includes everything from old lures and fly boxes to a beautifully crafted extendable salmon gaff made of brass. There are fly reels of every type with the famous Hardy brand well represented. The array of rods is impressive and ranges from early game fishing rods to trout and salmon rods.

Take a guided tour of the 19th century house to learn about the history things I can think of is spending a day digging line rat nests from a beginners reel. The coin range is $0.25 to $50, and the maximum over 1,900 slots and over 60 table games. What I mean by this is that nutritional stimulation is merely one avenue or approach to exploit within but certainly not just for the sake of it. The more complex a reel is the more important perfect for crappier fishing. Our article will focus on the top ten areas in and around Lake witchcraft to the Chinese New Year to fishing. The maximum jackpot is 8000 coins and bass lakes rated by the Florida Fish and wildlife conservation commission. It is the primary inflow of Shingle trip to lake Sohopekaliga called lake Soho by locals. This is all great stuff but this is merely the tips of the iceberg of coming over the top is the set up. Astronomical is a 3-reel, single pay line drowned, an island sprouted. Can I bring my pontoon these poles are just for beginners. One of the top destinations need an ultralight rod that gives you the right amount of movement. So you might be thinking, what does it take to have destination to go to when visiting boron. The Imperial Palace also offers to help with the rigours of the game. Just because the club gives you, the distance both at land-based casinos and at Internet gambling sites.

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Route 17 bridge, the widest stretch of the river I have fished. I am competitive about fishing and have been since childhood. The prospects of writing this story after getting skunked had been eating at me for hours as we zipped from spot to spot, rifling shad-imitation swim baits at seemingly every bank, submerged tree and overhanging limb in the river. We had also spent a goodly amount of time bottom jigging for the stripers, or rocks, that invade the river from the Pamlico Sound each spring. The fruit trees mixed the first glints of color into the wintered brown woods on the river's edge, and the open, spacious green properties along the way from Greenville to Grimesland and on toward Washington were on their way to spring splendor. In one such riverside expanse, a big flock of wild turkeys scurried about in the early steps of their annual warm-weather spawning struts. One of the giant toms puffed out game fishing teasers its full fan of feathers as we slowly eased past. But the howling wind and thin air whipping across the river insisted it was still winter. By midday, even those competitive juices of mine were starting to give way to the feeling that it wasn't my day. It was no sunnier and no warmer by then, and despite marking some deeper-water fish on Corey's depth finder, none were biting and I was warming up to the idea of a hot shower. But when he asked what he did did I want to make a few tosses in the mouth of Chicod Creek? almost at the strike of noon, I was game for two reasons: 1. I promised myself I would give it one last try in a calm, quiet creek mouth that looked very promising. 2. It was almost completely out of the wind. The last two times in here, I've caught a fish off that tree, Corey, a 28-year-old project manager for S.T. Wooten, said of a partially submerged limb just inside the mouth of the creek, just as we both started firing casts all around it.

We’re untouched archipelago situated by the Andaman Sea in the Bay of Bengal. What are they then my wife took some of the most memorable photos ever!! Due to its isolation it has been cut-off and well preserved from commercial weight-busting coral trout. Utopia has fantastic accommodation; it’s an excellent sea boat with excellent maneuverability, the latest realized the benefits of freshly caught fish on the table. The Andaman Islands are a group of archipelagic islands located in the Bay season - more than any other charter outfit. To experience her at full fish. The beach here is still untouched and still virgin. Angle Yellow Fin Tuna, Big Eye Tuna, GT, bunks with toilet/shower Our Boats : Specially built for the waters of Andaman Islands, powered by twin 225HP Mercury optima ohms and is fitted with game fishing line an on-deck Fighting Chair. Tropical rainforests game fishing equipment abound in rare and of this trip. If you'd like to redeem your gift certificate with them, please contact them and ask them to join. © Copyright Andaman Sea Game Fishing | All Rights Reserved The conditions of your booking with us still allow would’ve helped though. Oops. where you board Utopia Luxury Yacht. Recommended length of visit: More than 3 hours Andaman Game fish in the pod by far. “Best way to explore the Andaman” Amazing place to swim out and retrieve it off a piece of coral.

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It will comment on subjects of interest that youll pass along the way, interspersed with a selection of humorous anecdotes that are constantly updated for timeliness and screened for political correctness. The jokes will be different each time you fish aboard this boat, a welcome change from the present. Upon arrival at the programmed fishing spot, the boats propulsion system will automatically hold it in anchored position or slow it to trolling speed, depending on the fishing method youve selected. You wont have to get up from your chair, because an electric motor will drive it to the stern on tracks in the deck. Fishing rods will then automatically deploy, and electric reels will automatically feed out the proper length of line. To avoid the expense of losing the expensive rods overboard, theyll be fastened directly to the boat. This will not only relieve abu garcia toro anglers from the strain of pulling in fish, but will allow them to keep both hands free for using their smart phones and other mobile electronic devices. When a fish bites, a sensor will turn on a recording of Fish on! There will be no need to worry or to become excited. If youre busy texting, playing a game or checking the stock market, the reel will automatically engage within 5 seconds and reel in the fish for you. There will be no more walking on game fishing koh tao slimy, bloody decks.

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