#the urge to post an old selfie is so strong

[rosicheeks]

Would you (could you) grant us the honor and privilege of a pic of your wondrously angelic smile?

[golden-pickaxe]

Coffee (Part 5)

Fandom: Vikings

Paring: Ivar x Reader

Type: Modern AU, Office AU

Wordcount: 3619

Warnings: reader drinks wine casually

[Coffee - All Parts Here]

A/N: Here is part 5!

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius​ @punkrocknpearls @mootiemoose​ @istorkyou @dini73​ @heavenly1927​ @hashimily​ @peakywitch​

Summary: You are a graduate student at the University of Oslo, and have applied for a job as a personal assistant at the Lothbrok Corporation, without really knowing much of the position advertised. When it turns out you are going to work for the (in)famous Ivar Lothbrok, your whole life is turned up-side-down.

With Ivar just wearing a t-shirt, instead of his usual well-cut suits, you could very clearly see the strong muscles in his arms, as you watched him pushing his wheelchair out of the pedestrian zone, towards the street. You had to swallow at the sight, hating yourself for the effect this man had on you.

 You walked along side him, finally realising what you had done. Just like a year ago, when the coin had dropped that you had really applied at the Lothbrok Corporation, it now dropped that you had just accepted his invitation to come to his home and let him cook for you. Him, one of the most influential businessmen of Norway. With his own fucking Wikipedia site.

Your heart was pounding rapidly in your chest at the thought, and you bit your lower lip, not quite knowing what this whole thing would mean now. And if it would change anything between you. You hoped not, but in the same way, you did hope.

 Getting your private life mixed up with your job probably was not a good idea. On the other hand, this whole situation kind of freaked you out, but in a good way. It was exciting.

 You and Ivar had reached the street, next to the national gallery, where a few minutes later the taxi arrived. Personally, you would never get a taxi in Oslo, as it was just insanely expensive, but with a lot of public transport, such as the tram you had taken to get here, not entirely being accessible to someone in a wheelchair, you could understand why Ivar had called it.

 Ivar maneuverered himself into one of the back seats, while the driver put his chair into the trunk of the car. You felt Ivar’s blue eyes watching you, as you rounded the vehicle to get into at the other side.

Even though he always successfully overplayed it, you saw that he was a bit self-conscious about his legs, often cursing them underneath his breath when they once again got into his way. He could move them a little bit, and also seemed to have some feeling in them, was even able to stand up for a few moments, if he could support himself with his arms. But in general, they did not really seem to be working.

In the office, Ivar hated to use his wheelchair, often just dragging himself from his desk to his sofa, his immense upper body strength enabling him to pull himself up with not much of an issue.

 Now, sitting next to you in the taxi on the way to his apartment, he readjusted his legs a bit with tight lips, appearing a bit nervous once more. You still could not quite wrap your head around what was happening right now, it all felt a bit like a dream to you. Just so, you managed to resist the urge to pinch yourself.

 Your boss, your grumpy boss, the infamous Ivar Lothbrok had just casually invited you to go out for coffee with him, had questioned you about almost every aspect of your life, paid for your drink, and now took you to his home to cook for you. It almost sounded like a very bad rom-com, like a romance story some bored, lonely woman would think up. Not that you expected it to end that way, of course. Even if you honestly wished it would.

 Until now, even if you sometimes chatted on business trips, your relationship had been purely professional, and you had only been over to his flat once, when you had brought him a set of suits to his home, when there had been issues with his dry cleaner. It had not really surprised you, finding out that he also lived in Majorstuen, actually not very far from you, although it had been a stress factor for you. Of course, he did not live in one of the old buildings, like you did, with paper thin walls, no elevator and wonky doors, no. He lived on the top floor of one of those new, fancy apartment buildings, costing a few ten-million krona, overlooking Frognerparken.

 When you had brought the suits up to his apartment, you had also met a famous Norwegian actor in the lift, so it was clear what kind of people occupied the other flats of the building. You had never been inside his home, had only delivered his suits to his door, but even the entrance and the lift had been very fancy and expensive looking. Admittedly, you had taken a stupid selfie in the mirror of the lift and posted it to Instagram.

 As Aker Brygge was, as stated, not far from Majorstuen, the drive was quite short, and the few minutes of silence were only broken by far too relaxing music coming out of the car radio. The taxi stopped in front of the apartment building Ivar lived in, and he paid the driver, while you got out, retrieving Ivar’s wheelchair from the trunk. You set it up and positioned it next to the car, for him to climb into.

 Ivar clenched his jaw a bit, obviously annoyed at something, even though you were not quite sure what exactly it was that he was annoyed by now, only hoping that it was not you. Well, at least you would have not far home now.

Ivar climbed out of the car, moving himself over to sit in his chair, before unlocking the breaks and rolling towards the door of the building, while the taxi behind you departed.

 Just as you remembered, the entry hall of the apartment complex was very posh, and you were reminded that this was a completely different world from yours. A different world from your shitty apartment, where you could hear almost every conversation your neighbours were having, and where you had push your full body against the bathroom door to get it to close properly.

 Following Ivar to the lift, the two of you got in, and Ivar pressed the button of the top floor. As soon as the doors had closed, Ivar’s eyes were on you, mustering you intently. His gaze was a tad intimidating, you had to admit, once again looking like a predator looking at his prey. Still, you managed to look back with a smile.

 “Are there any things you don’t eat, before I work my magic?” he asked, a smirk on his handsome face. You had to laugh at his choice of words, but told him about any dietary restrictions or things you didn’t like, and Ivar nodded.

 “Alright. I think I know what to make, then.” He leaned back in his chair a bit, biting how lower lip, a move that made your knees feel very weak.

 “Thank you.” It came out of your mouth, earning a very surprised expression from Ivar.

 “What for?” he asked honestly a bit confused, tilting his head at you.

 “For the coffee. And for inviting me over, and for cooking.” You studied his face, hoping to find something there, something that would give up his intentions, something revealing why he was doing this. You just needed to know, needed to know if you could get your hopes up or not. Was this really just a social call because you had been working for him for a year now, or was it something else?

 “Thank me after you’ve tasted my glorious food! Then I will gladly accept your thanks.” Ivar winked, and the elevator doors opened. Ivar left the lift, pulling his keys out of his pocket as he stopped at his front door.

 His flat was the only flat up here, and you guessed it had to be gigantic, covering the whole top floor. You were sure, his flat probably also had a roof terrace.

 You had to admit, this was another thing you found kind of intimidating about this man. The sheer amount of wealth he had, the wealth his family had. While you lived in a flat share with an old kitchen and horrible, tiny bathroom, with just a wet room and not even a proper shower, he lived in this extremely modern, borderline futuristic building, overlooking Oslo.

 Ivar opened the door, and pushed himself into the flat, with you following close behind, walking past him before he closed the door again behind you.

 Obviously you had imagined this place to be huge and expensive, but what you were seeing in front of your eyes was just.. something else.

It was less of a normal flat, and more of a large loft, most of the rooms merged into one big space. There was, similar to his office, a gigantic glass front overlooking the famous park, and West Oslo. The sun was still in the sky, the sunset not being for another one and a half hours or so.

 In the centre of the room was a big, beautiful white sofa, the kind where one could just stretch out like a starfish and not fall down. In front of it was a coffee table made out of driftwood and glass, the dark wood in stark contrast with the sofa. On the right of it were large, metal, urban looking bookshelves, filled with many thick books, some leather bound and old looking, dividing the living area from the ‘bedroom’, and there were a few doors opposite of the windows, that seemed to lead into extra rooms, probably the bathroom and other rooms.

 Behind the bookshelf you could see a large bed at the wall, so large in fact that you were sure that it could comfortably fit three to four fully grown people. It was covered and surrounded in white and grey furs, sheep and reindeer as far as you could tell from the distance. Furs also covered parts of the marble floor of the flat.

 There were many more furs on and in front of the sofa, and in general it seemed that grey, white and black, together with different shades of brown were the only colours in the whole apartment, making it look very sophisticated.

 On the left-hand side was a giant, very modern kitchen, seemingly equipped with everything a cook could wish for, with a large kitchen isle and a big table in front of it, a rustic looking piece of furniture, made of wood and carved with beautiful knot patterns, probably hand made by a very skilled Scandinavian carpenter knowing a lot about medieval woodcarving.

 The kitchen itself, you noticed, was lower than what you were used to, and while it confused you for a moment, you quickly realised that it was built so that Ivar could easily reach everything from his wheelchair, without having to get any help.

 “Welcome to my humble home.” You heard Ivar’s voice behind you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You swallowed and turned to him, looking at him as he watched you with a knowing smile on his lips.

 You could not hold back a laugh.

“Humble?” you simply asked, slipping out of your shoes and walking further into the big room, looking around.

 The whole flat was modern and elegant, yet had such a rustic and clearly Scandinavian aesthetic, it was truly impressive. Whoever was the interior designer, was truly a genius, and showed an amazing appreciation for medieval Scandinavian design. Similar works you had only seen in the Folksmuseet in Bygdøy.

 The walls that were not made out of glass were covered in picture frames, displaying either old Viking artwork or photographs of Norway and Iceland, of runestones and old temples. Somehow, it fitted in perfectly with the rest of the decoration.

 There was a door in the glass front of the flat, leading out, just as you had assumed, onto a large roof top terrace, furnished with even more rustic, wooden, and probably handmade tables and chairs, and, as cliché as it sounded, a beautiful hot tub. It was built into a frame, reminding you of a Viking ship, with a set of carved stairs leading up to it, probably so that Ivar had an easier time to get in and out of it, without requiring any help.

 “Alright, I admit, not so humble.” Ivar chuckled. “It was a present from my father when I started to officially work in the company. He had his friend Floki and his wife Helga design and build this whole thing.”

 That made you turn around to him once more. You knew these names.

“The Floki and Helga?” you swallowed.

 Floki and Helga were very, very famous, highly awarded architects and designers, often hired to design important landmarks and museums. Houses planned by them costing up to a hundred million kronas. They were famous for being able to combine the traditional aesthetics of their ancestors with the modern designs of this century, creating masterpieces that were rewarded all over the world. Now, looking around Ivar’s loft once more, it seemed obvious that this was their handy work.

 “Yes, The Floki and Helga.” Ivar chuckled. “The two of them almost raised me when I was a kid. With my parents busy all the time and me being bound to.. this.” He gestured at is chair. “Floki made all the wooden furniture himself. I am very lucky.”

 “Indeed you are.” You shook your head, unable to believe what you had just heard.

 Obviously, he had been raised by the two of them. Obviously, they had made his home for him, being like family to him, and being friends of his father, the most powerful businessman in Norway, and probably even all of Europe.

By now, you wouldn’t even question, if Ivar casually told you that he was descended from Odin.

 Ivar just shrugged at your words, although the expression on his face was a mixture of amused and pride. He bent down to slip out of his shoes, before moving his wheelchair over to a spot next to the door, where another wheelchair was waiting for him, this one looking a bit different, similar to the ones used by disabled athletes. Easier to navigate and probably a bit more comfortable. Ivar heaved himself up from his chair, navigating himself into the other one, a sigh leaving his lips.

 “I don’t fancy the dirt from the streets in my home.” He explained at your confused face, before he pushed himself towards you.

Oh yes, that made sense. Just as both of you had taken off your shoes, it would only be logical for him to also ‘change wheels’.

 A faint smile was on his lips, as he looked up and into your face, his expression soft and open, something you were not quite used to from him. His body language was relaxed too, his arms simply resting in his lap, as his head was once again tilted slightly.

He was truly a beautiful man, you had to admit. It was difficult to ignore, and sometimes you caught yourself staring in meetings, hoping that no one had noticed how your eyes had been practically glued to your boss. Solveig had made fun of you even more, when you had told her about it.

 “I think I’m going to start to cook now, before we starve to death. So, sit down, get comfortable.” He winked at you, before moving his chair towards the kitchen, in the process letting the wheelchair roll a bit, while he pulled his long hair into a tight bun at the back of his head. “Or would you like to help?” he looked back at you with a raised eyebrow, looking at you from underneath his long eyelashes. You had to swallow.

 “Well, I am still your personal assistant. So, I will assist you.” You smiled, following him into the kitchen. You hoped that reminding yourself that you were still his employee would calm your nerves.

 “I had hoped you’d say that, dove.” There it was again, that nickname. Your nerves were certainly not calm now.

 Ivar started to pull out pans and a cutting board, gesturing at the fridge for you to take out certain ingredients and washing them in the sink.

 You were not entirely sure what he was going to make, but you were positively surprised that his fridge and his whole pantry was stocked very well. You had to admit, you had taken him for one of those bachelors who had never touched their kitchen in their lives, and with all the money they had always ate out.

 But, as Ivar casually explained while you were preparing food, he enjoyed cooking for himself, and did so almost every evening.

While you were washing some vegetables, and he was skilfully cutting up an onion, he casually told you about the cooking schools he had visited when he was younger, and about the occasional dinner parties he threw for his close friends and family, where he cooked up five course meals for them all by himself. He moved around his kitchen as if he knew every millimetre of it, knowing the layout like the back of his hand.

 You enjoyed this far too much. You rarely saw Ivar this casual, only on business trips when he was not in the mood to talk about work anymore. And though you did not like to admit it, you were keen to know more about his personal life, to know more about the man behind the name Lothbrok.

 It was nice to see him here, in his home. He seemed so at ease, so open, the usual anger and annoyance he often seemed to carry around with himself in day-to-day life completely absent in this moment. This was his space, where he did not have to worry, to think about what upset him.

 This flat truly seemed to be his place, and his place alone. His kingdom far from the influence of other people. Here he was himself, independent of everyone else, everything built in a way that he did not need help from other people.

 Whatever else would come of tonight, you were just happy that you could witness this. You would see Ivar differently now, you knew. And would probably fall even more for him.

 You noticed it getting a bit darker out, and a quick look at your phone told you that it was already half past nine PM. It had not seemed that long, getting to Ivar’s home and starting to cook, as you had not even finished the preparation for cooking yet, but frankly, you didn’t even mind. The setting sun tinted the whole apartment in a magical, golden light, making it look even more beautiful and magical. Ivar’s face turned away from his work for a moment, his blue eyes wandering over the horizon, where the sky was slowly tinted in orange, pink and purple. A faint smile appeared on his face, before he returned his attention to the food.

 Absently minded you put your phone on the kitchen isle, before you grabbed a jar of mixed spices, which Ivar had instructed you to get for him while he was still cutting up vegetables. You read the label, not surprised that he had not purchased them in Norway, but in Spain, turning around, eyes still on the jar. Thus, you only noticed too late that Ivar was right behind you, his chair almost inaudible on the marble floor.

 With a slightly embarrassing yelp escaping your throat, you lost balance, tripping over Ivar’s wheelchair, falling over and landing straight in his lap. His strong arms were suddenly around you to keep you from completely falling to the floor, and your face probably had taken on a crimson shade.

 “Careful there, dove. I’m usually not that hard to miss.” He smirked, to your surprise not even remotely angry with you.

 You had once, in your third month at the Lothbrok Corporation, seen a small clerk run into him in the office, who had been a bit late and had not really paid attention. After Ivar had yelled at him for good twenty minutes, he had never been heard of again.

 “Gods, I’m so sorry, I..” but you stopped, swallowing, not knowing what to say. You tried to get up, the jar of spices still in your hand, but Ivar’s strong grip around you firmly held you in place.

 The man tilted his head, eye flickering to the glass container you were holding. He let go of you with one of his arms, while the other one was still around you, taking the jar from your hands and placing it on the counter next to him. His blue eyes mustered you once more. Your heart was pounding. In the light of the setting sun he looked even more handsome than he had already.

 “I have told you, that you look good today, right?” he asked, his voice low. His hand had returned to hold you again, and you noticed his fingers carefully caressing your back, which sent a shiver up your spine.

 Your mind was racing, as was your heart.

You could not but stare into his piercing blue eyes, not sure what to say, how to respond to him right now, or if you should say anything at all. You were unable to think even one coherent thought, as you felt his strong arms around you, his firm body below you, and his hot breath against you skin.. wait. When had he gotten this close to you?

 Before you could really comprehend what was happening, you suddenly felt Ivar’s lips against yours, not firm, but soft, almost shily moving against yours. In that moment, it was as if your mind just gave up, and turned itself off.

[pianorexic000]

Sweetspo Saturday

Hi y’all, so today is sweetspo Saturday.......

it speaks for itself. By the way, none of these are mine. I take no credit I have 0 creativity.

I dream of collarbones and thigh gaps, of hips jutting out and ribs just visible, casting shadows on porcelain flesh. I dream of crop tops and denim shorts, of thigh highs and sugar highs. And when I lay in bed at night, counting the calories of the day before my mind can’t help but wander, and I press into my doughy stomach, feel the hips hiding underneath, and remind myself how far I’ve come, and how far I still have to go.

Please listen, I know, I know it’s hard but listen, focus, you, you the most beautiful person on this whole entire planet you are going to make it, I promise you sweetheart, you’re going to make it. Think about it, think about how skinny you’ll be, how happy you will be, how you are going to be able to wear what you want, how you are going to be able to eat what you want and no one is going to make you feel bad for eating, no one. They’re going to be jealous, so fucking jealous, jealous of how you look and how you feel. They’re going to envy you. So stand up, keep your pretty head up and go. Exercise, drink water, eat less, eat healthy, sleep, do yoga, dance around. Get skinny and be finally happy. Please be finally happy.

You’ve been so disappointed in yourself lately. You’ve cursed those girls with a fast metabolism and regretted so much, sweetie. Countless of times you’ve thought, planned and wished to be skinny. I know you want this so badly, honey. But it’s never going to be given to you, sugar. You have to work for it and make yourself proud! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

I know you’re very impatient with your weight-loss. You want to lose it NOW and would do anything to wake up tomorrow at you ugw. But that’s never going to happen, doll. It’ll take time, but you will get there, sweetie. You just have to be persistent and never give up. The road is very long, and there will be days where it’ll feel hopeless, angel. But i promise you that those days where you feel incredibly sexy and comfortable in your own skin are just around the corner. You’ll get there baby, but it’ll take time. So don’t beat yourself up.

You’ll look good in everything; you remember that bikini with the cute print? yes, you’ll look beautiful in it. you won’t look like a fat pig.

people will be jealous; they’ll envy you. you’ll become thinner while others are getting fatter.

you’ll be dainty; you’ll be the lightest in the room. everyone will be able to pick you up effortlessly.

others will compliment you; people will look at you and say “wow, have you lost weight?” “you look great!” “i wish i looked like you.”

you won’t be able to keep more than a cup of food down; you’ve trained your body, you and your body both know its limits.

you’ll have power; you can can control how you look, you’ll have control. self control instead of eating everything in sight. you’ll be proud when you refuse a chocolate bar someone is offering.

are you going to keep saying “i’ll do it tomorrow”

or are you going to start today?

you’ll get there sweetie, make them regret the day they dare call you fat; they’ll start talking GOOD behind your back; “she is losing so much weight omg” “ i wanna look like her.” “im so jealous of her tiny waist.”

make it happen, you cause the gain of weight

and the loss of weight.

It's Okay!

You were really bad this weekend weren’t you? You ate fatty food and cheated on your diet? I know you bash yourself for pushing yourself further from your goal, but it was just Easter and you were enjoying spending time with your family. Unfortunately that included eating. Thin is all you think about cutie, why would you stuff your face uncontrollably like that, sugar? You can’t stop now, i know it’s hard but it’ll be worth it in the end.

Meanspo

Dear You,

You’ve grown up being the “big” girl. You’ve grown up being the “I want seconds” girl. You entered college being the “let’s eat out because it’s easier” girl.

When will you be the “I eat healthy” girl? The “people can pick me up” girl? The “I love my body” girl?

Today? Oh, right, you say tomorrow. Funny, that’s what you said yesterday.

It’s YOUR fault you’re fat. You don’t control your fatty urges to binge and stuff your face. One day, you’ll regret that. And that day is TODAY. If you regret it, then make a change. Skip that meal. Eat less calories. Exercise and burn what you have consumed and stored from your past pathetic eating habits. Get rid of your fatty urges. BECOME SKINNY…Become beautiful. Because if you don’t start today, you’ll only hate yourself tomorrow… again.

Do it. Do it so you can wear cute short shorts without everyone looking at your thighs and being disgusted.

Do it for that bitch who always called you fat at middle school.

Do it for that fuckboy who never looked at you as girlfriend potencial.

Do it so you can be confident.No seriously you’ll never be confident with that big tummy dude.

Do it so you don't ALMOST DIE in fitting rooms.

Do it for the cute clothes.

Do it for the summer.

Do it for the pool parties and how all of your friends will be SHOOK at your perfect body.

Do it for that life little baby. You deserve it. You deserve so much happiness.

Imagine you’re sitting at your desk in your perfectly decorated bedroom. You’re doing school work (all A’s of course), and since the lighting is good, you stop studying for a second and take a selfie.

You notice your collarbones are perfectly peaking out, and your chest bones are slightly visible. You have no makeup on but you still look absolutely gorgeous. Your flawless skin (that you got from not eating junk food all the time) looks great on your camera. Your thin arms look especially toned in this picture, and your smile is unforgettable.

You decide to post it to Instagram, and it instantly gets likes and comments saying how gorgeous you look. You want to keep studying…but the amount of likes and attention is distracting!

You think to yourself “Amazing how my life has changed. 30lbs ago I barely got 30 likes. My grades were bad and I had horrible acne…it’s so great what being thin can do to a person”

One day I won’t have to suck in

One day I’ll sit down and not have belly rolls

One day my thighs won’t touch

One day I’ll be able to see my ribs

One day I’ll step on the scale and smile

One day I’ll be able to smile at my protruding collar bones

One day I’ll wear the clothes I want

One day I’ll be confident

One day I’ll be skinny

do it for the boy who leaves your snapchats at read. imagine how quickly he’ll reply when he sees how good you look in your new body. do it for the girls you envy, the girls who show up in crop tops and short shorts whilst you hide behind a baggy sweater. imagine how proud you’ll feel when you can finally wear what you want and look just as good, if not better than them. do it for the people who bullied you about your weight and the boys who turned you down because of it. watch them gawk and whisper among themselves at how much weight you’ve lost. do it for the mean girls, the ones that walk around school like they own the place, the ones who’s parties you never get invited to, the ones that all the boys want. prove yourself to them. soon they’ll notice you and you’ll be too proud to care. own your new found confidence, throw your own parties, feel wanted. do it for the boy you’ve been crushing on since the first time you met. make him want you just as you wanted him. laugh at yourself as he chases after you. watch him suffer just as you did. do it for the bikini you’ve never had the body to wear. make your old self proud. wear that bikini. finally feel good in it. go to the beach and the pool and show it off. it belongs on you. do it for yourself. do it for your own happiness and do it right now. you deserve this. it might take some time and maybe you’re growing impatient. but it’s okay, everything good takes time. so be safe, stay strong, and don’t give up. this will be worth the wait. trust me.

I literally cannot fucking wait until I’m thin. I can’t wait to not feel like the outsider in my friend group. I can’t wait to not feel like the ugly friend. I can’t wait to be as thin as my best friend and for people to not see me as a charity case. I can’t wait to be able to go shopping and not worry about what will hide my fat. I can’t wait to see my collarbones and feel great in shorts. I can’t wait to be able to post selfies confidently from any angle and get as many likes as all the thin girls from school. I can’t wait to be someone else’s thinspo. I can’t wait to be happy with myself. I can’t wait to be thin.

Okie lovey, I know you might have had a rough couple of days or maybe you’ve been doing everything right and you just need a little pick me up. That’s okay too. I’m here for you, maybe not there physically but I’m still here. Make some tea, and take a bath; while you’re in there light a few candles and take time for yourself. Paint your nails read a book or simply think about bettering yourself. You’re almost there, I’m so excited for you! I’m going to be there when you cross that finish line (UGW). Finished with tea? Are you hungry? No. Exactly, chin up sweetheart, you got this. I love you

10 Reasons I want to be Thin

1. A flat stomach looks so good in anything. 2. No more armpit fat. 3. Finally have a thigh gap (again). 4. Feel beautiful and in control 5. people you already know will ask you how you did it, new people you meet will fall in love with you. 6. Go on adventures and have fun without worrying about your fat jiggling around. 7. Tan outside or at the lake without wanting to die because you’re too fat for a bikini. 8. Going out to parties and making friends because you’re confident and beautiful. 9. Not wanting to cry every time you see your full body in a mirror/ reflection. 10. Not crying in general anymore. Finally being happy.

11 Reasons Why I'm Doing This

1. To be the skinny friend

2. So I can be lifted up and be called light

3. To wear anything and still look cute

4. To have pretty bones to show off

5. To hear those words; ‘Have you lost weight?’

6. To not feel guilty when having a sweet treat (occasionally!)

7. To wear tight jeans and not have a muffin top

8. To not want to cry every time I look in the mirror

9. To not feel embarrassed in a bikini or swimsuit

10. To sit on someone’s lap without fear of crushing them

11. To finally feel happy with myself

They are in the kitchen making dinner. It smells so good, and all you want to do is have some. But would that make you happy? Would that food actually do anything for you? Sure, it would taste good. But as soon as you swallow, it would be gone. You’d take a drink of water, and the taste would wash away. Five minutes of fun, and then you’d be full. Full of food, regret, hate, shame, and disgust. Today would be yet another day wasted. So go ahead, eat the food. Be the fat tub of lard you always have been. Or don’t. Don’t eat the food. Be a day closer to your goal.

The choice is yours.

[sxfterhearts]

19. [5:57 pm]

“Please Miss, please! I have to sit with Y/N.” The boy begged his primary school teacher while tugging her shirt with his sweaty palms. He started to tear up and his lips began to wobble.

“Youngjae, calm down.” His form teacher, a sweet lady in her late thirties, bent down to his height and held his hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to get on the roller coaster ride if you don’t want to.”

“But I-I… I promised Y/N I would do it.” The seven-year-old boy admitted, his cheeks flaring up in embarrassment. “I want to do it, Miss. She told me she’ll help me get over my fear of heights.”

“Are you sure about this?” Her eyes flashed in concern, fully aware of the boy’s crippling fear of anything tall and high.

“I-I’m positive.” Youngjae answered determinedly as he dragged his fists across his eyes, clearing away tiny, warm droplets of tears.

“Go ahead, then. Y/N is waiting for you. I’m proud of you for taking on this challenge, Youngjae. I’ll treat you to an ice cream once you’re done.” The teacher patted his head as a form of encouragement, hoping to provide the boy with some extra strength.

“Thank you, Miss! I’ll see you later!” He yelled excitedly as his little legs carried him towards you, waving with enthusiasm.

“Hurry up, slowpoke! There’s no queue for the roller coaster yet. If we hurry we’ll be able to make it onto the next one.” You urged him as the two of you ran to the front of the queue, waiting eagerly for the ride to return.

Youngjae was certain that his teacher’s pep talk helped him feel braver and more willing to face his fear, however the moment the over-the-shoulder restraint came crashing down, a sudden flare of panic appeared within his stomach. He wrapped his arms around the rubbery material for security, but it did little to dispel the growing sense of horror.

“You alright?” You turned towards him, your face split into a giant smile as the ride began to move at a gentle pace. You were quite the daredevil and loved the thrill of extreme rides, so it came as no surprise that you gleefully dragged your best friend onto this roller coaster.

“I-” Youngjae took a huge, forceful gulp as he looked beyond your face and saw the amusement park grounds gradually shrink.

“Look at me, Youngjae. Don’t look down, just look at me.” You said firmly, trying your best to comfort him.

“Can I… Can I hold your hand?” He asked in a small voice, barely audible amongst the roar of the wind from such a height. “Please?”

You grasped his hand with both of yours tightly. “Don’t look down.” You repeated, aware that the ride was about to approach its first drop. “Look forwards, or look at me, okay? You’ll be fine. You’re safe here with me.”

The boy nodded nervously, physically and mentally preparing himself for the ride of his life.

Needless to say, Youngjae screamed and screeched the whole way until his throat was sore and his voice, hoarse, while hanging onto your hands with a death grip.

//

The sensation of your ears popping as the elevator ascended to the thirty-eighth floor was a mild discomfort, but you were too busy basking in the comforting heat provided by the elevator’s heater that enveloped your chilly body. Beside you, an excited twenty-one-year-old Youngjae bounced on the balls of his feet, both in anticipation and to warm up his frozen extremities. He couldn’t wait to exit the metal box and get a glimpse of the birds’ eye view of Sapporo, covered in a thick blanket of white snow.

The moment a sharp ding sounded from the speakers, he promptly intertwined his gloves-clad fingers with yours and yanked you towards the huge windows, unable to wait any longer. You allowed him to drag you around the three-hundred-and-sixty-degrees observation deck of the JR Tower, feeling a strong sense of déjà-vu from a particular primary school trip to the amusement park with the same boy.

Back then, seven-year-old Youngjae had timidly asked for your permission before holding your hands. The little boy with a paralysing fear of heights who was beyond terrified of roller coaster had agreed to give the ride a shot, on the sole condition that he was sitting right next to you. While eight-year-old you were fairly certain that you temporarily lost all sense of hearing for the remainder of the afternoon after his notorious screaming, you were so, so proud of him for overcoming his fear. Somewhere between the third and fourth drop of the ride, you even remembered hearing his familiar laughter, indicating that he did indeed enjoy himself.

The Youngjae staring at Sapporo’s night view with a wondrous expression was entirely different. Throughout the years, the little boy who was a couple of inches shorter than you had overtook you in height and grown up to be a fine-looking young man. He even sat on a few more roller coasters (always with you by his side), had warmed to the idea of dancing on rooftops and wouldn’t mind standing on a cliff lookout after a challenging hike.

Feeling an overwhelming sense of pride blossoming in your chest, you fished out your phone and sneaked a photo of your interlocked hands, complete with a backshot of Youngjae and the amazing night view as the background. You typed a short caption and posted it onto Instagram, smiling to yourself in satisfaction.

“Babe, look! Isn’t that Mt. Moiwa? We took the cable car up to the peak yesterday afternoon!” He exclaimed, body leaning as close as possible to the glass as he stuck a pointed finger in the direction of the popular sightseeing spot.

Another thing you were proud of was the fact that your boyfriend agreed to get onto the mountain’s cable car in the first place. Its four walls were made of crystal-clear glass and there were no seatings available. Despite the fact that he stuck as close to the centre and as far away from the windows as possible, you were pleasantly surprised at his bravery. “The map says it is!” You replied, indicating to the large map on the wall beside the window. “And that must be the rooftop Ferris wheel, the one we saw on the way to our Airbnb.”

Youngjae nodded in agreement. The two of you stood in silence for a while with his arm coming around to hug you close to his side as you took in the breathtaking view of the twinkling city lights. As a flurry of snow blew across your line of sight, you felt utterly content with your choice of destination for your graduation trip – Hokkaido in the north of Japan.

“I’m really happy that we decided to visit Sapporo.” Youngjae murmured before bending down to place a cheeky peck on your lips.

“I was thinking the same thing. Also, this view is beautiful.” You sighed dreamily. “We should take a couple of selfies to make the boys jealous. This definitely beats partying by the beach in Bali.”

Youngjae chuckled at your words. Just as the two of you were getting into position and trying out different angles, a loud growl from your stomach interrupted your photo-taking session. “You’re hungry already?” Youngjae asked in disbelief. “We just had egg sandwiches and fried chicken from Lawson a few hours ago. I swear your stomach is like a bottomless pit.”

You gave him a playful shove at that. “Let’s quickly take the photos and grab dinner. I really want to try out this famous Soup Curry place near the Susukino tram station.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

On the way down to the ground floor, you checked your messaging app and found two messages from Youngjae’s hyungs.

JayB [6:01 pm] Thank you Y/N for your hard work throughout these years in helping our Youngjae with his acrophobia~

Markk [6:03 pm] He used to freak out and cry when he was younger, our little Youngjae is all grown up now….

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: kisses like cruelty; roderick strong [suggestive]

Notes:

Another one that’s so old I cannot remember who sent me this ask, so again, sorry. This was a universe I started, for Roderick and an oc named Angel, who was... you’re gonna make me tell you aren’t you.. His true mate. I,uhh.. used to have a problem, I was hooked on writing alpha and omega stuff and honestly? I was not good at it at all. Am still not, but.. I do miss writing the whole trope. And I do wanna kind of revisit / rethink this and possibly, write more to it.

Summary:

Roderick’s never been the kind of guy to just sit back and let someone else take what belongs to him. In this case, it’s Angel... The girlfriend of Jordan Devlin... also Roderick’s true mate. Near sexual situation, body fluids mention.

Pairing:

Roderick Strong x OFC, Angel

Warning:

implied sexual situation in a public place; kinda, alpha omega dynamics, body fluids, kinda.. 

The dress looked so tight she couldn’t breathe and clearly, any idiot could see how uncomfortable she was from a mile away.  Roderick glared at Jordan Devlin,  who was all but flaunting her at anyone who could see and would post about it somewhere online and frankly, that just didn’t sit well with Roderick Strong at all.

He shook his head and waved the barkeep over. Nodding to Angel, he slid the guy a twenty and told him “Hey…  Send the blonde a drink on me. She looks like a Jack and Coke kinda girl.”

The barkeep scoffed but took the money, put it in the register and mixed the shot. Passing it off to a drink carrier. Roderick turned to watch what happened.

Jordan had wandered off, probably more concerned with his friends and his so called image to even be bothered with the blonde he’d been practically dragging around for the duration of the week. Roderick noticed that about the kid, he only wanted the sexy little blonde around when it benefitted him. Any other time, she was left to her own devices.

And Roderick caught himself lingering nearby, watching from the sidelines, drawn to her. Every single thing about her had his full and undivided attention.

Across the club, Angel felt a tap to her shoulder and she turned, thinking maybe this time, Jordan would do the  smart thing and be ready to go before he made a complete ass of himself like two nights ago;  a senseless fight with Roderick Strong for no reason other  than Roderick simply saying hi and attempting conversation.

… at least he treats you like an actual human and not some toy he can take out and show off to his idiot friends…

Instead of Jordan, she found a drink server standing there, holding out a Jack and Coke. “But I didn’t..” she trailed off as the server leaned in and flashed a conspiratorial grin, nodding in the direction of Roderick Strong.

Politely, Angel waved and took a sip of the drink. After being absolutely sure that the coast was clear and Jordan was otherwise occupied - taking selfies with some of the guys in back of the bar no doubt, Angel wandered over and slid onto the vacant stool beside Roderick.

“Gotta ask ya, darlin.. If he makes ya that unhappy, why are you even with the guy?”

“I’m not unhappy, just..” Angel trailed a red tipped finger around the rim of the shot glass as she mulled over her choice of words. A sigh came and she mumbled quietly, “He said that if I came out with him, we’d get to spend more time together. What he didn’t mention was that he was going to spend at least half of it being an ass.”

“It’s cos you’re with a boy and not a man.” maybe being so blunt wasn’t the best thing, but Roderick was not one to mince words and he didn’t intend to start now.

Angel eyed him, mouth opening and closing not quite sure how to respond to what Roderick said.

Knowing deep down that Roderick hit  the nail on the head.

She waved the barkeep over and ordered another shot and not daring to meet his gaze, she  asked the question that had her curious.. Well, the safer of the two  at least.

“How’d you know?”

The music changed and  got louder and it forced Roderick to lean into hear her. She was quiet. Too quiet.

Not a big fan of social shit, if he had to guess. Then again, to be fair if it weren’t for her being here tonight, Roderick never would’ve  even given the place a sideways glance. But when he was driving past and he saw the prick Devlin’s car parked outside, he just.. He had to go.

She always looked so damn alone and despite his  best efforts lately, he couldn’t seem to fucking stay away or ignore the pull he felt.

Like now, even leaning in close wasn’t enough. Because see, now that he’d leaned in, he wanted to raise his hand, tuck the stray strands of blonde behind her ear just to see if her hair was really as soft as it looked like it’d feel.

Her perfume was stronger tonight. Sweeter too.

… maybe there’s a reason I’m so drawn to ‘er…

He filed it away.

“How’d I know what, darlin?”

“The drink. How’d you know I liked Jack and Coke?”

“Lucky guess.” Roderick gave a mysterious shrug and he glanced around the crowd. Devlin was nowhere to be  seen. A slower song came on  and Roderick had the passing thought that if there eer was a time to ask her to dance, it’d be now.

He stood and held out his hand.

Angel eyed it -and then him,  warily at first. He pretended to pout a little, and she glanced around. Seeing Jordan was nowhere to be found like usual as of late, she grabbed hold of his hand and let him lead her out on the floor.

The way he pulled her as close as he could get her took her by surprise. There was no hesitance. There was no awkwardness, it felt natural to be pressed against him the way she was. His hands slid down her back and rested on her hips and she couldn’t help the little gasp she gave as her entire body went from a nice normal temperature to suddenly feeling as if she stood in the middle of an inferno or a sauna.

He’d barely touched her and yet, her thighs were slipping off each other every single time she moved. She found herself snugging even closer against him and when he barely managed to stop a quiet groan, she looked up at him and found him already staring back.

His eyes were practically glowing gold.

If she were in front of a mirror, she’d be willing to bet that hers  were the same right now, because the mental images in her mind were.. Anything but tame.

The heavy and dizzying scent of him had her clinging but he didn’t  seem to care. It was  refreshing really. Jordan only seemed to be into PDA when it suited him. Any other time she was left to her own devices.

… it feels so good being wanted…  not settled for or used…

“What’s on ya mind, darlin?”

“Nothing I was just.. Thinking.”

“About?” Roderick gazed down at her and waited on an answer while thinking to himself, “If it’s about kissin me, then I have to agree, darlin. If you knew half the things I wanted to do right now…” and trying like hell to keep that inner animal from escaping it’s cage and making him do something to blow this.

So far, it was going good. Better than he thought.

Angel  couldn’t take it anymore. The urge to pull him down to her level and kiss him until his lips bruised or she passed out from lack of oxygen was so strong that she literally had to dig her fingertips into his shoulder and where her other hand rested against his chest, palm down.  She bit down on her lip and Roderick growled before he could stop himself.

“C’mon now, darlin, don’t go all shy on me now.” he coaxed, his hands leaving her hips and resting on her ass, squeezing a handful through the constricting fabric he wanted nothing more than to tear off her body. He pulled her up a little, his mouth inching closer and closer with each second. Angel found herself leaning in and mirroring it before she could stop herself. It was wrong but it felt oh  so right. And she was a little more than over fighting  the whole pull she’d felt towards Roderick since they met.

“Fuck.” she felt like ants were crawling beneath her skin and her entire body was so tense.. Not in a bad way. No, in a good way. A very good way. A way she hadn’t felt in a while now.

Unless her vibratior or own hand was the cause, of course.

For as much as Jordan Devlin liked to brag about his prowess, he was harmless as a box of newborn kittens.

Roderick smirked and when her lips brushed against his as she said it, he groaned against her mouth, any shred of self control he had remaining going SNAP!’ and leaving that inner animal to take over. And when the other side did..

Angel sucked in a sharp breath as her cunt literally started to throb with need and anticipation. All they were doing was dancing and she felt like she’d get off at any second. Yeah, it’d been that long,  but somehow,  she was not entirely sure that was the reason.

She got the  distinct feeling that Roderick Strong was.. Like this at all times.

… but not with everyone but you like you suspect Jordan is… I mean there has to be some reason Jordan suddenly isn’t in a big hurry to be intimate lately. If he’s not getting it from you, Angel use a little common sense…

“Still waitin on you to tell me what’s on that pretty little mind of yours, darlin.” Roderick’s lips brushed against hers  with each word and as he finished speaking he couldn’t resist the urge he had to nip at her lower lip softly, tugging.

“You’re teasing me now.” Angel pouted as her eyes met his  and he chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s not a tease if it’s right here waitin, princess.” he challenged and she gasped quietly, because their bodies happened to rub together as Roderick slid her up his body, muscular forearms hooking around each of her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his hips  and her arms around his neck.

A shiver passed down his body as she toyed with the ends of his hair -even tugging a little.

“Easy princess.. Lemme get us outta here first.” Roderick mumbled against her mouth as he started to navigate the crowd clumsily.

That last thin shred of restraint snapped the  second they were out the door of the nightclub and moving past the alley.  Roderick stepped into the alley, putting her up against a wall for support. The kiss deepened, teeth tugging at soft plump lips, tongue boldly opening her mouth wider  and then dominating her tongue. The little moan she gave at that told him everything he needed to know about just how well Jordan took care of her.

And if what he suspected was true, that was all about to change. He’d fight the kid to the death if he had to because Angel belonged with him and not  to Jordan fuckin Devlin.

Angel’s hands were all over him and she was bouncing up and down in his arms  desperate to get as much friction as possible. The more she rubbed against him, the more soaked she got. Roderick growled deep in his chest as soon as he realized just how wet she actually was. “Fuck, baby girl. Damn.”

“Roderick.”

“Yeah, princess?” if his tone was distracted it was because he was trying to focus on anything beyond just what exactly he wanted to do  to her so bad he could taste it.. The thought was immediately perceded by him wondering just how sweet she’d taste. “Stop me if I’m goin too far.”  he warned as she answered with a begging and breathless moan and a harder rub right against his aching cock.

“Wanna take you darlin.. Right here, right now.”

“God, fuck..  Do it. Need it, Roderick.. Need.. You.” she managed to gasp as Roderick stood her on her own feet,  earning him a pout but causing Angel to immediately press against him as close as possible. Her hand wandered down, palmiing  at the bulge prominent against his jeans and his hand circled her wrist, holding it in place as he bucked against her hand and leaned in, kissing her again, deeper and harder.

“You sure? Because this happens and ya mine, baby girl. All mine. And I’m not gonna leave a single part of ya unmarked.”

She cupped the bulge, toying with it and he growled into her mouth in warning as his hand made it’s  way up the hem of her dress. She raised her leg to his hip and as soon as his hand ghosted over the insides of her thigh and came away wet, he swore . Angel gave an impatient whine and Roderick asked quietly, “Ready to be so well fucked that y’ forget whats his name?”

“God..  yes..” her head fell back as thick digits slipped past lace and worked her open, fucking into her slowly. She leaned heavily against the wall and worked on getting her hand down the front of his pants. The second her hand curled around his cock, Roderick sucked in a breath and bit his lip, fingers moving faster  just to watch the way her back arched and the look in her eyes.

She was close, he could practically smell it on her. He slowed down drastically and slipped his fingers out  of her cunt, raising his hands to slide them between his lips, staring at her intently as he groaned at the taste of her filing his mouth.

“Tell me somethin, princess?” he asked as he pressed himsef into her heavily, a knee sliding between her legs to keep them open, keep their bodies connected a little better.

“Yeah?”

“That little boy of yours ever want you so bad he dragged ya out of a nightclub and took ya right out in plain sight?”

“No.” she whimpered, grinding herself against his knee, frustrated because she’d been so fucking close.  Roderick’s head dipped  down and he latched onto her neck, biting down. “Everything about ya drives me fuckin insane.  So sweet.. S oft..  Fuck… Gotta have ya to myself.” his lips left her neck and he started to work his way down her body, hitting his knees in front of her. The scent of her was driving him right into a frenzy and all he wanted to do was get another  taste.

“Roderick, c’mon.” she begged and tried to grip his hair to guide his mouth where she wanted it most at the moment. Roderick chuckled and mumbled against her thigh, “Gonna give me all of it? Because I’m so fuckin hungry right now, baby girl.”

He tugged her panties down and the second she felt his tongue and fingers buried deep in her cunt again,  she whimpered, hips rocking as fast as  she could manage. He growled at the taste of her as it filled his mouth.

When he got her back to the hotel, all bets were fucking off.

He was going to show her just how much difference being with a man and not a boy really did make. He was going to show her just what she could expect from now on. He was going to take her for himself.

[ask-gilbert-and-ludwig]

Ludwig wasn’t sure what would be waiting for him downstairs, but he knew it would be a surprise of some sort. Seeing as how today was his birthday, and his brother and father always did something for his birthday.

What he really wanted was to spend his birthday with his friends, but seeing as how he didn’t have any, he couldn’t really do that.

Not that he didn’t enjoy spending time with his family, no of course not! Even if Gilbert was annoying more often than not and liked to pin him to the floor when they were fighting. Even if his dad didn’t have a set schedule for work and sometimes missed important stuff. He still loved them, but it wasn’t the same.

He wanted to be like the kids at school who held big parties and invited all their friends. Then talked about it the next day in class. Well maybe not the last part since he didn’t like talking to most people and most people didn’t like talking to him. But still.

He shook his head and looked at the clock.

I’d better get downstairs, he thought. Despite it being his birthday, he still had to go to school.

He didn’t hear anything as he left his room, but he did see streamers wrapped around the banister leading down the stairs. Noticing one pink amongst the blues and greens he sighed. Gilbert.

Once he’d turned the corner into the living room, he saw the set up surrounding the couch and chairs. A few presents of various sizes, a stack of birthday hats on the table, a banner saying ‘Happy Birthday’ hanging up on the wall, and a few letters.

Aster then trotted up to him, wearing one of the hats and rubbed up against him.

He giggled and took it off her. “I’m guessing that’s what you wanted?”

A loud noise then sounded coming from the kitchen. He looked over and saw Gilbert at the island with a noise maker in his mouth.

“Why did you get him those?” he asked his dad. A hint of desperation in his voice.

“He got them when I wasn’t with him,” he replied.

Gilbert blew into the noise maker again, much more loudly than previously, before proclaiming, “I’m sorry I didn’t want your birthday to be boring!”

“At least I wouldn’t have had a headache.”

“Whatever old man,” Gilbert sneered. “So how does it feel to be 7? Feel older?”

“Not really,” Ludwig replied as he made his way over to the island, “nothing’s changed from yesterday to today.”

“Except you’re 7 instead of 6 now! That’s a whole year!”

“Well I guess I’m taller than I was a year ago.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “You’re taller than you were a month ago. You’re like a weed.”

“I don’t know, your hair looks more like dandelion fluff than mine.”

Gilbert stuck his tongue out at him. Ludwig did so too a moment after.

“Alright, enough,” their father said. Both stopped but continued to side eye the other. “I made pancakes for breakfast, and I added chocolate chips too.”

Ludwig smiled. His dad was hardly ever home for long enough in the morning to make them pancakes made from scratch, and he only put in chocolate chips if he was feeling generous, or it was a special occasion.

“Thank you, Daddy,” he said.

“Ya thanks Dad,” Gilbert mumbled absentmindedly as he checked his phone.

Dad nodded. Setting two large pancakes in front of Ludwig before turning back to the stove. Gilbert quickly messed up his hair before their dad could see.

“Hey!”

Gilbert pretended to be absorbed in his phone. “What? I didn’t do anything.” But the smirk on his lips said otherwise.

“Don’t harass him too much today, okay Gilbert?”

“Not a problem, gonna be at school for most of it anyways.”

Their father sighed.

After finishing their pancakes both Gilbert and Ludwig got ready for school, despite being offered a ride, Gilbert still chose to drive himself to school. Why, Ludwig didn’t know, but at least now he didn’t have to listen to him complain about how much homework he had.

“So, what is it that you want to do today?” Dad asked.

Ludwig thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe take a walk in the big park with the swings instead of the small one near home?”

Dad nodded. “Nothing else?”

“If I get new toys, I’ll want to play with them I guess.”

“Alright, but if you think of anything while you’re at school just let us know.”

“I will.” Ludwig then felt the car come to a stop.

“Have a good day at school Kleiner.”

Ludwig grabbed his backpack and left the car. “Bye!” he said, waving as he walked towards the school.

****

Finally, it was the end of the day and he could just go home. While he loved learning, sometimes school just felt like a punishment and not an actual place to learn. Especially when he kept getting reminded that no one in his class cared that it was his birthday.

As he walked to the front of the school where his bus would be, he saw Gilbert and his friends standing there waiting for him.

“How’d you get here on time to pick me up? School finishes at the same time for you as it does for me,” Ludwig pointed out, wondering why on earth he was there.

“We weren’t doing anything important so when I told the teacher what I was gonna do she just let me go early,” Gilbert explained.

“I just said I had an appointment,” Francis said.

“So, did I,” Antonio added.

“But why did you bring them if we’re just going back home?” While Francis and Antonio did sometimes come over to give him presents, they usually didn’t stay for long, not wanting to make the day about Gilbert instead.

“Because we’re not going home right away, and I need them to distract you.”

“Distract me?”

Francis nudged him. “And it was our idea.”

“Oh, ya that too.”

Ludwig tilted his head. “Where-”

“Come on!” Gilbert urged, pushing him towards his beat-up old car. Getting into the backseat squished in-between Francis and Antonio he couldn’t help but question why Gilbert couldn’t have just asked Dad for him to buy him a better one instead of forcing himself into buying an old used one.

As Gilbert checked his review mirror he said, “You idiots better be clipped in, and no I don’t mean you Ludwig, you’re the only one in this car that has more than one brain cell.”

“Of course, we are!”

“I am!”

Ludwig couldn’t make out his brother’s facial expression as he replied, “Alright good, then we’re off.”

It was slow getting out of the parking lot, while they had been talking the buses had started to pull out, along with every other parent who was picking up their kid.

“So where are we going?” Ludwig asked. Knowing Gilbert, he probably wouldn’t get the answer he wanted.

“Half the fun is the surprise!”

Of course not.

“Hey, you two are supposed to be entertaining him,” Gilbert chastised.

Antonio turned to Ludwig then. “So, how was your day?”

“Uh, it was okay, we had a quiz in math though” Ludwig recalled.

“Oh, that sucks! A quiz on your birthday?”

Ludwig shrugged. He kind of liked math. “It wasn’t too bad.”

“Did your teacher give you a gift or did anyone give you cards?” Francis questioned.

“No one gave me any cards,” most of them don’t like me enough to even remember my birthday, “and ya my teacher gave me a cupcake with gummy worms, but she does that for everyone’s birthday.”

“Still it must be nice,” Francis said, “I never got anything for my birthday at school.”

“Quit complaining,” Gilbert called from the front, “at least you get your birthday off every year. I once had a project due on mine!”

Ludwig remembered that. He had wanted to read with him before he went to sleep and give Gilbert his card early, but he had been too busy finishing the project. Ludwig was glad when he came home finally done with the stupid thing.

“Yes, but everyone is always on holiday on my birthday, so I can never be with friends. So, I am all alone.”

At least you have friends.

“Francis, we were both here this year for your birthday,” Antonio pointed out.

“Ya French fry, do you not remember the thousands of selfies we took on your phone and posted to Snapchat?”

Francis huffed. “I hate when you call me that.”

Gilbert breathed a laugh. “That’s exactly why I call you it.”

“Fine Snow White.”

“Snow White has black hair, I clearly don’t.”

“Yes, but your skin is as white as snow, and you are dumb enough to eat a poisoned apple offered by a stranger.”

“Guys,” Antonio sighed, “do you always have to have this same conversation every time?”

Ludwig tried to look past him out the window but got pushed back into his seat by Antonio before he could guess where they were.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“If he would stop calling me French fry, which aren’t French by the way, then we would never have this conversation.”

“So, it’s okay for Gil and you to call me Puppy but not okay for him to call you French fry?”

Gilbert snorted.

“French fry is historically inaccurate; Puppy is extremely fitting.”

Ludwig looked at Francis in confusion. “Why do you call him that?”

“Oh, he gets excited really easily, he follows Lovino around everywhere he can, and is loyal to a fault.”

“Not to mention he licks people,” Gilbert added.

“Only when they’re being annoying,” Antonio defended.

Ludwig felt the car park. “Oh, thank God we’re here,” he whispered.

They filed out of the car, Ludwig following close behind. Just as he was about to look around hands placed themselves over his eyes.

“What are you doing? I can’t see!” he complained.

“We gotta get you there first!” he heard Gilbert say right above him. It must have been him who was covering his eyes.

Ludwig sighed. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to get out of Gilbert’s grip anyways. “Fine.”

They started moving, slowly, as to avoid cars in the parking lot he assumed, towards the surprise. We probably look strange, he thought. Three teenagers leading a blindfolded child to wherever it was they were taking him. Hopefully nobody was staring at him.

When they finally stopped Gilbert said, “Guys do a drum-roll!”

Ludwig then heard what was probably Francis and Antonio attempting to mimic a drum-roll by slapping their thighs.

“I don’t need a drum-roll.”

“Yes, you do!” Gilbert said before taking his hands off of his face. “Ta-da!”

Ludwig let his eyes adjust to see that they were in a bookstore.

“Pick any three books you want,” Gilbert declared, spreading his arms wide.

“Shouldn’t you check them over to make sure they aren’t filled with,” Francis cleared his throat, “stuff.”

Stuff? What stuff? Books that have swearing?

“I doubt he’ll go anywhere near those sections, but...” Gilbert turned back to him. “I have to look them over first though okay?”

“Alright.” Ludwig didn’t understand why he needed to. He didn’t think there’d be any swearing or whatever in the history or fantasy books he wanted.

“Okay so run free but try and not take too long cause we need to get back in less than an hour, or Dad will think I kidnapped you.”

Ludwig breathed a laugh before running off to where he knew the history section was. He skimmed through the books until he found one on mythologies. While he knew the basics of some mythologies, he wasn’t very knowledgeable in them, and ever since he had met that weird frog, he had been more curious about them.

He then made his way towards the children’s section, making sure to hold his new book close to his chest, not wishing to drop it. He wanted to find a collection of Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tales. He had already read some of the more famous ones such as; The Little Mermaid and Thumbelina, but he had yet to read the lesser known ones that he had just recently heard about; The Nightingale and The Wild Swans.

Ludwig made his way down the row, checking the books for the authors names, until he came across Andersen’s. There were two different collections.

He held the two in his hands and thought about which he should choose. While the one had more stories and had a much prettier cover, the other was cheaper, and although Gilbert had a job of his own now, Ludwig didn’t want to force him to spend more than he had too.

But I really want it, he thought.

Deciding that he would just ask Gilbert if it was okay to get the more expensive one, he put the cheaper of the two back.

As he was about to speed off to another section, he heard a book fall off the shelf. Not wanting anyone to step on it, he went and picked it up.

Turning it over to look at the cover he saw that it was one he recognized. The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.

Someone must have gotten lazy and left it here instead of putting it back in the French section where it belongs, he thought.

Looking at the cover he couldn’t help thinking about when he had read it in class. Although he had had a bit of trouble following along, he had gotten the gist of the story, and he had surprisingly liked it.

Instead of putting it back, he put it with his other two books and went to go find his brother. He found them standing a bit off from the line to the cash register, talking animatedly about something.

“You done?” Gilbert asked as he took the books from him.

“Yes.”

Looking them over Gilbert pulled out The Little Prince. “You sure you want the French version? I think they might have it in English.”

Ludwig shook his head. “No, I want it.”

“Okay.”

“Is it okay that I get this collection book of Fairy Tales or should I get the one that’s cheaper? I wanted this one because it has more stories, but I’ll go back if you want.”

“Nah it’s fine,” Gilbert reassured, “Antonio and Francis are chipping in anyways. It’s their gift to you.”

“Well thank you.”

Francis and Antonio smiled.

“No problem, I love giving people gifts!” Antonio replied.

“It’s your birthday! Of course, we’d get you something mon petit!” Francis then proceeded to run their hands through Ludwig’s hair.

Ludwig batted his hand away.

“Let’s get in line before it gets too long,” Gilbert said.

****

Gilbert had first dropped off Francis and Antonio at their homes before driving them back to their house. Now they were parked in their driveway and Gilbert was trying to convince Ludwig to set his new book down.

“You can read it later, now we’re gonna have cake and presents!”

Ludwig looked up from his book on mythologies and put his new bookmark in it.

“Good, now I don’t have to take it from you and put it on a high shelf.”

Ludwig glared at him and held the book closer.

Gilbert held the door open for him as they went inside. “We’re home!” Gilbert yelled down the hall.

They then walked into the living room to see the same spread of decorations, with just a few more presents added to the table.

“How was school?” their dad asked as he continued to prep dinner.

“It was okay,” Ludwig replied.

Gilbert set his bag down next to the bookcase. “Oh! You guys need to hear this! Today Arthur actually wore colour. It was horrifying.”

Ludwig had heard of Gilbert speak of Arthur and how he only wore black or wore mostly black with a bit of colour. He had called him ‘emo’. Ludwig still had no idea what that meant.

“Really? What was he wearing?” Ludwig questioned.

“He wore blue jeans with rips in them and a green shirt. It was so surreal! I had to ask Antonio if I was having a stroke.”

“Did you find out why?” Dad asked.

“Well Francis went up and complimented him, then said that maybe he wasn’t completely hopeless after all. Then Arthur got defensive and said it was because most of his clothes were dirty. So, this is probably just a onetime thing.”

“He could have been lying because he was embarrassed,” Ludwig suggested.

“Could be.”

Gilbert had told Ludwig all about his friends’ crushes. How Francis really liked Arthur and Arthur probably really liked him back because of how he acted towards him, but they were too stubborn to tell each other. Didn’t want to be the first to admit it. Ludwig had said that the logic of teenagers was dumb. Gilbert hadn’t agreed.

“Dinner will be ready soon if you want to come sit,” Dad interrupted.

Both boys went and sat at the island.

“So, what’re we having?” Gilbert said watching their father.

“Sauerbraten, potatoes, red cabbage, and knödel.”

“Hell yeah!”

A glare was sent his way.

“Sorry,” Gilbert mumbled in a tone that suggested he wasn’t.

Dad didn’t bother berating Gilbert for swearing further than the glare. While there was a no swearing rule Gilbert didn’t take it seriously. He was only easy to control if he wanted to be.

“We don’t have hats on!” Gilbert suddenly exclaimed as he jumped out of his seat. He came back a few seconds later and forced a birthday hat on both Dad and Ludwig.

Ludwig reached to take it off, but Gilbert stopped him.

“I’ll force you to wear two if you take this one off. It’s not that big a deal, just until you’re done unwrapping your presents.”

“Fine.”

****

After dinner Dad put the cake, a delicious looking one with blue icing with star shaped sprinkles, in front of Ludwig and lit the candles.

As always Ludwig felt awkward as his family sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to him. He really didn’t like being the center of attention and this was the worst kind.

“Make a wish!” Gilbert said once they had finished singing.

I wish I had just one friend.

He blew out the candles.

“What did you wish for?” their dad asked.

“You can’t ask!” Gilbert exclaimed. “It won’t come true if he tells you.”

“Alright. Well I hope it comes true.”

I hope so too.

“Of course, it will! Ludwig’s great! He deserves it to come true.” Gilbert leaned down and hugged him.

Ludwig struggled to get him away. “Let go.”

Instead Gilbert picked him up and carried him into the living room.

“Put me down! What about my cake?”

“I’ll get you a piece so we can eat it while you’re unwrapping presents.”

“Why can’t I just eat the cake then do presents?” he implored.

His brother set him down on the couch. “Cause I’m getting impatient. I want to see your reaction to my gift.” He jogged back over to the kitchen and grabbed two slices of cake. Then came back, their dad following much more slowly behind him, and gave Ludwig the bigger of the two slices.

Good.

First Gilbert gave him his card. Strangely it wasn’t a joke card, for once it was sentimental. “Thank you.”

“I haven’t even given you your gifts yet. You can thank me after.” Once he was done looking over the card Gilbert then grabbed a present wrapped in black wrapping paper with white paw prints printed all over it. “This ones from me!”

“I guessed.” He took the present from him and started to unwrap it carefully, not wanting to make a huge mess. Not unsurprised to see that it was clothing. Two shirts to be exact.

Gilbert took one of them and held it up against his chest to show that it said ‘big brother’ on it. Every year his brother got Ludwig and himself a new matching set of shirts with something along the lines of ‘big brother’ and ‘little brother’ written on them. It had become a sort of tradition. This year the words were in big white letters written in cursive over a blue shirt. A number two on the back of his.

“When will you stop buying these for us?” They didn’t even wear them all that often. They always wore them the day after his birthday, then maybe if Gilbert remembered they would wear them again a few more times. Ludwig usually just shoved his in a box in his closet.

“When you finally stop growing. Then they’ll be pink and have crowns on them.”

“If you do that, I’m donating them.”

Gilbert smirked.

“What’s the real present you wanted to give me?” Ludwig asked, trying to change the subject.

Gilbert reached into the pile again and this time handed Ludwig a wrapped-up box with a bow.

Ludwig untied the bow, then once the paper was off, he opened the box and pulled out a frame. Looking at it he saw that it was a picture of him and Gilbert on the swings in the park wearing their raincoats, laughing at some dumb joke Gilbert had made.

He smiled fondly, if he remembered the day correctly this had been a few months ago back in April when all three of them had gone to the park. Gilbert had challenged Ludwig to see who could swing the highest. Gilbert had obviously won, what with his legs being much longer. After wearing themselves out Gilbert had tried talking but his voice had cracked. What with him being winded and the added change to his voice it sounded silly. Instead of getting bashful as most would Gilbert had pretended to be a dying bird.

Ludwig leaned over and gave Gilbert a hug. “I really like it.”

“Ya, Antonio helped me carve the frame and Francis helped me pick out colours for it. But the idea was all mine!”

Ludwig looked at the picture again and payed more attention to the frame. It had a little rain cloud carved on one side. The blue of the frame matching Ludwig’s coat and the cloud matching the clouds in the picture.

“It’s really good.”

“Thanks, but you know me, I’m shit at art. Most of it was Antonio.”

“Music is art so you’re not all bad at it.”

Gilbert shrugged and handed him another present. “This is my last one then Dad’ll give you his.”

Ludwig unwrapped it to find a husky webkinz.

“Whatcha gonna name him?” Gilbert asked making room on the couch so Dad could sit with them.

“Snowy.”

“Coolio.”

His dad sat next to him and handed him a gift along with a card. This one was also in a box, but it was bigger than the one Gilbert had given him. Ludwig opened the envelop and read the card before he unwrapped the gift, discovering that it was a toy airplane that he had to build.

“It comes with a few paints so you can choose what colour it’s going to be.”

“Thank you.” He couldn’t wait to make and play with it. Maybe he would try and paint it like one of the planes from his history books.

Dad then handed him another present. “This is the last one.”

“Okay.” He opened it and saw a light brown bear wearing a blue shirt that said, ‘Happy Birthday’, blue jeans, and green and grey shoes.

“Thank you, I really liked all of them.”

Gilbert messed up his hair again. “Good!”

Ignoring his brother, he opened the letters on the table. All from his family in Germany, except for one from Roderich and his parents who couldn’t come today. All signed from family he had never met or was introduced to once when he was too little to remember. The entire process felt more like a formality then a genuine gift. At least Gilbert knew who all these people were.

After telling him happy birthday once more his dad went upstairs to work on paperwork and Gilbert moved to the small love-seat and started playing some game on his phone.

As he sat there on the couch, he started to feel very tired all of a sudden. Taking off his birthday hat he laid down and wondered if and when his wish would come true.

[hazzasgayvodka]

can you do an imagine where famous!y/n and harry just went public and everyone is freaking out about them and how amazing they look together:) also happy birthday!

“You ready for this?” Harry asks, the smile on his face the biggest you’ve ever seen, “The single’s out at midnight.” 

You let him wrap his arms around you from behind, leaning his head on your shoulder. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous, releasing a song featuring your big famous boyfriend that no one knows about. It started as a joke, just a regular day in the studio recording your second album when Harry, who was notoriously bored if he wasn’t helping out in some way, grabs the Stratocaster out of the corner and starts strumming a few chords. He looks over at Mitch who is still standing behind the glass and nods his head over to the drum kit, urging Mitch to hop on it. 

You couldn’t help but shake your head laughing as Mitch pushes his way through the door to the studio and all of the guys standing in front of the sound board on the other side of the glass throw their hands up in frustration. 

“Get me a four on the floor going man.” Harry grins, grabbing your acoustic guitar and handing it to you. 

“Harry, what are you-”

“A minor,” He says, cutting you off as you throw the guitar strap over your shoulder, “Stay on it for four counts, switch to D minor on the one.” 

You do as he says, positioning your fingers and strumming along, falling into the beat with Mitch while Harry readjusts the strap on his shoulder, nodding his head along to the beat before coming in strong with a very familiar riff. He’s playing Miss You by The Rolling Stones, one of your favorites. 

Mitch is shaking his head as Harry stumbles over the notes in the riff a couple of times before locking them in and getting the strumming pattern down. You look up and notice the guys behind the soundboard don’t look too enraged anymore, instead they’re smiling and the recording sign is glowing red. 

“You ready baby?” Harry smirks, nodding to the mic in front of you, “You’re in first.” 

“I’m what?” You laugh just as he nods to you and Mitch and counts you in. 

“Come on y/n, ready, and one, two, three, four!” 

The little jam session Harry had started to get your mind off the album for a couple minutes turned into a full duet cover of the song. As soon as you opened your mouth to start singing and he came in with the lower harmony, the guys in the booth were shouting for you guys to keep going. 

You had fun with it and so did he. He was dancing around the studio, bopping his head around and sharing your mic with you to sing the little adlib riffs of ‘ooh, ooh, hoo, ooh, ooh, hoo, ooh’ every time they came back around. Mitch eventually hopped on the guitar to show Harry how it’s done, playing the notes of the riff fluidly and effortlessly before adding a sick guitar solo to the end. The entire track was finished by the end of the day and your manager was almost begging you and Harry to put it out as early publicity for your album. 

This was the first time you’d ever done something together for the public. You hadn’t planned on announcing your relationship for quite some time but with the way the media is, Harry knew what the tabloids were going to say whether you two confirmed it or not. Harry wanted people to hear it from him, not some dicey article online, but you were still wary. What were his fans going to think? The first time they ever hear about you being with Harry and you’re already releasing a song featuring him. How is that going to look? They’re gonna think you’re in it for the money or the fame just like what they say about the rest of them, you’ve read enough tweets to know how they feel about the women who get linked to Harry Styles. 

“I don’t know, Harry.” You say nervously, your stomach twisting in the worst way. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” He asks, suddenly serious as he spins you around in his arms and meets your eyes with his own, “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m just thinking about what everyone’s going to…” You sigh, letting your sentence trail off, “Never mind, don’t worry about it.”

You pull away from him to walk back to the bathroom and worry about this in solace, not wanting to drag him down with you since he seems so excited about your big debut as a couple. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” He calls, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to him, “What’s going on, love? I thought you were excited about this.” 

You want to lie and tell him that everything’s fine, but you know he’ll see right through you when he’s staring at you like that, his eyes drilling into yours. You hang your head on your shoulders, staring down at your shoes but he grabs your chin and tilts your head back up to face him. 

“Baby, I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” He murmurs, moving his hand from your chin to cup your cheek instead. 

“I just don’t know if I can do this,” You shrug weakly, “I don’t know if I can be the Harry Styles’ girlfriend.” 

“While I’m appreciative of the ego boost,” He teases, tucking your hair behind your ear, “I’m just as nervous about being the y/n y/l/n‘s boyfriend.”

You shove him off, rolling your eyes, “Don’t even, Harry.” 

“I am!” He laughs, “What if your fans hate me? I’m some old news boy band guy and you’re like the hot new shit topping the charts, you’re like a rock goddess y/n.” 

You can’t stop the heat creeping up your neck and flushing your cheeks pink. You know your face is as red as a tomato as you shake your head, trying to hide your beaming smile from him. 

“I am not,” You sigh, “You’re Harry Styles, if anyone should be worried about fans, it should be me, they’re going to tear me to shreds Harry-”

“You think?” He smirks, taking out his phone, “Let’s find out then, huh?” 

“What do you mean? What are you-”

You’re cut off as he holds up his phone and kisses your cheek just as the flash goes off. You gasp in surprise, squeezing your eyes shut and laughing as he attacks your cheek with kisses. You look over at his phone to see the picture, his puckered mouth pressed against your cheek and you laughing hysterically. It’s absolutely adorable and you can feel another blush creeping onto your cheeks when you notice his giant smile as he opens Twitter. 

“Harry.” You warn.

“Midnight. Miss You cover with my girlfriend, the one and only y/n y/l/n. All the love as always, H.” He reads along as he types, attaching the picture and hitting Tweet. 

“Harry, no! What did you-”

“Look,” He says, shoving his phone in your hands, “They’re so cute, can’t wait, she’s so pretty.” He reads, scrolling through the hundreds of replies already flooding his account. 

Can’t believe my two faves are dating AHHHH

MISS YOU? AND Y/N?? HE WANTS US DEAD

oh my god guys he looks so happy I love her already

can y/n drop her skincare routine ??

You can’t help but laugh as you continue reading through a couple of the replies. You can feel Harry’s eyes on you, staring at you while you scroll. You finally look up to match his gaze and he smiles, taking you in his arms. 

“See?” He asks, taking his phone back and slipping it in his pocket, “I told you they were gonna love you.” 

Suddenly your phone is buzzing out of control in your pocket and you realize that your followers must have gotten wind of your new relationship status. You take out your phone and toss it onto his desk, letting it buzz away while you grab his face in your hands and pull him to you, sealing your lips to his. 

By the time midnight rolls around, the nerves have started to creep back in but for an entirely different reason. You could tell Harry was a little nervous too, he would never admit to it but you could see him picking at his bottom lip as he scrolls on his computer. 

“Five minutes.” He calls over his shoulder, his knee bouncing underneath his desk. 

You get up from the couch and pad over to him, placing your hands on his shoulders and gently massaging the skin between his shoulder blades. He sighs in relief as you do so, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. 

“They’re gonna love it Harry.” You assure him, leaning down to peck his cheek. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” He sighs, sitting back upright, “What about your fans? What do they think of me?”

“They love you Harry,” You smile, loosely draping your arms around his shoulders and leaning against his back, “Everyone’s had good things to say.” 

“What kinds of things?” He smirks, clearly fishing for compliments. 

You look over at the computer as the page refreshes and suddenly your single is live, “Harry, look!” You grin, pointing at his laptop. 

He turns around quickly and smiles, pressing play and instantly nodding his head along to the track. Your phone starts buzzing in your pocket and you take it out to see half a dozen twitter and Instagram notifications coming in. 

You start to scroll through what everyone has to say just as Harry reaches out and snatches the phone straight out of your hand. He points your phone at the small mirror on the desk you use for doing your makeup and you lean forward, reaching around him to try and grab it. He holds it further away and just before he can snap another picture of the two of you, you cover his eyes with your hands. He puts up a peace sign and takes the picture anyway. You stand up straight, looking over his shoulder to see the selfie of the two of you in the reflection of the mirror and smile. He opens your Instagram and chooses the photo, typing a quick caption and pressing share. He turns around and hands your phone back to you with a big cheeky grin on his face. 

“What are you up to now, Styles?” You laugh, looking at your most recent post. 

@y/n: hackstagram 

You look up at him and he’s still grinning, clearly proud of his work. You shake your head and turn back to your phone in your hand but he sighs, taking it back and tossing it onto the desk. 

“Can we worry about what people think tomorrow?” He asks, taking your hands in his, “I want to go out and celebrate,” He smiles, “In public, with my girlfriend.”

I promise I tried lmao also thank you for the happy birthday :)

[dxmedstudent]

Thanks, Facebook!

I’ve been going through my facebook suggested friends list and I was struck by how... distinct the categories were. And how odd. I really wish it would just let me disappear people once and for all, because it feels like it is always trying to get me to add the same people. Or maybe it’s not the same people but it always seems to come up with so many. The first category was... people I have so many mutual friends with. But just because I have 32 friends i common with someone, doesn’t mean I know them. My year at med school had over 300 people in it, and I’m a faceblind introvert who minds her own business. There is no way I have had meaningful interactions with all these people, no matter how many mutual friends we have. Medicine, in particular is a small world, and we all know a lot of people, but I don’t see why I should add every person I shared a lecture theatre with, or shared a hospital with. I’m so glad that I block people I stop talking to, because I can foresee lots of now-defriended exes being recommended to people purely because of mutual friends. I can see why their algorithm would assume I must know these people, or even be very close with them, but the’res a difference between ‘these friends all hang out and therefore probably know each other’ and ‘these 40 people work or go to university together, so they’ll all want to ‘friend’ each other. Sometimes I really have no clue who these people are. Most of the time, actually. Occasionally, I do, but I know them so little that I might as well not know them at all. There are a lot of not-particularly-close-friends’ siblings, cousins, partners whoI have never met, and may never do so. And parents, though friends’ parents tend to the the kinds of people who love to add you on facebook, and you can’t say no because you do think they are OK but this is all sort of a bit weird.  Even if it’s a close friend, I may I love my friend and know their sister, doesn’t mean I need their grandmother or aunt or friend I’ve never met, on my facebook. Maybe we’ve met a few times, and they are a friend of a friend, but we’re not really close and I can’t imagine they need to see my hilarious museum photos ported from instagram. Sometimes it’s other people’s partners - who I’ve never met, even if we do have friends in common. I can’t really see any good coming of me adding everyone’s husbands who I don’t even know, no matter if we have a few mutuals. I’m fairly sure most people I know aren’t that weird kind of possessive jealous partner who vets their partner’s FB friendlist, but I can imagine that in friend circles things might get awkward. That reminds me of the threatened dating app feature of facebook; particulary the ‘crushes’ element where people can nominate people they know. Given that  if you’re a grownup avoiding confessing your feelings, it’s probably for a reason, it just seems really ill-thought out. And even if you are going to have an affair, it probably shouldn’t be conducted on social media sites with a patchy privacy history. It’s all just deeply weird and I hope facebook doesn’t try to integrate whatever they are planning in any intrusive fashion. There are also people I know but I’m not adding for a reason; people I don’t like, people I used to like but it wasn’t reciprocated, people I’ve had beef with and are now no longer in my life, and anyone who I might have gotten to know through them. The most awkward of these is an ex-friend’s current girlfriend. I’ve met them, and I’m sure they are a lovely person, but I really think that’d be more drama than I could handle. Others are just people I thought were OK, but just never gelled with well enough to let them in on my life. Or people who seemed OK in university, but after years of not really talking, there’s just... not much to say? To be honest, I’ve been having the strong urge to go on a bit of a social media cull and just... quietly restrict my circle to people who are meaningful to my life right now. I’ve been resisting, but really, I do want to pare things down. I do like when it picks up friends from work, though facebook often doesn’t pick up the people I necessarily want to add, rather, it picks up the people who seem to add everyone. The people I want to add are often a bit more reserved, and I am always left wondering if I’m intruding by ‘friending’ people from work, partly because I myself am quite a private person who doesn’t want to let many people in. People rarely make the cut these days, but every once in a while I make friends that I really want to carry with me after I’ve moved hospital and changed place. I’m a bit shy when it comes to adding colleagues on Facebook; I have to feel pretty comfortable with a colleague before they make the jump to a highly curated version of my profile. And consultants? Never make the cut. You do not make friends with your boss. There’s a whole slew of older relatives I’m very deliberately not adding. They can live their own life, but I don’t particularly want to be their entertainment when it comes to the rumor mill, I am fairly sure my cousins curate their facebooks even more rigidly, for the same reasons. When I can tell you that some of my relatives are known for being both extremely talkative, nosy and blunt to the point of offensiveness, you can see why I might not want them nosing around my every post; it’d just make things less fun. There are some relatives whose suggested profles or friend requests are currently being considered, as I try to work out if my current privacy setting for relatives is restrictive enough to make me happy to add them. It’s not even like I add anything particularly controversial or salacious on facebook, I am what most people would describe as a boring person.  I just don’t feel comfortable with opening up my profile to lots of people, and I don’t want to feel self-conscious if I put something up. I could say that it’s my issue, but given that my relatives are pretty blunt (see any of my ‘why aren’t you getting married?!’ posts), my self-consiousness with relatives has a pretty obvious cause. I do however, like to use facebook to keep up with some relatives and family friends; living abroad and doing my own thing means I don’t see some people who I really care about as much as I would like to. And whilst anyone who is really close to me is actually on my Whatsapp, there’s a place for people who aren’t my best friends or immediate family in my life. If I’m honest, my facebook mainly exists for keeping up with people like that; who I care enough about that I like to know they are doing well, and that I can catch up with them once in a while, but we’re not on whatsapping terms. And also for some of my best school friends who never seemed to get the hang of regular texting or  whatsapp or even email; for some of them, these only exist to arrange meetups, where real interaction happens. Being a busy person with a horrible timetable, that is personally the opposite of how I feel, but I try to keep up with their lives as best as I can. Facebook did pick up the guy that I’m seeing; no mutual friends so I was a bit surprised at first.  I assume it uses information from instagram and Whatsapp, which we prefer because unlike facebook they allow you to conduct your love life discreetly, rather than entertaining your friends and relatives like the local panda breeding programme. We discussed ages ago that we’re both not fussed about social media, and since update each other often and spend lots of time together IRL, it wouldn’t really add anything apart from old holiday photos, embarrassingly dorky comments and likes from 15 years ago and my slightly embarrassing fanart photo albums (Oh god, don’t dump me because of terrible, terrible Naruto fanart, I’m begging you! I can change!) there’s no rush. Thinking about it, I’ve already seen his old holiday photos, so I’m good for now, thanks. Don’t get me wrong; he’s wonderful and I’d have no issue with him being on my profile, he could see what he likes and I’d be happy to be ‘connected’ to him. But there’s no privacy on facebook from your extended social circles.  We’ve reached the point where the people in our lives have heard of the person, but haven’t gotten to know them, and I feel it’d be gentler to introduce each other in each others’ lives much more fully before our friends and family start judging the person we are dating due to their truly mediocre selfies or choice of likes on facebook. I avoid having my older relatives on facebook partly because I know they’d be tittering every time I added a male friend or (heavens!) a man wrote a comment, so.. just no. I just hope he doesn’t come up as a random suggested to anyone close to me; that seems the kind of thing FB’s creepy algorithms could throw up. That’s because for me, the weirdest category of recommended friends, by far is people who I do know but have no mutuals with, and who I’ve never interacted with on social media- I don’t even have their number. We’ve never shared so much as a whatsapp message. By reasonable standards, they should not be suggested to me, and yet, here they are by some dark force I cannot understand. I can sort of see how some of my distant cousins might be picked up by Facebook’s algorithms, but FB is also giving me colleagues who it really shouldn’t know I know. I don’t ever have my place of work on FB, don’t list my location (though it might be mentioned - not geotagged - on some photos) and we have no friends in common. It’s funny that I actually quite like some of these people, so occasionally they make the jump, but I just find it weird that FB has figured out we know each other. I wonder if it’s due to geographic location? It does make me a little afraid of how good the algorithms are getting. There’s also people it thinks I know that I do not. No mutual friends. No similar geography. I assume they must be people a couple of degrees of separation from either uni friends/ colleagues or relatives, but I fail to see why facebook even tries to sell you these people. Where do they come from? Who knows. Anyhow, I’d love to hear whatever awkwardness FB is selling everyone else, or if someone actually understands their friendship algorithms.

[megaphonemonday]

You're an amazing writer who does wonderful things with these characters! If you're looking for prompt ideas, how about a semantics issue w/ the twins telling someone that their aunt and uncle got married? Or Mike and Evelyn sibling cuteness?

Thank you!! That’s really sweet of you to say❤️ I’m playing a little mix and match with this one because @monkshoodr also asked for Mike’s first day as a WAG. I hope you enjoy this!

This fits post-the moral comments of the neighbors and the long game but works as a stand-alone. 

some kick-ass to it | read on ao3

In theory, children, no matter how well behaved, were not allowed in the Padres Suite. The Padres Suite and its perfect view of the field was the realm of bigwigs and owners and the WAGs who didn’t have offspring to supervise. The ones who did could “enjoy” the family room down off the clubhouse.

In practice, Evelyn Sanders did not care. 

She was no fool. She knew that leaving her two thirteen-year-olds—God, she was the mother of teenagers; how messed up was that?—unattended in a Major League stadium, even in the shelter of the Padres family room with its dedicated attendants/babysitters, was a recipe for disaster. Her boys might not be typical troublemakers, they made sure not to ever get caught at the least, but Evelyn wasn’t about to give them more leeway than they deserved. 

They could work and scheme for their chances at mischief the way Evelyn had. It would build character or something.

Anyway, it was Opening Day. Marcus and Gabe deserved to see their dad take the field from the best seats in the house. Plus, it wasn’t every day that they got to skip school and watch their honorary aunt pitch in her first home opener.

If they got into trouble up here, at least she’d know what it was right away. 

That was her intention, anyway.

Of course, Evelyn’s vision of trouble was pretty tame. She knew her boys; maybe they’d spill something on the new carpeting or demolish the appetizer spread in an effort to fill the yawning abysses of their stomachs. At worst, their newly gangly limbs would send them crashing into something and there’d be a spot of property damage. She could handle that. Evelyn herself had done much worse, not that she’d ever let them know that. 

What she hadn’t imagined, though, was that the twins would entangle the General Manager of the San Diego Padres in their nonsense. 

She really shouldn’t have underestimated them.

She also probably shouldn’t have taken her eyes off of them, not even for a second. However, she’d been a little distracted by Mike Lawson swaggering out onto the field to make his first ceremonial pitch as a retired man. Evelyn had promised Ginny she’d have a full report on his performance after the game, and she intended to keep her word. 

Watching from the outdoor deck, Ev had an excellent view of Mike’s delivery to Blip—a little high, but nothing to be embarrassed over… if he weren’t an ex-professional athlete; as it was, Evelyn planned to roast him mercilessly for failing to execute an easy fastball in the zone at the first possible opportunity—and the manful hug they shared out on the mound before posing for pictures. Evelyn didn’t bother trying to get a picture of her own; it definitely paid to be friendly with the team photographer.

She turned to head back inside only to run straight into Oscar Arguella, Gabe and Marcus trailing—guiltily if she wasn’t entirely off base, and Evelyn Sanders never was—along behind him. Casting a cursory, critical eye over the Padres General Manager for any sign of foul play, she offered him a semi-apologetic smile.

“I hope these two aren’t getting underfoot.”

Her teenagers rolled their eyes, but Oscar just laughed, flashing a pearly white smile. If he didn’t hold the entirety of her husband’s future and career in his strong, manicured hands, Evelyn would probably like him more. She'd always had a weakness for a pretty face, and his face was one of the prettiest. Also, she’d seen pictures of Arguella back in his playing days; he’d been a fan of a snug fit to say the least.

“No, no,” he assured, tucking his phone into his breast pocket. His hands seemed strangely empty without it. “We were just talking about the wedding. I didn’t realize Blip had a sister.”

“He doesn’t,” she replied. Then, as the rest of his words sank in, Evelyn froze. Just for a fraction of a second, but a pause nonetheless. “Wedding?”

Oscar didn’t bat one long, naturally curled eyelash. “Your boys said their aunt got married over the offseason? It must have been your sister. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, eagerly smoothing over the fact that her own sister had been married for three years already. The only offseason wedding any of the Sanderses cared about, they hadn’t even been invited to. Not that Ev harbored any lingering bitterness over that. Both of her sons sheepishly avoided her suspicious glance. Evelyn smiled, resisting the urge to drag her boys away by the ears. “That’s so nice of you to say.”

Oscar smiled, polite as ever, but he was already reaching for his phone again. He glanced at the screen and excused himself, leaving Evelyn and her progeny alone. 

Without her even having to say anything, they both started babbling out excuses and accusations.

“It wasn’t my fault! Marcus—”

“Gabe was totally the one who—”

“—said he was sick of looking at wedding pictures! I didn’t do anything!”

“—told him it was our aunt, like that made it any better! And you did, too, you liar!”

“Enough.” Evelyn didn’t even need to raise her voice for her teenagers to fall silent, and not just because they knew to listen to their mother. On the one hand, it was a little comforting to know her boys couldn’t keep a secret if their lives depended on it. On the other, who had even raised them? “I told you very specifically not to tell anyone about that wedding. And what did you two nearly do?”

“Tell someone about the wedding,” they mumbled in that funny twin-sync they still sometimes channeled.

“Exactly. Now if you can’t follow directions, then—”

They were saved from the rest of her threat by the entrance of Mike Lawson into the suite. Marcus and Gabe took their chance and made a quick escape. Their mother didn’t stop them; she had other fish to fry.

Even at a solidly over-the-hill age—Ginny’d cackled a few years ago when she’d ordered his birthday cake with Over the Hill You Go piped across it in cheery blue; since Evelyn had wheedled a firsthand account of the ways in which Ginny had eventually made up for that dig, she didn’t feel all that bad for thinking it now—and with his career firmly behind him, Mike Lawson knew how to command a room. 

In all his years as a Padre, he couldn’t have had much occasion to come up to the suites, let alone watch a game from one, but that didn’t stop him from looking utterly at home as he greeted his former teammates’ wives and girlfriends and parents. He cheerfully chatted, looking more at ease in retirement than anyone who knew him would have expected. 

Of course, no one who knew him knew the source of that ease quite as well as Evelyn Sanders. 

Leisurely, like he hadn’t spotted Evelyn when he first walked in, Mike made his way through the room, drifting closer and closer to the balcony where she waited impatiently. 

“Ev,” he greeted, jovial enough in spite of the wicked glint in his eye. He was up to something, and Evelyn was pretty sure she didn’t like it. 

“Mike,” she said anyway, bussing an air kiss to his cheek. “The boys almost spilled the beans.”

His smile didn’t drop, but he did dart a quick glance around the room. Oscar hovered several feet away, but only offered a distracted smile and nod. Since his attention was all on his phone call and he hadn’t gone apoplectic with surprise, it was a safe bet that Mike and Ginny’s news was still safely contained. “They did, huh? I thought you told them it was a secret.”

“Of course I did,” she returned, waspish. Like she would be so careless.

“Then you must be slipping, Ev,” Mike teased, his shoulders dropping an inch as he forced himself to relax. His grin was lopsided and, yes, Evelyn could admit, at least a little charming. She didn’t get the appeal for herself, but if it worked for Ginny... “Didn’t quite put the fear of God in them this time around.”

“It’s not my fault they need the fear of God in the first place. I mean, who had to go and get hitched without telling anyone?” Evelyn muttered out of the side of her mouth. She didn’t huff and cross her arms over her chest, but that was only because she didn’t want to crease this blouse; the silk was delicate and it was such a pain to iron.

Mike had no such reservations. His arms crossed and he frowned around the suite, dropping the prodigal son act. Still, there was no mistaking the twinkle in his eye when he muttered back, “C’mon, Ev. It’s not the ‘anyone’ that annoys you. It’s the ‘you.’”

“You’re damn right, Lawson,” she bit out. “I should’ve been at my best friend’s wedding.”

“I’m flattered.”

His shit-eating grin faltered when her elbow dug into his ribs, hard. “Don’t be. If Ginny weren’t so happy with her small, island wedding and the husband she got out of it, I’d have no problem teaching you some manners.”

“I think I’m past saving there.”

“Tell me about it,” she muttered, earning an eye roll from Mike. If he wasn’t careful, his face was gonna stick that way. It’d be so much easier to convince Ginny to leave him. Just so Evelyn could plan the wedding that her best friend deserved, of course. Because not even an unfortunate facial tic was going to be enough to permanently keep Ginny Baker and Mike Lawson apart.

Mike nudged her, far softer than she’d done to him. Lowering his voice as a few more Padres family members circulated out to the deck as the count to the first pitch wound down, he said, “You know we would’ve had you there if we could’ve. It wasn’t like we planned it this way.”

Evelyn would have to beg to differ.

She had seen the proposal pictures. (Every last one of them, which was the only way she’d allowed herself to even begin to be mollified when they broke the news.) 

The pretty landscapes of pristine sand and sparkling water in Mike’s camera roll quickly gave way to his favorite subject: Ginny. Ginny laughing as she splashed through the waves. Ginny clutching her sunhat as an errant breeze threatened to toss it down the beach. Ginny shocked as Mike’s hand entered the frame, holding an unmistakable light blue box. Ginny turned away from the camera as she fought off tears, her hands pressed to her lips, incidentally showing off a gorgeous oval-cut diamond. 

Then, of course, there was the slew of selfies where she pressed kiss after kiss to Mike’s dazed, elated, bearded face. 

Ginny’d taken the phone back before Evelyn could get to anything really good. 

(”You asked for the proposal, Ev,” Ginny had laughed, using her long arms to beat her friend at keep-away, “not what came after!”

“I don’t care about you and Mike getting frisky,” she’d replied, mostly truthfully. “Now, show me the goddamn wedding pictures, Ginny.”)

Based on the time stamps, there were less than three hours between the proposal and Mike and Ginny walking out of some tiny Hawaiian chapel as husband and wife.

They looked good. Better than good. Happier than Evelyn had ever seen either of them, and she’d watched them win a World Series. 

Still, she wasn’t going to budge on the real sticking point.

“You should’ve told me what you were going to do the minute you knew.”

“You were still pretending not to know Ginny and I were even dating,” he pointed out, so mildly it made her blood boil. 

Evelyn ignored him. “You knew that you were going to pop the question. Just like you knew there was no chance you were coming home without walking down the aisle first.”

He sighed but didn’t deny it. Rubbing a big hand through his beard, which he had yet to get rid of in spite of all of Evelyn’s dropped hints, Mike asked, “Blip told you what I said to him when he found out about me and Ginny and he accused me of trying to use her to relive my glory days, didn’t he?”

“No,” she said, stubborn. Evelyn absolutely did know, but she wanted to hear Mike say it. 

“I told him I wasn’t just sleeping with her.” Mike’s gaze had gone a bit hazy, a half smile playing over his mouth. “Just a minute with her was better than the best game I ever played, every homer I ever hit. And the minute she agreed, I was gonna marry her.”

Evelyn kept frowning. 

Mike huffed, clearly expecting her to soften. Nice try, buddy, but Evelyn wasn’t the softie that her husband was. “It didn’t quite happen the minute she said yes—filling out a marriage license takes longer than you’d think—but I wasn’t gonna put it off if I didn’t have to. Besides, it wasn’t like Ginny was all that eager to wait, either.” 

It was the way he thumbed at the discreet gold band on his left-hand ring finger, grinning sweetly behind that mountain man beard the whole time, that finally got Evelyn to melt. Just a little. 

She was still annoyed, but she got it. She did. After all, she and Blip hadn’t exactly waited around to plan out a big, elaborate ceremony and reception. They couldn’t exactly afford it on a minor league salary and with two buns in the oven, but they didn’t really want to, either. They’d just wanted to be married, to start a life together. 

“Fine,” she said, grudging even now. It wouldn’t do to have Mike thinking he could win her over this easily all the time. “I forgive you. But you’re still letting me plan the reception for whenever you two decide to come clean and you need to earn everyone else’s forgiveness.”

Mike chuckled. “Fair enough. Actually, I think that’ll be sooner than—”

The sudden uptick in noise all around the stadium should have been sign enough that something big was happening. Instead, Evelyn and Mike took a much quieter, if closer, cue.

“Oh, my word,” breathed Dusty’s mother, one hand flying up to her mouth. 

Both Ev and Mike followed her gaze straight out to left field. More specifically, the Jumbotron towering above the second deck. There, blown up for all of Petco Park to see, was Ginny Baker taking the mound for the Padres home opener. 

Only, she wasn’t just Ginny Baker anymore. 

Crowded across her back, almost too many letters to fit, was her new name. 

BAKER-LAWSON

As one, nearly every eye in the suite turned to the grantor of that second name on Ginny Baker’s jersey.

Mike Lawson just stood there, looking smug as hell. He didn’t quite tip his cap to the camera blowing his face up on the Jumbotron, but it was a near thing.

A polite smattering of applause broke through the Padres suite, punctuated by a few calls of “Congratulations!” 

Oscar, on the other hand, looked anything but congratulatory. He abruptly ended his call, staring blankly out at the screen. His handsome features were arranged in something approaching a smile, though the fact that his face was also rapidly turning purple didn’t do much to project an aura of calm confidence. Clearly, he was struggling not to blow a gasket. Evelyn could almost sympathize. He pivoted to face Mike, the movement as slow and controlled as his smile was strained. 

“Care to explain?” he asked, probably cursing the missed opportunities for PR more than anything else. 

“Not much to explain. That’s my wife,” was Mike’s only response. He shrugged and looked away, but the proud, elated grin on his face made it pretty hard to pull off nonchalance. 

Oscar closed his eyes, no doubt running through some kind of calming technique that only almost worked. At the very least, when he opened his eyes again, his color had become far less concerning. Probably because he accepted defeat. He shook his head as he turned from Mike, writing him off as a lost cause. 

Naturally, his gaze fell right on Evelyn. 

“Your sister’s wedding?” he sighed, sounding far too put-upon for a man who still looked the way he did. 

Evelyn smiled, not even halfway apologetic this time, and shrugged. Oscar just shook his head again and went back inside, no doubt to start up the spin machine of the team’s PR office. 

At her side, Mike snorted. “Does that make me your brother-in-law now?”

Her nose wrinkled as she thought the proposition over. Mike was too cool a customer to fidget as he waited, but Evelyn knew how to push his buttons as well as any sister could. 

She hummed thoughtfully. “I guess there are worse things you could be.”

“Like what?” He grinned, and it really wasn’t such a wonder that Ginny was absolutely gone for him. Mike could be downright charming when he wanted. 

“Competition,” Ev replied bluntly. “Don’t think that just because you were a Padre yourself that you have a leg up on me in elections for President of the WAGs’ charitable organization.”

“That doesn’t sound very inclusive,” he mused, smirk tucked into the corner of his mouth. Scratch everything Evelyn had thought about Mike’s charm. “Shouldn’t it be W-silent-H-AGs now?”

“Like you’d settle for anything silent,” she jabbed. 

Mike barked out a laugh. “Fair point. What if we just agreed to be co-presidents? We could run this town, Ev.”

“It’s cute,” she said, patronizing and loving the sour twist it gave his face, “that you think I don’t already, Lawson.”

Still, she’d think about it. There were probably worse people to have as her right hand than Mike Lawson. 

And after all, they were pretty much family.

[phroyd]

Joe Manchin is shouting in the middle of a job fair. It’s in an exhibition space at a community college in Parkersburg, West Virginia, an industrial town on the Ohio river. He is going booth to booth to booth, making conversation and taking selfies.

Manchin has come to one table that provides office workers to companies on a provisional basis and is convinced that someone he just met is a perfect fit. He starts asking his staffers to find the young man who was looking for an accounting job and direct him over to the booth.

The Democratic senator could have come out of a lab for politicians. The 71-year-old Manchin has salt and pepper hair and just the right amount of twang. He comes across as one of God’s natural retail politicians, treats every voter like a friend. Most return the adoration, although there are a few rolled eyes. High schoolers ask him to come to their football game and grown men excitedly pile next to him to pose for a photograph.

However, less than 24 hours after Christine Blasey Ford testified before the Senate judiciary committee, he kept getting asked about Brett Kavanaugh – the conservative supreme court pick whom Manchin would eventually vote for.

West Virginia was a traditionally Democratic state for generations. However, it has pivoted on a dime. A former bastion of blue-collar New Deal Democrats it has become a Republican stronghold based on issues like guns, abortion and the “war on coal”. Although West Virginia has long been economically populist, it is socially conservative and the coal industry occupies a key place in the state’s psyche.

West Virginia is one of two races – alongside one in Tennessee – that are crucial to the Democrats’ chances of winning back the Senate in next month’s midterm elections. Democrats probably need to win in both West Virginia and Tennessee to have a chance of flipping the slim 51-49 Republican majority in the Senate. Democratic control of the upper chamber would mean that they could block not just legislation but Trump appointees to office, including the courts, as well.

Manchin and Bredesen are both willing to embrace Trump at times and practice a Clintonian brand of politics

Thus Democratic fortunes in the Senate rest on the unlikely shoulders of two septuagenarian white men in states that Donald Trump won overwhelmingly. These two older white men are a world away from the slate of diverse candidates that the Democrats are running across America for the House.

Although much has been made of the so-called “blue wave” that Democrats are counting on in the midterms to win control of the House of Representatives, their task in taking back the Senate is a much stiffer challenge. And in the centre of that challenge are Manchin in West Virginia and Phil Bredesen in Tennessee.

These two candidates differ markedly from the new slate of Democratic candidates who are rushing to embrace progressive causes like Medicare for All, a $15-an-hour minimum wage and flirt with the concept of abolishing Ice (US Immigration and Customs Enforcement). Manchin and Bredesen are from a different school of centrist Democrats. They are also both willing to embrace Trump at times and practice a Clintonian brand of politics where they look at both political parties in Washington and proclaim “a plague upon both your houses”.

Both men supported the confirmation of Kavanaugh to the supreme court – the two most prominent Democrats to do so.

A clear sign of why Manchin eventually backed Kavanaugh was evident in Parkersburg where attendees were invariably coming up to Manchin to urge him to support the embattled nominee – while the West Virginia senator was staying perched precariously on the fence. To one woman, he simply laid out the recent history of judicial nomination fights on Capitol Hill. He said Democratic anger on the issue was rooted in the showdown over Merrick Garland that Republicans “wouldn’t even meet him and that’s what makes ’em mad”. Manchin went on to point to fault on “both sides” and insisted “we want to get everyone back together”.

Speaking to the Guardian afterwards in a public park before a veterans event, Manchin pointed out “there’s still more Democrats than there are anything else in West Virginia. The bottom line is they got upset after it got to the point that the Washington Democrats forgot about the rural Democrats.” Manchin, who is the most conservative Democrat in the Senate, instead tried to emphasize his independence. “I don’t care whether [you’re a Democrat or a Republican] … it’s about West Virginia first and that’s where I’ve always been.”

His Republican opponent, Patrick Morrisey, is almost the antithesis of Manchin. While Manchin is a native West Virginian who grew up as the star high school quarterback, Morrisey is a New Jersey native who worked as staffer and lobbyist on Capitol Hill before moving to the Mountain State and beating a five-term incumbent to become the first Republican state attorney general since before the New Deal.

The Republican regularly branded his opponent as “dishonest Washington liberal” and painted him as a pawn of the Senate Democratic leader, Chuck Schumer. Trump has appeared regularly with Morrisey and the West Virginia Republican could not name one area of disagreement with him.

“I want to emphasize my areas of commonality with the president because the body of his work has been very impressive for the people of West Virginia,” insisted the Republican Senate candidate. “No one is an ideological twin of another person. President Trump has been a strong ally for West Virginia and we’re going to keep emphasizing that.”

The message may not be cutting through in polls. Manchin has maintained a steady lead in West Virginia and has consistently been hitting Morrisey on his past as a pharmaceutical lobbyist, an important issue in a state that has been devastated by the opioid epidemic as well on the Republican’s opposition to Obamacare and the effect that would have on West Virginians with pre-existing conditions.

However, while that message and approach may be working for Manchin in West Virginia, it may not be as successful in Tennessee.

As a fellow centrist Democrat, or blue dog, Bredesen is running a similar race to Manchin. However, although his Republican opponent, Marsha Blackburn, is just as ardent a Trump fan as Morrisey, the state has surprisingly little in common with West Virginia save the Appalachian mountains and a blowout margin for Trump in 2016.

Tennessee is divided into three parts by the swoop of the Tennessee river, which rises in the eastern part of the state, descends into Alabama before emerging to flow northward into the Ohio river in Paducah, Kentucky. The key battlefield is middle Tennessee, the central part of the state penned inside the river.

Centered around Nashville, the region is economically thriving. Nashville is a tourist hub that has attracted Fortune 500 companies and the population of the metro area has doubled since 1990. One of the key figures in this process was Bredesen. First as mayor of Nashville and then as Tennessee’s governor, the 74-year-old played a key role in reviving the city, attracting pro sports teams and reviving Tennessee’s once sleepy capital city.

A wealthy former CEO of a healthcare company and transplant from the north, Bredesen long cut an almost disconcertingly moderate figure in the state.

He has tried to run a campaign that avoids national politics as much as possible. In one television ad, Bredesen looks squarely at the camera and says: “Look, I’m not running against Donald Trump.” Instead, he paints himself as a bipartisan problem solver and deflects any talk of the Democrats taking control of the Senate. “The chances of my party of being in the majority are minuscule,” he said in a debate.

Instead of making it about party labels or national figures, Bredesen has tried to keep things local in a state that has been strongly Republican in recent decades. In an interview with Politico, the former governor said if the race is about, “‘do you want to send a Democrat or Republican to Washington?’ I would lose. If it’s, ‘Do you want to send Phil Bredesen or Marsha Blackburn to Washington?’ I think I can win that.”

In contrast, his opponent Marsha Blackburn, a 16-year-veteran of Capitol Hill, is fully embracing Trump. Blackburn, who uses the masculine title ofcongressman, is a bomb thrower who long irritated many establishment Republicans in Tennessee dating back to her time in the state legislature.

Blackburn, who has been a frequent cable television presence, is a fervent social conservative. She has been an implacable opponent of abortion and even co-sponsored legislation, prompted by conspiracy theories about then President Barack Obama, to force presidential candidates to disclose their birth certificates.

During the campaign, she has consistently echoed Trump’s rhetoric. On television, she slams Bredesen for opposing the Trump travel ban on several predominantly Muslim countries and for his skepticism about the efficacy of a wall on the US-Mexico border.

Blackburn’s hard-right policies even prompted an intervention by Taylor Swift, a Tennessee resident in the race. Swift endorsed Bredesen in an Instagram post and cited the Republican’s record on gay rights and women’s issues in doing so

However, demographic changes in the state and not its pop singers represent her key vulnerability. Her home base, the well-to-do Nashville suburb of Williamson, was one of only four in the state where Hillary Clinton did better than Barack Obama in the general election and was the sole holdout from Trump in the primary, when it went for Marco Rubio.

Although Nashville suburbs are still solidly Republican, that is starting to change ever so modestly and in the long term are trending towards Democrats. This combined with Blackburn’s weak personal poll numbers has given Democrats hope.

Scott Golden, the chair of the Tennessee Republican party told the Guardian, “there are no moderates left in Washington DC … it is a partisan team sport.” He cited the divisive vote over Kavanaugh.

In recent weeks Tennessee voters have seen the race through the same lens. In the aftermath of the Kavanaugh confirmation fight, Blackburn has surged while before the showdown, Bredesen held a narrow lead.

For Republicans, the hope is these highly charged and highly partisan national issues can trump the brands carefully built by both Bredesen and Manchin over decades in public office. The two men both came out in support of Kavanaugh’s nomination, trying to thwart one potential line of attack and cool the partisan enthusiasm of the Trump voters whom they will be relying on in November. The result was that one major Democratic Super Pac, Priorities USA, announced that it would no longer be supporting the two Senate candidates in November. The decision is simply another indication that their politics as moderate, red state Democrats may increasingly be outliers in a party that is moving leftwards.

Many liberal activists have argued that leftwing candidates in diverse states like Andrew Gillum in Florida or Beto O’Rourke in Texas are their party’s future. But for now, in a Senate map that is tilted towards red states, Democrats have no other options but to embrace throwbacks to a moderate past if they have any hopes of regaining the majority.

Phroyd

[freshlyjuicedbeetles]

Kandomere x Reader - Notice Me

lucacangettathisass replied to your post “Got any requests?”

Could I please request a kandomere x human reader one shot where the reader is completely oblivious to kandomere's feelings even though he flirts with them a lot, subtly and unsubtly, and it is Hell Someone Free Him From This Torture Montehugh Stop Laughing

This is a continuation of all my other Kandomere ‘fics where the character is a jeweler. I use ‘I’ and first-person perspective because I think it flows better as a self-insert.  This story is also known as ‘We Learn the Author Doesn’t Know How to Flirt’

My flagship store had been open and thriving for several months before Kandomere graced us with his presence. It was a Monday, April 21st and sunny out. Funny how your memory works when something important happens. I could hear my ovaries popping in my ears when he walked in, a leather jewelry box in his hand. All my male attracted staff stopped to catch a glimpse. We’d had plenty of attractive people come in before, being in the heart of Elftown and the best jeweler in the city (Seriously, there was a poll), but his aura enhanced it. He was mysterious and powerful.

I had a feeling about him, that he was important; that he is in general and would be to me. Love at first sight, maybe? The instant he stepped in, his moonlight eyes were on me. Was the feeling mutual?

“Hi!” I greeted him, “Is there anything I can help you with?” I was thanking every deity listening that I didn’t stumble on my words.

Kandomere walked up the counter, “Yes, I would like this to be restored.” He opened the jewelry box and a silver gorget laid inside on a bed of velvet lining. It was scratched and beaten to hell.

I leaned over the cool glass counter to examine it and carefully removed it.

“May I ask what happened?”

“Let’s just say, an occupational hazard. Will you be able to save it?” Kandomere asked, a bit of worry in his voice.

I examined it further, “It’s definitely in bad shape. Scratched, warped. Did someone run over it with a car?”

Kandomere said nothing, but his look said, ‘It’s a long story.’

“These scratches are deep around the engraving, I’d have to completely redo the bottom text, but yes, it’s salvageable. I’d say it’ll take a week, week and a half and probably around $150 ish.” I grabbed some forms from under the counter. “If you’ll fill these out, I’ll get right to work on it. Pretty simple stuff, your contact info, mostly.”

Kandomere nodded as he filled out the forms.

“Just so I know what I’m working on, I need to know how old it is and if it’s magical or not. The last time someone on my staff or I didn’t ask before we started work on restoring a piece, Brandi ended up breathing fire for a week and it was a complete disaster.”

“That’s how I met my fiancé, the firefighter,” Brandi chimed in from the back.

“That’s awesome and all, but how about you get around to updating those forms she’s talking about before, I don’t know, someone summons Bigfoot for a commitment ceremony just because they looked at a toe ring wrong.” Matt jeered at Brandi.

Kandomere gave a light chuckle, “I can assure you, it’s rather plain for elven ware. No curses or embedded magic. It was my father’s, I’d say it’s at least fifty, sixty years old.”

I nodded as he spoke. I wrote up his ticket, gave it to him and replaced the gorget back in the jewelry box.

“I greatly appreciate you taking this on, I can’t see how it’ll be an easy project.” He said as he shook my hand.

His hands were the perfect combination of softness and strength, the hands of someone who was not afraid to work but also took care of himself.

I smiled, becoming infatuated with this man, “It’s not a problem at all. I look forward to the challenge.”

As soon as he was gone, the story erupted into woof whistles and giggles.

“Oh. My. God. He was gorgeous!” Violet squealed, kicking her feet in her chair.

“He could cast an elven spell on me any day.” Matt whistled.

“He’s single! I didn’t see a ring! Did you see a ring? Because I didn’t see a ring!” Avery exclaimed.

“Chill out guys, we’ve had legit celebrities come in here and no one freaked out this bad,” I said, trying to calm everyone down.

“None were as hot as him.” Matt countered, plainly.

“Okay, okay, whatever. Just get back to work. We’re a place of business, not a middle school cafeteria.” I sighed but still found humor in the situation.

I started work on the gorget that day. I used my phone to translate the text. ‘Elves above all. Above all elves.’

That left a bad taste in my mouth. He was one of those elves. Why was he so nice to me? Did he even know what it said? Was he playing a trick on me, hoping I’d screw it up so he could leave a bad review proclaiming the humans were indeed idiots?

While it made me uncomfortable, it gave me the incentive to do my absolute best. I blew up the image to capture every dip and swirl of the ancient language. The text would have to be the last part I worked on, but curiosity got the better of me. I had to at least reshape it first.

It wasn’t long until Kandomere was back, three days to be exact.

“Oh, hello!” I said, “Did you want an update on your gorget?”

“No,” Kandomere said, “I was interested in a custom piece. A brooch, to be specific.”

I loved custom pieces. They allowed me to be creative and to surprise my clients. I looked forward to a lot of those projects each day, but as long I was working with jewelry, making it or repairing it, I was happy.

I smiled, “Follow me back and we’ll get something sketched out for you.”

“Did you have any design ideas or references?” I asked as we sat down in my office, my pencil and paper ready to sketch.

Kandomere looked momentarily thrown off, as though he was completely surprised I asked such a question. Later, I would learn that this trip to my store was just to see me and he hadn’t prepared that far in advance.

“Filigree.”

I’d also learn that he only blurted out the first word that came to his mind. He was lucky it was appropriate.

I started sketching the whimsical pattern. “I’d recommend a single gemstone in the center, probably an amethyst or sapphire. Your coloring leans into the darker jewel tones as for complementary colors.”

Why did I say that? Elves had known their complimentary color pallet since they knew what colors were.

I passed him the rough sketch, “What do you think?”

Kandomere looked it over, “Perfect. I’d be honored to wear it.”

I beamed at the compliment, “Great! I can have it done sometime in the week after next for $250.”

He nodded in agreement.

“I’m sorry if this is personal, or makes things awkward, but I translated the text…” I had to say something, it had been needling me for days.

Kandomere knew exactly what I was getting at, “It is a harmful and outdated sentiment which I do not believe in, but the gorget was my father’s and I can’t bear to part with it. Maybe one day I’ll be able to lose it in a drawer somewhere, but that hasn’t happened yet.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. He must have met a lot to you.”

Kandomere nodded and changed the subject, “Nevertheless, I am eager to see your work.”

“And I thank you for your patronage! Your gorget will be done next Friday. It’s already looking sooo much better.” I said as we left my office. No paperwork today, we already had his info from last time.

“I have nothing to worry about when it’s in your skilled hands.” With one final look at me, he was out the door, into the bright sunlight.

It wasn’t until that night I wondered if he really was flirting with me. My skilled hands? Did he mean that double entendre? Was I reading too much into this? I sighed and turned on a podcast, burying my thoughts in refining gemstones.

As Friday rolled around, I was excited for him to see the gorget once it was completed. Every time I heard someone come in, I looked up, hoping it was him.

Around noon, it was finally him. “Kandomere! Hi, I have it right here!”

I kept the gorget in its box close to me. His moonlight eyes widened when he saw it. Momentarily, he seemed speechless.

“It is magnificent. The level of artistry is exceptional. It looks better than new.”

“I’m happy I could restore it for you.”

“I can’t thank you enough, honestly.”

“It’s my job, no need!”

Kandomere paid with his card and returned to work. Once he was gone, everyone flocked to me.

“He likes you.” Brandi grinned.

“He was totally flirting with you.” Avery giggled.

“Ask him out!” Violet implored.

“CALL HIM!” Matt urged.

“If you don’t, I will,” Fabian warned.

I scoffed, “You all are crazy. If that was flirting, then that mom of two from this morning was flirting also. And I’m not saying that because I don’t feel pretty or anything, I just genuinely don’t believe he was flirting. Also, isn’t incredibly unprofessional?”

No one had strong rebuttals and lost interest, returning to their work.

That night I curled up in bed and unlocked my phone. I had a few notifications from my business accounts. My store’s Instagram and Facebook had been liked from the same account. Kandomere had followed my accounts. Out of curiosity, I snooped on his profiles. His Instagram was blank, leading me to believe that he had just created to follow me. His Facebook was locked up pretty tight with privacy controls, but I did get a look at his selfie profile pic.

A schoolgirl crush bloomed in my heart. Maybe the handsome and mysterious elf did like me. I feel asleep with my phone clutched to my chest and smile on my face.

Kandomere returned a few days later to pick up his brooch. With him was someone who I could only guess was Hagrid’s American cousin.

I was just as excited for Kandomere to see his brooch. I felt I kept it simple while still retaining the signature elf whimsy. I was pretty proud of it.

“Hi! Are you excited to see your brooch?” I asked.

“I could never grow tired of the wonders you create,” Kandomere answered.

I awed internally. How sweet! Okay, that was probably a flirt.

I pulled out its box with my logo on the top and presented it to him.

A satisfied smile appeared on his face. “You have amazed me once again. How do you do it?”

It was a rhetorical question, but I still answered. “Hard work and some talent, mostly!”

“Is that what I think it is?” American Hagrid asked in disbelief.

Fabian was working on a leather wrist cuff that was signature to a famous musician. I loved the band myself and they were in town for a show. They were performing at a small and intimate venue instead of a large arena show. I wanted to get tickets, but they sold so quickly, all I could get was one seat. I didn’t want to go by myself, so I decided to be more vigilant about when the tickets would go on sale if they came back.

“Indeed, it is my friend,” Fabian replied, pride in his voice.

“I’m still amazed when people like him come in,” I said, “I’ve listened to him since I was a teenager.” The musician was so famous, no one had to say his name.

“He likes that band too.” American Hagrid said, nudging Kandomere.

“Whaddya know so does she,” Fabian goaded, nodding towards me.

“Would you like to accompany me to their show?” Kandomere asked, bit embarrassed by everyone’s comments, but still found humor in it.

“Yeah! If I can get tickets, that is.” I said, not thinking.

Kandomere and everyone I worked with looked at me expectantly.

“Jesus, this is painful,” his friend said, his face buried in his hand and gruff laugh.

“Oh, shit, you’re asking me on a date,” I said, nearly dropping a box of findings in shock. “Wait, are you really?”

Me? I was human. I didn’t have perfect, effortless looks or supernatural powers. I worked for everything I had. Elves just had things handed to them. Let’s be real, my brand was so popular largely because I was exploiting elves’ love of useless, shiny things. It was only a plus to them that I was actually good at what I did.

Kandomere grinned and nodded, “Yes, I am.”

I giggled and nodded, “Yes, I do!”

That was the first of many ‘yeses’ in our relationship.

[shorthaircutsmodels]

January Jones's Short Haircuts and Hairstyles - 20+ - https://shorthaircutsmodels.com/january-joness-short-haircuts-and-hairstyles/ - January Jones's Short Haircuts and Hairstyles, Take whatever you want. Jones new look gives us big edgy vibes, and this one wants. To go to the salon after a quick stop for a cool faux leather jacket at the nearest H&M. Check Jones hair before and after and maybe take notes for your next hair appointment. With light copper blended from roots to fringes and a cute touch of pink in loosely wavy defined strands, this style is very feminine and truly eye-catching. Now that Mad Men are officially back, we can enjoy a time jump. January Jones's Short Haircuts and Hairstyles January Jones's Short Haircuts and Hairstyles, Into the glorious 60s every Sunday night. From the incredible wardrobe that thinks a skirt dress could be like this. we can't decide whether beauty for pin curls bothers us any more than Don Draper. We even started the idea of fashunnnn mullet another time when the #Chinlengthbob point didn't cut everything short. and she parted the top layer of hair a bit for her movement and fun style choices. Instead of no layers or hollows we kept a lot of weight in the back. January Jones's Haircuts and Hairstyles January Jones's Short Haircuts and Hairstyles, Long layers are cut around the edges of this blonde, and beautiful curls are added to the ends at mid-lengths to give the whole style body and volume. This do shape is great for complimenting a long face and is easy to recreate with the right tools and product. it was writing. This cut could simply be shaped as it was, but it had to be curled and twisted and fussed. @Januaryjones has no fears when it comes to very perfect hair and is very good at styling herself. January Jones's Short Haircuts January Kristen Jones's Short Haircuts and Hairstyles, Ohhh just wait. As for the pink lines Jones posted about them earlier this week, I found myself quite impressed with tbh. Welp, we finally made it. @ januaryjones has sent me # bluntbob hair-inspired pictures for months. Expect his old bangs to grow long enough to give him a perfectly blunt bob middle part look. Patience Brager wrote. Big loose waves dress up from the sides and back of this mid-length hair to give it all style movement and subtle bounce. January Jones's Short Hairstyles January Kristen Jones's Short Haircuts and Hairstyles, looks bright here in a soft curled slightly layered bob. This Insta begins the recommended phase of my soft pointed hair. This is what happens when you walk into a pool at a holiday Inn and forget not to gel DEP with you. January Jones's Haircuts January Kristen Jones's Short Haircuts and Hairstyles, Just moments later Jones shared a second photo of her soft spikes caught not pretty with the caption of the first photo of Mad Men 5 wearing a short straight hairdo in a dyed red shirt young actress, with a phase sports star in a multi-coloured patterned school picture on the button of her shirt. DEP'd but wore the picture early and now she looks loose with a really wide smile to make up for it when she unsuccessfully captioned the pic referring to her hair gel. January Jones's Hairstyles January Jones is the latest celebrity to hop on board the bob train and we have a sudden urge to call our hairdressers. Welp, we finally made it.Jones Jones hairstylist Bridget Brager captioned the cut Instagram post. Patience Brager explained. The stylist also explained that the trick to creating this stylish look is taking width from Jones hair without cutting layers. Creating movement was important. But what Brager really wanted to get through by posting a photo of Jones's new bob was that he could shake the eye even when he thought it might not be every woman. here's what I really want to say. January Jones's Short Hair January Jones is the latest celebrity to hop on board the bob train and we have a sudden urge to call our hairdressers. These smooth locks were worn back and added highlights to the left out showing jagged cut ends and color contrast, allowing an elegant French roll front to create an attached head. This upstyle is easy to recreate and you need hairspray or polish to keep and shine. Welp, we finally made it.Jones Jones hairstylist Bridget Brager captioned the cut Instagram post. January Jones's Hair January Jones sent me # bluntbob hair-inspired pictures for months. Expect his old bangs to grow long enough to give him a perfectly blunt bob middle part look. Patience has added up, and it seems worth the wait. Each woman has a bob-style haircut for every hair type and face shape Brager added. You have been teetering to make a big hair move. We're not trying to be afraid. Take whatever you want. Jones new look gives us big edgy vibes, and this one wants to go to the salon after a quick stop for a cool faux leather jacket at the nearest H&M. the show's Chief Stylist is Terrie V. January Jones - Short Blonde Hair Layers Owen told how he got his Betty Francis signature hairstyle. Obviously it helps if you have his shoulder length hair but it can be played with. This formal hairstyle is perfect for any special occasion, easy to recreate with hot rollers and product for grip and shine. Those with long faces will benefit most from this shape and style. the actress eventually went for it and cut all her hair. Brager shared the star's new look on Instagram. January Jones haircut Welp, we finally made it. @januaryjones has sent me # bluntbob hair-inspired pictures for months. Expect his old bangs to grow long enough to give him a perfectly blunt bob middle part look. Patience captioned that post. Jones hairdresser Bridget Brager also teased the new look on instagram, revealing the actress had been longing for a change for months. Welp, we finally made it. Has sent me # bluntbob hair-inspired pictures for months. Expect his old bangs to grow long enough to give him a perfectly blunt bob middle part look. Patience. it was writing. Brager said the actress took a lot of weight off her hair so that blunt bob would have plenty of movement. January Jones's new bob is the best haircut for summer Jones 'Bob has a' 90s vibe. The cut is blunt and stylish, hitting just below the chin, and styled with a straight middle part. Also in the caption, Brager explains how the star got the look, saying she gained weight without adding layers from Jones hair. Brager also confirms what you've heard about bob. The cut can work on anyone. Every woman has a bob-style haircut for every hair type and face shape. January Jones Cut Her Hair Even Shorter Don't be afraid if you're struggling to make a great hair gesture. Go. Make sure you bring inspiration pictures and talk to your stylist thoroughly. Take whatever you want. it was writing. January has an oval face shape with a large forehead area and strong chin are flattered by all that â€Do. January loves being blonde, and here she shakes off the signature shade of light champagne. It matches well with her fair cool skin tone and light blue eyes. It has subtle accents to create size and depth, but the overall. January Jones red hair Hair tone is a gorgeous shade of soft light all over the blonde. Brager has a bob-style haircut for every hair type and face shape for every woman. You have been teetering to make a great hair move not to fear. I go for it. Make sure you bring inspiration pictures and talk to your stylist thoroughly. Take whatever you want. January Jones natural hair color Grown blasts are shaped sideways to soften the face and complete all the looks in spectacular fashion. The product is required to bend the ends for some added texture. January Jones looks lovely here in a wavy shoulder length bob with layers throughout styled with a windy look. It's a great way to add a bob up and extra volume to high volume style jazz. The January has an oval face shape so it can attract a variety of looks and cuts. Here, she goes for a layered bob that masks her high forehead well and frames her eyes thanks to the fringe that swept her overgrown side. January Jones's Blunt Bob Haircut This do gives her locks a fun look in a general fashion that can be worn for day and night. January has fair complexion and blue eyes, making her hair blonde and copper shades most appropriate. Here she goes for a wheat blonde shade that makes her skin glow and eye color pop. The January vibrant blonde has maintained her base colour at the roots which gives her hair a beautiful base while highlights have been added to style and size all over. January Kristen Jones is an American actress and model. January Jones hair color She is best known for major roles in American weddings as well as playing Betty Draper in the television series Mad Men and we are Marshall. This golden blonde hairstyle is ideal for those looking for a wispy casual cut with attitude and shape. January Jones Hairstyles, Hair Cuts and Colors This creative hairstyle is ideal for those looking for a style with plenty of attitude and funk and will be great for any occasion. Take whatever you want. Jones new look gives us big edgy vibes, and this one wants to go to the salon after a quick stop for a cool faux leather jacket at the nearest H&M. Check Jones hair before and after and maybe take notes for your next hair appointment. January Jones blonde hair January Jones Changes Her hair as quickly as she changes her mind. No, it really is. The actress posted a selfie on Instagram yesterday, so I changed my mind again."Then a hairdresser called Bridget Brager's dream. And his followers love the new look. the post has over 60k Likes and loads of Free comments. The blonde had short hair before and rocked a bob as Betty Draper in Mad Men but she had a long collarbone length lobe before this final cut. Always showing off the latest creative color techniques, January Jones simple bob looks gorgeous with these random color accents that interest a simple bob cut. January Jones Bob Haircut 2020 - 2021 Hair is cut to the same length finishing just below the chin. The style is easy to maintain, and a front section is scanned diagonally over the forehead from a short center separation, forming a fashionable asymmetrical Eaves. Here's the tea. Simple Easy Short Haircut for Women The nation allows its natural curls to flow freely. and colorists are doing some really interesting bold things with their clients manes. We're more inspired by the stylish celebrity hair transformations we've seen in 2019 and 2020 than in previous years. Regular decorations are needed to maintain shape and avoid split ends. Check Jones hair before and after and maybe take notes for your next hair appointment. January Jones hair 2020 - 2021 This is an important step. clip curl with the little clippies before moving on to the next chapter. Sweet and simple for hot rollers, this is what mid-length hairstyle is all about. The length is solidly cut with thin layers cut at the edges for a weightless surface. This hairstyle is perfect for thin ones for medium hair types and is easy to maintain with regular fixes. White Sands Liquid tissue thermal shaper spray and Set Roll part of hairspray with parallel side part. Place the rollers on the sides and back of the entire head. January Jones bob haircut Leave the hair to cool a little before brushing. This set will take longer. Then brush your hair straight with a quality natural bristle brush. Brushes I use a Mason Pearson brush are important because a plastic ventilation brush doesn't have the same effect. Brush to a smooth style and push the waves into place with some maintenance cream on your fingers and then finish with some hairspray to keep the look in place. January Jones new haircut While the Jones post seemed like a quick decision according to Brager Jones, he had a Bob brain for months. Fanning confirmed in response to Jones that he has long been playing with the idea of bob. I couldn't stop thinking about it. Jones replied that he had to. It felt so good. Before this haircut Jones had hair styled into loose waves that he often skimmed off the shoulder. To create Jones's stylish style, Brager used a certain kind of flat iron. January Jones haircut 2020 - 2021 In January it used the Bio Ionic graphene MX flatiron to create a super-sleek bob. This flat iron tells the Brager flurry that every pass brings moisture and health to the hair. Use this Flatiron from roots to tips. Then follow up using a comb for perfect placement. If you want to cut back and forth your hair Jones finally get the bass you need to give your impulses. Bob is quickly becoming the summer look. January Jones is the latest celebrity to hop on board the bob train and we have a sudden urge to call our hairdressers. Welp, we finally made it.Jones Jones hairstylist Bridget Brager captioned the cut Instagram post. January Jones hairstyle January Jones sent me # bluntbob hair-inspired pictures for months. Expect his old bangs to grow long enough to give him a perfectly blunt bob middle part look. Patience has added up, and it seems worth the wait. Each woman has a bob-style haircut for every hair type and face shape Brager added. Below you can find our curated list of the latest celebrity haircuts and paint jobs. January Kristen Jones Oh catch the wind of a new celebrity hair look and make sure you bookmark this page because as soon as you can we'll update your list in real time. But in the meantime here are our favourites. Among the beach of colour dark brown and blonde were regular ping pongs and a 23-year-old model spotted a pixie cut wig multiple times including the red carpet at last year's met Gala. Suffice it to say Homegirl looks down to trying new things. Singer Rosalía threw us all in when she announced she would cut out her own outbursts.

[growinstablog]

Selfie Trends Ruling Social Media

The selfie. Everyone has taken one at some point in their life. Some even take it to greater heights literally and take selfies on top of the building, the edge of a cliff, while some even do wacky pose to stand out. Weird poses and pictures aside, how did this global trend start? Aren’t you curious how does ‘selfie’ was conceptualized and became popular? 

Prepare yourself for a fun article because we will discuss the factual and hilarious side of taking selfies that have taken over the world of social media. 

Brief History/Facts

Of course, everything has its own history, and the selfie is not spared! Let’s see the roots it came from and how did it end up with the name, “selfie”.

The First Selfie Ever

According to the Library of Congress, the first selfie picture was taken by Robert Cornelius in 1839. That’s 181 years ago! Due to technology at that time, he has to remain still for 3-15 minutes to capture this almost 200-year-old picture, that’s a lot of patience just for one selfie! 

The Official Debut of the Word “Selfie”

Wonder how this word came to be? 

According to the Oxford Dictionary, the “selfie” was the first time used by a drunk Australian man on a web forum in 2002. 

Apparently, here’s what he said: 

“Um, drunk at a mates 21st, I tripped over [sic] and landed lip first (with front teeth coming a very close second) on a set of steps. I had a hole about 1cm long right through my bottom lip. And sorry about the focus, it was a selfie.”

Even though “selfie” was formed 16 years ago, it was only popularized in 2013. Some used to spell it “selfy” but as time passed, “selfie” has become an acceptable spelling for many social media users. 

The Good and the Bad

People’s creativity in taking photos leads to a variety of selfie versions. But like everything else, there is good and bad. Some people take selfies that do not look pleasant when viewed by the majority of netizens. Let’s differentiate and identify the selfies to avoid and the ones good to post

The Bad Selfies

Duck Face

Duck face has been here for a very long time, many people have at least tried imitating how a duck looks. Sure, it makes your cheekbones more prominent and gave you this pouty lips effect but no, it was never a good pose, to begin with. It is so annoying that you have a strong urge to unfollow or block the person who posted the duck face on social media. Seriously though, out of all the animals why a duck? Please, enough of this duck face, do us a favor and let this selfie trend begone.

Woke up like this

A lot of people on Instagram post pictures of themselves makeup-free. There are pretty people with a bare face and some who just want some validation that even without wearing makeup you are beautiful, using tons of hashtags including #wokeuplikethis. Okay we get it, this is how your face looks like early in the morning before doing your beauty routine, but honestly, no one cares. We are already used to seeing ourselves every morning with our bed heads, so spare our feed with more morning horrors.   

Bathroom Break

Really? A selfie in front of a bathroom mirror? Of all the places to choose to take selfies from it has to be in the bathroom. Yeah, we know that taking a selfie there makes it easier for your followers to see your overall look with the help of the mirror but seriously, no. The bathroom is not a good venue for selfies as your camera might capture some disgusting stuff in the background. Why? Because you are inside the bathroom. That’s the point.

The Sleep Selfie

The sibling of #wokeuplikethis, just slightly different enough of annoyance. Come on let’s be real, can you really take a picture of yourself when you’re sleeping? I mean, for you to take a selfie you need to be conscious to navigate your phone and angle yourself towards the camera. Plus, most people don’t look serene with false eyelashes or traces of makeup when asleep. This selfie will just make you look desperate, this needs to be gone together with its sibling.

Changing Room Selfie

Can’t make up your mind what to wear? Take a selfie! Ha! As if your followers will be happy with you confined in a changing booth doing a pictorial in front of the mirror wearing outfits you like to buy but can’t decide what to choose. Well, it’s cool to get advice from your friends, but does it really have to be a public post where everyone can see and use tons of hashtags to gather more attention? Why not just send a text to someone you know who’s very good at fashion? If you are aspiring to be a fashion guru, the fitting room is not the right place to start your journey to be a fashion star. 

The Good Selfies

A good selfie is just easy, keep it SIMPLE. You’re not required to do ridiculous faces or go to one of a kind places just to take a good picture. Just keep it natural, don’t get stiff, just plaster a good smile or facial expression and you’re good to go!

Proper Way to Take a Selfie

If you’re still having doubt on how to take a good selfie here are the steps on how to take one!

Light According to photographer Mindy Strike, lighting is the key: “Natural light is best. The ‘magic hour’ is the hour after sunrise and just before sunset, and will produce the most flattering sunlight.” If natural light is missing, stand by a source of artificial light and make sure the flash is off.

Out of arm’s way “Having your arm reached out in shot is only going to be so flattering,” says Strike. She advises experimenting with a mini tripod for your smartphone or downloading a free self-timer app.

Rule of thirds “Try to think of how to compose in thirds, like eyes a third of the way up, head a third of the way into the picture – ideally from the top or side,” says Bedford-based photographer Stuart Kearey. He advises ensuring a space between you and the background, to achieve a depth of the image.

Your ‘good’ side “Positioning the camera slightly above your eye line tends to be the most flattering,” says Strike. She also advises angling your face or body to one side.

Be bold Trying out a new look or different hairdo can help you feel more confident. “Changing your look can help make you feel just a little different or fancier in a photo, and this confidence will shine through your final images,” says Emma Chapman of A Beautiful Mess. It is also good to add accessories such as a hat or jewelry to improve your looks.

Taking selfies is a symbol of showing our confidence with our looks or the beautiful places we’ve been for many people to see. Always keep in mind that we don’t have to go to great lengths just to take a good photo. Remember, keep it simple. It is still more pleasant in the eye to see a photo that is taken naturally.  

https://growinsta.xyz/selfie-trends-ruling-social-media/

[hafizhamza313]

Is FaceApp safe? A deeper look at the viral hit

Is FaceApp safe? A deeper look at the viral hit

If you’ve been on Facebook, Twitter or pretty much any other social medium in the last few days then you can’t have failed to notice it - FaceApp is everywhere. Despite launching way back in January 2017, the app has suddenly received a new lease of viral life. But as quickly as it has appeared, the worries about what the company is actually doing with our photos and our privacy have followed too. So, is it time to worry? What is FaceApp? Where have you been, grandad? FaceApp is a hot new trend. It's an iPhone and Android app that takes your photos and performs some digital wizardry to manipulate your face through a number of clever filters. The old-age filter has become particularly popular because it is available for use in the app for free. It's pretty amazing too and is able to produce highly convincing results.

How does FaceApp work? The app works its magic by using the power of machine learning. This is a new technique that is increasingly ubiquitous in computing. Essentially, rather than try to explain to a computer what it means to age - and describe using code what a wrinkle, grey hair or Werther's Originals are - the computer will figure them out for itself by being "trained" with thousands of other photos of old people. The results are pretty impressive - if not entirely accurate. Run a photo of someone who is old now from when they were young, and FaceApp is unlikely to produce an image which looks exactly like them now. The best Android apps to download in 2019 The best iPad apps we've used in 2019 What data does FaceApp collect? So this is the important question! As quickly as the app has gone viral, so have the privacy worries. So much so that US Senator Chuck Schumer has called for the FBI to investigate the app. And there are many posts going viral on Facebook and other social media urging users to approach the app with caution. The worry seems to hinge on the fact that in order for the app to work, the user must grant the app access to the photos on your phone - just like you have to with Instagram or a billion other apps. What’s worrying people is two things: What this conceivably means is that the app has access to all of the photos on your phone, so if developers chose to do so, they could conceivably tell the app to upload all or your photos to their servers or pass them on to other organizations. What is amplifying this worry is that the company that makes the app, Wireless Lab, is based in St Petersburg, Russia. So… is FaceApp uploading my photos? Despite the initial worries, at the moment the evidence suggests that the app is behaving responsibly and not uploading all of our photos. Several other developers have analyzed what is being transmitted, and have concluded that all the app is uploading are the photos that the user chooses to apply filters to. This is because unlike, say, Instagram filters, the photo processing on FaceApp takes place in the cloud. In other words, all the app does is upload the photo and then download the completed stuff - all of the clever digital ageing takes place on servers elsewhere. The reason for the app working this way could be two-fold: First, this sort of processing is very hard to do locally. The reason machine learning is so powerful now is that processing can take place using the processing power contained within entire server farms if necessary - rather than relying on the processor in your phone. Secondly, this could help the developers improve their product. They could use all of the pictures we upload to more accurately train FaceApp's machine learning models - resulting in even more realistic photos. And because all of the processing takes place in the cloud, it also means they can conceivably update and improve filters without needing to have everyone update the apps on their phone. The developers have said that everything that is uploaded is deleted within a couple of days. The reason it hangs on to the data for that long in the first place is apparently to avoid having to process the same images twice: If two people upload the same image (which isn’t unlikely if you want to digitally age a celebrity), it means they only have to have their servers do the hard work of processing the images once. What do the FaceApp terms and conditions say? One of the factors that have been amplifying the concerns has been the terms and conditions that have gone viral. And on the face of it, they sound pretty draconian: "You grant FaceApp a perpetual, irrevocable, nonexclusive, royalty-free, worldwide, fully-paid, transferable sub-licensable license to use, reproduce, modify, adapt, publish, translate, create derivative works from, distribute, publicly perform and display your User Content and any name, username or likeness provided in connection with your User Content in all media formats and channels now known or later developed, without compensation to you. "When you post or otherwise share User Content on or through our Services, you understand that your User Content and any associated information (such as your , location or profile photo) will be visible to the public." Yikes! What is important to bear in mind, however, is that they are not a million miles away from those used by other social media apps. The only real difference - and it is significant - is that unlike, say, Facebook or Google, there isn’t an easy way to delete your data from the app. At the moment, you have to email support with a written request - though the developers have reportedly said they are planning to make this easier. There is also a secondary concern that the app does not comply with the strict new GDPR rules with its advertising. Whether this has merit or not we'll leave to the lawyers - but this isn't really the meat of the privacy concerns. Should we be worried that the company is Russian? And this… is the contentious bit. The fact that Wireless Lab is based in Russia is perhaps why FaceApp has attracted the skepticism of politicians more than any other app. And these concerns are not entirely without merit. Russia, of course, has a fairly notorious recent history of using technology to meddle in international affairs: From the digital operations conducted during the 2016 US election to hacking the power grid in Ukraine. It is definitely conceivable that Vladimir Putin might see this latest viral sensation as a means by which to access the data of westerners or other adversaries… somehow. There is no evidence that say, the Russian government or military is obtaining data from the app or involved in the company in any way, and the company itself has said that data is in fact stored on Amazon and Google's cloud servers outside of Russia. However, there is arguably cause for concern about the location of the company headquarters. If Vladimir Putin wanted to access the data for some reason (maybe he wants to see everyone’s selfies?), by virtue of the location of the company and its employees, he would have some pretty significant leverage. So… should we be worried about FaceApp? Ultimately, with FaceApp we're making the same privacy trade-offs and considerations we make with any other app. When we download Instagram, should we worry that the US government might want to have a flick through our photo albums? Perhaps we might assume there are more safeguards there because America is a functioning democracy. And what about other apps that are surging in popularity like TikTok? That app, which has made real inroads with young people, is owned by a Chinese company. So there is a strong case for similar reservations there - though because the scaremongering hasn’t gone viral in quite the same way, nobody seems to care. So is FaceApp safe? As with any app it depends on the risks that you’re willing to take. Perhaps the best takeaway from FaceApp blowing up is that if nothing else, it is a potent reminder that you should check your privacy and sharing settings on every app you download - not just the ones that go viral. Read the full article

[briankoning]

Mastering Your Facebook Business Page

Is Your Company Face Planting on Facebook?

–  At the urging of his 23 year old daughter, Joe from Joe’s Widgets joins Facebook and sets up a business page for his business. If Joe is like most social media newbies, one of three things is likely going to happen. It never develops. It develops but is rarely updated with new content. Or, it’s developed, but is regularly updated with content that is nothing of interest to clients and/or prospects.

Here’s what I’m talking about.

The Lonely Page

Search all kinds of companies on Facebook and you’ll quickly see that most of their business pages are incomplete. At some point, a business owner thought it was important enough to launch a business page but was suddenly overwhelmed with setting up all of the “About Us” content. They needed a profile photo, a page banner, company profile, hours, locations, etc… All of this just became too much for the owner to do on their own so they just let it sit.

The Occasional Page

The business owner was eager to set up a business page and may have even gotten help from someone who knows their way around Facebook. They set up a respectable page with a lot of basic information about the business. They even added some product photos and made a couple of posts… five years ago. And they added their next block of content two years later… and then six months ago. The hundred of so friends, family and clients that originally “liked” the page rarely see any new content.

The Selfie Page

Then there’s the business page that is booming with content that, unfortunately, has no substance. The administrator posts photos of employees eating donuts in the break room, sales executives golfing or Sally who just received the Employee of the Month award. There’s nothing informative, education, consultative, or collaborative that clients and prospects get jacked about.

Solution: The Thought Leadership Page

Social media, especially Facebook, can be a great tool for every business, no matter what industry. But that page must be set up to generate thought and position the business as a leader. You have unique knowledge, valuable perspective, and innovative ideas. Social media allows you to showcase them. By sharing your insights and advice with your audience, you can attract new followers and build a strong, trustworthy reputation in the digital space.

The main objective when sharing content on social media is to engage with your audience. To do that, you need to create compelling content that engages and educates.

Post a photo of a new product and share how another client is using that product. Share a problem that you or a client has and ask for others to offer solutions. Or create a post that provides something like “5 Tips to Help You Improve Productivity with Our Widget”.

Once you focus on leadership, education, and consultation, you’ll get more bank for your buck with your “Owned” social media asset.

Market On!

BTK

[nicolesqueloquence]

Recommended auditory pleasure: 

As I lay on my back watching a random Youtube video on the refugee situation and a proposed solution, it suddenly hit me how much grounding I’m in need of. The sun, perpetually streaming through my bedroom window onto my catatonic body covered in the usual loose shirt and boxer shorts, is not enough to quell the thirst of my soul as a desire for the unknown, the stimulating possesses me to look up when the next Oneness meditation session will be held at the center down the street.

Not this week, but next. Not soon enough. But where could I go? I look at my face, still pale despite countless attempts at tanning in the 108-degree sun and barren from any make-up, and cringe at the thought of leaving my room. ‘As I get older…’ a thought begins and is interrupted by another, ‘Am I really getting older? I’m 25..’

The newfound relief at realizing how young that is going to sound later on in life, as many of my older counterparts at work have remarked to me upon learning my age, sets in and I am happy to be this young but I am just so restless. Almost as if I’m not enjoying it, I’m simply not active anymore. I want to get out there, see things, and taste things that my tongue has yet to be blessed with besides the cursed vitriol of strong liquor, medication, and Fiber with B-Vitamin gummies that I’ve elected to aid me in the process of reaching my annual goal weight that seems to be much of an afterthought when I crave chocolate and post-indulgent guilt.

It’s all a toxic process of seeking more from the mundane while simultaneously fearing mediocrity with a passion that rivals that of my hatred of standing still. On paper, my life doesn’t look too basic: school, work, gym schedule, some books here and there to escape the black and white frame of my daily life through the fictional mind of another’s. But it doesn’t feel like enough. It never feels like enough.

Next to my fear of mediocrity is my phobia of complacency. That I will continue to feel the restless ache to constantly have something new and exciting happen to me in addition to every other endeavor I am on, and I will continue to wake up every year in the same bitter discontent. That I will get married and never fall in love. That I will have kids and it won’t satisfy this maternal urge to actualize my dreamed up image of Lili that I’ve had since I was 14.

The idealist in me still daydreams, still desires for more.. But when will it be enough? Will I ever find it?

Hurry up and wait, adulthood says. Wait to text him back. Wait for the next outing. Wait for next week to step on the scale to avoid any further disappointment. Wait for next semester to get further into my program. Wait for next year to feel more successful, more stable. Wait for my friends to have time for me and vice versa. Wait, wait, wait.

I’m terrible at waiting. If patience is a virtue, then I am simply immoral at best then.

I’ve always felt, even as a child, that I had this innate ability to perceive and even “feel” the atmosphere of other worlds. This strange feeling was further fulfilled by reading and diving through the portals of literature to explore these other worlds, see the novel happening in my mind’s eye as if it were a movie, and literally place myself so deeply into what was occurring that almost every single last past of every book I’ve read has been met with tears.

But here, in this life, I feel like I am in a bubble. I want to stretch out, abandon the protection of my mundane existence, and see what is truly out there for me. I want –

I want to see what’s out there for me. You’ve always gotten to date other people, and I haven’t.

Like a bullet, those words graze through my mind all over again. This was almost exactly three years ago.

And just like that my bubble becomes a prison. I’m a huge proponent of people fixing themselves if that is what they want, but they have to want that or it just won’t happen. But I’m also a huge hypocrite, because I have yet to do this for myself and reach out from this emotional jail cell that he kept me in for so long.

There’s more out there but I can’t keep saying that and not venturing out to find it. Of course there are obstacles like money, time, transportation- But if I hurry up and wait some more, I’ll have enough to finally go out and see some shit.

Because my life isn’t permanent. My time here is limited. I never once imagined when I was younger that I would make it to 26. I really didn’t want to, honestly. To me, it would have been blissful and better to die young. Even my own father voiced these words to me when I brought up all of the physical ailments I witness every single day by those who are either elderly or approaching old age.

The thing is, we take all of it for granted. The ability to walk, to talk, to sleep, to wake up and feel awake and alive for the most part. The ability to go to the bathroom without assistance, take a shower without someone to help, just basic functioning that we could never even imagine would be taken away from us by time.

And all at once, I felt ashamed of the years I tried to take all of this away from myself. But at the same time I felt an ambivalent gratitude because after all the damage I caused, none of it had lasting consequences, hence it took so long for me to learn to actually take care of myself and my body rather than constantly attempt to destroy it.

So many of us look in the mirror and think what we see isn’t good enough. And me, as I type a blogpost about complacency and the desire for moremoremore, I look around me and ask if this is really my life. Shouldn’t there be something more glamourous or exciting or spiritual for me? Aren’t there so many other places with that sleepy community feeling where chasing the US dollar and the American dream are not a 24/7 operation? There has to be people out there who ARE complacent, but they are comfortable and they are content living in a rural area with nothing more than an old radio and some dogs.

I don’t necessarily want the finer things in life, just because those places for me are something I want to taste. I want the diversity and the difference from this fish bowl of limited culture I’ve grown up in.

I can feel it from music. Especially the song I’ve linked for this post. I used to feel it the most in middle school and high school. This nostalgic, fuzzy feeling that there were so many more places linked to the one I was in. It’s transcendental really, and nothing that any amount of words would be adequate enough to describe.

So instead of keeping myself caged in this daily battle with anxiety over what may be happening or not in the confines of my PTSD-like mentality, it’s time to branch out. I’m going to try to make it a goal to see more things, go more places, and try something new for once. If my old lady preference of keeping everything the same can handle it, that is.

I wrote a poem yesterday to go with a selfie of mine in lieu of good lyrics because I am currently out of those:

She keeps her secrets close

Like the hidden thorns of a rose

The dark will always haunt her

But light will always find her

~Nicolesque, 6/24/2017

It’s honestly not my best, but it will do. And it is true, after all of the dark pathways in life I have taken, God had somehow always led me to the light that I could never foresee.

Trust is also not an easy thing for me to do.. But in His case, I think it’s essential. At this point in my life, if nothing else, the fact that I’m alive is more than enough evidence that His intervention has been more than enough. This is enough, I just have to know that and not question it so much while also making moves to explore other things around me.

Because nothing really is and everything really isn’t. Jhene Aiko lyrics that I live by.

There was a blog I was obsessed with in middle school, written by a young woman in Singapore called “infrarouge” and something like 1..2..3.. breathe. Or something like that. But the enormous amount of nostalgia I felt from reading her excerpts of traveling, drinking tea at 6 in the morning, and all of these things that seem super hipster now gave me this sense that I was traveling through her and into the experiences of another person.

That blog is now long gone but I saved most of the drawings she made and had uploaded. There are definitely not in good resolution as I believe I downloaded them from my Myspace but they inspired me to emulate it with my own style of SharpieArt.

I’m honestly unsure if these were the blogger’s drawings, but I’d like to think they were because I still have remnants of a world long forgotten in the vast dimensions of webpages that have vanished without explanation. I feel like so much of the world I had built for myself at that age is now missing in the pandemonium of speed of advancement surrounding the Internet and I’m grateful for absolutely everything I’ve digitally hoarded from then.

The only thing missing are my blogs from Freshman and Sophomore year of HS but part of me thinks it’s probably best that I didn’t save those because of the frazzled nature of my self-destructive spontaneity. Despite my blinding light of free spirited nature that lured so many innocent people into my web of catastrophe, I feel like my intentions back then were so pain-driven that they were practically nefarious at best.

This is different though. I’m a lot older now, I’m a lot more grounded in terms of sobriety and well-matured decisions, but I feel like I need even more. Something to bring me back to the ground from the irrational heights of my conditioned fear responses to imagined abandonment and anger towards me.

I know it will take time. I know it will take waiting, as much as I hate it. I want to be okay now. I always have been, for all of my life. I just wanted to be healed and after years of both studying and abusing medicine, there is just no quick fix to feeling this way. No amount of relationships or promises of young love will close the void either. It will take me and me alone to do so. And I like to think that is exactly what I am doing, even if it doesn’t feel like enough to keep me centered and focused sometimes.

My restless nature has always been prevalent, especially in my younger years when multiple teachers hypothesized and even attempted to diagnose me with ADHD. This was definitely not the case per my very skilled and competent pediatrician. “She is just bored,” he told my mother. “She is too intelligent to have nothing to do.”

Intelligence, creativity and bipolar disorder may share underlying genetics ~ The Guardian

This is also my mother’s consensus. When I asked her, as well as my father, if she thought a diagnosis of Bipolar II would fit most of my life’s treacherous and unstable periods, she replied no. She thinks I’m simply too smart to have idle hands, and couple that with what I’ve been through, they certainly make for a bad combination.

There is also cyclothymia, which is kind of a watered down Bipolar II with the same cycling between depression and euphoria. I’d be more akin to that simply because I’m a lot more functioning these days than ever before. But even now as I type this, the tears have already started and I couldn’t even tell you why. My appetite has suffered a bit, hardly existing except for when I wake up and when I take my medication.

She just wants to feel something, and I don’t think that’s asking for too much

~ The 1975 lyrics, “She Lays Down”

Because of my newfound professional aspirations and my educational path being much more clarified, I simply don’t have the urge to drown myself destructively right now. I’m able to have a good number of hard ciders and hard alka seltzers that just sit there and collect refrigerator dust unless I have one or two before losing interest in drinking alone in my bedroom. I consider it a social thing, especially when my social anxiety becomes an obstacle that I attempt to climb with excessive drinking. I haven’t done that in a while but in the last couple outings, I did really good in my opinion. It’s always good when it doesn’t result in some unwanted, negative encounter that I wake up regretting the next day.

So I would conclude things are simple. Things are stable. I just want a little more excitement, a little more exploring. And I fully intend on doing so, because my anxiety loves me too much when I’m laying around with nothing to do but suffer a panic attack or crying spell. The latter occurring in this present moment.

But everything is okay. I am okay. And I choose to stay.

When the soul thirsts for more, let yourself soar. Recommended auditory pleasure:  As I lay on my back watching a random Youtube video on the refugee situation and a proposed solution, it suddenly hit me how much grounding I'm in need of.