#victoria's secret forget me not soap

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

Victoria's Secret Forget Me Not Soap

1990s

Found on Ebay, user aprilld125

[little-peril-stories]

Whumptober 2023: Are You Nobody, Too?

So these tags happened in June:

Okay. Like, I know not everything needs to be explained in a story. Sometimes, things can just happen. But once an idea gets into my head, it's very hard to let go. So, here's Where She Learned To Do That.

(It's so long omg I'm so sorry in advance please forgive me.)

Whumptober 2023 Masterlist

Warnings: angst, blood (only a little), traumatic memories

Chapter 46 | Chapter 49 | Box in Your Heart | TPOT Masterlist | Finale Part 1

Word count: 6500 || Approx reading time: 26 mins

Are You Nobody, Too?

Teaser: “Can I help you?” He looks me over with a vaguely confused and slightly appraising look. As his gaze travels, I remember what Stella said about him being a bad apple. More important, though, is the thing she said about him starting fights. “I think you might.”

“Oh. Look who’s back.”

I glance up from the gravy stain I’m scrubbing from the front of my apron, wondering what has lent the vaguely sarcastic, displeased quality to Stella’s voice. Not that it’s that different from how she usually sounds, but there’s a touch more disdain there. Even though I’m not sure if she’s actually talking to me or if she expects a response, I ask, “Who?”

Victoria, next to me, looks around at the empty dining room. “Um…”

“Not in here,” says Stella impatiently. “Out there.” She jerks her head toward the window, where the sun is shining brightly despite the chill that’s creeping in—hinting at the looming autumn, heralding the end of summer, turning the leaves from brilliant green to yellow.

Celeste, hearing the tone, joins us. “Oh, that Bailey boy.”

“Oh,” Victoria says. She sounds disapproving, as I guess she’s supposed to, but maybe I’m the only one who notices her cheeks turn a little pink.

“Who?” I think sometimes they forget I’m not from around here, and that Bailey boy means nothing to me, and it certainly won’t bring out the shocked-and-appalled reaction Stella is clearly looking for.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I steal a glance outside. All I can see of the man in question is a set of long legs, a relaxed, loping gait, and a head of golden curls. Nothing questionable that I can see, certainly nothing to put such disdain into Stella’s voice.

When I look back at her, she’s frowning. “If you don’t know him, Lucy, consider yourself fortunate. A bad apple, that one.”

Chuckling, Celeste murmurs, “Oh, Stella, he’s not so bad.”

I duck my head slightly, glad of my long sleeves, and wonder if Stella knows how skilled she really is at picking out rotten apples from the ripe ones. “Oh, I see.”

Victoria gives me a half-warning, half-amused look. I know what you’re doing.

And it works, too, because after a few long minutes of making Stella wait for me to ask about whatever gossip—and unsolicited advice—she obviously wants to share, she launches right into it. “He goes away in the spring and summer, that boy, off working who-knows-where, and I think we can all agree it’s hardly likely to be honest work, but he comes back when the weather turns cold.” She screws up her face. “I’ve thrown him out of here for starting fights more times than I can count, and he’s…well, he’s quite the Romeo—it’s no secret—more lecherous than I’ve ever seen or care to see again. Stay away.” She spins to face Victoria. “Isn’t that right?”

“Of course,” Victoria squeaks, her cheeks flushing fully. I swear Celeste, who has a far more palatable sense of humour than Stella does, is about to burst into a laugh.

So am I, but I keep it together. After all, I’ve only been here since the spring, not even a year, and I don’t want to ruffle Stella’s feathers too much. She’s the one who pays me every week, after all.

“You’re going to have to use soap on that apron,” Celeste says lightly, watching me struggle, “or it’s never going to come out.”

I nod, resigned to the fact that she’s probably right, but really only half-listening, anyway. Something Stella said is sticking in my brain, and it’s not the thing about staying away from That Bailey Boy.

***

I sit on it for days, obviously, because the very thought of putting my idea into action makes me break out in a cold sweat, and it’s easier to keep working my ass off and stay on Stella’s good side. I don’t even bring him up again, mostly because I don’t see him, and I have a feeling that if I get Victoria on the subject, she’s either going to talk my ear off about whatever happened between her and That Bailey Boy or get annoyed at me for prying, and I don’t have the energy for either.

But one day he’s just out in front of some house near the outskirts of town, chopping wood. It’s the sound, the thwack and crack of splitting logs that draws my attention first, then the bright sunny hair, and I recognize who I’m looking at.

I don’t realize I’ve stopped until he halts what he’s doing and says, “Uh…hello?”

And I suppose I have little choice but to say, “Hello,” and I guess my idea is now a plan.

“Can I help you?” He looks me over with a vaguely confused and slightly appraising look. As his gaze travels, I remember what Stella said about him being a bad apple.

More important, though, is the thing she said about him starting fights. “I think you might.”

He frowns and stands up straight, leaving his axe in the chopping block. “And how’s that?”

Before I can lose my nerve, and before I can think things through, I say, “I hear you like to fight.”

Fuck, what a way to begin.

Luckily, his mouth twists into a barely stifled laugh. “You’ve been talking to that old bag who runs the inn.”

“So?” Why am I so nervous? I’ve seen what a real bad apple looks like. This guy’s nothing.

Leaning against the handle, he tips his head to the side. “Who the hell are you, anyway? Never seen you around here before.”

“I’m Lucy.” I rush the name, throw it out before I can fuck up and say the real thing. “I want you to teach me to fight.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Why the hell would you need to learn how to fight?”

“I just do.”

In case anyone ever tries to hurt me again.

In case Constable Baden Hatchett ever finds me, and I have to choose to fight or die.

“I don’t know, Miss. I got enough trouble as it is.” There’s something off about the way he says it—like he doesn’t really believe his own words. Like he’s still fighting back a laugh. “But I sure appreciate you thinking of me. Even though we’ve never met before now.”

A smirk that feels familiar even though I’ve never seen it before slips over his face.

“I’ll pay you for the lessons.” I almost say, I can make it worth your while, but at the last second, I realize that is open to far too many interpretations. “It’ll be a business arrangement.”

“Girls don’t fight,” he says pointedly, and now it’s me who’s smirking.

“They do,” I say, “and they can get damn good at it if someone teaches them how to do it right.” Girls do fucking fight, and if they did it even more, they might have fewer worries and fewer scars. “I want to learn how to protect myself.”

He stands up straight again, resting his hand on the axe handle. He sweeps another curious gaze from my face to my feet. “And you’re asking me?” I nod. “What’d you say your name was again?”

“Lucy.”

“Why you wanna defend yourself, Lucy? Who’re you afraid of?”

Clenching my jaw, I say, “I’d just feel safer if I knew how to protect myself, that’s all. Just in case.”

Back down goes his head, tipping to the side. “Well. Guess it’s the gentlemanly thing to do, saying yes.”

“Just lessons.” I don’t know if he needs the reiteration, but Stella’s warning is ringing in my head now that I’ve gone and done exactly what she said not to do. “Fighting. Self-defence. That’s all.”

“You really gonna pay up?” Up, down. The gaze flicks over me again.

What else can I do but nod? I don’t want to give up part of my wages to this stranger who I’ve been explicitly told to avoid. But who else would have even listened to my request?

“All right then, Lucy.” He extends a brown, calloused hand. “Henry Bailey.”

“Pleased to meet you, Henry.” I wonder if he can tell how nervous I still am.

“It’s gonna be a pleasure doing business with you, I’m sure.” He cracks another smile. It’s handsome, and I hate it, because it’s not even malicious. Sly, perhaps, and undeniably bemused. But there’s no cruelty or debauchery in his gaze.

“See them stables over there?” He points. “They’re not being used right now. Meet you there tomorrow.”

“I have to work.”

He snorts. “Then come after you’re done.”

“I work late.”

“You wanna learn, or what?”

“Of course I do, I just—”

He lifts the axe again, shrugging his shoulders. “Before work or after work. Your pick.”

I grit my teeth, already wondering if I’ve made a terrible mistake. “Aft—no.” Do I want to be alone with this man in the middle of the night, in the dark? “Before.”

“All right then. See you at sunup.”

The next log lands on the block, splits with a shriek, and the two halves hit the ground, the cut clean and perfectly precise.

***

“I’m not teaching you shit,” he says, “till you can make a fist and hold it right.”

I haven’t spent much time in barns before, and I’m not sure I like it much. A musty smell clings to the air, and even though it’s a bit too dim to see properly, I’m sure there must be dust everywhere. There’s still hay littering the ground, not particularly fresh, and I definitely heard something skittering around—or several somethings, more like—when we opened the door. Henry Bailey is wandering around, inspecting the space, kicking detritus out of the way to clear a space in the middle. Even though it’s early, with autumn light creeping up the horizon, he doesn’t seem tired.

Lucky bastard.

“What do you mean, hold it right?” I ball my hand into a fist and peer down at it. When I look up, he’s smirking.

“How d’you like broken knuckles? Shattered elbows?”

I watch him warily. When he doesn’t say anything else, I realize he actually expects an answer. “I don’t, obviously.”

“Then you’re gonna have to learn how to make a real fist.”

“Okay…” I relax my hands. “What do I do, then?”

He pauses now, studying me again. “Why do you want this again?”

“That’s none of your business.”

His mouth twitches. “You came looking for me, asking for lessons, but it’s not my business.”

“No.”

With a shrug, he says, “If you say so.” In a few strides, long legs sweeping up clouds as he walks, he appears in front of me. “Don’t slouch like that. You already look like you’re fucking terrified.”

“I’m not,” I say, glaring.

“Bullshit.” Out of nowhere, he winks. “That Stella hag told you all kinds of stories, didn’t she?”

“How do you know I know her?”

“She hates my guts and tells all the pretty girls to stay away,” he says with a grin. “I broke a chair in her inn once.” He pauses. “No. Wait. Twice.”

He hates my guts. Like everyone else.

I don’t hate you.

The same words—that conversation, that ridiculous sentiment expressed to someone I barely knew a damn thing about, almost a year old now—come back to me, and it sounds so real, as if he’s here standing in front of me, and not this guy. Fire sweeps through my face, just as it did back then.

Henry notices, and a flicker of laughter crosses his face. “Jeez. I’m not that scary.”

“No,” I agree. “You’re not.”

“Well, then, fucking stand up straight.”

We stare at one another, both of us sizing the other up, and I’m keenly aware of how much this first lesson is going to set the tone for all the ones that follow.

“You are an asshole, though,” I say, but I straighten my spine, put my shoulders back, and plant my feet.

That Bailey Boy barks out a laugh. “Now we’re getting somewhere. If you want to fight, we need more of that and less of the—” He adopts a high-pitched voice that’s obviously meant to mimic mine. “—pleased to meet you, Henry horseshit. If you got a spine, you’re gonna have to show it.”

“You really are an asshole.” He has no fucking idea. “I have got a spine.”

“Good. Then you’re gonna prove it.” In one smooth motion, he clasps my wrist and pulls my arm up, raising his eyebrows when every part of me goes stiff. “Thought you weren’t afraid of me?”

But it’s not him, not really. “I’m not.”

“Look.” He lets go. “You asked me for this. You just said you aren’t scared. But I barely touched you and you froze. You’re either in it or you’re not, so which is it?”

“I…”

Once again, he just waits for my reply.

“I’m in it,” I say.

“Then wipe that look off your face and get used to this.” He takes my arm again. “Lots of ways to make a fist. Thumb in, thumb out, below, on top. Straight on, twisted. They all work for different things, long as you know when to use them.”

This makes me glare. “I thought I was supposed to learn the right way.”

“Joke’s on you. They’re all the right way. Depends on what you’re trying to do and who you’re up against.”

 With my eyes narrowed, I wait for him to tell me he’s messing around.

Instead, he lets go, leaving my arm in mid-air, and says, “How would you hold your arm if you were about to punch me?”

“I am about to punch you.” I make a fist and draw my arm back.

The smirk on his face says that I most certainly am not, and his words confirm it as he points out everything I’ve done wrong in the last thirteen seconds in the simple motion of pulling my arm back for a strike.

“If you can,” he says, when he’s done, paying no heed to the flaming heat in my face, “you should try to build up your strength. Get some muscle. If you’re really serious.”

As if I’d know the first thing about doing that, or even have the opportunity to even try. “How much free time do you think I have?”

He shrugs. “Just a suggestion.”

Without warning, he moves behind me. “You scared of getting jumped?” It’s unsettling how his voice has gotten closer to my ear, but I can’t see him anymore. “That why you want to learn?”

“Sure.” I doubt Baden Hatchett or any of his constables would be sneaking up from behind if they got close enough to rearrest me, but it’s a true enough statement.

“You been jumped before?”

Long ago, a boy and a girl in an alley. Their faces flash in my mind. A year later, another alley, a man, falling snow, and that same boy, with his hands brushing my face.

I swallow the sudden temptation to cry. “I guess.”

“You guess?” Still behind me, Henry snorts. “You’re a real puzzle.”

Good. I’m going to keep it that way, too.

“Still. Smart.” He laughs. “Lotta nasty people out there.”

I whirl around, stupid Stella’s stupid voice in my stupid brain. “Don’t you dare try anything, Henry Bailey. I’m trusting you, and I’d you—”

“Jeez, Lucy.” He sighs and takes a step back. “This doesn’t seem much like trust, does it?”

And now we’re back in another long stare, a stand-off. I hate myself for looking away first. “You’re trying to scare me.”

“You think you’re gonna take on a grown-ass man who wants to hurt you, and you can’t even handle being a little scared?”

…She was looking for good pickpockets but also ones who could handle being scared a little…

“Stop messing with me.” Anger spills into my voice. “I’m fucking serious about this, and you’re hiding behind me and making fun of me. Are you going to teach me, or should I fucking find someone else?”

That Bailey Asshole is grinning. “You sure got a mouth on you.”

“So I’ve heard,” I snap. “Are you helping me or not?”

“Where the hell did you come from, Lucy…?” He pauses then, realizing that I never gave him a surname.

With a huff, I spin on my heel and head for the door. What a goddamn waste of time.

Footsteps, dust, and a grip on my wrist.

“Let go.”

“Lesson one,” he says smoothly, ignoring the command. With his free hand, he takes mine and guides it up to the wrist that grabbed me. “If someone grabs you. How to get out.”

The panic that was welling within me begins to ebb. He’s serious. He’s going to teach me.

He’s serious, and so am I.

***

Victoria practically goes into hysterics when she sees the bruises for the first time. “Lucy! What on earth happened to you? Are you all right?”

A quick glance in the mirror reveals the weeks’ worth of bruises that have built up on my arms, legs, and back, most of which have resulted from me falling into things after losing my balance or tripping over my goddamn skirt. I told Henry I wanted to wear trousers, thinking it would be easier to learn, and he just laughed in my face.

“Uh…no?” He’d cracked up, even twisted the knife a little harder by pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. “Why would that be a good idea? Are you likely to be wandering around in pants? If you don't learn how to fight in a dress now, you won’t know what to do when it really counts.”

Infuriatingly, he was right, and now I have purple and yellow splattered all over my limbs to show for it.

Of course, Victoria doesn’t know that this is all pain I’ve willingly signed up for, and she flies across our room, only half-undressed, to clasp my hands. “Who did that to you? Are you all right? Who’s hurting you like this?”

“Oh, my goodness. Victoria.” I know I should take her questions seriously, but the earnest concern in her face is so sweet and endearing—and misplaced—that I have to giggle. “No one’s hurting me. You don’t have to worry.”

“Lucy! Don’t lie to me!” She stares at a nasty one on my upper arm, dealt when I fell directly onto the corner of the barn’s windowsill by pure bad luck. “Look at the state of you!”

I bite my lip. Telling her I’m spending hours outside of work letting Henry Bailey put his hands all over me as he teaches me how to defend myself in case my former fiancé and jailer ever reappears to cart me back to prison or to the gallows… Not a wise idea.

“I’m…” Even though I lie to her every day of my life, I still hate it. There’s not a mean bone in her body, not an ounce of spite in her blue eyes, and I can’t imagine how hurt she’d be to learn I’ve never once been truthful about who I am.

“You’ve been sneaking out, too,” she says, “so early in the morning, and—”

“I fell.” I’m not sure Victoria’s stupid enough to believe me, but all I can do is try. Then again, I told her the IA tattoo, something I succeeded in hiding for only about a month, was a religious thing I got in church as a child, and she believed me, so… “I go out for walks before work. To wake up. Um…hear the birds.” Good god, I’m really giving myself away with that one. It’s almost winter. What birds? “Watch the sun come up. But I fell down the hill the other day. It hurt like a b—”

I stop myself just in time, and to my relief, Victoria pretends not to giggle.

“It really looks awful,” she says, brushing a finger over one of the lesser bruises, lightly enough that it doesn’t ache. “You must be more careful.”

“I know.”

When she lets go of my hands, she begins to pull away, then pauses, twisting a golden curl around her finger. “This has nothing to do with…”

“With what?” I keep my voice calm, face unworried.

“Never mind,” she says. “Just take care, all right?”

I wonder… If she can tell I’m lying about this, does she know I’m lying about other things, too? But she hasn’t said anything yet.

“You must be exhausted,” she says, returning to the task of getting ready for bed. “We’ll turn down the lamp early tonight.”

I smile, relief and gratitude warming my chest. “Thanks, Victoria.”

Because she’s right. I’ll be back at it again tomorrow, and before winter hits full force, I am going to knock Henry Bailey on his ass.

***

I’m going to knock Henry Bailey on his ass because he’s still an asshole, but we’re this far into our arrangement, and he’s only gotten more confusing and more annoying. He hasn’t yet taken a cent yet that I’ve offered, despite his apparent interest when we first met, which is beyond concerning, but has instead promised he will the first time I best him, something I haven’t had the chance to even try, let alone succeed at.

That’s only part of it, though. He still does things to irritate me, and the more I ignore the attempts at flirtation that started in earnest about a week into our lessons, the harder he tries.

“Congratulations kiss?” he teases the first time I land a kick, dislodge his grip, and “escape” to the designated safe spot we’ve set up in the barn.

“You wish,” I say, jumping back down.

With a wink, he just says, “You know it.”

Standing behind me, observing silently as I hurl practice punches at a sack of old hay (as if I’m letting you throw at me before you can do it right, he said), he guides my arm with deft, steady fingers, a little too close.

“Back off, Henry.”

“Just trying to protect you from damaging yourself,” he says, and even though I don’t turn around, I can tell he’s grinning.

After a particularly tiring session, watching me pant and try to catch my breath, he asks, “Want me to carry you back to old Stella? It’ll be heroic and romantic. Her head might just fall right off.”

“No, thank you,” I mutter, swiping at the sweat on my forehead with one hand and brushing away dust from my skirt with the other.

“You know, you wouldn’t be so bleeding hot if you just pulled up your sleeves.”

“I don’t want to pull up my sleeves.”

“Afraid to show a little skin?”

“Around you? Definitely.”

He’s sprawled on the floor. Just watching with undisguised amusement. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Why? Because I’m not swooning over you like everyone else?”

He was in the inn last night, with a group of men I assume go out with him to work during the warmer months. I told him if he broke any chairs or did anything to make Stella mad—which inevitably makes my life ten times more difficult—I would be the one cracking chairs over his head. Every girl who passed through, even the ones who were obviously there with their husbands, spent a few extra seconds staring at his stupid chiselled jaw and glossy golden head. Including, as was noted by me and Stella and Celeste, our sweet Victoria.

“Didn’t you learn your lesson last time?” Stella snapped, confirming my suspicions that there was some encounter in the past she hasn’t told me about, and Victoria blushed and avoided looking at him for the rest of the night, at least when she thought no one was looking.

For his part, I’m not even sure he noticed she was there.

“Is that jealousy I detect, Miss Prim and Proper?” He snorts. “Miss Prim and Proper who’s secretly plotting to kick someone’s ass in the future?”

Oh, and he’s constantly badgering me about why I want to fight. Who I want to fight.

“Henry, just mind your own business, for god’s sake.”

Outside, the wind picks up. Autumn is in full swing, with maple leaves now the colour of crabapples, some of them already starting to fall and coat the ground, painting it the hues of the season—sun-bright yellow, brilliant orange, and of course, blood red.

I love it and hate it at once. It’s beautiful, but there’s little I can do to quell the memories that are steadily rising as we draw closer and closer to the one-year mark of what happened to me last fall.

“Hey!” Henry sits up, snapping his fingers. “You even listening?”

“No.” I look away from the window. “What did you say?”

There’s a knowing glint in his eyes. I don’t like how well That Bailey Boy can read people—or, at least, read me. “Who you thinking about all the time, Miss Lucy?”

“No one.”

He rolls his eyes. “I can’t figure you out. You’re not thinking about anyone, you don’t got a sweetheart as far as I can tell, but it’s always back off, Henry.”

“Not everyone has to fall in love with you, you know, you insufferable dickhead.”

That makes his jaw drop. “How’d you get so feisty? You were falling over all winded three minutes ago.”

“I’m better now.” I am suddenly regretful of my choice to do our lessons before work begins. The idea of facing the day after all this, particularly this stupid conversation, is exhausting. “You’re being an idiot.”

And I’m being mean, but I don’t care. I don’t want to talk about who I’m thinking about all the time.

“Never had a girl call me a dickhead before,” Henry says, and instead of being pissed off, he just gives me the most ridiculous little pout I’ve ever seen.

In spite of myself, I laugh.

“See you tomorrow,” he says, getting to his feet, and without another word, he disappears.

***

For some stupid reason, I expect things to get better and easier once he actually lets me spar with him. It’s all slow and pretty fake—he never looks that concerned when I’m going for him—and still I end up with more bruises and even less confidence than before.

“Your head’s always somewhere else.” It’s almost a scolding. “You get caught up in thinking about your lost love, you’re gonna get caught off guard.”

“There’s no lost love. Don’t you ever listen to me?”

“Then why won’t you let me kiss you?”

“You’re such a prick, Henry,” I say, and he falls to the floor, howling.

“Where have you been all these years?” he asks, not for the first time, and I can’t help but smile.

“You like being insulted right, left, and centre?”

Flashing me his most winning, beaming grin, he says, “By you, darling? Of course.”

“You’re so disgusting.” I wrinkle my nose, and as usual, he doesn’t seem at all put off. “Why don’t you make up with Victoria?”

“Who?”

“You’re a pig,” I tell him, and he shrugs. I can tell he’s lying about not knowing who she is.

By the time the trees are almost fully bare, my bruises aren’t doubling in number at the rate they were before, and I’m tripping over my skirt less, and it’s starting to feel intuitive every time I shake off his grip when he tries to catch me off guard.

But the sky darkens early, and the candles have to burn longer, and wind whistles through every door and window.

And in the night, there are memories whose hold no amount of training can dislodge.

“Again,” I say. It must be the third time he’s pinned me today; honestly, I’m not even certain. He looks down at me with a piercing gaze.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Again,” I repeat, pushing him off. He doesn’t resist. One of these days. I’ve got to get the better of him one of these days. Otherwise, what’s the point? If I can pin him, I might have a chance in hell of pinning anyone else who might ever try to lay their hands on me.

He purses his lips. Is he annoyed? What the fuck reason does he have to be annoyed? He’s the one who keeps winning. “I think maybe you should take a break.”

Irritably, I point out the window. “I have to work soon. This is all the time I have. One more go.”

It’s still dark, even though my duties at the inn start soon. Autumn is well and truly upon us, almost over—any day now, it’ll turn to winter—and I don’t want to walk back to Stella’s alone and cold in the gloom, thinking about having had my ass kicked again and again and again.

“All right,” he says, but I can tell he’s not happy. “One more.”

I guess he could sense the mood I’m in today from the moment we started, because he hasn’t made many jokes at all. Or perhaps the cold weather and dark sky bring back awful memories for him, too.

“Fuck it, Lucy, pay attention!”

My head cracks against the barn floor, and it fucking hurts.

I hit my head on a cobblestone road, once. Years ago now. It bled, leaking hot liquid down my face, and a boy whose name I did not know pressed a handkerchief against it to stem the flow. It hurt like this, if I remember correctly, around the same spot. I went back alone to a room in a sleazy boarding house and cried myself to sleep.

“Fuck! Hey! You okay?”

I sit up, moved by the worry in Henry Bailey’s voice. “I’m fine.” Wincing, I gingerly touch my fingertips to the throbbing spot on the side of my head. “Shit.” The skin is broken; the pads of my fingers come away red. “Shit.”

“Fucking hell,” he says, next to me now. “I didn’t mean to knock you over that hard. Are you all right? How many fingers am I holding up?”

I bat his hand away. “Seriously. I’m fine.” If he’s upset now, he’d lose his shit if he knew what kind of shape I was in around this time last year. One little knock to the head is nothing.

“Answer me, damn it. How many—”

“God damn it, Will! I’m okay! Just give me a min—”

A boiling surge of mortification hits me so hard, it’s more likely to knock me out than the smack of my skull against the floor.

Fucking shit.

“Henry,” I say quickly, but I said what I said and I can’t take it back. “Henry. I’m okay.”

He leans back on his heels. “You hit your head real bad, or are you still thinking about No One even while your head’s bleeding?”

No one. No one.

I close my eyes. I don’t want to look at him right now.

“Just hold on a minute.” I hear him stand up and walk away, and it’s a relief to have some distance between us. I can’t pretend that my head isn’t throbbing, or that this miserable anniversary I’m living through isn’t fucking me up big time, or that I don’t sometimes look at Henry and see Will. Wish I was seeing Will.

“Here.” I open my eyes when he comes back. There’s a wad of cotton in his hand. “To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t needed patching up before today.”

Somehow, that makes me smile. “You’re an ass.”

“And you’re a clumsy scatterbrain.” Henry presses the cotton against my temple. “Wanna actually tell me what’s eating you?”

All I can do is shake my head and say, “I’m fine.”

He sighs. “Y’know, out of everywhere in this boring-ass shithole of a town, I’d be the last person to judge you, right? You get that?”

I do. I really do. But he doesn’t know what he’s asking for. Stella thinks he’s such a rascal, a bad apple, a no-good sort of man with no decency at all, but I think even he’d be floored to find out what’s hiding in my past.

“I appreciate that.”

He studies me, quiet for a while, blue eyes more serious than I’ve seen them. “It’s all right, you know. If you're…if you’re not. Not all right, I mean.”

I’m not all right. But I don’t think I need to say it. He obviously knows.

“You remind me,” I say, “of…” Can I say it? I don’t think I can. “Someone I knew. Someone it…” I swallow a lump in my throat. “Someone it hurts to think about.”

“Will, huh?”

I don’t look at him, and I don’t answer.

“Will is No One, your tragically lost sweetheart.” He leans back on his hands, and before I know it, he’s spinning the wildest fucking tales I’ve ever heard in my life. “Died too young of a mysterious fever. No! Poisoned by a jealous rival.” At my incredulous look, he keeps going. “Uh…a sailor lost at sea? No. He…shot a man through the heart, all to defend your honour, and now he’s on the run.” I laugh, wiping my eyes, annoyed at how close to and yet how far from the truth that one is. “He left you at the altar, and you’ve got a secret kid squirrelled away somewhere.”

“Henry!”

“He broke your heart, and when you see him again, you’re gonna give him the punch in the kisser he deserves.”

Ignoring the voice in my head screaming at me that Will wasn’t the one doing things like running away and earning a punch in the kisser, I tell him, “Wrong. Wrong. Unbelievably wrong.” Since I can’t correct him, I just finish with, “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “I bet.”

After a few breaths, he stands up to grab his scarf and begins to wrap the scratchy grey wool around my head.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demand, pawing at him to get him to stop.

“What? Don’t got any real bandages for this. I’m gallantly saving you from bleeding out in this gross-ass barn. You should be thanking me.”

“Gee, thanks.” But I’m laughing, even though my head still hurts and probably will for the rest of the day. “I don’t think we’re in bleeding out territory, though.”

He sighs again. “Well. That’s good news, I guess.” At the pause, I know what’s coming, and even though I want to get my back up, I know he’s right. “Can’t drift off like that. You do it all the time and I keep telling you, you gotta stay focussed.”

“I know.”

“And if it’s really not that bad…” He gestures toward the cotton pressed to my head. “Then you’re lucky, but what if I was actually trying to hurt you? Being sad isn’t an excuse for acting like an idiot.”

I know I deserve the chiding, but despite that, the scolding forces out of me a sideways glare. “You’re one to talk.”

With a snort, he says, “You think I got my reputation because I’m sad? I’m just an asshole.”

“No, you’re not,” I say impatiently. “Just an idiot. Like me.”

He’s quiet for a moment or so, just staring.

“What?”

And then he grins. “Got you to say I’m not an asshole.”

“Ugh.” The urge to take it back is strong. But I’m laughing again.

“Tell you what.” He fixes his shirt—tucking it in neatly (sort of), rolling down the sleeves. “Take a day or two to sort yourself out. Make sure that isn’t worse than it looks.”

“But—”

Holding up a finger and shaking his head, he goes on, “I’m not going anywhere, anyway. I’ll be here till the spring, so what’s the rush? Take a few days off. But I’ll give you a challenge.”

I frown, suspicious. “What kind of challenge?”

“You come back, all fixed up and fired up and ready to go, and we get back at it. Practice as long as you want or whatever, but when you decide you’re ready, we spar.”

“How’s that different from what—”

But there’s that annoying, mischievous grin. “Forget paying up. You win, I’ll never hit on you again, ever.”

I blink. This was not what I expected him to offer.

“You pin me, knock me off my feet and get me at a disadvantage, then I promise I will let you sulk in sorrow and self-pity about your long-lost Will for as long as you decide that’s what you want to do.”

“But if you win?” I’m not sure I’m going to like what’s coming.

He winks. “Then I get to give you one kiss and see what happens.”

“You’re so disgusting,” I say. “You don’t even want to kiss me. You just want to say you did.”

Laughing, he says, “Then I guess you better win.”

The cotton is red when I pull it away from my head, but not nearly as bad as I feared. His gaze, when I look up, is fixed on me, glinting and laughing and full of challenge.

“So? What do you say?”

“I say Stella was right about you all along.”

But.

Outside, the sun is teasing its way into the morning. If I don’t get moving soon, I’m going to be late, and then I’m really in shit.

His proposition is unbelievably stupid, a trap because he thinks there’s no way I can get the better of him, and he’s sick of me getting lost in thoughts and memories while we’re supposed to be fighting.

“One week,” I say. A smile spreads across his face. “A few days off. Time to practice. And then in a week, I’ll take you up on your stupid offer. And I’ll win.”

Narrowing his eyes, he asks, “You serious?” I nod. “Then shake on it.”

His grip is firm, like this is some kind of binding contract to him, and I suppose it is. I try to match the pressure and steadiness of his hand curled around mine.

“One week,” he repeats, and I do the same. When we let go, he sweeps a still-concerned-but-less-so-now glance over me. “Want me to walk you back to the inn?” I shake my head. As if I want Stella, Celeste, or Victoria to see me strolling up with him That Bailey Boy on my arm and blood on my head.

“Just you wait, Henry Bailey,” I say, getting to my feet. “You’re gonna rue the day you ever agreed to teach me how to fight.”

With a laugh, he shoves his hands into his pockets and heads for the door. Before he heads out into the grey morning light, he shoots me his signature sly grin, and said, “Can’t wait, darling,” and vanishes.

“You’re an ass!” I call after him, but he’s gone, his hearty laugh already fading.

He is, and maybe I’m a fool for taking him up on his offer, but for the first time in weeks, I’m feeling something other than the empty dread these long, bitter days have brought.

For the first time in weeks, there’s a fire burning inside me, buoyed by an old friend, one I haven’t met with in far too long.

Hope.

Chapter 46 | Chapter 49 | Box in Your Heart | TPOT Masterlist | Finale Part 1

Whumptober 2023 Prompts Fulfilled

No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.” | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

No. 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.” | Debris | Pinned Down | “It's broken.”

No. 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.” | “Just hold on.”

No. 15: “I don't need you to help me; I can handle things myself.” | Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

No. 30: “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay.’”

[thegardenofbae]

i’m FINALLY ready to be serious and take care of myself so I can be the best version of myself. I also want to be more feminine with my looks and how i carry myself. Any tips? thank you!

Hi there! First, I want to say how proud I am of you for deciding for yourself to become more in tune with your femininity. Here are some tips I can offer personally that might help you on this journey.

Become a more eloquent speaker.

Some people will say that to be feminine you must have very soft-spoken, but that's not the case. If you look at some feminine icons such as Dorothy Dandridge, Jane Russell, and Rita Hayworth, they had deep, sultry voices that were alluring and very feminine.

Make sure when you speak, you’re saying your words as clearly and evenly as possible to be understood.

Be confident in all you do.

Your body, your mind, everything about you has been wonderfully made, don’t forget that. when you walk, keep your head high. Maintain eye contact with people. No one is above you, and you should never let anyone try to intimidate you. Smile baby, you’re blessed!

On the topic of walking, make sure your posture is good!

Stand up straight, slouching and bad posture isn’t a mark of a feminine woman. Walk with one foot in front of the other with your shoulders pushed back. walk slowly, you are in no rush. Let people look at you, I’ll say it once and I’ll say it again: You’re beautiful ♡

Invest in your lingerie.

I’d highly suggest getting rid of any old, tattered undergarments. As beautiful as you are, you should only have adornments that are half as beautiful and of good quality. Now remember, you don’t have to break the bank for this. I prefer victoria’s secret undergarments to pinks. there are also brands like aerie, wear lively, and ThirdLove that have wonderful underwear! below, I have linked some of my favorite pieces.

Aerie

real power balconette bra (I have one in every color)

eyelash lace racerback bralette

new bloom lace padded triangle bralette

lace strappy triangle bralette

Victoria's Secret

lacie bralette

cosabella sweetie bralette

esme triangle bralette

wicked unlined balconette bra (I have this bra in the black + nude, soft plum floral, sage dust, and lace black. It's one of my favorites if you couldn't tell.)

Have superb hygiene.

Feminine women are known to be soft, supple, fragrant creators. Make sure you bathe daily. For your body, use a fragrant body wash. For your under area, use a white soap with no fragrances and no dye. Make sure you wear a deodorant as well as a beautiful perfume. If you aren’t able to use perfume, scented oils are always an excellent choice. Always make sure your breath is brushed and clean and smelling fresh. Make sure to always wear clean, freshly pressed clothes. It goes without saying, but top-tier hygiene is everything. I've included a list of some of my favorite perfumes for the spring and summer seasons.

Bright Crystal by Versace

Dylan Turquoise Pour Femme by Versace

Light Blue by Dolce & Gabbana

Lazy Sunday by Maison Margiela

Under The Lemon Tree by Maison Margiela

Si by Armani

La Vie Est Belle by Lancome

Be mindful of what you wear.

Wear clothing that flatters the body. They should accentuate your best features. Wear more skirts and dresses. It took me a while to get to the point of wearing dresses because I grew up a tomboy wearing oversized t-shirts, sweats, and sneakers every day. But now, once spring rolls around, my body is itching to pull out my light dresses. If I do wear pants, they're usually satin wide-legged trousers or linen shorts. I rarely wear denim shorts, but when the outfit calls for them, I wear them. I love sandals, wedges, and espadrilles as feminine footwear. I still wear sneakers from time to time. I have created so many mood boards that showcase my style if you're looking for inspiration.

Never stop educating yourself.

The mark of a truly feminine woman is an educated woman. Never stop learning, even once you get your diploma. Make time to read books, watch films, and learn about the world. A good conversationalist makes the most interesting of a woman. I love cinematography, so I watch a lot of classic films. I also am immersed in a creative space, so it's important to know things about art, history, and things like that. Find something you're interested in, and never ever stop learning.

Good luck again on your journey ♡

[stripper-patrick]

Make it up 🍭 Chris Evans

Warnings: smut, angst, jealousy, angry sex, choking, daddy kink, unprotected, blurb

Relationship: Chris Evans x black plus sized reader

“Chris you can’t seriously be mad at me because the guy was flirting with me” I ask. He opens the door for me and I walk through spinning around to see him whip past me not saying a word. Don’t get me me wrong seeing him this way was always a turn on but I just can’t stand him being mad at me.

“Christopher” I call out. I walk after him in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me right now” he goes in the bedroom and kicks off his shoes and socks and takes off his shirt. He lays down crossing his legs and grabs the remote turning on the tv. He turns on the basketball game and I groan.

I take off my shoes and go in the bathroom. I lean on the counter and sigh. What’s a way to get his attention?

I smile to myself and turn on the shower water. I go under the sink grabbing my favorite body wash that I only use for special occasions. I get in the shower letting the hot water relieve my tension. I grab a loofa and squirt the soap on it. It has a very strong smell, so strong you can smell it from outside the bathroom.

I finish washing myself and I go in the bedroom letting the steam air out of the bathroom. I stand in front of the dressed under the tv where I can feel him watching. I drop my towel in front of him and grab some Victoria’s Secret panties that are bedazzled on the side.

I slip into those and and a loose tee. I grab my towel and hang it up in the bathroom. I come back out and put some oil on my body which is the same scent of the soap.

I let it run down my legs and I can see his eyes are glued to the tv occasionally looking at my ass. I put some on my arms and go over to the dresser to put it back. I feel a rush of cool air behind me then a large hand wraps around my throats pressing firmly. I bite my lip and smile.

“Since you have men throwing themselves at you ima let everyone know you’re mine” he drags me along out to our balcony where the cool summer air hits up. He bends me over the balcony and slaps my ass. Chris pulls down my panties and inserts himself into me.

He grabs my neck and forces me to arch my back as he pounds into me.

“What’s my name Y/N”

“Daddy” I whimper

“I can’t hear you and neither can the world princess” my body shudders and my pussy gets wetter as his grip tightens around my neck.

“Daddy” I scream out.

“That’s right who else makes you feel this good” I put my arm back to try to slow him down a bit but he moves it. I stand up straight and Chris wraps his free arm around my waist pushing his dick further up into me. My eyes roll the back of my head. He moves to my ear and I can hear his heavy breathing.

“Answer me”

“You Chris fuck I’m gonna cum” my vision starts to go dark and he chuckles

“No you’re not you’re gonna hold it” I whine and dig my nails into his tensed muscular thigh.

He exits me and jacks off letting his cum drip over off the balcony. His head falls back and I grab the handle so my legs don’t give out.

“On the chair ass up” I go over to the chair and place my hands on the arm rests. He smacks my ass and I moan. My legs shake as I bite my lip. I feel Chris enter me again this time a little slower.

He gives that first good thrust having my ass bounce back on him which only prompts him to smack it more.

“Daddy that feels so good” I stand on my tippy toes and arch my back further down.

“Bounce on me baby” I begin meeting his thrusts. He slips out of me but immediately puts it back in getting my closer to my orgasm.

“Fuck you’re so sexy” he plays with my clit making me shake.

“Can I please cum daddy please”

“Maybe maybe not hold it” he demands. He pounds harder and my eyesight gets weaker.

“Ugh daddy please” my body rattles and Chris cums again. I can’t hold it anymore and I squirt over our feet. I scream out and I see neighbors lights come on.

“That’s it baby I want it all over me” he smiles

He exits me and rubs my clit hard making my body shake more. I push his hand away and smile.

“You’re mine don’t forget that” he kisses me

[wonderwomanfantasy]

class 1-A ranked by who smells the best

christ okay here we go

smells good:

Momo- all of her soaps and perfumes and everything has the same scent and you know she has the supper expensive high-quality shit.

Sato- homeboy spends all day baking he probably smells like powders sugar and vanilla 

Aoyama- impeccable taste, and not afraid of more feminine scents probably smells like jasmine or lavender.

Ashido- buys victoria’s secret body spray but like the good ones. 

Uraraka- she can’t afford anything super nice but she has a couple body sprays from Christmas or her birthday, she smells like marshmallows. 

Ojiro- smells like clean linen and fabric softener generic but good. 

Midoriya- mama raised him right his personal hygiene is impeccable but he, unfortunately, uses All might brand cologne 

not conventionally good but nice: 

Iida-you know how sometimes car exhaust smells good? yeah that's him

Asui- she smells like rain and mint, its an acquired taste. 

Kirishima- he is pretty good about putting on deodorant and showering but like he sweats a lot so it’s a little musky but it's not bad

Koda- he smells like hay and food pellets so it’s okay once you get used to it or are around his animals some more. 

Tokoyami- he is good at cleaning his feathers but she still smells like a crow and he gets that it isn’t for everyone. 

Jiro- for the most part, she smells just like all the other girls but her fingertips smell like guitar wire 

could use a shower:

Hagakure- you can’t see her enter a room but you can sure as hell smell her, she blasts herself with perfume to the point it gives people headaches.

Todoroki-not going to lie this boy forgets to take care of himself a lot of the time so he forgets to take a shower or put on deodorant a lot of the time.

Sero- smells like weed next question 

Kaminari- He tries so hard but like Hagakure just goes overboard. 

Shoji- I don’t know why but I can see him having coffee breath 

rancid:

Bakugo- I have seen the posts about him smelling like ‘burring sugar uwu’ I don’t care this is a man who replaces showers with AX body spray fight me

 Mineta- pervs are smelly end of story

thanks for asking!

[cowboybuckleys]

finally catching up on this last week’s Days:

“without some miracle cure even the Phoenix would be dead by now” i mean... are we forgetting Melaswen? Will? Nicole? Jack? they really need to hire a Salem historian or something cos this historical amnesia is getting outta control.

Nichols is a subpar Stefano, at best. disappointing but not entirely surprising. tbf he hasn’t been the best Patch in the last 5 years either so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

“i guess shop class wasn’t a total waste after all.” god bless whoever hired Victoria Konefal, she’s fucking brilliant at the drama and comedy and we’re so damn lucky to have her

this new guy for Sonny?? i can’t tell if he’s supposed to feel too good to be true or if they’ve basically just brought a Paul 2.0 in to facilitate another everything leads back to wilson storyline.. dude is cute n all, i just.. feel more suspicious than i probably need to be.

Ben saying he owed Will one made me snort chocolate milk outta my nose so fuck Carlivati for that specifically.. also who gave Chandler and RSW the right to have this much chemistry while wearing orange????

Kate waitressing is oddly the most logical decision they’ve made since this time jump has happened. her just walking around snarking out what she thinks is advice is the comedic relief i didn’t know we needed

“that’s probably why he’s been so secretive with his laptop” or.. shocker, Chad just doesn’t want douchetacos snooping on what fanfic he reads between meetings..

JJ looks like he hasn’t showered in months and you’re telling me Jennifer “i’m usually all up in my kids’ business a coma aint gonna stop me” Horton Deveraux doesn’t immediately think “wow where have i seen this sullen, moody behavior before??” please. 

“whatever DiMera is making your life miserable this week” oh wow that really HAS been her last decade on this show though hasn’t it?? so... Roman and Kate????? i’m listening... #MakeRomanInterestingAgain

“so much has happened in the last year i can barely keep track of it myself” lmfao same Marlena

i begged for Princess Gina to return (outside of the Halloween eps) for years and now it just makes me miss Bo that much more.. this is what i get for wishing for things, the soap goddesses always fuck me over lol

*briefly remembers that Rafe and Kate once dated* 

bless them, they gave me two days of JJ on screen and every single second was me spent yelling "oh for fucks sake Jennifer” and “JJ you have a shit track record with guns stop that you idiot” so. i’ll count those two days as a win.

[iwatchgreys-imbasicallyasurgeon]

1-50 lol 😋😋😋😋

1. What color are your socks? I'm not wearing any. My feets are naked.

2. Have you ever lied about your age? Why? No I have not.

3. What is something you regret in the past month? I don't think I have anything that I regret in the past month.

4. Do you believe in love at first sight? I'm not sure, it's never happened for me.

5. When was the last time you wrote someone a letter on paper? It's actually been quite a while.

6. How old were you when you first learned how to ride a bike? Who taught you? I think I was six, and my mom taught me. I remember getting a bunch of scrapes on my knees lol

7. Do you get along with your parents? Why or why not? I get along with my mom really well. I don't know my father.

8. What's your favorite season? I love the fall. It's the perfect weather, I love the look of the foliage here in Maine, and its Halloween season!!!

9. Do you currently like someone? Yessum I do. A lot 😊

10. Have you ever used a Ouija board? I have! My friend and I used one once, and my lighter randomly exploded.

11. What's the last song you sang? Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish

12. What's your favorite scent? I have a few. Irish Spring soap, Love Spell perfume from Victoria's Secret, and the smell just after it rains.

13. What's your favorite urban legend? I honestly can't think of any right now 😂

14. What's a bad habit that you have? Smoking

15. What's a strange habit that you have? Most of the time, before I open my water bottle, I have to shake it or tip it. I love the sloshy water sound.

16. What's the first instrument you learned to play? I don't play any instruments, but I would LOVE to learn how to play piano.

17. How would you describe your 'type'? I don't really have a type, I just prefer someone with a good sense of humor so I can laugh and be myself with them.

18. Would you rather stay in or go out? Stay in. I'm such a homebody.

19. What's the last thing you said to your mom? "Love you too, bye!"

20. Do you want to get married someday? Absolutely :)

21. Have you ever snuck out? Not that I remember.

22. Can you sing well? I guess I'm not terrible.

23. What's an embarrassing thing that happened this week? I fell off the couch.

24. When was the last time you went sledding? I think I was 16.

25. Have you ever/do you like someone you know you can never be with? Nope

26. Do people often mispronounce your name? I had a few teachers call me Daniel while taking attendance at school.

27. Would you like to live in another country? I don't think I could live so far away from the people I love. I'd love to visit another country though.

28. Do you like to watch ghost hunting shows? Yeah!!

29. Who was the last person you said you loved to? My mom

30. What's something you'd like to be better at? Speaking in front of people.

31. Have you ever stayed up to talk to someone who was sad? Absolutely.

32. What was the last thing you cooked? Umm...probably pasta 😂

33. Do you think you would make a good parent? I'm not sure, bit I'd like to think I would.

34. Do you have trouble sleeping at night? Sometimes.

35. Where is your best friend right now? At home, likely playing For Honor.

36. How long does it take you to get ready in the morning? Kost of the time it takes about 20 minutes. But if I'm making myself look nice, it takes quite a while.

37. How late do you usually stay up at night? It depends on how tired I am, if I'm watching something, and if I'm talking to someone interesting 😁

38. When was the last time you cried and why? I cried earlier while watching a cute animal video on Facebook

39. Have you ever won a contest? Naw.

40. Can you draw well? Eh, I could definitely be better.

41. Would you ever date someone you met on Tumblr/the internet? Yes :)

42. What was the last thing you ate? Beef jerky 😁

43. Do you think you'd make a good boyfriend/girlfriend? I hope so!

44. Have you ever had a near death experience? Nope

45. What do you think people think of you? I'm not so sure I want to know, really.

46. What is your middle name and do you like it? My middle name is May, and I love it. Both my great grandmothers (on my mother's side) had that middle name.

47. Are you close with either of your parents? I'm very close with my mom.

48. Do you like yourself? I'm working on it.

49. State five facts about your appearance. My eyes are grayish blue with a little green around the center; I'm very freckly; I have to wear a lot of mascara because my eyelashes are very very light; my natural hair color is strawberry blonde; I hate my legs

50. State five facts about your personality. I'm really really shy in person at first; I love to laugh and make people laugh; I have bad social anxiety but it doesn't affect my work somehow; 99.9% of the time I've got a song stuck in my head; sometimes when I'm manic I forget to breathe

[aaronandroberthemmerdalegay]

7 huge Emmerdale fan theories that will blow your mind

What's next for the villagers? The superfans have some ideas.

Emmerdale fan theories, Cain Dingle, Robert Sugden, Moira Dingle.

In recent months, Emmerdale has really gained momentum. With new arrivals, flashback surprises during the special Big Night Out episodes, heartbreaking and hard-hitting storylines for Victoria and Lisa and, of course, the gripping twists in abusive Maya's downfall – it's been exciting stuff.

We all know one sign of a great soap storyline is if it gets fans talking. Currently, Emmerdale has a wealth of fan theories about what might happen next. Social media has been rife with speculation and we've put together some of the best theories for you to ponder over. Do they sound probable or are they way off the mark?

1. Victoria will give her baby to Robron

Victoria Barton confides in Moira Dingle in Emmerdale

ITV

One of the biggest Emmerdale theories of the moment centres around the outcome of Victoria's pregnancy after her horrific rape. As this storyline has played out in parallel to Robert and Aaron's struggling surrogacy plans, fans have put two and two together and speculated that Vic will give her baby to Robron.

While we know Victoria is pregnant, not much has been said yet about whether she plans to go ahead and have the baby. With brother Robert desperate to have a child with his husband Aaron, could Victoria's tragedy have an unexpected outcome for all three of them?

In truth, we have our doubts on this one, as it wasn't so long ago that Victoria was desperate for a baby herself, so we'll just have to wait and see what she decides...

I'm wondering if Victoria will have her baby and give it to Robron #emmerdale

— Ann beverley (@anniebev6) May 15, 2019

Robert and Aaron are going to bring up Victoria’s baby aren’t they #emmerdale

— Kelly Mew🧚‍♂️ (@x_kelx) May 14, 2019

ADVERTISEMENT - CONTINUE READING BELOW

I wonder if Aaron and Robert will have Victoria’s baby 🤔 #Emmerdale

— Lindsay Kaye Clamp x (@lindsay_kayex) May 10, 2019

2. Maya has groomed other boys

Maya Stepney in the woods in Emmerdale

ITV

Ever since manipulative Maya began worming her way into Jacob's affections, viewers have wondered whether she has done this before. She might have protested her innocence to the police and Jacob's loved ones, but her efforts to groom him have shown a clever and vindictive woman at work. Could it be that there are other victims of Maya out there? Could they be the cause of her downfall?

Viewers were quick to pick up on ex-husband Liam Cavanagh's reaction to her arrest and after all, it was Leanna who tried to warn the villagers what Maya was like long before we saw her true colours. Will it emerge that Maya has done this before?

Now it's out in the open it wouldn't surprise me if it turns out that Maya has done this before. #Emmerdale

— Penn Wooding (@BrixhamUK) May 22, 2019

Going to guess that this grooming #Emmerdale storyline will finally end with the revelation that Maya has done this before and that Maya isn’t her name.

Yes, I watch Emmerdale. 🐏🐄🐓

— Jim Doran (@jai_dee) May 22, 2019

ADVERTISEMENT - CONTINUE READING BELOW

Maya must have previous form surely?? Jacob can't be her first victim 🤔 #Emmerdale

— pollyk (@joy9kat) February 28, 2019

3. Laurel and Jai set to be Emmerdale's next big romance

Charlotte Bellamy as Laurel Thomas in Emmerdale

ITV

Forget Robron, Coira or Vanity – could Emmerdale's next biggest ship be Jaurel? After Laurel's disastrous affair with Bob, are producers lining up her next romance with another unlikely admirer? Fans think they've spotted sparks in the Sharma sweet factory between Jai and Laurel, and they've certainly been spending more time together in recent months.

Since Jai's last relationship with con artist Nell ended badly, he's been on his own and even actor Chris Bisson expressed interest in Jai having a bit of happiness. What do you reckon, could that be with Laurel?

Anyone else getting the feeling that Laurel and Jai are going to end up together? #Emmerdale

— Anzi (@Monkey_Moom) April 10, 2019

Is it me or are we getting Jai & Laurel vibe? 😊 #Emmerdale

— Sulagna (@maitra_sulagna) April 10, 2019

Think there's going to be a Jai and Laurel romance.. #Emmerdale @ITV

— Eleri (@EleriEdwards) March 21, 2019

4. Moira or Cain will cheat

Moira Dingle in Emmerdale

It hasn't gone unnoticed that things have been strained between Cain and Moira of late. With Cain spending more time with ex-flame Harriet, and Moira left to confide in new farmhand Nate, even the couple themselves seem to be aware they've hit a rough patch. With frostiness at Butler's and each of them spending more alone time with others, could this be a sign that Coira are doomed to split?

Theories circulating have predicted Cain might return to the arms of Harriet again or Nate's attraction to an older woman might mean he'll bunk up with Moira.

But Coira fans might not need to worry too much yet as actor Jeff Hordley's recent interview on This Morning suggested Cain and Moira are solid. Unless this was just to throw us off the scent...

I really don't understand where emmerdale going with the Cain/Harriet and Moira/Nate. I just know they love messing the Cain and Moria fans around. I just want them to have a decent storyline. Not in involving exs. I'm not worried about Coria they love each other ☺☺☺#Emmerdale

— Royal Princess Alice Rinderette 😘😘😘😘😊😊 (@WoodhouseAlice) May 16, 2019

Still can't help but feel the writers of emmerdale are going to split Coira up .Cain getting close to Harriet and then Moira cosies up to Nate not feeling positive but normally turns out ok

— Coirafanatic (@Lunascatcat) May 19, 2019

5. Is Mandy Dingle dying?

Chas Dingle attacks Mandy Dingle in Emmerdale

ITV

You might think the Dingles have had enough tragedy in recent times, but that doesn't stop fans speculating that there's more on the way. When Mandy Dingle returned earlier this year, she hinted that she hadn't revealed her biggest secret, and left without another word. While some fans predicted that her son Vinny could be Paddy's, others had more heartbreaking ideas.

Could Mandy's real secret be a terminal illness? Was her brief visit to Emmerdale to set up a later story where she makes peace with her family and comes home to die? Whatever Mandy's secret, we'd love to see Lisa Riley back in the village – her fun return was all too brief.

Is Mandy ill?? #Emmerdale

— All About Soap & Reality (@about_soap) January 8, 2019

6. Jamie's mystery caller is Joe Tate

Alexander Lincoln as Jamie Tate in Emmerdale

ITV

There's no better way to get soap fans speculating than by throwing in a mystery phone call. Newcomer Jamie Tate has so far seemed nice as pie compared to his mother Kim, despite being embroiled in a car accident in his first week. Nevertheless, Jamie seemed clean cut until we saw he was hiding a secret – twelve missed calls.

Fans' thoughts immediately turned to Joe, once presumed dead and now AWOL somewhere in the world. Could it be him who's trying to get in touch with his estranged uncle? Or is there someone else desperate to get in touch with Jamie?

I bet you that’s joe ringing jamie #emmerdale

— 🌚 (@nottjayy) May 16, 2019

Did anyone else notice Jamie having missed calls from an unknown number? It's Joe Tate!!! He's coming home! 😀

— Dan (@DanONeil95) May 16, 2019

7. Adam Barton will make a return to the village

Victoria and Adam Barton fear Pete has threatened their adoption chances in Emmerdale

After Victoria's rape ordeal, we've only just begun to watch her heartbreaking story. But some viewers are already predicting there will be light at the end of the tunnel. Could a return of Victoria's ex-husband Adam Barton give her back some happiness?

We've seen how much Victoria misses him and with actor Adam Thomas reportedly keen to return, we wouldn't rule it out. But just what would this mean for Moira and her killer secret?

@emmerdale I think Victoria will keep the baby and Adam returns #Emmerdale

— Tam LizAnn ODriscoll (@tamlizann) May 9, 2019

Victoria will give the baby to Robert and Aaron and go in search of Adam her true love

— helen (@Helenwo21468879) May 10, 2019

Emmerdale airs weeknights on ITV.

[kimnamjooonz]

Blank Space - Episode 1.

Okay, here’s the first episode of the thing I wrote. 

Episode 1 - Hold Up 

''Hold Up, they don't love you like I love you.''

On the outskirts of the town of Caernarfon in North Wales there was a little farm that belonged to a Aloisius and Helen Ward-Prowse a lovely couple that had made a living out of selling sheep's wool. Around their lovely house there were pictures of two raven haired children: tall and muscular yet inexpressive Clint, and Amanda, the lively and expressive girl that was slowly becoming a grown woman. Amanda Ward-Prowse was the darling of his parents and the soft spot of her strong and mighty brother. But it wasn't as if she needed protecting. as she could take care of herself perfectly well. Sometimes she was more intimidating than her rugby player brother. At 25, Amanda was an accomplished actress that could presume of having moderate success as in many Shakespeare plays but still hadn't had the chance of doing something big with her acting career. That's why she had decided to start from the bottom and audition for a place at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts, in London. She had come a long way from starring in her school plays or the summer lessons at the prestigious Cardiff College of Music and Drama, even starring in many plays at the Shakespeare's Globe and small roles in British TV shows or soap operas. But her first important role had come from the Royal Shakespeare Company that offered her one of the main roles in a production of Richard III. That's how she ended up on the stage of the dreamy Royal Shakespeare Theatre. And to that, several productions followed, peaking in a version of Macbeth starring none other than Ian McKellen. Amanda had got dazzling reviews with her performance as Lady Macbeth and reviewers were asking when she'd finally have her big break. One year later, she was still waiting for it while preparing a series of complicated auditions to one of the most prestigious drama schools in the world. It was currently July and Amanda was facing the biggest challenge of her career yet: the final audition. On that warm summer night, Amanda and her best friend Taylor Bevan were just planning the schedule for the next days. Taylor had been her right hand since their school days. From the days Taylor kept saying that she was going to be Amanda's agent when they grew up. They were both sitting on the bed at Amanda's bedroom. This place had changed little since she was a kid. The walls were covered with pictures of herself at different plays, with the animals of the farm, of that time she had won the Caernarfon Junior Challenge of Chopping wood with an axe (she still kept the trophy among the ones she had got from acting) and the picture with Sir Ian McKellen. The only different picture there, was of Amanda's favourite actor since 2013: Sebastian Stan. His picture was between one of Amanda playing Lady Macbeth and another of herself hugging one of her cats. She had an unhealthy obsession with Sebastian in a particular way. She had fan accounts dedicated to him even though she never lusted over him on the Internet (maybe a couple of thirst tweets but that was all). She just tagged him in some posts on Instragram from time to time, captioned with sweet words telling him how much he meant to her. Also, she had never been one of those people who sent hate to any of his former girlfriends even though she had been jealous as hell and she couldn't help it. She had just wanted to grab the axe and kill a bitch. But those thoughts were never expressed out loud. She smiled thru the pain and went on with her life. And she wasn't damaging anyone. Well, maybe herself. God be praised that the guy was single now. Taylor knew about that even though Amanda hardly ever talked about it. Sometimes she wondered if it was sane for Amanda to be so attached to a guy so unattainable but then... she had the weird feeling that Sebastian Stan wasn't so impossible for Amanda Ward-Prowse. She had worked with people like Ian McKellen before, working with Sebastian Stan someday wasn't at all impossible. Amanda was rereading the lines of her monologue for the thousandth time with one of her cats curling on her chest. She had decided to play it safe and had chosen a piece of Lady Macbeth, a role that she had done many times before under more stressful circumstances. ''Take that furry thing out of the bed, he's shedding black fur all over it.'' Taylor grunted. ''Which one is this, by the way?'' ''Sir Frances Drake'' Amanda cuddled the black cat closer to her chest. ''Really, Taylor. You almost live at this house and you don't know the names of the cats?'' she rolled her eyes. ''Tay, can you take a look at my Twitter and see if I have any notifications?'' ''Your twitter is basically a fan account by now. If you make it to the RADA you'll have to change it.'' ''I was planning to have a stage name. Something more impressive than Amanda Ward-Prowse.'' she went on reading the monologue. In Taylor's opinion that was a complete waste of time. Who needed silly social media when she was about to have the most important audition of her life? And the only notification she could have was someone informing the breaking news that Sebastian Stan had eaten a sandwich or something of the sort. And she was partially right. But the news had nothing to do with sandwiches at all. They were more like Sebastian Stan having a date with some mystery woman. For the twits that Taylor could read, there were hundreds of young women thinking that this was an absolute catastrophe. Taylor wanted to laugh. How could they be so silly? It wasn't as if they could date the guy themselves any time soon. Her expression changed when she remembered that Amanda was one of those people who was going to mourn the fact that Sebastian Stan had a girlfriend. ''Why do you have that face?'' Amanda asked with a bit of suspicion. ''Nothing''. Unfortunately Taylor couldn't act or lie decently. Amanda took the phone out of her hands and glanced at the screen. Taylor got ready for any dramatic outburst Amanda may have but it never came. Taylor wondered what was happening. ''So, are you going to say something?'' ''No, why?'' Amanda looked genuinely confused. ''I mean, your celebrity crush has a girlfriend...'' ''And?'' Amanda's voice wasn't even harsh or resigned. It was just indifferent. ''Are you taking me as one of those people who send hate or believe that they may have a chance with him. Let's be realistic, Taylor. That's never going to happen. Now, I have to focus in the audition if I want to succeed in something.'' This was so unlike Amanda that it scared Taylor a little. Where was the obsessive and attached Amanda? Maybe she was too absorbed in nailing her audition. ''This doesn't sound like you. I thought you were part of the 'Let me have your children, Sebastian' club.'' Amanda let the script apart and looked at her friend. ''Really, Taylor? You think that low of me? I'm a professional actress that worked with Ian McKellen. Do you think my biggest concern in this life is having Sebastian Stan's children? Not that I could, even if I wanted to.'' she added. Taylor wanted to punch herself in the face. She was scared that she had said something insensible. ''I'm sorry for that. Sometimes I forget because you speak so lightly about your own body that no one can't take you seriously.'' ''Because there's nothing wrong with it. We all should all be proud of our bodies.'' And there was no doubt that Amanda was proud of hers. She loved her pitch black hair, the stunning pair of deep blue eyes (that in a certain angle looked purple), her tiny waist and long legs. ''Yeah, but remember that not everyone looks like you. Your legs age longer than half of my body. Empathy was never your strength, Amanda.'' She just shrugged her shoulders and looked at the time. ''It's ten. We should go to bed. We have a long day tomorrow.'' ''Just rest. Don't stay up too late watching Doctor Who, Sherlock, Torchwood or any of those shows you like.'' ''I won't'' and Amanda was telling the truth. Whenever Taylor wanted to stay at the Ward-Prowse house she used Amanda's brother's old room. Clint had moved to Cardiff two years ago, he had a wife and played for Cardiff's top rugby team. It seemed that the Ward-Prowse siblings couldn't conform with a normal life and a normal job, they always had to be in the spotlight. ''Okay, we leave tomorrow at six. Please Amanda, don't look hangover.'' ''Who cares if I do? The audition is not tomorrow. And London is full of people with killer hangovers, I won't be the exception.'' ''Whatever'' Taylor left, leaving Amanda alone. Amanda made sure that Taylor was not coming back, grabbed a pillow and threw it at the picture of Sebastian Stan she had on the wall. ''You... bloody idiot!'' she hissed. She knew she had no absolute right of reacting like this but... she was alone in her room where she could vent out her emotions. ''You were better single why the hell would you need a girlfriend. You killed the magic!'' And it was true. The whole fun of having celebrity crushes was to try to reach the unreachable and making stupid dreams inside your head that were never going to happen. But with a freaking girlfriend in the middle, it was just not the same. Except that if she, Amanda, were the girlfriend. But unfortunately she wasn't. She was stuck in Caernarfon, talking to a picture of him. ''Why I have to be so idiotic?'' she buried his face in the pillow for a little while. ''Just stop with the bullshit, Ward-Prowse. You have a bright future, who cares about Sebastian Stan.'' Then she imagined him dating a little nobody, even less known than she was and her blood boiled. Yes, she could accept him dating Emma Watson or Hayley Atwell or a Victoria's Secret angel. But a nobody? Hell, no. Of course she wasn't entitled to an opinion and she wasn't going to say it out loud anyway. This rant was between her and her room walls. It was useless but who on earth cared. She went to Youtube to watch Beyonce's Hold Up music video. It featured Beyonce with a baseball bat hitting things while singing lyrics like 'What's worse, looking jealous or crazy, jealous or crazy?' . Well, she was both. And also ashamed of herself for pulling this stunt even though no one was there to see it. She kept the song on repeat until she fell asleep. Or maybe she never fell asleep and all the weird stuff that was into her head weren't dreams. Taylor found her at five a.m half asleep and half awake, looking like a zombie. When Amanda noticed her presence she immediately turned off the music. If Taylor found out that Amanda had been listening to Beyonce, she was going to guess what was happening in two seconds. And that was embarrassing as hell. ''I just couldn't sleep. I'm nervous'' she normally hated to admit that she was nervous. But it was better than to admit that she had spent the whole night being a jealous ass bitch. ''I was just listening to some Coldplay. They always calm me down.'' Seconds later Amanda's mum showed up. ''Clint just called me. He has some food to give you before you take the train to London.'' ''We're saved'' said Amanda. ''I really didn't want to eat some cheap cookies from the store. Lila may be a local but at least she can cook'' Lila was Clint's wife, a nice simple girl that Amanda considered a local. In her opinion, the dazzling Clint Ward-Prowse deserved better. But of course she had never voiced her opinions out loud. ''Don't call Lila a local'' her mother reprimanded her. ''Just because she doesn't have the same ambitions as you, doesn't make her less of a person. You have too much to learn...'' she added when she saw Amanda rolling her eyes. ''Not everyone wants to be a film star and win BAFTAs and cover British Vogue, Amanda.'' But Amanda wasn't listening. She had her mind somewhere else. What if Sebastian Stan's new girlfriend was a similar version of Lila? No, please, no. Anything but a local, please Sebastian, don't be an idiot. ''Amanda!'' Taylor yelled. ''We have to leave.'' Amanda's parents drove them to the station and they immediately caught a train to Cardiff. Cardiff was Amanda's second home. She had stayed there countless of time while attending special drama lessons at the Royal Academy of Music and Drama there. Also, Doctor Who was filmed there and once she had been lucky enough to score a little role in an episode. It was just a couple of lines for one scene but she had met Matt Smith and Karen Gillan that day. In the train, she was swearing to herself that one day she'll be in Cadiff filming Doctor Who again but this time she'd be the Doctor. Fourteenth or Fifteenth Doctor was good to her. Though the window she glanced at the familiar outline of the city of Cardiff. She smiled, forgetting about bloody Sebastian Stan or her ambitions for a second. Sooner than she had wanted, they got to the train station. She immediately spotted Clint standing at the platform. ''Manda! Looking so happy, as always.'' he said with sarcasm, noticing Amanda's expression. ''She didn't sleep'' added Taylor, blushing a little. Yes, she had a boyfriend and he had a wife but Clint Ward-Prowse was still bloody gorgeous. She was a bit taller than his sister and with a thicker complexion. He had the same pitch black hair as Amanda. The main difference between them were the eye colour. Amanda's eyes were dark blue while Clint's icy blue. ''Typical Amanda. Were you watching Doctor Who or Sherlock?'' ''Any of them. And I slept for a couple of hours.'' she lied. Of course that she was not going to admit that she had spent the night listening to Beyonce. ''Whatever'' he rolled his eyes. ''Lila send you this. She couldn't come, for some reason.'' he said with sarcasm. Of course that he was aware the sisters in law weren't the best friends on earth. They were just too different to agree on anything. They all knew that Lila hadn't made that handmade cookies to Amanda. They were for Taylor, who in Lila's eyes was a much normal and decent person than her sister in law. But Clint was never in a million years going to side against his little sister. Amanda had been the jewel of the family since she was born and this was not going to change. ''We have to leave.'' she hugged her brother tightly. Next time you see me I'll be a RADA alumni. Keep the faith.'' ''I'll never lose faith in you. You're the star of the family. Now go. Bye Taylor, take care of her.'' ''Of course.'' Clint had always been overprotective of Amanda. When they were kids he was her personal bodyguard. He was never going to stop caring about his little sister. ''Amanda, this is the first step to stardom, don't forget it.'' She smiled with confidence before getting lost into the crowd.

P.S. Here we have Amanda being the dramatic fuck she is. 

[pepper---chase]

bathwater - self para.

i watch the bathwater drain, it’s never looked quite the same the weight comes back to my body, and i’m hopeless again.

Pepper stares at the wall of the shower, sunk into the water of the tub. She’s in Jordan’s bathroom, not sure if she can get away with opening up a razor and taking a blade. She settled for two minutes of shocking heat, scalding water and heavy steam, ripping the air out of her lungs. Now, it’s cool, soothing the skin on her back as she leans her head against the tile. She looks around the bathroom as she soaks in the water, contaminated by leftover sex and sweat and guilt and shame and self-loathing. The mirror features a few Victoria’s Secret underwear stickers. They haven’t been there long. Probably purchased since they started fucking. Her retainer case is hot pink with holographic Hello Kitty stickers, much more worn than the hearts on the mirror. There’s a bottle of Summer’s Eve on the counter. Pepper knows that Jordan knows it’s not good for her vaginal health, but even beautiful, shiny people like Jordan worry sometimes, look in the mirror and see a problem or think does my vagina smell good enough for someone to like me? To love me? The toilet is not much different from Pepper’s on the outside. Porcelain, white. But no one kneels in front of it to seek answers, help, perfection, acceptance. No one uses the pink toothbrush in the cup on the counter for anything other than brushing their teeth. And the razor is still a normal razor, used religiously for armpits and legs and a somewhat razor-burned mons pubis, never deconstructed for pain. Pepper wriggles down into the water, submerging her face, and listens to the heaviness of the water, her sins mingled with shampoo and Jordan’s Lush shower gel. She tries to let it strip away the memory of Jordan’s fucks and pleases and the drawn out yeee-eeeee-eee-ssss, the feeling of her heart fluttering, just barely, while Jordan kissed the back of her neck, fingers gently brushing her side, the adoration that constantly radiates from her stupid unconditionally-loving face. She tries to forget all of that, make it not real. Because she has to be loyal to Hanna or because she has to punish herself? She opens the drain and turns the shower back on, rinses the remaining soap and that question. She puts her hair in a wet ponytail, uses the toothbrush as it was intended,-- she can’t bring herself to defile what seems so pure-- puts on a pair of Jordan’s sleep shorts and a sweatshirt, and crawls back into her bed. 

i watch the twists and the turns, distract me from where it hurts it’s like i’m watching my life go past the point of return.

She wonders if her defibrillator has gone off in the past few minutes, sitting in a different tub, pink water and fragrant fizz and glitter surrounding the loosely-bound collection of bones and organs and newly bleached hair. She can’t get comfortable. If she moves to where her scapulae don’t dig into the porcelain, she’s too deep in the water and when things go south, she could slip and start drowning and add a whole new element to something that needs to be quick and nearly painless. She picks the knife up and puts it down about twenty times in the span of just one song. Every time I close my eyes, it’s like a dark paradise. Her phone speakers are maxed out, turned to the wall in an attempt for amplification. She doesn’t know if she’s going to cry or start freaking out or what, but if there’s any noise other than her femoral artery emptying, she doesn’t want anyone but her and God and maybe Hanna to hear it. She’s done this hundreds of times, just less severe. Shallow, quickly scabbed over, or slightly deeper, tiny white scars to remind her. Why is it so hard to 1) pick up knife 2) find the spot under her hipbone where this stupid thing should be 3) stab hard and deep, fast, get it over with 4) lean back, close eyes 5) die? The plan seemed perfect. She’s come this far. Stole the key card from Jordan, walked right out the back door to the garage, hailed a cab. Bought a bleaching kit, a new nose ring, and a Lush Pink bomb and Creamy Candy bubble bar, a ride to Montauk and a hotel room electronically. Thanks, Apple Pay. She went down to the beach, shivered the whole time, sweater pulled tight around her shoulders, wind breaking off the waves and pushing against her. ( Get out of here. Turn back. ) She went in the old ice cream store, just reopened a month ago during spring break, ordered a scoop of cinnamon toast and a scoop of blueberry muffin in a waffle cone, but it didn’t taste the same as it did when Hanna sat across from her and made fun of the inevitable smear of ice cream on her nose. She went back to the hotel, re-bleached her hair, opened the doors to the balcony and took a nap with the sea breeze blowing in on her. Ordered room service, three Belgian waffles with cream, blueberries, bananas, bacon. Tried to eat it. Enjoy it. The calories won’t matter when you’re dead. Her stomach twisted up. She got through one waffle and the blueberries before screaming curses at the entire fucking plate and her stupid digestive system and her stupid brain and God and whoever else was to blame for everything. Took a deep breath. Started the water, lowered herself in gently, placing the large knife from the room service tray on the side of the tub. Put in the bath bomb, listened to the playlist she’d made in the cab. ( Eyelids. Ride. Young and Beautiful. Together. The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face. Dark Paradise. Teen Idle. Medicine. Lonely Hearts Club. Control. Chandelier. Heavy In Your Arms. A Little Fall of Rain. Over the Love. Twinkle Song. Demon Limbs. I Will Follow You Into the Dark. ) When it repeated, she added more hot water, crumbled the bubble bar. Tried to be ready. She stares at the knife now, still concentrating. Do it. Do it. Fucking do it. What about HeatherAliceGinaJordan what about KarlBrett what about TinkaHeatherGreene what about Tess what about you what about you what about NO. She digs the heels of her hands into her eyes. The soap stings. That’s why her eyes water. That’s why tears start rolling. That must be why. “They’ll be better off without me,” Her voice is weak, barely audible even to her. “They deserve better than me.” whataboutyou “I deserve nothing.” No food, no kindness, no love. She looks up at the ceiling. “Help me!” She’s glad the music is loud. “I know you probably hate me but that should make you want to get rid of me! Help!” She grips the knife handle so hard it hurts her hand. “I want it!” Want what? To die or to live? “I want-- I want--” It won’t come out. “I WANT--!” Silence. “FUCK--!” She lets out a sob, leans over, tips of her hair dipping into the pink. “I have to do it-- I have to.” She repeats the mantra, tries to compose herself as she does ( ihavetoihaveto. ihavetoihaveto. ) She sees two futures in the water. One, stained with blood. Heather splitting open the skin on her knuckles, unable to cry anymore. Alice in the basement with stockpiled alcohol. Gina putting those old walls back up. ( ithinkmymom-- ) Jordan crying for weeks, months, that same horrible noise that came out in her bedroom. The other future is more distant. Heather having lunch with her somewhere, ordering bacon cheese fries even though she knows she’ll stare at them for ten minutes before allowing herself to eat one. Alice smiling, offering hugs and Oreos and cigarettes. She tries not to see the contrast in that and the next scene. Gina is waking up next to her, not in a twin bed. A big one, built for two. Jordan delivers a blueberry muffin to her somewhere, then says she has to go to work, runs off in scrubs and Vans Sk8-His. She blinks herself out of the alternate realities. One is what she could do. The other is what she could have. What she could be. She turns the knife over. Nearly drops it. FOCUS. ( ihavetoihaveto. ) She lifts herself up slightly tries to find the place. Femur to hip. The bones are easy to find-- the 100 on the anatomy test flashes back-- nothing but greatness is expected of you from now on! The blood vessel must be close. DO IT. She tries to aim. ( ithinkmymomkilledherself ) She slips back down, water hitting her in the face. The knife splashes into the pink, right between her legs. Stop--! ...You have to stay. She carefully finds the knife handle, tears blinking out fast, and slams it down on the edge of the tub. Hanna, somewhere above, breathes a sigh of relief. Pepper answers the question. “I-- want to live.” The words are so soft she’s not sure she said them, not sure she thought them. But she’s still sitting there when Jordan busts through the door, looks in and sees her, flings the knife across the room, nearly dives in the bathtub to hold her. She’s still there.

Pepper drops a Cheer Up Buttercup bomb in the tub after yoga. She carefully covers the new tattoos, a band-aid on her stomach underscored by the words i forgive you, and a slice of pizza on her ankle, then stands on the scale. She writes 106 on the mirror with a dry erase marker, adds a smiley face and hearts. She slips into the yellow foam carefully, exhaling. The words from the meditative instructor linger, always in the back of her head, mixing with those of her therapist. Release anything that is no longer serving you. -- Let yourself enjoy things. Give your body whatever it tells you it needs. -- Love yourself enough to decide you deserve more. She runs her hands along her body under the water. Feels a small roundness under her ribs. A tummy, she calls it, not gross, not ugly. Enough flesh to say I’m healthy. There are abs building above it and underneath it. It’s just a slight slope from her ribs to the top of her pants when she’s dressed, looking at it through a mesh top in the mirror. She keeps feeling. Two thighs, muscular now, toned, but they set off an alarm in the back of her mind when she sits down in shorts or leggings. She has to override, shut it off. They are fine. They’re strong, and there’s more than enough room for Gina to get between them when she wants to. You. Are. Doing. Great. You. Are. Good. She finds her breasts, no longer a pair of nipples on a ribcage. Real ones. 36A, but real. Hers. She finds her thighs again, moves up, closes her eyes. A gentle touch from her hand. She doesn’t imagine Hanna now. Doesn’t hate herself  after. Acts of kindness for Pepper by Pepper don’t have to be apologies for the past or encouraging thoughts. Sometimes she just sits in the bathtub and her fingers travel along her body and she takes the time to feel it. She stands up after the water is cold and rinses her hair, her body, dries off, flops down in front of the couch. She waits for Gina. Rests her hands on the small sloping tummy. What she has. What she is. 

[amandaj718]

Emmerdale Live and Organized - February 6, 2018

Welcome to the preshow! WHAT CAN I SAY?!?!

Let’s crack on!

Wishing Well

Belle has high tastes. OH. OOOOHHH. Lachlan is going to want money for Belle. To make Belle happen.

Robert is not her family. YUP. The only connection is Seb and Robert is playing nice so his son has a mother. DO YOU ANONS GET IT YET?

Home Farm

Have you met the kids of Emmerdale? They never go to school.

Graham trying to get rid of him. Whoops. Joe wants him around which is quite sweet.

Noah has had a few dads. Poor guy.

OH. Did he hire hookers? Did Joe hire hookers?!?! Party planners? Waitresses? Business end of Call Girl Incorporated? *shrug*

Awwww. Joe wants to hang out with Noah. Cute.

HOW DID SHE GET INTO HOME FARM?!?! Where did she get a coat? I’m so confused. Whatever. *laughs*

I would have screamed and run out the door but sure….walking up and hugging is an option too. *shrug*

Robert and Joe scene! First one, right? NICE.

It’s LILY! Lily got a little bigger. *Little Cutie*

WAIT. Now she remembers again? Excuse me bitch? You were stealing him too. God. Take some fucking responsibility in your fucking tiny life you idiot.

So, she has short term memory loss. Time to kill her. *Points to Lachlan* Put her out of her misery Lachlan. We know you can do it!

The Café Crew

Sandy doesn’t want to be part of this conversation. I don’t blame you.

Harriet is mad at herself. HA. Knew it. Time to rebuild Harriet. You got this. Rebuild yourself away from the past.

Oh. Look a reunion of 2015! Debbie, Ross and Pete.

A tourist attraction? Ashley? #TogaVicar *MAKE IT TREND!*

I don’t know how I feel about this new guy. *looks at him suspiciously*

Everyone showed up to back Harriet. LOVE IT. Community love. THEY MADE A LIST TOO! Awwwww! *warm hugs all around!*

Since Graham knows Ross is a secret agent he needs to bring Jimmy back in.

The Kings

Mr. Spludge. You and Jan Brady are the same. GEORGE GLASS and MR. SPLUDGE.  *SNORT*

Nicola knows her husband. Its so sweet actually.

“My body is my temple!” “OH GOD YOU ARE SICK!” -  Jimmy and Nicola. *LOVE THEM*

David’s Grocery

Faith is looking awesome as per usual.

OH. Faith doesn’t know they are living there! HA!

Robert/Victoria

Magic Seb! Walking the baby! If you read my fanfiction I’m a happy girl right now.

Don’t worry Seb. Your other dad is on his way. He is getting there. I swear! *does a dance about the spoilers again* *waits for angry anons and/or comments*

The Church

YOU TAKE THAT BACK ABOUT ASHLEY AND HIS WINDOW! I adore that window. Its perfect on so many levels.  

The Hospital

Not at all creepy there Lachlan. Just hanging out there while she sleeps?

Do you know why I think Emily blinks so much? She might be hyperaware of her movements when she is ‘acting’. So, she overdoes her movements. Its distracting and amateur hour.

Wait. WHAT? Did she forget more while she slept? What?

So, we are back to the attic? Ok? *shrug* No. She was talking about the car ride yesterday. This is confusing.

Thomas is like up here *makes motion to the top of my head* and Emily is down here *makes motion to my feet. Thomas is carrying these scenes. He can’t do that forever. Reminds me of when Ryan had to carry her too. Louise did too.

KNEW HE WOULD BLAME ROBERT IN SOME WAY. Knew it. All the Whites have done it since the beginning of time.

Yes. Lachlan is SO trustworthy. *SNORT* *Hello creepy Lachlan. Glad you are back*

“From now on. I am your memory.” – Lachlan *God that was creepy*

So, one minute she fears him and the next she trusts him? Ok. Whatever moves the plot forward. *wishes it was next week*

Lachlan controls her now. Not that its difficult.

If only she was gone for good. How could she have gotten out? Seriously, I’ve been in and out of hospitals this year and no way could that happen. *Repeat to myself…just a soap*

Sigh. He didn’t kill your family. Seb is staying with Robert. Lachlan would kill him.

Are we sure she had a brain to begin with guys? *Admit it. It’s a fair question.*

Brain damage. I still think Lachlan will use this against her and to get at Robert and Seb.  

The Pub Crew

Poor Noah. He just wants to hang out with his big brother.

Does Charity not know Noah’s age? Poor kid.

Also, don’t mention the call girls Noah! Geez.

Thanks for the rundown for us newbies! *I’m glad Wikipedia was right*

Oh god. The Dingles had moved into Eric’s and never wanted to say.

Wow. They lost the appeal. Now what?

Joe is just hanging out in the pub now? LOVE IT. I’m a Joe fan. He is terrible but has a soft side. I need Joe and Robert to hang. Talk family. Since they are sort of family. Kind of. I’m not sure.

Welcome to Emmerdale Joe. It’s a tight-knit village. Everyone knows everything and backs people when things go wrong. Mostly the Dingles. They need to build up families other than The Dingles. There are too many of them.

Joe has a slight American accent under the British.

This plan of Debbies won’t work. Her plans never work. Gangster Debbie. Doesn’t work for me.

The Barton’s Place

Ross is a McCain ad right now. In 2013 Emmerdale, this was where Andy lived. I wonder how Ross and the other Barton’s moved in there.

I spend 200 dollars on my hair. Then again that includes making me blonde, cutting it and then styling at Red Door. *I’m spoiled*

General Odds and Ends

I never knew Cain even knew Rebecca’s name. Weird. Why would Ross know anything? Stop teasing the theory people show! Its not cool. Also Graham knows Ross is on the take.

‘It’s Just Speculation!’

As per usual: Stay off the message boards, respect each other’s opinions, breathe, reboot and eat a Snickers. If you want to talk theory or the show come on over to my Tumblr @amandaj718. Appreciate what I write? Buy me a cup of coffee over at my blog, Amanda Jane’s Randomly Organized Pop!

Until next time, see you around in Emmerdale!

[demiebby]

Omggg request are open 👏🙌 hmm could you please do a Bloo scenario where he comes over to y/n house for just a deep talk and relaxing but he ends up confessing and y/n confesses back💕💖 thank you sooo much

Deep Talk

A/N: This is my first time ever doing a request using the “Y/N” because I try to avoid it. Since it’s awkward for me to use. Hopefully you’ll enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Characters: Y/N, Bloo/Kim Hyeunwoong

Genre: Romance, Slight Angst (I guess)

You opened the door to your apartment as soon as you arrived back from the gym. It was summertime and you were determined to snap back into a new person, new body. Lately you’ve been going up to a gym up in the metro that a friend of yours had been visiting. You would drive ten miles to the workout gym, run on the treadmill, lift a few ten pound dumbbells, and return to your vacant haven covered in sweat from head to toe.

The work outs paid off. Your stomach was toned, flat, and you could see faint muscle coming in. You went up to the body-length mirror in your bathroom, and stood in front of it. Your eyes sparkled with glee at your reflection. Your head tilted to the side as you ran a hand slowly down your lean stomach, caressing the exposed tight skin. That day you opted to wear a sports bra, tight-fitting nylon capri leggings, showing off the hard work you put in.

Your reason for working out, when you’d really prefer a day to lie in bed was because of your ex. No he didn’t cheat, or he didn’t abuse you. It was just his attitude towards you. He spoke with a harsh tone when you’d ask him the simplest of questions. His hands would jerk in the air as if he was getting annoyed. Not to forget the constant eye roll. You thought while the time you were with him they were going to roll out from his head. Since he was like that; you chose to leave.

This body and the new mind you had was going to be the key to showing and telling your ex-boyfriend that, “Hey this is what you could’ve had, but you lost it.”

After admiring yourself in the mirror you went to take a shower. Your music was blasting on your phone as you took your shower. You were singing along to the lyrics of Ariana Grande “Love Me Harder” your voice straining to reach Ariana’s soprano vocal range. You suddenly stopped when you realized you couldn’t beat Ari at her own game, and laughed to yourself. Washing off the soap suds from your body, you stepped out of the shower and wrapped a bathrobe around you. Followed by a hair towel to dry off your hair.

You exited the bathroom just in time to hear an endless ding emitting from your door. Your bewildered eyes drifted over to the door. You wondered who could be at your door. You went to get your slippers, before you rushed to open it.

“Coming! Hey chill!” You shouted above the constant dinging.

You swung the door open and there stood Hyeunwoong. He looked pretty annoyed, a cigarette hanging out the corner of his lip. He was about to light it up until you snatched out the lighter that he lifted up to his mouth. Hyeunwoong’s gawked at you his eyes wide and you retorted wordlessly with a roll of your eyes alongside a scoff.

You held up the lighter in your hand, pointing it at him, “You know how I feel about your smoking and drinking Bloo. Don’t come over here if you just want to smoke.” You disliked this habit of his, drinking and smoking. You generously handed him back his lighter and let him inside.

“Just go into the living room I gotta get dressed.” You say before heading off to your bedroom.

Around a few minutes later you showed up in the den wearing a gray long sleeved hoodie, gray capri leggings, and your favorite white Fenty by Puma slides. You plopped down on the sofa, letting out an exhausted sigh then reached over to grab your round black pillow. Your body held the cushion in a fetal position as you faced Hyeunwoong. The other male sitting adjacent to you on an opposite couch.

“I love this pillow so much, and I’m so tired I could just sleep.” You say before hiding your face into the pillow.

Hyeunwoong emitted a low grunt, slouching back on the sofa, and then combing his fingers through his black hair, “What have you’ve been doing all day to make you tired?”

At this you lifted your head up from the pillow and were preparing to respond. You folded your arm behind your head and replied, “This morning I woke up early to catch the sale at Victoria’s Secret, then I had to go to the store to buy food, my sister needed a ride to a friend’s house and back. I went and took her out to eat lunch because I skipped out on breakfast. Then I took her home and went out the gym. I worked out for… was it 2 hours? 30 minutes on the mill, 15 minutes lifting, and 15 minutes checking out some hotties.” Your lips curved mischievously to a grin and you chuckled to yourself. Hyeunwoong laughed along with you. “No but seriously, I was working out then I stopped by a restaurant to pick up some food for dinner, which means this time you can’t invite Owen and the rest. I’m not cooking tonight.” You looked over to Hyeunwoong, whom had his phone in his hand but dejectedly put it down. “And then I came back home, took a shower, you came and here I am.” Your hand patted the couch beneath you.

Hyeunwoong draws out an “Ah” nodding his head to you. When you ask him about his day, he clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Same shit again.” He swore. He took a glimpse to the right then went on to explain, “When I woke up this fucking morning,” You giggled when he started cursing. “I got a missed call from Owen and a few text messages from him. He told me that I was supposed to be at the fucking studio last night. I texted him back asking what was up. He just said some other shit and stopped texting. Afterwards uh… oh yeah. I went to get breakfast with West, T, and Harin. As soon as we’re eating at the table, West and Harin get into an argument over him saying side comments about her being a groupie. She nearly tossed food at this dude until she was told to leave by the manager. Then I got pulled over for talking on the phone while driving. So I have to pay a fine. My day has been terrible.”

Your nose crinkled and mouth twisted upon hearing Hyeunwoong’s words. It was hard to believe that Hyeunwoong would have a bad day. Not that you thought of him as some sort of extraterrestrial being, but Hyeunwoong was the least likely to experience an off day.

You murmur, “Damn sorry to hear about that.” You folded your arms over your chest and then asked, “How much is the fine?”

Hyeunwoong replies, “200. Nothing too steep. I can pay that off by tomorrow morning.”

The atmosphere in the room gets quiet as the two of you are just sending each other quick glances. You didn’t know yet, but Hyeunwoong had something to get off of his chest. It’s been hanging above his head since he stepped a foot into your door. You puckered your lips out, a habit you casually obtained and then sat up on the sofa. You tug the hem of your hoodie down.

Just as you were about to speak your phone dinged indicating a text message. You took out your phone from the hoodie’s pocket and looked at the newest text message. A frown went on your face when you realize it was your ex-boyfriend. The text message read, “Y/N listen I’m sorry. Could we give us another chance?”

Hyeunwoong noticed the sullen expression on your face and he had a guess he knew what it was. “Is it another text from that asshole?” He asked you.

You nodded your head and promptly texted your ex, “Stop texting me.” before putting your phone on silent mode and placing the device on the end table. You laid down on your couch again, a gut-wrenching sensation slowly growing in your abdomen. Your hand reached into your shirt, caressing your stomach in small circles.

After your relationship ended in spite of you telling your ex that you will never go back to him. He didn’t get the memo. He would occasionally notify you with messages. Saying that he will change, he will do better, and he wanted you back. You on the other hand didn’t want him back. You were done and over with your ex. The love you once felt for him went away as soon as you ended it off with him. It was your ex that couldn’t grasp the fact that you were shrugging him off.

“You deserve better you know.” Hyeunwoong blurts out.

Your head solemnly nodded at his comment and your lips pressed together in a firm line. Your eyes were trained on the ceiling and you failed to notice Hyeunwoong moving. The couch you were occupied shifted a little, grabbing your attention and you saw him sitting close to you. His hands positions your feet on his lap and his hand caressed your ankles.

Your lips cracked into a humorous smile when he strokes your ankles. A light chuckle came afterwards, “Why are you rubbing my feet? Weirdo.”

Hyeunwoong didn’t respond to your question; instead he ignored it and said, “Could I ask you a question Y/N?”

You nod your head to Hyeunwoong and giggled once more. “You’ve already asked one, but go on ahead.” You say teasingly and in addition you shifted on the sofa.

Your eyes read over Hyeunwoong, you observed his body language. His eyes were lowered to your feet. His hand lightly squeezing your foot and then his thumb caressed the ball on the sole of it. You were starting to think of what was going through his mind. You could feel the ambience in the room shift to a thick tension. You swallowed.

“Do you like me Y/N?”

You coughed out a brief chortle, and smiled at Hyeunwoong. “Of course I like you.”

It was then you noticed the look in his eyes change. Hyeunwoong releases your foot to turn his body to face you on the sofa. His hands took you by the hips to sit you over his lap and hug you to his body. You were startled when he did that sudden action. His head gingerly laid over your chest and you could do nothing but just sit there – tense and curious. Why was he acting so weird today? What was making him act like this?

Hyeunwoong’s gravelly voice droned, “That’s not what I mean.” There was a short-lived pause and he continued, “I like you more than just a friend Y/N.” He lifted his head from your chest.

Those words he said to you were short yet they had your heart pounding. You now had questions to ask Hyeunwoong. When did he started liking you? Was it just a trick for you to fall for him? And more. Although the most important question you wanted to ask him was:

“Are you sure you like me Hyeunwoong? And if you are, then I want for you to tell me why.”

“I’m sure,” he assured. “Y/N I’ve liked you for a long time now. You’ve been the only female in my life that I can literally sit down with and have a conversation without ending up in your bed. Even while you were with that asshole Y/BF/N, I still felt these feelings for you.” Hyeunwoong grasps your hand, “I never wanted to tell you about it after you broke up with him because I wanted for you to be emotionally ready for another relationship. Y/N you make me happy just by being here. You make me wanna put down the bottle and the cigarettes.”

“We both know that won’t happen,” You interjected playfully.

“It might if you just stay with me and be my girl.” Hyeunwoong declared.

You sat there on his lap biting your bottom lip. You and Hyeunwoong had been friends for a while. Nothing more than that, but now… he wanted to be yours. You were over your relationship with your ex-boyfriend. You no longer had feelings for him. However you weren’t particularly searching for a man at the moment. You wanted to focus your attention on other things such as your job, your exercising, and social life. You were trying to steer away as far from the romantic scene as much as possible. But then again… it just wasn’t in your character to leave someone heartbroken. Especially someone as emotionally critical as Hyeunwoong. You knew how he could be with rejection and you could imagine him reacting to your rejection of his proposal.

Hyeunwoong’s grip tightened your hand removing you out from your thoughts. You looked at his hopeful eyes and then you beamed. “I’ll be your girl Bloo.” You told him. He smooched your cheek sloppily to which you laughed at.

“So now that you’re my girl, why don’t I take you out on a date then?” Hyeunwoong suggested. The two of you stood to your feet, and you swung your conjoined hands together. You shrugged your shoulders, “Why not? But… the date better not be at some bar.” You pointed your finger at him.

Hyeunwoong sucked his teeth and groaned, “It wasn’t going to be at one dummy.” He poked your forehead.

You complained about the jab though it went away when you smiled up at him. You nudged your arm against his, “Let me go change into something else really quick okay?”

He nodded his head, “I’ll be waiting down here then for you.”

You departed to your bedroom to change clothes. It was then that Hyeunwoong felt everything was right now.

[juliadfdias]

What you have to know about bra fitting & care

Did you know that 7 out of 10 women are not wearing the right bra size? I learned that in August 2015, when I was being trained to become a bra fitting specialist in a bra store. Bra shopping is often something we tend to avoid. Finding the right size can be such a pain! We end up trying on too many styles, buying the wrong cup size and a few weeks later we stop wearing those bras because they’re not as comfortable after all.  But with the help of a REAL fit expert, shopping for a bra won’t make you sweat anymore. Here are some things you need to know. 

Finding the right size First step: head to a bra store where they can adjust you. Not any bra store. A real one with fitting experts. If you’re busty, try to look what stores have D+ cups. Find the right bra store for your needs! Second: tell them your current bra size - or at least, what you think it is. Show them the bra you currently have. If you don’t remember, that’s totally fine! The bra fitter will measure you. This measurement is approximate. It’s just to guide us, bra fitting specialists, to have an idea of what bra type is best. Why? Simply because every bra company has their different measures. From a Chantelle to a Triumph, from a Victoria’s Secret bra to a Warners, the cups and sizes will not be the same. Just like pants! A size 12 at Old Navy won’t fit exactly like a size 12 at Calvin Klein.  Third: tell the specialist what you want. Which color, style, how many bras you need to buy, what your budget is. Tell them also what you really don’t want and why. For example: I don’t want an unlined one because I often wear t-shirts and I hate when my nipples are showing through my bra and clothes. Whenever someone comes to me and asks for help, I just picture all the bras we have in store in my head. The more the customer tells me what they want and doesn’t,  the bras get eliminated one after the other, until I am left with what I think are the best ones. I picture them in my head, knowing the sizes available and how they fit. Fourth: time to try the bras she brings you! She might show you some that you won’t want to try on, but trust her: it often looks better on you than on the hanger. We know what we’re bringing you, we’ve seen it on other women and we’ve also tried it on. Yes, all the bra fitters of where I use to work tried ALL the bras in store. Of course, if the bra style is only for DD+ cups and the employee was a 34B, she wouldn’t try it on but one of the other coworkers had to show her the fit on herself. I was shy at first but, hey, we’re all different and so beautiful in our own way! All bodies are beautiful! Fifth: the fitting. If you don’t want the specialist to see you in the fitting room, tell her. Of course if you show her how the bra fits, it will be easier for her to find where something is wrong: straps too tight, cup too small, band size too big. I always explain to the client what the problem is. This way, they will be informed next time they’re buying bras, and maybe even be confident enough to shop by themselves!  Sixth and last step. Before saying yes to the bras you chose, do this in the changing room: try them under a shirt. Where I work, we sell pajamas. I always bring a fine shirt for the client to try on. It might look exactly like you want it but once you try it with a top, you end up not liking the shape it gives your breasts. I also bring a shirt because styles with lace don’t always look smooth under it.  After those steps, you’re ready to go home with brand new bras! 

Oh no, the fitting specialist didn’t find anything for me! Do not lose hope, dear. It happens. It can make you feel like either the bra fitter is not the best or make you feel like your breasts are not ‘normal’. Girl, NO. The store you went to just doesn’t have anything for your unique breasts! Worry not, there are plenty of other places to continue the search. Where I currently work, Lilianne Lingerie, not all stores have the same styles. From one city to another, it varies a lot. The selection is based on what’s selling better in each of them.  If I am not able to find any bra that fits the client, I look at the catalogs we have and see if I can order different styles. In my 4+ years of experience, it happened a couple of times. My passion is to help women find the good bra, so I’ve done a lot of research on my free time. I know a lot of different brands and companies and know what they sell. So if I didn’t find a bra in my store for my client, I tell her where she can start looking next, online or near.

Putting on the bra the right way - Attach the hook on the widest size. The more we wear a bra, the more the elastic loosens up. Yes, even if it cost you $120 or if it’s from France, nothing lasts forever! Doing that helps the band’s elastic stay ‘elastic’ longer. When it starts getting loose, you’ll be able to make it tighter. - Sweep your breasts inside the cup. Learn forward and do the ‘scoop and swoop’ so they get in the right place! - Adjust the straps. They shouldn’t be loose or digging into your shoulders. - The band size has to be horizontal and at the same level as the front. If it’s too high or too low, you won’t have the needed support and you’ll have back pain. Also, if it’s digging in, you guessed it, you need a bigger band size. If you move down a band size, move up a cup size. And the other way around.  - The cup. There should be no bulging or sagging. Move up or down a cup size - don’t forget to verify the band size as well! 

What about bra extenders? When a client is between 2-3 bra sizes - yeah that happens too - a bra extender might do the job. I try to not rely on that option but sometimes the client’s back is too wide for a band size 34 (75) but a 36 (80) is too loose. ‘But why don’t you attach the 36 on the last hook?’ Because then, when the elastic starts getting loose, the client won’t be able to make the band tighter and her bra will not last as long as it’s supposed to! So, NO. I just take a bra extender and put it on the 34, if the cup is perfect on it. ‘Cause the 36 band can be good but if the wire goes too far under the armpit, that ain’t okay. That’s when the bra extender comes in handy. Without changing the cup size, it adds up to 3 more hooks to the bra. It’s also a good option for people who tend to become bloated throughout the day: they can loosen up the bra a bit to be more comfortable.  

How much should I pay for a good bra? It depends on so many factors. My bra size varies from 36DDD/80F to 34DDDD/75G. La Vie en Rose’s sizes are not for me, neither La Senza or Victoria’s Secret. So far, I can fit in Chantelle, CORIN, Simone Perele, Wacoal. Their prices are from $75 to $190 CAD. My bras cost me a lot but they fit like a glove. I can spend the entire day in them and not even feel I’m wearing any.  I’m not telling you to pay $100 for a bra. It just depends on the style, quality, brand, size. DD+ cups are pricier because of the complexity of the design. A stronger support is needed. D cup breasts can weight 10 pounds. Do you realize how heavy that can be for your back? Choose a bra you’re comfortable in. It’s better to pay more for a high quality bra, with a strong elastic band that fits well, than to pay for a cheap bra that will make you hate how you look in your clothes. 

How often should I get fitted? Our bodies change a lot. We might not notice it. In January you could be wearing a 34D and then in June, when buying the same bra, you could be going home with a 36DD: one cup and one band size bigger! Gain weight or loss affects how often you should get fitted. If you feel like your body has changed you should go get a bra fitting again. I suggest getting it every 6 months. It doesn’t mean you’ll have to spend money again on a new bra. It’s just to make sure your size is ‘up to date’. Random fact: I have bras for different times of my cycle. During my PMS, they get a cup bigger. They go back to normal after a week. So I have my PMS bras.

Bra care I don’t buy 10 bras per year. I can use the same 3-4 and they’ll still be looking brand new after months and months. I take good care of them because they cost me a lot of money. That’s how I keep them looking like I just bought them: - Lay them flat to dry. Don’t put them in the drier. Please. Don’t. It will literally destroy the elasticity of the band. It can also twist your wires and deform them. Try to not hang them by the band or by a strap. The weight of the water in the fabric will stretch it. Laying them flat is the best way to keep it the right shape. Also, don’t twist your bra to remove excess water. Do it gently. - Use gentle soap. Bra stores sell some but you can use gentle laundry soap (for babies clothes, for sensitive skin, for delicate fabrics).  - Buy a lingerie wash bag. If you don’t have time to hand wash them, it’s okay. You can your bras in the washing machine but don’t forget to attach the hooks and put them in a lingerie wash bag. It keeps them from being tossed around the other clothes you are washing them with. The hooks can also pull the thread of a cable knit sweater. There goes your favorite sweater, oh no!  - Hand wash them. It’s the best way of keeping them looking new. You don’t need to rub them. I usually put soap on the places where my body sweated the most: fabric under the armpit area, under the wire and on the back (band).  - Bra rotation. We spend around 8+ hours wearing it. Don’t use your bra two days in a row. It will make the elastic become loose faster. To give it time to go back to its shape, don’t wear that bra for at least 24 hours.  - How often to wash your bra. Every 2-3 uses. It all depends what you did with it. Did you run a marathon is your sports bra? Wash it, girl. Did you just use it to go to the grocery store real quick and took if off after getting home? It’s fine, put it back in the drawer. Washing it every time is exaggerated and not enough is gross.

That was a lot of information, I know. But the more you know about it, the more confident you’ll be when it comes to finding the perfect bra.  I hope this article helped you conquer your tiny fear of getting help for bra shopping! Thanks for reading!

Here are some helpful articles I found online on ThirdLove.com about other points I have not covered: Bra size chart | Sister sizes | Bra styles guide | Breast shapes | Fit issues 

[dancekickboxcardio]

I like the attitude but I made a deliberate and a little loose mental calculation 🧮 and I decided to the best of my ability to give myself 🤨 more time. It was an independent choice. The premise was I am always there on a Monday when no one wants to show up. Like showing up early to the gym 🏃🏼‍♀️ 💪🏾, I want to not be there today to alter the forces fate thrust upon us. Change it up. I really didn’t want to get out of bed 🛏. It is so cozy. I had difficulty falling asleep 💤 —surprise. I had my alarm ⏰ on at 600a and I feel that everybody is enjoying 😊 the weekend and I want to get going. I had plans to wake up fairly early and be on my art 🎨 desk to do some conceptual writing ✍🏾 plans 📓. Instead, I made some pumpkin 🎃 spice fit Americano ☕️ to get my start of the 7 day going. I found it really sweet 🥄. I am not sure 🤔 if it’s the same about you it really depends on how cluttered, busied, full, the mood and the wirings in your brain 🧠 if you are a thinker 🤓 like something is always going in on like perpetual knowing of what’s to do or just random stuff that needs to be done ✅. Sometimes, I turn that gear ⚙️ off and I am like what do I feel like doing, oooh 😯 that is exciting or I might forget let’s follow on that, hold that thought 💭 or it presented itself. Things are hanging around me and they are proceeded for accomplishment when I get to it. When I feel like it. When my executive functions get going, mmmmhm, I can be scary manically formidable. The only l snag is it is to without methods 😏. I shall make you find the answer if at all in like years spend in the clinical area and hours pored over on books. I did a lot of self- care yesterday. Today, I want to contrast and point self-management. Those are two different things and I shall drive the point. So what are the stuff that I did to kindle 🔥 my spirits, passion, creativity, inspiration, energy ⚡️. In an essence not look 👀 like crap.

(1) Nutrition

It might not be the most balanced diet but I made an effort to eat 🍽 my breakfast 🍳, enjoy 😊 foods that I like and not skip a meal 🥘 at all.

(2) Intellectualize

I am a thinker 👓 without a doubt. I was humoring myself that I am not in a cognitive decline because a lot of academic stuff really gets me going. I have my reasons and natural liking towards them and I simply follow my inclinations. Without touching on them I feel like crap as if the nap 💤 was a total easy waste of time. Nothing is going on.

(3) Prepping

Self-management is sort of preparation although much or it is making sure thing are not just done ✅ but in the best possible way and the are actually check off. You are not doing them automatically and just doing the work in the advantage of place. You listen 👂🏾 to yourself. You know where you stand. You can tell what you care about. You realize where you fall short and commit to doing better and sustaining those changes. I have been putting my dish 🍽 🧽 washing. My Dad recommends that I do them daily because it’s helpful. I live boho. Whatever occurs to me. I have a sore throat today and it makes me wonder what dirty stuff I came across that made it’s way to my oral surfaces. This is putting a seamless week started because I have the things I need ready.

(4) Pampering

When I was a nursing 👩🏼‍⚕️ student, I wondered if my skin was as horrible as my sister when she sat for me in the facial 🧖🏼‍♀️ chair in Sephora. Even when I was a kid I spend Sunday masking my hair. I do my nails 💅🏾 when I am watching TV. Do I scrub? I had tons of moisturizers and of course Victoria’s Secret lotions 🧴. Ooh 😯, sweet 🥰 perfume. Nothing has change. But life has. Scrubbing my skin has enliven me. It wakes you up and depending on the brush strokes and the heaviness of your hand, you can feel the tingling and the texture of the bod bristles on your bod. All I can think 🤔 of is tighter skin, better tone and texture, smooth, exfoliate and do something while you wait for your derm medication 💊 to take effect. My sunspots improve like by 50% each time. I chose a dark and black glittery was appropriate to dec my hands. I put on a long satin slip after shower 🚿. I checked my nose 👃🏾 first thing in the morning 🌞 and it was bad clogged. My gawd, what a difference after I applied the pores strip. Mmmmhm. It’s an essential. I remem I have this Clinique soap 🧼 I got that takes care of balckheads. Perfect. I am my own facial spa technician. I complimented my sister at her bright face. It improved. She looks so much not work worn like any person with tons of busy repsonsibilities.

(5) Find the joy is simple things

My sister only got me a $75 💵 giftcard with my parents. I was expecting $100 and that means I have to spend half more to cover a regular not wireless AirPods. I inquired with my Mom the money 💰 for my birthday 🎁. I shall get a lot Thanksgiving like a coat 🧥 and $150 so I should not blow it over proportion. I am getting a lot as it. But when I can, I share. I allowed my sister to get my complimentary hydra skincare service because I want to show how great it was. I am putting my Mom on the chair too. She has great skin. I offered her my birthday 🎂 freebie which I am not going to use because I am on strict big C soap 🧼 regimen. She grabbed some of the stuff the gal use on her face. Her hair money for Santo’s. She didn’t want it so holiday 🎄 give aways for me. Jammy 🐈 was checking it out and he was so cute like always. He likes pulling away now because Inalso give his bros like a lot of attention. But he knows I love 💕 him and I remember the first day we met. It softened my heart ❤️.

Yup, I saw stuff that I have been meaning to give my sister. I have been holding off on getting her part of her birthday 🎁gift and I wanted to give these extra gym clothes that once fit me. I am getting her something different, so I decided like what I always say, “There is no such thing as perfect timing.” It feels good to be kind to others 💕.

(6) Organize

Jamesicle 🐈 and Sparky ⚡️ was partying in my room. But of course, the little one more so. He was playing with me as I change the sheets and look 👀, his territory. I feel more at ease that I can more freely and I have some room to move. It’s a great thing. I was itchy coming from my 🥳 birthday party and I wondered if I ate something that cause hives. Could I also be stressed 😫 out unconsciously. I showered 🧼 and lotioned and it was a little better. Being neat sometimes relieves that emotion that nothing is going right. Anyone learned to let go of things not being exactly where you want them to be and moving forward on an unexpected turn of events and these things happening more than once or twice in your day. Mmmmhm, reactions and being mindful. I remembered I want more clothes and I am like I have only worn these GAPs and Abercrombie once. Yes, I have nothing with tags 🏷 anymore but why can’t I wear them again. I could pitch my long sleeves and get new ones and I should consider letting go of my is scarves 🧣 to let new things in. I have a desk to unleash my creative 🖌🖍✂️📏✒️ endeavors. There are new sticker book 📚 sets some for them are $50, most at $20. I want to expand my already big collection to decorate my notebooks 📓. Right, I need more writing 🖊 utensils. I have a lot of Nudestix from last year 💄. I love 💕 the consistency. They are sticky lipglossy. But I am eager to receive and get more of the 👁 eyeliners. I adore ❤️ the make. I can see more pillows on my bed 🛏 and I should consider sheets to no. The tray I wanted has sold out 💲💲💲💲 but they always come up with new things and sometimes you get what you exactly want when you have the allowance allocated for them. I have tons of cold 🥶 weather gears and they are arranged straight for easy reach. Do I need to do laundry 🧺. We are again, administrative today. No execution. More strategy. Formulating goals 🥅 is more like it. You have to know and have some idea 💡 to make smooth check off ✔️ of things accomplished 🏆.

Life is not passing you by. I so want to be you right as if you are like a graduate student 👩🏼‍🎓 of computer 👩🏼‍💻 science. The last time I check you didn’t have CEOs, doctors and lawyers asking you out. I hear your man went to community college not like Miami because you guys are rich. 😂 Don’t forget like brainy. He’s what making $4k wiping butts and you some low administrative work at $3k. That’s a combined $7k. That’s a lot. Childcare is like covered. Yeah, I am like good for nothing.

[joyfullyimportantyouth-blog]

Reportage: Why Cleansing is Totes Necessary // A Comedy // Bougie AF

So, this weekend I felt like being a mixture of regimented and “mindful” and I felt like a caricature of privilege. Despite the fact that I live with ten people and am unemployed, I am not impoverished. I have grown up with the privilege of Costco and homegrown radishes and Portuguese soap dishes. I’ve always felt a little bad (but not really) about my inclination towards the more nicely packaged/ more expensive items everywhere, although I usually write out budget lists that are realistically sketched out to include a $13 budget in entertainment. And intend on reading THICH NHAT HAHN and then quickly loop back to Wikipedia-ing and trolling celebrity gossip.

So while I was googling “how to really cleanse/simplify your life” yesterday, I had to have a moment of reprieve from my privileged ways. Why are we so obsessed with this word (”we” as in me and millions of lifestyle blogs) and why are there usually only the options of zen and moneybags reloaded into formulas for us to refer to? Just for humor’s sake, I created a list of stereotypes of my search results. There’s no answer on how to cleanse other than to purge what’s not needed, which is subjective-ish. 

Cleansing is perhaps just saying “no” a lot of the time... Just doing the minimum of what is necessary and picking two things that are important to you for each day. Because drinking miso soup and eating celery and drum circle-ing some subpar world music to reactivate your sexual organs are not the only ways to get rid of anything keeping ya down. 

-- CLEANSING: A MANUAL OF WHO NEEDS A CLEANSE--

“Cleansing” : The Rich Bitch Earth Mother

She carries her African woven basket full of farmers market carrots everywhere, because she loves Farm to Table! It helps her imagine the simpler times of vacationing in the South of France when she smells the freshly cut lavender on the West Elm birchwood counter engraved with affirmations to keep “elevated” as she breaks bread/macca. 

She beams with gratitude as she meets each person EVERY SINGLE DAY IN HER BUSY LIFE with a gaze as “sensually earthy” as amber candelabras. Of course, she made those last weekend at her glassblowing class - after her 5 AM ashtanga practice - because her next thing will be pottery and selling spirulina goji berry energy fragrance to Gwyneth at Goop.

Her Woodstock turned financier husband doesn’t pay attention to her even when she suggests tantric weekend getaways in Oregon wine country for a “cleanse” from the modern world. He always sighs at her after smoking some high-grade vape Sativa and buys her another turquoise ring from the Iroquois she “volunteers” her time for because she’s always been certain that she is Native American… or at least 1/16 Sacagawea.

She has made it her life path to realize her full potential as a Capricorn Sun / Aries Rising in the sweat lodges she invites herself to. She finagled her way into these sacred ceremonies by what she believes to be a “calling” but more accurately occurred after procuring a bankrolled friendship with a local Native American artist. She knew they were kindred spirits after buying his sacred geometry blankets at her best friend’s boutique “Gather.” A new one called “Savor” is going to sell her wrap dresses that she buys from her Guetemalan Shaman, who always forgets that she doesn’t drink regular milk only ALMOND MILK and no gluten when they trip together on $500 ayahuasca that keeps true to her frugal roots of growing up in Marin County. She just loves the “spirit” of Central American people because it makes her feel like she is in the Peace Corps when they smile back at her and offer her the opportunity to pose in photos next to a “saddening” market stand.

All of the Instagram photos of posing in collectivos with poor people will be framed at the cafe where she namaste-scolds the barista everyday for her stupidity in not knowing her clear distaste for regular hummus (acidic!). It’s always only going to be beet hummus until edamame hummus gets on the menu for godssakes. Here she always meets with her caftan-clad yoga friends who all used to be dancers and now have rich husbands who built them modern Adobe lairs to be bored in but pretend like blackberry sage tea gets them high from well being.

She feels forlorn that there is something discontenting about the “minimalism” she has so ambitiously set out to create/dump shitloads of money into, so in the only way she knows how, she will book an Iyasca retreat in Peru. Maybe poor Peruvian people can teach her the meaning of life so she can write a memoir about how life changing it all was. Holding hands with the street children… and never returning again because it makes her too sad, but the lessons of the third world will be tattooed literally and figuratively in a Quechua phrase for life on her wrist so she can talk about it to the young hot river guide men in Telluride…

“Cleansing” : The Twenty-Something Project

She has had way too much casual sex for her pressing emotional need to find someone who loves tequila and rock climbing and contemporary fiction just as much as she does. She drinks way too much tequila five days a week as well as wine during the day because she feels like she can’t access who she really is (that’s what a partner would help her discover in his egocentric artistic ways of being).  She spends eight hours on the computer writing shit that doesn’t matter to her (like emails) and trolling pointless social media sites that make her wonder if models really are people. This is usually the apex of her day, when she recounts how she is in charge of her own happiness but jesus how many genetically modified Victoria’s Secret models are there out there? These girls are now chronicled to be “anti-social-media-bullying” and are just “regular girls,” which she intellectually realizes. But she thinks and researches for a long time how they can be just so: how can they get someone to take their photo at just the right moment when they are writhing around in the water so that you can see that they are so in tune with and gently being kissed by their sexy actor boyfriend (bio in link for his new film with Harrison Ford!)? This is happening while being blessed by the Tahitian palm tree shading themselves, because they’re responsible so they use La Roche Posay SPF and feel #grateful that they are very hot people and have so many loyal followers.

She decides that becoming a massage therapist will likely zen her out all the time and make her like wheatgrass and never drink again and only date “spiritual” men with man buns. Maybe being a masseuse will train her to refuse being around “negative vibes” and only will be in the same room as people who make her feel “full.” And being a masseuse will likely get her laid because she’ll be a healer. So like the google-generation, she finds a massage training in Tulum. But it’s $5,000 over-budget. Instead, she thinks she will just clean her room and eat a mango from the bodega around the corner because it’s only $1. And only have 3 apps instead of 13.

“Cleansing” : The I-Came-of-Age-In-The-Rob-Lowe-Coked-Out-Power-Dressing-Glamor-of-The-1980’s-Workaholic 

EVERYTHING IS FALLING APART. She works so much that she has no life. She hates her pantsuits but started working in the age of Anita Hill and thought she had to break the glass ceiling more because her mom would quote Betty Friedan and preach to not be “ungrateful” to the women like Jane Fonda who paved the way (and the song “9-5,” too). She used to dream about working in transportation and logistics just so she could scan her government card everyday.

Now she hates the Boys Club. She even hates most of the women, who are such mechanical bores and all majored in “Political Science” like smart girls do at Dartmouth. They’re the sociopathic philanthropists who only “endorse” International causes that pay people to publicize the plight of poor people because it looks good in photos and they don’t actually want to help poor people. Unless you’re George and Amal Clooney, you can just show yourself the door.

So guess what? She QUITS HER JOB and decides that something must change... and also that she absolutely loathes Elizabeth Gilbert. This means that she doesn’t want to be BORED hanging out doing yoga in some fucking yurt pagoda thing and she doesn’t want to get FAT in Italy with some boy toy whose worshipping would be as aging feeling as a lifestyle blog… and she doesn’t want to SHUT THE FUCK UP in India in some ashram with annoying as fuck Californians who think using crystalized deoderant is as repenting as when they culturally appropriated Ganesh on their saggy backs.

So what does she want to “cleanse?” Anything committing or societally-fulfilling for women her age (like the constant suggestion of growing a damn garden to be happy…). The solution is to do whatever she damn well pleases from the comforts of her current home and maybe tell people what to do from her computer every once in a while “freelancing” and occasionally go on a few dates and walking out when they’re just blah blah blah. 

Perhaps trying to be “budget-y” but realizing she earned her accolades thirty years ago, so only voting with her dollar when she feels like reusing the same dishtowel or using up everything in the fridge. She learned long ago that you’re not better than others just because you “know how to be poor and sustainable” by eating pumpkins from the garbage … and living with a commune of people you kind of hate for judging you about not knowing the merits of free speech feminism and cleaning with vinegar absolutely everywhere (...everywhere).

She will damn well do as she pleases in purchasing a sugaring appointment or buying a $50 solo dinner. Or online shopping at FreePeople if she feels like she’s lagging a bit on her “cleanse” and wants to look a little like she had a love affair in Barcelona and went cray at the flea markets that apparently only sell pillow case dresses that are so bright and flouncy you have to dance in the streets when you wear them and look like you’re having an enlightening experience even when you drink “fresh mint water.”

“Cleansing”: The Legit Monk Woman

She GOT RID OF EVERYTHING to be noble to a million sutras she can’t quite name but she tries to, usually when she’s drinking a single cup of tea for four hours. She went to Ladakh in 1987 and comes back to Los Angeles in 2017 named Nag Champa and gets a job teaching at some liberal theology college in Orange County where Steven Spielbergh’s kids occasionally come to class. At least they link the school website in their online interviews with Vogue all the time. They are using the Tibetan sound bowls to create a new experimental electronic album that can maybe buy their way into Coachella and they may have her be their life coach while on tour to “combat the stressful perils of the industry.” 

She writes a few blog posts for Depak who is always trynna hit on her. She goes to Wanderlust and blesses the dreadlocked crowd with a hybrid Buddhist-Rastafarian-Katy Perry lyric blessing, throwing Whole Foods rosewater on their toned bodies that they got growing up skiing in Aspen. All of them say they want to be mentored by her in between their barista/yoga teaching/juice cleansing lifestyles, maybe when they’re done setting up their kombucha bar they can swing by and have like a $6,000 certifying sesh that has all inclusive vegan food? Or they can barter with nuts and berries that they brought back from their trip to INDIA.

Yes, she must capitalize on this moment of “wellness.” You can find her speaking and retreat information on LinkedIn that she’s still waiting to customize in a more boisonberry color for calming effects…

“Cleansing”: The-Doesn’t-Want-To-Give-A-Shit-But-Still-Kind-of-Does Woman

She needs to get her finances in order a bit and is somehow always “busy” so she gets rid of what’s not needed by saying: Yes, she needs her organic food. No, she doesn’t need her Argan oil face wash. Yes, she needs a drink at somewhere other than a dive bar every other Friday. No, she doesn’t need to go to Brazilian dance yoga with Shanti for $40 every day. Yes, she needs to go see a concert every once in a while. No, she doesn’t need five paid-for “music experience” apps that “customize” user experience depending on their ever-fluctuating mood and will bring you to “up and coming artists.” Because honestly, these musicians sound like they took a Xanax and hipsters just go to their shows because they’re insecure that they’re being called “hipsters” and hate “categorization of gender norms” but totally need reassurance that they’re doing life right by the Anthropologie curtain-esque crop tops and leg tattoos they appear bored in everywhere. So every grainy film Insta shot is in fact very intentional but they won’t admit it because they will always be pale-faced underdogs just like these up and coming artists who have long hair and little annoying vegan kids with no manners who have ginger hair and are gonna grow up to be soft-core racists because they intentionally want to have black friends (only with septum piercings and a denim jacket) so they can show how liberal they are because their parents were once underpaid touring musicians and they know what struggle is because they tried acid when they were 14 and they saw how we are all “the same.”  

Yes, she needs stupid email to make a living. No, she doesn’t need Snapchat because so much meh and overwhelming tapping all the time.

…DONE. Now she’s livin’.

[emmerdalesweden]

7 huge Emmerdale fan theories that will blow your mind

What's next for the villagers? The superfans have some ideas.

Emmerdale fan theories, Cain Dingle, Robert Sugden, Moira Dingle.

In recent months, Emmerdale has really gained momentum. With new arrivals, flashback surprises during the special Big Night Out episodes, heartbreaking and hard-hitting storylines for Victoria and Lisa and, of course, the gripping twists in abusive Maya's downfall – it's been exciting stuff.

We all know one sign of a great soap storyline is if it gets fans talking. Currently, Emmerdale has a wealth of fan theories about what might happen next. Social media has been rife with speculation and we've put together some of the best theories for you to ponder over. Do they sound probable or are they way off the mark?

1. Victoria will give her baby to Robron

Victoria Barton confides in Moira Dingle in Emmerdale

ITV

One of the biggest Emmerdale theories of the moment centres around the outcome of Victoria's pregnancy after her horrific rape. As this storyline has played out in parallel to Robert and Aaron's struggling surrogacy plans, fans have put two and two together and speculated that Vic will give her baby to Robron.

While we know Victoria is pregnant, not much has been said yet about whether she plans to go ahead and have the baby. With brother Robert desperate to have a child with his husband Aaron, could Victoria's tragedy have an unexpected outcome for all three of them?

In truth, we have our doubts on this one, as it wasn't so long ago that Victoria was desperate for a baby herself, so we'll just have to wait and see what she decides...

I'm wondering if Victoria will have her baby and give it to Robron #emmerdale

— Ann beverley (@anniebev6) May 15, 2019

Robert and Aaron are going to bring up Victoria’s baby aren’t they #emmerdale

— Kelly Mew🧚‍♂️ (@x_kelx) May 14, 2019

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I wonder if Aaron and Robert will have Victoria’s baby 🤔 #Emmerdale

— Lindsay Kaye Clamp x (@lindsay_kayex) May 10, 2019

2. Maya has groomed other boys

Maya Stepney in the woods in Emmerdale

ITV

Ever since manipulative Maya began worming her way into Jacob's affections, viewers have wondered whether she has done this before. She might have protested her innocence to the police and Jacob's loved ones, but her efforts to groom him have shown a clever and vindictive woman at work. Could it be that there are other victims of Maya out there? Could they be the cause of her downfall?

Viewers were quick to pick up on ex-husband Liam Cavanagh's reaction to her arrest and after all, it was Leanna who tried to warn the villagers what Maya was like long before we saw her true colours. Will it emerge that Maya has done this before?

Now it's out in the open it wouldn't surprise me if it turns out that Maya has done this before. #Emmerdale

— Penn Wooding (@BrixhamUK) May 22, 2019

Going to guess that this grooming #Emmerdale storyline will finally end with the revelation that Maya has done this before and that Maya isn’t her name.

Yes, I watch Emmerdale. 🐏🐄🐓

— Jim Doran (@jai_dee) May 22, 2019

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Maya must have previous form surely?? Jacob can't be her first victim 🤔 #Emmerdale

— pollyk (@joy9kat) February 28, 2019

3. Laurel and Jai set to be Emmerdale's next big romance

Charlotte Bellamy as Laurel Thomas in Emmerdale

ITV

Forget Robron, Coira or Vanity – could Emmerdale's next biggest ship be Jaurel? After Laurel's disastrous affair with Bob, are producers lining up her next romance with another unlikely admirer? Fans think they've spotted sparks in the Sharma sweet factory between Jai and Laurel, and they've certainly been spending more time together in recent months.

Since Jai's last relationship with con artist Nell ended badly, he's been on his own and even actor Chris Bisson expressed interest in Jai having a bit of happiness. What do you reckon, could that be with Laurel?

Anyone else getting the feeling that Laurel and Jai are going to end up together? #Emmerdale

— Anzi (@Monkey_Moom) April 10, 2019

Is it me or are we getting Jai & Laurel vibe? 😊 #Emmerdale

— Sulagna (@maitra_sulagna) April 10, 2019

Think there's going to be a Jai and Laurel romance.. #Emmerdale @ITV

— Eleri (@EleriEdwards) March 21, 2019

4. Moira or Cain will cheat

Moira Dingle in Emmerdale

It hasn't gone unnoticed that things have been strained between Cain and Moira of late. With Cain spending more time with ex-flame Harriet, and Moira left to confide in new farmhand Nate, even the couple themselves seem to be aware they've hit a rough patch. With frostiness at Butler's and each of them spending more alone time with others, could this be a sign that Coira are doomed to split?

Theories circulating have predicted Cain might return to the arms of Harriet again or Nate's attraction to an older woman might mean he'll bunk up with Moira.

But Coira fans might not need to worry too much yet as actor Jeff Hordley's recent interview on This Morning suggested Cain and Moira are solid. Unless this was just to throw us off the scent...

I really don't understand where emmerdale going with the Cain/Harriet and Moira/Nate. I just know they love messing the Cain and Moria fans around. I just want them to have a decent storyline. Not in involving exs. I'm not worried about Coria they love each other ☺☺☺#Emmerdale

— Royal Princess Alice Rinderette 😘😘😘😘😊😊 (@WoodhouseAlice) May 16, 2019

Still can't help but feel the writers of emmerdale are going to split Coira up .Cain getting close to Harriet and then Moira cosies up to Nate not feeling positive but normally turns out ok

— Coirafanatic (@Lunascatcat) May 19, 2019

5. Is Mandy Dingle dying?

Chas Dingle attacks Mandy Dingle in Emmerdale

ITV

You might think the Dingles have had enough tragedy in recent times, but that doesn't stop fans speculating that there's more on the way. When Mandy Dingle returned earlier this year, she hinted that she hadn't revealed her biggest secret, and left without another word. While some fans predicted that her son Vinny could be Paddy's, others had more heartbreaking ideas.

Could Mandy's real secret be a terminal illness? Was her brief visit to Emmerdale to set up a later story where she makes peace with her family and comes home to die? Whatever Mandy's secret, we'd love to see Lisa Riley back in the village – her fun return was all too brief.

Is Mandy ill?? #Emmerdale

— All About Soap & Reality (@about_soap) January 8, 2019

6. Jamie's mystery caller is Joe Tate

Alexander Lincoln as Jamie Tate in Emmerdale

ITV

There's no better way to get soap fans speculating than by throwing in a mystery phone call. Newcomer Jamie Tate has so far seemed nice as pie compared to his mother Kim, despite being embroiled in a car accident in his first week. Nevertheless, Jamie seemed clean cut until we saw he was hiding a secret – twelve missed calls.

Fans' thoughts immediately turned to Joe, once presumed dead and now AWOL somewhere in the world. Could it be him who's trying to get in touch with his estranged uncle? Or is there someone else desperate to get in touch with Jamie?

I bet you that’s joe ringing jamie #emmerdale

— 🌚 (@nottjayy) May 16, 2019

Did anyone else notice Jamie having missed calls from an unknown number? It's Joe Tate!!! He's coming home! 😀

— Dan (@DanONeil95) May 16, 2019

7. Adam Barton will make a return to the village

Victoria and Adam Barton fear Pete has threatened their adoption chances in Emmerdale

After Victoria's rape ordeal, we've only just begun to watch her heartbreaking story. But some viewers are already predicting there will be light at the end of the tunnel. Could a return of Victoria's ex-husband Adam Barton give her back some happiness?

We've seen how much Victoria misses him and with actor Adam Thomas reportedly keen to return, we wouldn't rule it out. But just what would this mean for Moira and her killer secret?

@emmerdale I think Victoria will keep the baby and Adam returns #Emmerdale

— Tam LizAnn ODriscoll (@tamlizann) May 9, 2019

Victoria will give the baby to Robert and Aaron and go in search of Adam her true love

— helen (@Helenwo21468879) May 10, 2019

Emmerdale airs weeknights on ITV.