#winning at this working at a grocery store thing one mental breakdown at a time
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mayor-david-prentiss · 24 days ago
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when work makes you wanna off yourself
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jalapeno-princess · 4 years ago
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A Love For The Ages
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Mark Tuan X Reader
Word Count: 5.7K
Genre: The fluffiest fluff that I have written in a while and it makes me sad that this isn’t my reality :(
Summary: Being an executive researcher, Mark has a lot on his plate as it is. He has one of the highest positions at the company he’s employed at, which means he has a huge responsibility in bringing the company success. Unfortunately, the more time he spends trying to win over other businesses in to becoming clients and partners, the less time he has to spend with the love of his life. You. 
A/N: Hey guys, slowly but surely I am getting back in to the rhythm of writing again but I still have a tendency of starting a story and not finishing it so please be patient with me. This story is based on “Groovy Kind of Love” by Phil Collins and I highly recommend you listen to it it’s so good @God why am I single? Happy reading!
When I'm feeling blue All I have to do Is take a look at you Then I'm not so blue
When you're close to me I can feel your heartbeat I can hear you breathing in my ear
Wouldn't you agree? Baby, you and me Got a groovy kind of love
Any time you want to You can turn me into Anything you want to Any time at all
When I kiss your lips Ooh, I start to shiver Can't control the quivering inside Wouldn't you agree? Baby, you and me Got a groovy kind of love
This is a very big deal, it can bring millions of dollars to our company. The success of our company is in your hands Mark. We’re all counting on you.
Those words repeatedly replayed over and over in his mind like a broken record, taunting him—making him feel as though such a heavy burden was placed on his shoulders. It had already been such a long day at work; he was coming up with multiple proposals, contacting potential clients, checking up with current clients and doing his research on a business deal with one of the biggest tech companies in the world. 
Minutes felt like hours and the day went by agonizingly slow. One hour before he was supposed to leave—with the very tiny amount of energy he had left, he reached for his phone and re-read the messages you sent to him at the beginning of his shift. Honestly, your sweet  and heartfelt words were what kept Mark going throughout his exhausting and frustrating days at the office. You were his motivation; just looking at a photo of you or hearing your gentle and extremely calming voice could break him out of any dejected state. The thought of arriving home to you is what prevented him from having a nervous breakdown. 
Unfortunately, to Mark’s dismay, right as he put his phone down, both the director of his department and his manager walked in to his office to talk about the business deal your boyfriend was assigned to. Just a few months ago, Mark was given a promotion to marketing executive—a position that was usually given to employees that have working at the company for many years. 
Your boyfriend was extremely intelligent; he graduated from the University of Southern California with his Master’s degree in business and communication at the prime age of twenty-three years old. He had only been working at the company for a little over seven months when the CEO of the company himself told Mark of how proud he was to have such a hardworking and extremely talented employee working at his company. 
Mark was a very humble and soft-spoken individual; he was never one to gloat nor did he ever talk highly of himself. But his colleagues and his higher ups were extremely vocal about the fact that he was one of the best people who worked at the company. As grateful as he was to have been given such a prestigious position, it was also a lot more strenuous and draining work he had to accomplish. It also meant spending more time at the company—working ten to twenty hours overtime and less time with his favorite person in the entire world. You. 
He had a hard time understanding how someone could be so selfless, patient and understanding. Not once have you ever made him feel bad about not being home as often as he should and you were so supportive. You did things for him without being asked and you sacrificed so much of your time, effort and energy to make sure he was well taken care of. 
You’d wake up an hour earlier than you needed to just to make him breakfast, prepare a nice, hearty lunch, iron his clothes for the day and to make sure he had everything he needed in his suitcase. Some days, he regretted taking on the position. Sure, it was nice getting to call himself an executive, he had a spacious office with a beautiful view of the cityscape all to himself and the pay was pretty good for someone at his age. Yet, none of that mattered to him. He would rather be making less than half of his current pay check and be cooped up in a tight cubicle if it meant getting to be around you more often. 
To Mark, you were so much more than just his girlfriend. You were an angel—an otherworldly being sent in his life to be a hiding place; a place of solace, happiness, comfort and love. The two of you have been together for almost three years now and he could confidently say that these last few years have been some of the best years in his entire twenty-seven years of existence. 
You were his person; his soulmate. A best friend, personal chef, comedian, nurse, teacher, therapist and shoulder to cry on all in one. Even if he was taught from a young age that nobody was perfect, to Mark—you broke that cliché entirely. Not only were you the most beautiful girl he has ever laid his eyes on; you had one of the most generous hearts and kindest personality someone could have. Everything about you was simply breathtaking and it made him feel like such a terrible boyfriend that he was unable to cherish you and give you the attention that you never failed to shower him with—the attention you deserved. When the two older men explained that the company’s reputation was on the line, he wanted to scream. 
There were more than a thousand employees working at the company and he had five other colleagues assisting him in this project, so why were they expecting so much out of him? Mark understood that they believed in him and they were sure he was capable of such great things, but they were only making him feel a lot more pressured than he already was. 
He went in to work that morning with a huge smile on his face after waking up an hour earlier to cuddle with you and to catch up on your life since he hasn’t had the time to really talk with you. It was relaxing; he allowed you to do the talking and leaned back so he could really take in your effortless beauty, award winning smile and contagious laughter. Your boyfriend was a simple man. Moments like those were when he was his happiest. Hell, he was his happiest whenever he was in your presence. 
You meant the entire world to him and Mark was very good at thanking whatever higher power brought the two of you together on a daily basis for allowing him to be the lucky man who got to love you and be graciously loved by you. His mind was filled with the thought of you and getting to be back in your arms again but eagerness to leave for the day was now ruined. 
Their unwavering hope and huge amount of trust in him led him to stay back a couple hours longer. He sent you a few apologetic text messages, claiming that he wanted nothing more than to fall apart in your arms and have you hold him as he cried from how worn out he was but that he really needed to make sure his proposal was one that would impress their aspired business partner and make his management proud. You replied back within seconds, telling him that it was okay and that he should think about taking a vacation to get some well deserved rest. You also told him that you were extremely proud of him, that you loved him with every fiber of your being and that you would wait up for him no matter what time he ended up coming home. 
His heart fluttered and he could physically feel his cheeks warm up as his eyes grazed over your love confession. God, he couldn’t even fathom in to words how madly and irrevocably in love with you he was. Your words motivated him; any ounce of fatigue that he felt disappeared and he soon began typing away at his computer. He dug deeper in to his research and made sure to analyze and re-read his proposal to make sure everything was grammatically correct and that there weren’t any spelling errors. 
When he felt content with his finished product, he decided to call it a day and mentally groaned when he saw what time it was as he punched out. 11:42 P.M. He was supposed to leave more than five hours ago and it didn’t even matter that he wasn’t as tired as he should be. The image of you sitting on the couch or lying in bed—waiting patiently for him to arrive made his stomach churn. 
He came to the decision that once this entire business deal was over, whether the company decided to sign with his or not, he was taking a break and he was determined to make up for lost time by taking you somewhere you have always wanted to go. After packing up and making the journey to the parking lot, he got in to his car and briskly made his way back to your shared apartment—but he came up with an idea out of the blue and made a quick stop at the grocery store to pick you up some flowers and a quart of your favorite ice cream. 
Since it was so late, there was hardly any customers and he was glad; not being able to wait any longer to finally be in your embrace again. Although he saw you earlier that morning, any time spent away from you felt like a long, gruesome day—sometimes it felt like weeks. His friends would tease him about how clingy he could be whenever it came to you and that he was whipped beyond belief to which he would immediately respond with a smile. 
He didn’t care what anyone had to say about him and the way he was quite the lost puppy because of you. He loved it—it just proved that he loved you more than anyone in the world could possibly love another person. So whenever one of his friends would joke around about how big of a hopeless romantic he was, Mark would shrug them off and boast confidently about how much he adored you and how you were the reason for his existence. 
Mark ran at least three red lights and he thanked God that no policeman was around because at the speed he had been driving, your boyfriend was sure to get a ticket or two. The second he pulled in to the garage, he made a beeline up to your unit and prayed that you were still awake. Though, if you just so happened to fall asleep even if you stated that you would wait up for him, he couldn’t blame you. 
You were just as much of a hardworking person as he was and you were extremely dedicated to your job as an elementary school teacher. Your boyfriend envied you. It was obvious that you loved your job—you enjoyed working with children from a very young age and even if the pay wasn’t all that great, you didn’t seem to care. One of your characteristics that Mark appreciated the most about you was the fact that you cared about helping others in any way you possibly could, not caring about what you would receive in return. 
Plus, unlike a lot of people working nine to five, you genuinely found delight in being able to help enhance the minds of little ones and to teach them everything they needed to know. He’s visited you at your school multiple times and he’s been able to sit in while you taught your students. It was more than just a job to you—Mark knew that you would be a teacher without getting payed if there was ever a situation like that. 
He wasn’t being biased because you were his girlfriend but your bubbly personality, the way you would spend your hard earned money to buy your students supplies, gifts and anything you needed for the classroom and just the way you talked with so much excitement in your voice as you’d tell him some stories from work, he knew you were the best teacher your students could have. 
When he walked in the door, his heart fluttered at the sight of you in nothing but one of his shirts; your long, smooth legs clad of anything—dancing along to the playlist he made for you of songs that reminded him of you. You were currently standing at the kitchen counter and he could tell you must have been too busy looking at the recipe book while swaying along to Bruno Mars to realize that he was now home. 
He bit his lip watching your hips move ever so gently and although his clothes could be a little baggy on you, your curvaceous figure he was obsessed with was on full display. In his opinion, you looked amazing in every single item of clothing you wore. A blouse and a pencil skirt, a little black dress, sweatpants and a hoodie—it didn’t matter, whatever you wore caused his mouth to water. But whenever you’d wear one of his shirts, Mark was sure that’s when you were the most lethal. He wanted to give you his entire closet just so he could see you in his clothing. 
Your boyfriend couldn’t really put his finger on it—maybe it was because you were just so beautiful and you matched everything you put on or because seeing you in something that was his reminded him that you belonged to him—that you were his just as much as he was yours. 
You had yet to acknowledge his presence and as much as he wanted to continue drinking in your effortless beauty, he was sure the longer he were to watch you, the closer he would get to the brink of insanity, and he just really wanted to kiss you. He attempted to tip toe towards you; he wanted to surprise you and when you jumped as he brought his hands down to your lower waist and placed his chin on your shoulder, he was confident that he succeeded. 
“Hey baby. I’ve missed you so much. How was your day?” 
You spun around and beamed up at him with your adorable cheesy grin; Mark could feel his heart rate increase. You really were the best thing to ever happen to him. What war did he fight in his past life to deserve you? 
“I’ve missed you more my love. Today was great. The kids had a math test and most of them passed with flying colors. There’s also a book fair that started on Monday and they were all so excited to explore the many books on display which gave me a nice break from teaching. I would ask you the same, but by the dark circles under your eyes alone, I can already tell that you had quite the rough day.” 
You brought your hands up to his cheeks and cupped either side of his face; grazing your thumbs right under his eyes. He gave you a sad smile before leaning down to place a sweet kiss upon your lips. 
“Baby, you know it’s okay to ask for help right? You don’t need to suffer all alone. You already do so much for them and I can totally see why they are putting so much faith in to you, but you’re only human Mark. You’re going to burnout at this rate and I’m afraid that you’re going to end up in the hospital if you keep overworking and stressing too much. I know you want to make everybody happy, but sometimes it’s okay to be selfish if it means putting your happiness first. I made you your favorite; it’s in the fridge, you just have to heat it up. I also pre-ironed your clothes for tomorrow, I did a load of your laundry, I took Milo out for a walk and I’m currently making you some chocolate chip cookies because I know how they’re your weakness and there’s a bath with your name on it—oof—“ 
He gave you no time to say anything else before pulling you closer to his body if it were even physically possible. Mark’s friend Jackson called the two of you magnets; your boyfriend had the tendency to hold you very tight. Wherever you would go, everyone who knew the two of you could expect Mark to follow along. 
This meant grocery shopping, doctor’s visits, family and friend outings, he would even go shopping with you and Mark was the type of boyfriend who followed you around, giving his opinion on what he thought would look good on you—both makeup and clothing wise although he made it clear that you were one of those girls who did not need makeup at all. You were already a sight for sore eyes bare-faced and he’d admit that makeup only enhanced your beauty, but he found you even prettier without anything on your face. 
Hearing that you completed all these tasks for him; especially after coming home from work even if you didn’t consider teaching all that burdening—he was sure you were equally as tired—it made tears build up at his eyelids. Mark thanked you on a daily basis for all that you’ve done and continue to do for him. You were so thoughtful and your actions only proved to him that he was your main priority. If only he could say that you were his.
If there was anything Mark could change about his life, it would be the amount of time he’d spend in yours. You never showed nor did you tell him that his lack of presence bothered you, but he had a feeling you probably desired more time with him. The two of you were a couple and even if you’ve been together for quite some time, you both were still in the honeymoon stage. You were practically obsessed with one another, so it was natural that you’d want to be around him more often. 
Mark only ever saw you on the weekends; in the morning before work and right before you’d go to sleep. He’d give you gifts and write you letters to show his appreciation but there was so much more he wish he could do to explain just how grateful he was for you. Your boyfriend didn’t even notice that he started to cry until he felt your delicate fingers swiping along his cheeks. Right as you were about to say something, he reconnected your lips together and kissed you fervently. His lips were now smashed against yours; the need to have your mouth against his own was driving him crazy. 
Out of everything the two of you did in your relationship, kissing you had to be his favorite. Your boyfriend made it his duty to tell you how he thought you were a goddess and worshiped your body as though it was a holy temple every time he had the chance which was almost always. He adored your facial features and God took his time with you. Every curve, every freckle, beauty mark and birth mark—he could locate each and every single one. 
Right after your passionate love making sessions, you’d fall asleep because the two of you normally would go multiple rounds for at least two to three hours. He’d stay up and gaze at you in awe of your gorgeousness—basking in all of your beauty. 
Yeah, he was definitely whipped. 
Out of all your body parts though, your lips had to be his favorite. Well, other than your breasts, your thighs and your ass. But your lips were so cute; they were heart shaped along with being the prettiest shade of bright red. Plus, they were his own personal drug and to say your lips were addicted was an understatement. 
Once he began kissing you, there was no stopping him. It was understandable knowing that make out sessions would turn in to love making sessions not too long afterward. He couldn’t help himself. Your lips molded perfectly with his. It was as if God actually made the two of you for each other and it was a huge honor to call you his significant other. 
The older boy lifted you up on to the counter as if it was the easiest thing to do, but it wasn’t something he wasn’t used to. He didn’t even pull away to take a breath or anything, he wanted to continue kissing you—he moaned when you sucked on his bottom lip and brought it in between his teeth. When you pulled away to take a quick breather and to recollect all your sanity, your boyfriend let out the most adorable whine and placed his forehead against yours. 
“Wow—um—Hi.” You giggled softly at his choice of words but it was typical Mark to have this kind of reaction after you literally knocked the wind out of him.
“Hi.” He brought his thumb up to your bottom lip and gently glided it—giggling as you brought it in your mouth. 
“I love you. There’s nothing else I can say but that and I need you to know that the love I have for you is genuinely indescribable. There aren’t even enough words in the dictionary that can form a sentence that can describe the impact you’ve had in my life. You—you are a marvel. You are everything I could have ever wanted in a life partner and more. So much more. I know you hate it when I say this, but you are perfect. I mean it y/n. Every single thing about you is just simply perfect and I just—thank you for allowing me to be the extremely lucky person who gets to receive your love and affection on a daily basis. You’re my entire universe, you mean everything to me. You are everything to me and I will spend my entire life giving you the world on a silver platter. Today was shit, I don’t even need to go in to detail about it but it fucking sucked. I was supposed to come home to you six hours ago. Six hours—you know how much sex we could have had—ow, what? I’m deprived baby, it’s been an entire week since you got my dick wet but I’ve been fucking hard every single day. Anyways, before you give me bruises and not in the ways I would prefer, all I could do was think about you. You would think my mind would be clouded with this stupid proposal but no. My beautiful baby was all I could think about—what you were doing, what we would be doing if I didn’t work so much, how your day was so far, if you are all your meals, if you were staying hydrated, if you were thinking about me the way I can’t seem to stop thinking about you—“ He brought back some of your hair and placed it behind your ear while playfully poking your nose in the process. 
“No matter how shitty work or even just life in general can get; my whole world could shatter and I couldn’t give less of a shit. I could lose my job or get demoted back to my previous position and I wouldn’t care. They could take away my car and force us to move out of this place and I wouldn’t even bat an eye at our misfortune. I don’t need anyone or anything on this hell forsaken earth but you. You’re a need. I need you. I’m nothing without you. I think I would die of a broken heart if I were to lose you and I’m going to make sure that I never end up in a situation where you’re no longer in my life. I hope you know you are stuck with me forever. You’re the reason I wake up with the biggest grin on my face every morning. Whenever I’m feeling sad or I have no energy, I just take a look at you and I remember why I do all that I do. Why I suffer through so much unnecessary bullshit, why I don’t end up in a mental institution—I remember why my heart is always so full and feels as if it’s about to leap out of my chest. You are my reason. You and I, we have a love that people could only dream of experiencing. Fairytales can’t even compare to what we have. My bosses, they always tell me how proud they are of me and they’ll congratulate me about my hard work but I really do not give a shit about anyone else’s opinions other than yours. Oh—before I forget, I um—I bought you some flowers; they didn’t have your favorite but these ones reminded me of you and I also got strawberry cheesecake ice cream to which I’m sure is probably a milkshake now and the flowers are probably smashed but—“ 
Mark should have expected the kiss as a way to silence him and his insecurities or doubts, it was a reoccurrence whenever he talked negatively about himself or the way he did things. The way you and your boyfriend always reassured each other and complimented one another so frequently was one of the many reasons why the two of you were so perfect together. He was surprised to say the least; most of the time, he took the lead in initiating kisses or your love making sessions because he was the more dominant figure in your relationship but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have your fun every now and then. 
Slowly, his hands made their way in to his shirt that you were wearing; gliding his fingers along your hip bones and running his hands down your sides. Both your lips and his were swollen to the tenth degree. The kiss was soon growing sloppy and intense; Mark felt as though his body was on fire and he was being consumed by the flames caused by you and just your presence alone. It didn’t matter that the two of you kissed every single day, he’d get butterflies in his tummy on the daily. 
He could be on the verge of falling asleep but the second your lips are on his, Mark would get a burst of energy that he didn’t think he was physically capable of and it would last for the entirety of your late night romp. His dress pants were extremely tight at this point and the frustration he felt from work was now turned in to sexual frustration. Once he was done pouring his heart out to you, he was going to make his way inside of you. 
“Mark, you didn’t have to get me anything at all, but I’m extremely grateful. You’re so thoughtful; you sounded so tired and you could have came straight home but you didn’t. They’re beautiful—thank you. I—I’m at a loss for words. I’m still taking that all in. God, we’re so cheesy but I love it and I love you. So fucking much. Everything you just said, the way you feel about me is the exact way I feel about you. Whenever I hear someone say the word “perfect”, my mind automatically wanders off to you. One of my students actually asked about you today, wanting to know when Mr.Mark was going to visit again. I swear, those kids adore you more than they do me and they’ve only met you three times. I don’t blame them though, you’re exceptionally wonderful. I’m not going to lie, I do wish that we could see each other a lot more often. You’re one of the only sources of happiness I have in my life. I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining and I’m fine with any kind of communication with you—just hearing your voice keeps me going throughout my day. But I would rather see you in person than through a phone screen during our lunch breaks. I went out with my friends the other night and they were all talking about their relationships and how it’s healthy in a relationship to go on dates frequently to keep the spark alive. I didn’t think about it until they brought it up but we haven’t been on a date in almost two months. We’re both so busy and so exhausted, so I brushed it off. I miss it though, I miss doing cute and domestic things with you. I miss how life used to be like before we entered the real world and had to start adulting. I miss seeing you smile—genuinely. I miss hearing your childlike laugh, it takes a lot more to get a reaction out of you these days but I can understand why. I just—I miss you. You’re here in my arms, yet you feel so far away. I’m sorry, I’m being selfish and I shouldn’t have said anything—“
“Y/n, you’re not being selfish at all baby. Fuck. I’m so sorry. I’ve been such a terrible boyfriend—don’t give me that look, you know it’s the truth. You never fail to make me and our relationship our main priority yet I can’t do the same for you and I hate sitting in my office after hours, thinking about you eating dinner by yourself or having to do errands by yourself. I hate the thought of you being alone. God—you need to know that there is nothing more I want in life than to spend every single minute by your side. I really don’t mean to be so down in the dumps all the time, I’m trying my best to not show how much work is tearing me apart because I don’t want you worrying about me. You already have so much more to worry about. I knew I was neglecting you, but hearing you describe how the distance makes you feel—I’m so fucking sorry baby and I’m sure you’re tired of hearing me apologize but I am sincerely so sorry. I can’t promise you that things will go back to the way they used to be before my promotion but I will promise you that I’ll try harder. I’ll be more involved, I will make sure you never question my feelings for you ever again. I will make sure  that you feel loved—cared for—I will take care of you the way you so diligently do for me—to the point where you will get tired of me. You know, if you want me to ask if I can return back to my previous position, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Just say the word and I’ll go back to being a researcher—“ He frowned as you shook your head in disagreement at his proposition. 
“There’s no way in hell I’m going to let you lose the job you’ve worked so hard to receive. You’ve worked your ass off for so many years to become the extremely talented and hardworking supervisor of your division you are now. Plus, they were already working you to the bone when you were in research and you were getting paid less than even a fourth of what you are now. I’m sorry baby, I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want you feeling bad that we hardly ever see each other or that your a terrible boyfriend. You’re the best boyfriend I could ever ask for my love. I love every single thing about you; the way you would sacrifice your food for me if I didn’t end up liking mine, the way your eyes crinkle whenever you laugh, the way you put your heart and soul in to each and every single one of your endeavors, the way I feel so safe and sound in your arms. I will admit, yes, I used to reminisce on what our life used to be like before we both grew so busy, but it’s not like we’re far apart. I know couples who barely even speak to one another and they see each other throughout the entire day. I think the distance makes our hearts grow fonder in a sense. I miss you for hours on end, but the yearning is all worth it once we go to bed together. What’s a couple of years getting to see you only a couple of hours a day when we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together—well, I mean, if that’s what you want but—“
“Don’t finish that sentence. No buts. Unless it’s yours. I swear I went over this with you many times, you’re stuck with me for eternity. I’m going to marry you one day. God, you’re so fucking wonderful. I don’t ever want to stop reminding you of how amazing you are. Those words aren’t even enough to describe how enraptured I am by you. You would think my confession of how madly in love with you I am and how I would rather die than to live in a world without you would be enough to describe just how deep my love for you goes.” 
He brought your left hand up to his mouth and kissed the tip of each and every single—letting his lips linger on your ring finger. He giggled as blush soon appeared on to your cheeks in shyness. 
“Soon. I promise you. I’ll give you the wedding and the ring of your dreams. Every single guest we invite will be able to witness the love story of a lifetime. Our love is one they’d write novels about. You and I were made for one another. Your soul and mine are one. Every beat of my heart, every breath that I take, it’s all because of you. I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle—even more so for you to take my last name. Y/n Tuan, sounds perfect to me. I’ve been secretly attaching my last name to your name since the beginning of our relationship. Even only after a month, I knew in my heart that you were the girl I wanted to settle down and start a family with. Forget seeing you in my future, you are my future. After everything you just said to me and all that you prepared for me earlier, I think I might just skip a step and give you a baby. I can’t wait to see you swollen with my baby inside of you. But until then, why don’t I show you just how much I love you while I’m inside of you?”
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thorne93 · 4 years ago
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The Stars Made Us (Part 1)
Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?
(Prompt challenge -- You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)
Word Count: 1857
Warnings: angst and language throughout
Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong and @arrow-guy and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo
Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Ever since you were little, you’d heard the legends. The legend of soulmates. It was as common as Santa Claus or winning the lottery. Some weren’t sure they believed it, because although it was real, it was so rare that people didn’t know how to feel about it. Perhaps it was like believing in ghosts. Documented cases, proof, eye witness accounts weren’t enough to sway some skeptics. Yet, it had to be real because there was a registry, much like when you go to get your license or file a birth certificate or a social security number. There was a system in place to keep track of soulmates.
While others, mainly hopeless romantics, truly believed in soulmates. You heard whispers of it when people talked of their grandparents “perfect marriage” and how they just had to be soulmates. You’d heard some kids on the playground swear their cousin just got their soulmate. 
Now, it wasn’t for everyone. It was a rarity, and much like winning the lottery, it only happened to a select few. 
The few were seemingly random. Everyone from celebrities and CEOs down to starving artists and people who managed grocery stores. It touched all races, religions, and economic status. It was global. It wasn’t unheard of for a South American woman to be mated with a French man. Or one Australian to find their mate within Africa. 
Stories of epic journeys to find their love and mate had been told as bedtime stories. Heart wrenching stories of soulmates who never got to be together. 
The idea of soulmates was so endowed in the world and in history that it was rare enough to be celebrated, but common enough to be easily accepted. That’s why, when people walked with scars all over their body, formed in words, people didn’t even think twice.
That’s how it worked. On people’s 18th birthday, their soulmate was assigned, if they had one. Writing on any part of your skin would show up on your mate’s skin as a scar, and vice-versa. For two days out of the year, their birthdays, they could communicate this way. 
The only downside was that you couldn’t give out your information to your mate -- that part was up to the universe. When they needed you most, their name and address would show up on your arm. It could be life or death, it could be a mental breakdown, it could be that they’re hurt and need a friend. But until then, you shouldn’t share personal information. People had done it before, met their mates before the universe decided it was time, and awful things tended to happen. 
But if they were patient enough, willing enough to wait for the right day, it would all be worth it and they were usually guaranteed a happy life. 
Even though you grew up with this knowledge, you’d let it fall to the wayside in your mind. School and friendships took precedence, and you led your life normally. Every now and again, like on birthdays, a fleeting thought of the prospect of a soulmate would run through your head, but for the most part, you filed it away as a fantasy. 
That was, until your best friend Jenny reminded you of it on your 18th birthday.
You were having a party at your house. A group of about ten friends and you went out and played mini-golf, then had pizza at your house with cake and gifts, then watched a new movie. Your parents gave you money to buy a lottery ticket for fun, and gave you some money for college. 
Nearly everyone had gone home, and your parents already wished you a happy birthday with hugs and kisses before going off to bed. All that was left were you and Jenny, and she was about to walk out the door.
“I’m just saying, you’re 18 now,” she stated as she walked. 
“Yeah, I gathered that when I counted 18 candles on the cake, what’s your point?” you asked with a smile.
“My point is, maybe you should try and see if you’ve got a soulmate.” 
You shook your head and rolled your eyes. “Jenny, the odds of me having a soulmate are like 1 in a million. It’s a silly idea.”
“That’s been true. You know it and I know it. What’s the harm in finding out? I just had a cousin last year that found out. She wrote some appointment down when she was 21, her soulmate got it and wrote back.” 
You perched an eyebrow at her. “How romantic.” 
“I’m serious! Come on, how cool would it be?” 
“It would be kind of neat,” you admitted sheepishly, grinning. “But if no one writes back--”
“Then you haven’t lost anything, and you’ll find someone great later in life. No harm, no foul. Right?” She gave you that super convincing gorgeous smile before dropping her pushiness. “Alright, alright. Just think about it, okay? Happy birthday,” she said before hugging you tightly. 
“Thanks,” you said back.
With that, you cleaned up the kitchen and living room, gathered your gifts, and headed up to bed.  You pulled on your pajamas and crawled into your bed, you sat there, thinking about what Jenny had said.
What would be the harm in writing on your arm? If no one spoke back, it was no big deal, right? 
But if they didn’t write back, would you be saddened? You’d always secretly hoped you had a soulmate out there, so to find out you didn’t have one would be a little devastating. Of course, your life wouldn’t be over, and like Jenny said, you could always find a partner just like you normally would. 
Ultimately, it was just a schoolgirl fantasy… but what if it wasn't? you wondered idly as you sat with your leg propped up on the bed. 
You grabbed a pen off your nightstand and took a deep breath, trying to think of the best thing to ask - this would be scarred on them indefinitely after all. 
You thought, and you thought, pondering anything you could say. But what do you say to a potential soulmate? Finally, you decided there was no perfect way to go about this, and you put your pen to your arm, writing: Is anyone out there? 
You held your breath for a second, wondering if you’d get a scar somewhere in response, even bracing for some form of pain, but after a few moments -- nothing. Nothing happened. 
You sighed. Well, it was a long shot anyway.
After lying in bed disappointed for a while, a feather light sensation came crawling across your arm. You frowned for a split second before glancing down and seeing the letters. Instantly, a grin grew wide across your face. 
“Hi there. : )” 
You wanted to jump for joy. Immediately, your heart soared at the sight. Someone out there was actually fated to be yours? You couldn’t believe this. Why you? You weren’t special. 
“This is my email, if you would like to talk more,” you offered, scribbling on your skin before adding in your email. You opted for email since any other form of communication you might be tempted to find out their name.
Within two minutes, a ping noise came from your computer. You sprang from your bed, not even caring that you were the epitome of a school girl right that second. You dashed the cursor over to your inbox and read the new email. 
“Hello. So I suppose this means we’re soulmates...”
“I suppose it does,” you wrote back, a giant grin on your face. 
“We should probably get some of the formalities out of the way. What should I call you? How old are you?” 
“You can call me… Y/F/I. And I’m 18, today is my birthday. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of people giving out their information before their time. I think we should stick to initials.” 
One minute later, in the same penmanship, you felt something on your bicep -- Happy Birthday
The smile on your face lit back up. 
“That’s my gift to you. And yes, I have heard of the stories. I would rather be safe than sorry as well. You can call me X. I’m 21. I’m in college, actually in graduate school.”
“Wow, that’s amazing. You’re already in grad school? How? What’s your area of study? I’m going into college in the fall - psychology.” 
“I think I should be surprised, but I’m not. That’s what my PhD will be in,” he informed. “As well as genetics and biophysics.” 
Well, the universe is funny, isn’t it? 
You continued to read his message. 
“Long story short, I graduated college at 16. Harvard, if you can believe it.”
Instantly, you were hit with a wave of surprise and shock. Your soulmate was a genius? He was a Harvard grad at 16? In what universe was that possible?
“That’s… really impressive. God I wish I could do that. It’d be amazing to be already done with college. I haven’t even gone there yet but it seems like a lot of work and a lot of stress. Hopefully, the pay off will be worth it though.” 
“What are you wanting to do with your degree?”
“Psychiatry.”
“A noble profession.” 
“I think so. I’d like to help people, as corny as that sounds.”
“I don’t think it sounds corny at all. Quite admirable, in fact. If people didn’t feel that way, we wouldn’t have good people in the world.”
He already thought you were a good person? you wondered, warmth spreading over you.
“I guess that is one way to look at it. I just want to help people and be a voice for people who don’t exactly have a lot of advocates.”
“That’s precisely why we get into these professions, darling,” he wrote.
Darling? Wow, so far, this guy was the jackpot. 
“I suppose it is. So what are some of your favorite books, if you don’t mind me asking? And movies. I feel like a quick way to get to know someone pretty well is through their interests.”
“Indeed it is,” he replied. “I happen to favor T.H. White’s The Once and Future King, as far as books go and I don’t particularly have time for many films.”
“Oh, I see,” you started, and then explained your favorite books and film. 
He had asked you why you liked those and you went into a rather lengthy explanation of why you enjoyed them more than others. After that you two talked music, actually having quite a lot in common there. 
You stayed up all night emailing, until the sun came up. It wasn’t until the glare hit your computer screen that you realized it, either. You didn’t want to end the magical evening, but you did need rest, and you were sure as a grad student, he needed all he could get as well. 
That morning you went to sleep with this newfound relief. It was one less thing you’d have to worry about in life. Worry about finding a mate, a partner for life. They were already there, already perfect, already waiting…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Forever Tag: 
@essie1876
@magpiegirl80
@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked
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@marvel-imagines-yes-please
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@bubblyanarocks3
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Charles Xavier
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@lenawiinchester​
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puckinghell · 5 years ago
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Mittens | Tyson Jost
Summary Requests: you never wear mittens so i knit you a pair and leave them for you to find as a gift from an anonymous person because i’m shy
and
your family ditches you for the holiday so i take you home with me, except my family thinks we’re dating now, and i don’t know how to tell them that we’re not Word Count: 3.8k Note: this is dedicated to @thesmutpeasant‘s knitting behaviour
---
When you finished your PR degree, you wouldn’t have said that working for a hockey team was your ultimate dream. You didn’t even know hockey. But working for the Avs has pretty much been the best time of your life, so far.
Where else could you spend an hour of your work day talking about Christmas gifts? 
So far, the boys have decided that for Christmas, Gabe needs to get some hairspray, Z needs a new wardrobe, and Mikko needs a girlfriend.
“What about Tyson?” you ask JT. “Have you gotten him a present yet?”
JT laughs. “No, I haven’t, but I think someone should get him a blanket or something. He’s not good with the cold.” “Hey, fuck you!” Tyson yells from the other side of the room. “It’s freezing here, we can’t all be cold blooded like you!” JT huffs. “He says that, but he’s dressed like he lives in California or something. Never wears a hat, or gloves. And then he complains about the cold all the time. One night he even asked if he could have my duvet.” “That was in Winnipeg, and you know how cold Winnipeg is,” Tyson protests. “Besides, I asked you to cuddle me warm first, but you said no.” It’s teasing, and JT rolls his eyes, but you know Twitter is gonna explode at this. “Thanks boys,” you say, putting down the mic, and the cameras finally leave the room. “What do you want for Christmas, Y/N?” Tyson asks. Out of all the boys - although you would never admit it - you like Tyson the most. He’s always chatting with you when the cameras turn off, and he asks you things like he cares about the answer. You’ve become friends, in the past few months. He’s also really cute. You shrug. “Some sleep would be good,” you say, because it’s been a long road trip, and Tyson laughs. “Same.” --- The next morning Tyson brings you a cup of coffee to the plane. “How is she gonna sleep on the plane now?” Burky teases, and Tyson turns bright red. You make sure to take a picture of Burky from an unflattering angle in retaliation on Tyson’s behalf. Not that it necessarily makes Burky look any worse - that guy doesn’t have bad angles - but it’s the thought that counts. You sleep on the plane and keep yourself busy during the day, but when the evening rolls around, you sit in your quiet apartment and busy your hands as your mind winds down. Knitting may sounds like a grandma hobby, but it calms you down, thank you very much, and it means you’ve always got a personal gift for someone. For Christmas, your grandma has asked for a scarf, your mom wants a hat, and your aunt asked if you can knit a romper for your few months old niece. You have no idea how to do that, but surely you can figure it out. However, today, you don’t really feel like knitting any of those. Knitting those requests feels a little too much like work, right now, and you wanna knit just to knit. You don’t even realize you’re knitting mittens until you’re halfway through the first one. You don’t need mittens; you’ve got a good selection of them, a wide variety of colors. You remember your talk with JT and Tyson, yesterday. There’s someone who needs them. --- It’s weird, that’s something you’re sure of. To just give Tyson a Christmas gift, a handmade Christmas gift, and not have anything for the other guys. They would chirp you to hell and back and you’re not sure you’re ready for everyone to know about your teeny tiny crush on number 17. However, you can’t deny the fact that you knitted these mittens with only one person in mind, and it would feel weird to give them to anyone else. So, one morning, when Pepsi Center is still dark and there’s nobody around, you put them in Tyson’s stall without a note and decide to never think about it again. Which would be easier if you’re not the one having to do pregame interviews that day. “So, the Blues are obviously the reigning Stanley Cup champions...” - EJ pulls a face and you can’t help but agree - “how can you make sure you take the two points here tonight?” “Probably score some goals,” EJ says with a deadpan voice and a wide toothless grin, and you’re about to yell at him for being an awful person to interview when there’s a loud noise on the opposite side of the locker room. “Ah, sick!” The entire room turns to Tyson, who is beaming with excitement and looking at the mittens in his hands. “Someone got me gloves!” “Those aren’t gloves, those are mittens,” Cale says wisely. Tyson stares at him for a few seconds, then obviously decides to ignore him. “There’s no note,” he wonders out loud, and you really, really hope your blush isn’t too noticeable. EJ’s eyes are a little too fixed on your face. “Maybe it’s a secret admirer,” Mikko offers. “Maybe it’s someone who’s just as sick about you complaining about the cold as I am,” JT says. “Where are my mittens?” Z ponders. “You’re not getting any, you don’t deserve them,” says Nate, and Z goes to put him in a headlock. The boys start arguing about why they do or do not deserve mittens and EJ turns back to you. “So,” he says, “any more questions?” --- The boys win in OT and there’s excitement radiating through the locker room. You’re not doing the postgame; Lauren is, but you follow her around anyway, mostly because you love the locker room after a win. The happiness is contagious, and you find yourself smiling all evening. Most of the guys have gone home when Lauren packs up her final stuff. “What a game to end with before Christmas, huh?” she says, giving you a quick hug. “Merry Christmas, Y/N!” “You sure you don’t want to come?” JT’s voice is filled with enough worry that it catches your attention. You pretend to focus on packing your bag, the door slamming shut behind Lauren as she leaves. It’s just you, JT and Tyson, now. “Nah, man, it’s okay.” Tyson sounds a little down, which is not what you would’ve expected, after he scored to put them into OT earlier. “You’re with your girl, and I don’t wanna be a third wheel. I’ll be fine.” “But you can’t be alone on Christmas.” JT is clearly indignant. 
You’re just standing up when Tyson gives JT a playful shove. “Go, Comph. Go have a fun Christmas. I’ll be chill here.” JT rolls his eyes but gives Tyson a quick bro hug. As he’s leaving the locker room, he sends you a smile, a “happy holidays” and then he’s gone. You turn to Tyson. 
“You’re staying here for the holidays?” Tyson shrugs as he puts on his coat. It’s not nearly thick enough to be a winter coat, and he’s not wearing a scarf. He does however, take the mittens and put them on his hands. “My mom is on a cruise and Kacey is celebrating Christmas at her boyfriend’s house. Everyone is leaving me alone this year.” He’s trying to sound light, like he’s joking, but there’s a sharp edge in his voice that tells you it matters more to him than he’s willing to let on.
Something squeezes in your chest. Nobody should be alone on Christmas. “My family is coming to my apartment on Christmas Eve to have dinner, do you want to come?” You blurt it out before really thinking it through; it’s probably gonna be hard to explain to your parents, that you’re suddenly having a guy over for Christmas, and maybe Tyson will think it’s weird that you’re asking him: you just heard him tell JT no, so why would you think he wants to come hang out with you? But when you brave looking up at him, Tyson is smiling widely. “You sure?” he asks. “Is it not too much trouble? I can help you cook if you want. Or, you probably don’t want that, because I suck at cooking, but I can do whatever else you need me to do. I’d bring gifts for all your family, of course, and…” He’s rambling, and it’s cute. “Tys,” you interrupt him, and you can’t help how fond you sound. “They’ll love having you around. My dad is always saying it’s not fair, four girls and one guy, and my sister is bringing her girlfriend, so I could use a partner in crime, too.” “Okay, that’d be awesome,” Tyson says truthfully, “thanks so much, Y/N.” He smiles at you brightly and then puts on his mittens. “Dude, these are so warm, I love them.” You nearly promise to make him a hat and scarf too, but then you figure you might’ve exceeded your maximum amount of weird for the day by inviting him to Christmas dinner, so you quietly follow him out to the parking lot while he excitedly chatters about Christmas movies. --- It’s the morning of Christmas Eve and you’re this close to having a mental breakdown. Your house is a mess; you figured you didn’t need to clean it, your family has seen it all, but now Tyson is coming and you would like him to not think you’re the biggest slob in the world. Also, there’s the fact that an extra mouth to feed means more food necessary, so you have to go to the store and get more groceries. All in all it means that when your doorbell rings, you’re still wearing an old Avs hoodie and leggings, and you’re pretty sure there’s cookie dough in your hair because you decided you needed dessert after all. It’s not like Tyson gets to sin all the time. Christmas is as good an excuse as any. “Hey,” Tyson smiles. He’s looking annoyingly nice, wearing a grey jumper and dark blue slacks. As soon as he sees the state of you, he frowns. “What is that in your hair?” “Cookie dough,” you tell him honestly. “You look nice.” “Thanks,” Tyson grins proudly, “I Facetimed Kacey to pick out the colors.” He walks into your apartment like he’s been there a million times before, pushes a bottle of wine into your hands and starts unpacking the bag with presents he brought, putting them under the tree. “Am I early?” “A little,” you admit. “I, uhm, kinda still need to shower. You know, get the cookie dough out of my hair.” You think about it, for a few seconds, then decide that you can trust Tyson with this one thing. “Can you take the cookies out of the oven in 10 minutes so I can shower?” Tyson nods, throws you a thumbs up and then parks his butt on the couch like that’s where he belongs.
It makes you feel... things.  And, well, you might take a little longer to get ready – putting a little more effort in your make up and hair than you would’ve if it had just been your family -  but the last thing you expect when you come back in is for everything to be ready. Except it is. There’s candles lit on your coffee table and the presents are all under the tree. Your mom has a glass of wine in her hands and greets you with a “honey, there you are!” Your sister and her girlfriend aren’t there yet, but your dad is standing at the dining table with Tyson. The dining table is fully laid and Tyson has a half eaten cookie in his hand. “Sorry,” he grins, when he spots you. “They just looked too good not to touch.” You must’ve been staring at the scene a little sheepishly, cause your mom laughs. “You okay there, honey?” 
“Uh yeah,” you bring out. “I see you met Tyson?” Your mom’s face instantly brightens. “Oh yes, we have, but if you want to do proper introductions…” For a split second, you panic, because you don’t actually know how to introduce Tyson – a friend? A coworker? You can’t really say an unreachable crush – but you’re saved by the door bell. “Y/N!” your sister says, giving you a quick sideways hug. “Amy and I brought some extra wine, in case you didn’t have enough booze and we have to listen to dad talk about baseball all evening while sober…” She stops dead in her tracks as soon as she sees Tyson. “Oh, hello.” “Thanks, Meg,” you mumble. “We uh, have enough, probably, cause Tyson brought some too.” Meg turns to you, wiggling her eyebrows. “A boy that brings wine? Keep him around, will ya.” You’re about to tell her to shut up, when your mom stands up. “Time for dinner!” --- It turns out Tyson fits in with your family right away, and you’re not even halfway through the night when you realize your catastrophically big mistake. Seeing him like this, as if he’s an integral part of your life already, does nothing to help your massive crush on him. Because Tyson is perfect. He talks sports with your dad and interior design with your mom – “My mom used to redecorate our place every year or so, you pick up some stuff” – and falls into a flawless routine of teasing you with Meg. He tops up glasses, passes the salt without being asked, and every now and then he sends you a smile that has your stomach turn in your body. It’s not until after dinner, when you’re standing in the kitchen with your mom, cleaning dishes, that you understand your mistake has been even bigger than you thought. “I’m so happy for you, sweetheart,” your mom coos. She’s looking at you with fond eyes. “I was worried, you know, that you never introduced us to a boy or girl. I don’t want you to be lonely here in Denver. But Tyson is such a lovely guy. You can tell he really loves you.” You can… what? “Oh, no, mom,” you stutter, “he’s not… He doesn’t…” “Oh, but he does,” she interrupts. “I see it in the way he looks at you, you know. When a person really loves someone, it’s in their eyes. And Tyson looks at you with love. You deserve someone who cares about you, babe, and I’m just so happy you’ve got someone here in Denver, when we’re so far away. I just don’t want you to be alone.” And, fuck, your mom clearly thinks you’re dating Tyson, and you realize you still haven’t introduced him properly to your family, of course they think you’re dating, who brings home a guy to Christmas for platonic reasons? You know you should tell her that you’re not dating, you know that, but she looks so genuinely happy, and you know if you tell her now it’ll break her heart. Quietly, you sneak a glance towards the living room. Your dad laughs at something Tyson says while Tyson ruffles through Meg’s hair. She swats at him, and Amy is smiling. Every single one of them would be upset to hear that Tyson is nothing more than a crush that’s way out of your league. 
You know you have to tell them. But maybe just not tonight. Maybe, just for one Christmas, you can let them be happy. “Thanks, mom,” you force out a smile and your mom returns to the dishes. It’s not even a few seconds later that Tyson wanders into the kitchen. “Hey,” he smiles, “can I help?” He leans into you and puts a hand on the small of your back and your heart flutters and it’s innocent, sure it is, he’s just trying to be friendly, but your mom gives you a knowing look as she says: “Sure, you guys finish up here,” and demonstratively closes the kitchen door behind her, leaving the two of you alone. “Your family is awesome,” Tyson grins, as he starts to dry the dishes. “Meg tells me you guys go skiing every February. Me and Kacey usually try to go during bye week, Meg said maybe we can go together!” And something inside of you bursts. “My family thinks we’re dating.” Tyson frowns, puts the plate he was drying down. “Oh, really?” He doesn’t sound upset by the fact, simply curious, and you sigh. You’re gonna have to explain this one. “I guess I just didn’t really think to tell them who you are or like, what we are? And so they just saw that I invited a guy to Christmas and they assumed that we’re together. They absolutely love you, Tys, and they always worry so much about me having a boyfriend, and I just…” You pause; you know you’re turning red and it’s impossible to get out the words. “Hey, it’s okay,” Tyson says gently. He reaches out, his hand landing on your arm in a gesture of comfort. “You don’t have to tell them now. We can just… date.” He flushes. “Fake date, I mean. For tonight. Or, like, however long you need us to.” “Really?” you ask, relieved, and Tyson laughs. “Don’t sound so surprised. As if it’s such a hardship, to pretend to be your boyfriend.” He shoots you a wink, puts the final plate away and wanders back to the living room. Leaving you absolutely stunned, wondering what just happened. --- “Gifts!” Meg says, clasping her hands together. “The true meaning of Christmas!” Your mom gives her a disapproving look, but even your dad is eyeing the presents under the tree with a little too much interest.   “I’ll go first,” Tyson says with shining eyes, “being the new one in the family, and all that.” “Ah, yay, it’s not me anymore,” Amy giggles, and you swear to God you are going to die. Somehow, despite not knowing your family, Tyson nailed his gifts. Your dad is over the moon with his new slippers, your mom keeps sniffing the scented candle he gives her, and Meg smacks Tyson across the head with the Avalanche beanie he got her, until she notices there’s two tickets to a musical that Amy has been wanting to see in there. 
You’re a little jealous, because you love gifts like that, until Tyson hands you an envelope. “I heard you tell Gravy how much you like them,” he says, and he sounds a little off. Nervous, even. “And if you need a plus one…” He wiggles his eyebrows and laughs, but even his giggle comes out a little nervous. In the envelope is two tickets to your favorite band, who are playing in Denver next month. You didn’t end up getting tickets cause they were sold out stupidly quickly and were ridiculously expensive in resale. “Oh my God, Tys, that’s way too much,” you tell him in awe, but Tyson just shrugs. “No use for an NHL salary if you can’t spend it on the people you care about.” It sounds weirdly genuine, a deeper level of something ringing through, but it’s way too much to unpack right now. You feel a little stupid about your gift for him, now – a nice wallet cause his old one looks like it’s been through a lot – although Tyson seems really happy with it, even gives you a hug to say thank you. For the rest of your family, you’ve got a normal gift and something knitted, as extra, and it’s not until you catch sight of the deep frown on Tyson’s face that you realize something. Fuck. You forgot about the fucking mittens. “Isn’t it cute, Tyson?” your mom says, as she wraps the scarf you made her around her neck. “She always knits people gifts. I swear it’s her way of saying how much she loves them. She spends so much time on these.” She pauses. “I mean, you’ve probably been with her while she makes them, you know.” “Yeah,” says Tyson, slowly, although you know he has no clue. After that, it’s like you can’t even really enjoy the rest of the night; you can’t focus on the Christmas movie Meg puts on, can’t focus on how cute it is when she cuddles up with Amy, can’t focus on how fondly your mom is smiling down at you or your dad’s soft snores as he falls asleep halfway through. You can focus on Tyson’s thigh pressed against yours, and how you have no idea how to explain to him why you knitted him those mittens. Finally, your mom stands up, gently kicks your dad’s legs, and smiles at you. “I think it’s time for us to go,” she says. “I’m sure you two wants to enjoy some part of Christmas Eve in privacy, too.” “Mom,” you scold her, feeling your cheeks heat up. Tyson grins at you. By the door, as your mom gives you a hug, she whispers: “He’s a keeper, honey,” and you nearly tell her everything. “Yeah, he’s alright,” Meg says way too loudly, and you hear Tyson giggle in the background and you decide to shut up. The door closes behind them and immediately, Tyson stretches out on the couch. “Ah,” he says. “I’m pretty good at impressing the in laws, no?” You don’t remind him that they’re not actually his in laws. Instead, you fall back onto the couch and groan. “Are you not gonna make fun of me for knitting you mittens and leaving them anonymously in your stall?” you ask, because you might as well get over it. Tyson frowns. “Why would I do that? Those mittens rock, my hands haven’t been cold since.” You blush. “Yeah, but, don’t you think it’s weird that I made those? I didn’t make any for the rest of the team.” For a second, he seems to think about that. Then he moves a little closer, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. Electricity zips through your veins at the contact. “I kinda hoped that meant something,” Tyson says slowly. “Tell me if I’m wrong?” You only had two glasses of wine but you feel like your world is spinning as Tyson moves closer tauntingly slowly. Finally, his lips touch yours, and you understand every cliché ever written into any romantic Christmas movie. When his hand moves to your thigh, settles on the skin right below the hem of your dress, you yelp.
“How are your hands still cold?” 
Tyson chuckles. “I mean, I haven’t been wearing my mittens, so...” 
---
Years later, you’re laying on the couch with your daughter, watching a Christmas movie after having just set up the tree.
“Daddy, what was your favorite Christmas present Santa ever gave you?” your daughter asks. 
Tyson sends you a private look above her head, then focuses on her. 
“A pair of hand knitted mittens.” 
“Like the one mommy made me?” she asks, and he grins.
“Yeah, kinda like that.”
541 notes · View notes
altarflame · 4 years ago
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Let me give you this real country music breakdown.
Keeping in mind that 2019 involved lots of gut wrenching transition, including divorce and selling my home of 11 years (the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere). Moving away from the tropics, to a place where the ocean is usually too far and my plants can’t live outside through the winter. I had a kid move out and away, for the first time.   My oldest friend also died last August, after a scant 3 month long battle with cancer. It was a real plague upon my proverbial dog, wife, and pickup truck. And, of course, I’m living through a pandemic, and a long overdue but very emotional racial justice uprising, with the rest of you, now. Anyway. OTHER than those things, my 2020 has been like...My sister’s gradually, gut wrenchingly cut off all contact with me over the past couple of years, culminating in the last couple of months, whenst we no longer speaketh at all. I’ve fought hard for this to be different and it’s still very sharp. I don’t think I’ll ever give up hope, or stop making a fool of myself about it. A new friend I was starting to really care about hung herself in April. I’ve tried to be there for her husband and 5 year old daughter when and how I can, which is honestly not much. I’ve taken several people who were scared to go alone, to her grave.  I felt forced to break up with the person I thought was my soul mate, these past 3 years, and wanted to be with forever, and I have grieved it hard over the last couple of months. I’m still processing this. I’m gonna be processing this for awhile. My threshold for being anywhere near him without overwhelming sobbing is apparently approximately 45 seconds. In the beginning we were scrambled together, mixed in a celestial bowl and hand fluffed with a feather. And the tears of bliss were not amiss - it was a good day.  But the story nears the present time Of restlessness and wake up calls Wake up! Years have flown fast but then who's counting The wars have been won but there's few left standing between us And the shadows of Christmas past... Critically acclaimed but sadly underrated - Fortune definitely favored us, but no one celebrated. Our wits were splitting at their ends... We gazed upon the city lights We each laughed aloud one final time and agreed: This is one thing we'll miss... On his way out, he sabotaged my part time foster child’s mom’s tenuous, fragile relationship with me, so I no longer have the ability to connect with or help that child who he brought into my life. Who I love and wonder about and periodically hear horror stories about via mutual friends. I bent over backwards, I burned calories straining for that trust between the mom and myself.  
It’s so terrible sometimes. It hurts so bad. Jean-Paul. LAURA.   *MILLS*  . Coralye. FUCK. This post brought to you with plenty of hard crying, and no shortage of echoing painful music. I’m physically sick about this shit semi often.  I don’t normally let go of anybody, guys. But certainly not my fucking nearest and dearest.  I have a lot. I have SO MUCH. I know this. I feel good a lot of the time.  I have all 5 of my kids under this roof while the pandemic rages on, and they’re all healthy and beautiful and they all love me and talk with me. It’s mostly all cake these days with them, Elise telling me where she is in her own solitary reading for pleasure, Ananda cracking me up, Jake biking to the grocery store for treats to share, Aaron showing me something amazing in the yard, Isaac washing dishes and giving me weirdly helpful and totally unanticipated advice. They’re almost no work now, it’s all return on investment and I have tons of privacy and I use the fuck out of it.  I’m deeply in love with somebody these past 7 months. Being deeply in new love AND devastated-heartbroken about lost love at the same time is honestly dizzying, I spent a first destitute day thinking maybe I can’t do polyamory anymore, period. Maybe this is too fucking much and I’m gonna be alone and focus on my career and my goddamned plants. (<--not fucking really, obv I am not gonna let the pain win and go full hermit. Brief compelling temptation, though.) My career and my plants are great, btw, thanks for asking. I’ve got basically my dream job, it’s flexible and lackadaisical AND meaningful and challenging, it’s salaried with bonuses and hella benefits and amazing job security. It’s the whole thing, the culmination of 6 years in school and unpaid internships and volunteering. I even have a spare PRN position elsewhere that I mostly hang on to because it’s fun when they want me to come make $200 for a shift, to mix it up a little.  And I have solo projects, writing and web and mental health, all in the works, and they’re good.  I have seedlings sprouting. I have a yard that is pure magic, revealing new secrets each day.  I’ve got some of my oldest people, like Jess. I’ve got some exciting new people, like Jill.  The love, did I mention it? Holy shit. I’ve got Sterling, and that is a whole other story. That it’s been this good while things are this bad is pretty astounding. His own drama quotient has been off the charts, too. I almost can’t imagine how wonderful it would be if we weren’t constantly adrift in a sea of bullshit, though I also strongly suspect we both need a certain staggering minimum quota of bullshit. It’s no accident that we met mutually chasing along after the wake of the same madman’s chaos. We’re nursing some deep wounds in each other, waking up some old old hurts and soothing them back down smaller and smaller. Anytime we’re touching it’s either syrupy soma sweet, blazing inferno hot, or a staggering blend of the two - and then we pull apart to try to actually speak with whole brains, and inevitably take turns being baffled, just hilariously relieved, at how easy it is to communicate. We alternate coming at each other on tiptoe, braced, and then feeling confused and just.... amused? Skeptical? that the other is totally able to empathize with what was just said and is accepting it gently.  We don’t have a ton of objective stuff in common, on paper. We’re both very wordy and linguistic, we’re analyzers, we draw unusual people who will feel safe telling us insane things. We’re both hypersexual perverts, chronic pickers, we both wear too much black. It doesn’t go a lot further than that at a glance. We both have PTSD and ironclad outward facing coping skills, nostalgia for the Florida Keys, scientific skepticism mixed with some faith in magic.... we were both brilliant children who felt pretty isolated. But I haven’t ever really felt like anyone is loving me the way I love people, before. I’ve never even felt like anyone else received my love, the same way I intended it, or at least not all of it. It’s like the intensity of what I’m conveying and meaning when I kiss somebody’s cheek, I dunno man, he experiences it. The goofy flowing sense I have, of holding hands, he comments on it all the time. I’m not just like.... alone, in my overwhelm with being touched, or my enthusiasm for sensations, and that is honestly pretty new to me. Sterling is not tolerating my affection for my sake, and I’m still gradually adapting to that with periodic backsliding into hesitance, and unneeded apologies. It’s like we’re totally fluent in the precise same love language, so nothing gets lost, and the feedback loop is instantaneous.  He’s dark inside, but dark like Nine Inch Nail’s A Warm Place. Dark like the womb.  So as I was saying. I have so much. Including a candle that’s about Mills, and is burning behind me, giving me this slipping sense that I need to blow it out, I need to reserve it, it’s gonna be gone soon. This one spans so many feelings, it’s been positive, some new candle would be what, voodoo? Meddling? I don’t know. This one’s been in a drawer, with our ring buried in it (my dragon). What will I do with that ring? What will I do with all this love?  How can I contain so much, anyway? Why can’t anything ever replace anything else? It’s like infinite space, and the empty places just keep throbbing, and it’s like I sprout new spots for new fullness and the cavities pulse on.  I’m deeply grateful for a certain self-completeness I’ve come to understand that I have, and that not everyone does. I am resiliant A-motherfucking-F (<--meta vulgar!). AND YET. OW OW OW.  I’m sitting here trying to exposure therapy my way through my Mills playlist, as I write this, so Spotify can’t surprise me into sads anymore. I’ve gotten already to a place where sometimes i remember positive things purely positively, and laugh and tell a story and it’s ok. I’m bitter as all hell that I can’t even talk to my sister about this breakup, after she had so many stupid goddamned feelings about the relationship itself, about polyamory in general, about ever knowing him (which might have allowed her to help me grieve at all).  Sigh. I love the internet, maybe feel free to send me a message if you’re still reading, whoever the fuck you are <3
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the-black-dragons-den · 4 years ago
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Hello! How're things going with you these days? Hope it's going alright
Hi! I’ve been meaning to respond to this for days but I also wanted to take this as an opportunity to just kind of, elaborate on my life because it’s been kind of crazy! I am so sorry for turning this into a novel about myself because a simple “I’m doing better, thanks!” probably would have sufficed to answer, but I also needed to get this all out!
Also you know you are one of my favorite mutuals, I adore your blog, and your presence on my tumblr feed always makes me smile! Thank you for checking in with me, that’s super sweet of you!
TLDR; My mental health is a daily struggle but I’m taking real steps to take care of myself. My financial situation has dramatically improved, I didn’t catch Coronavirus, and in general things are looking up! I’m also trying to decide what the heck to do with my life - seek a better job now or go back to school to train to get a better job. 
Here’s the long version!
At the end of last year, my fiance and I both quit our jobs due to a SUPER toxic work environment. That lead to a very long and stressful battle to win my unemployment benefits from that employer (but I did win eventually!) That whole thing was really hard on my mental health, but worth it in the end. Even with that, we basically blew through all of our very meager year-long savings (that was intended to go toward my fiance’s much needed dental work) for rent and groceries, right around the 2019 holidays so that was a really hard time. We both found jobs (mine part-time and his first one temporary and his current one full-time and awesome) but we still spent the first couple months of this year going to the food bank every week and barely making rent. We’ve been in hard times like that before but having to spend ALL of our savings was gut-wrenching. 
So, roughly 3 weeks after my fiance got his new awesome job, Coronavirus became a big threat in our area and he was immediately laid off. Luckily, he was guaranteed his job back, and was able to get unemployment during that time. I’m still on unemployment while I’m working this part-time job, but more on that later. Anyway, that means we both received the extra pandemic benefits with our unemployment payments. 
My job now is merchandising, which means that I work for a company that’s contracted by stores in the area, and I go to those stores and do things like setting displays, compliance scanning, etc. Honestly, so few people who don’t work as merchandisers know the job even exists, but I promise that a bunch of the displays at your local stores are not put there or stocked by store employees. It’s part-time, I work independently and for the most part don’t have to interact with a ton of people (which is really helpful for my anxiety). So, all in all, not a bad job for me, especially while I try to figure out what’s next.--
---Anyway, I didn’t stop working at all during the pandemic, which was good for our finances but again, hard on my mental health. (This is kind of whiny but it was incredibly wearing that I was an essential worker, but I watched other essential workers get raises and hazard pay and an outflow of support, and because people don’t know merchandisers are a thing, no one really thought to thank or support us, or give us more money.) I actually took on several more stores during April and May to cover for coworkers. I really am grateful to have had a job but let me tell you, being out there in the pool of stress exuding from everyone’s pores every day for hours at a time really wound my brain up. 
However! Despite the mental health struggle that, let’s be honest, is impossible to avoid with my pre-existing conditions and the state of the world, things are looking up! Between unemployment benefits, the stimulus, my fiance’s severance, and his return to work and subsequent promotion and raise (SO PROUD OF HIM!), we are financially more steady now than... we ever have been. We’re slowly getting his dental work taken care of, which we’ve been trying to do for nearly four years. We’re never worried about rent, we have money saved, and OH OH OH, I am now 82% paid on my debt!!! I racked up credit card debt several years ago when we were very broke (buying groceries and necessities no less) and have been paying it for 3 years now, and I’ve actually made real progress! I have a “good” credit score! That feels amazing! My fiance even accidentally dropped and shattered his phone, and we were able to order a new (still relatively inexpensive) one that night, without having to sacrifice grocery money or anything which was awesome (especialyl because he needs his phone for work).
Additionally, I recently ask my job if I could cut back on hours because I was getting so burnt out and I needed to do this for my mental health. Between my fiance and I, I’m the driver so I have to make time for errands, and because he works full time (and a decent bit of overtime), I try to handle as much of the household chores as I can. But that altogether with work and making sure we can both get to needed appointments and stuff is A LOT to handle. And because he’s making good money now, I can actually take this step back from work, cut back on my hours, and we’re not super hurting for money because of it. We’ve never had a time together when we haven’t been calculating our hours day by day, trying to get more work time at any opportunity, scraping for every cent we earned. This is so amazing and different. 
So I’ve cut back on my hours for the sake of my mental health. I’ve downloaded a mood-tracking app to try to get more insight into my patterns, moods and behaviors. I’ve made time for relaxation - long hot baths are my thing. I’m almost debt-free which is a huge weight off my shoulders. I just... want to be able to get out of bed most mornings without having a mental breakdown, that’s the first goal. It’s a struggle, but it’s a goal!
I’m also trying to make time to decide what to do with my life. I completed 2 years of college but never finished. I’ve only ever worked kind of crappy entry-level jobs. I really struggle with customer interaction (super wearing on me, makes me miserable) and I’d love to find a career where that’s limited, but I’m not sure if that means I’ll need to go back to school. My parents are also pushing me to make sure I seek a career in a field that pays well and is growing, which is logical, but has already made them discourage me out of the idea of being a paralegal, which I was really interested in... I’d like to go back to school but I really need a path before I make that decision. None of my passions (make-up, music, or being a paralegal apparently) are really things I could make a financially lucrative career out of, unless I had the dedication and talent of much healthier person, mentally. I’d like to be a forensic analyst maybe, but my parents are trying to talk me out of that one too. My dad has always wanted me to be an architect but I am not adept with math and I don’t want to design boring office buildings. In the meantime, it’s really hard to find a job that I get into without a degree, that allows me that minimal interaction with people and actually pays decently well. So I’m struggling but now I have time to actually think about it and figure it out, which is awesome. 
LASTLY, I promise ---- I have nothing but support in my heart for the BLM movement, and I have been horrified by the actions of local and national police forces, and deeply proud of some of my peers who have been going to protests daily, helping speak out against the horrors being committed upon the colored communities in our country. I have not had the ability to participate in any protests, but I can’t explain the deep emotional grief that I feel over the unjust deaths, the tear gas and rubber bullets, the plowing down of innocent people. Videos of brutality make me ache with despair but I share them because I’m so fearful that if the wrong people come out on top in this situation, these videos and records of what was done to the American people will be destroyed. Though I am lucky to be surrounded by peers who share my feelings, these events have definitely strained my already tenuous relationship with my very conservative parents, and feeling so alienated from them has brought up a lot of childhood pain. However, as a very sheltered white female, I understand that my grief and despair cannot compare to the grief of black, brown, and other non-white communities during this time. 
In conclusion, 2020 has been a real shit year so far but I’m standing here fighting back with every fiber of my being to make life better for me and my fiance, to get on top of my mental health, and to figure out what I’m doing with my life now!
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sadecesiir · 5 years ago
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Puerto Rican Obituary
by Pedro Pietri
They worked They were always on time They were never late They never spoke back when they were insulted They worked They never took days off that were not on the calendar They never went on strike without permission They worked ten days a week and were only paid for five They worked They worked They worked and they died They died broke They died owing They died never knowing what the front entrance of the first national city bank looks like Juan Miguel Milagros Olga Manuel All died yesterday today and will die again tomorrow passing their bill collectors on to the next of kin All died waiting for the garden of eden to open up again under a new management All died dreaming about america waking them up in the middle of the night screaming: Mira Mira your name is on the winning lottery ticket for one hundred thousand dollars All died hating the grocery stores that sold them make-believe steak and bullet-proof rice and beans All died waiting dreaming and hating Dead Puerto Ricans Who never knew they were Puerto Ricans Who never took a coffee break from the ten commandments to KILL KILL KILL the landlords of their cracked skulls and communicate with their latino souls Juan Miguel Milagros Olga Manuel From the nervous breakdown streets where the mice live like millionaires and the people do not live at all are dead and were never alive Juan died waiting for his number to hit Miguel died waiting for the welfare check to come and go and come again Milagros died waiting for her ten children to grow up and work so she could quit working Olga died waiting for a five dollar raise Manuel died waiting for his supervisor to drop dead so he could get a promotion Is a long ride from Spanish Harlem to long island cemetery where they were buried First the train and then the bus and the cold cuts for lunch and the flowers that will be stolen when visiting hours are over Is very expensive Is very expensive But they understand Their parents understood Is a long non-profit ride from Spanish Harlem to long island cemetery Juan Miguel Milagros Olga Manuel All died yesterday today and will die again tomorrow Dreaming Dreaming about queens Clean-cut lily-white neighborhood Puerto Ricanless scene Thirty-thousand-dollar home The first spics on the block Proud to belong to a community of gringos who want them lynched Proud to be a long distance away from the sacred phrase: Que Pasa These dreams These empty dreams from the make-believe bedrooms their parents left them are the after-effects of television programs about the ideal white american family with black maids and latino janitors who are well train— to make everyone and their bill collectors laugh at them and the people they represent Juan died dreaming about a new car Miguel died dreaming about new anti-poverty programs Milagros died dreaming about a trip to Puerto Rico Olga died dreaming about real jewelry Manuel died dreaming about the irish sweepstakes They all died like a hero sandwich dies in the garment district at twelve o’clock in the afternoon social security number to ashes union dues to dust They knew they were born to weep and keep the morticians employed as long as they pledge allegiance to the flag that wants them destroyed They saw their names listed in the telephone directory of destruction They were train to turn the other cheek by newspapers that mispelled mispronounced and misunderstood their names and celebrated when death came and stole their final laundry ticket They were born dead and they died dead Is time to visit sister lopez again the number one healer and fortune card dealer in Spanish Harlem She can communicate with your late relatives for a reasonable fee Good news is guaranteed Rise Table Rise Table death is not dumb and disable— Those who love you want to know the correct number to play Let them know this right away Rise Table Rise Table death is not dumb and disable Now that your problems are over and the world is off your shoulders help those who you left behind find financial peace of mind Rise Table Rise Table death is not dumb and disable If the right number we hit all our problems will split and we will visit your grave on every legal holiday Those who love you want to know the correct number to play let them know this right away We know your spirit is able Death is not dumb and disable RISE TABLE RISE TABLE Juan Miguel Milagros Olga Manuel All died yesterday today and will die again tomorrow Hating fighting and stealing broken windows from each other Practicing a religion without a roof The old testament The new testament according to me gospel of the internal revenue the judge and jury and executioner protector and eternal bill collector Secondhand shit for sale learn how to say Como Esta Usted and you will make a fortune They are dead They are dead and will not return from the dead until they stop neglecting the art of their dialogue— for broken english lessons to impress the mister goldsteins— who keep them employed as lavaplatos porters messenger boys factory workers maids stock clerks shipping clerks assistant mailroom assistant, assistant assistant to the assistant’s assistant assistant lavaplatos and automatic artificial smiling doormen for the lowest wages of the ages and rages when you demand a raise because is against the company policy to promote SPICS SPICS SPICS Juan died hating Miguel because Miguel’s used car was in better running condition than his used car Miguel died hating Milagros because Milagros had a color television set and he could not afford one yet Milagros died hating Olga because Olga made five dollars more on the same job Olga died hating Manuel because Manuel had hit the numbers more times than she had hit the numbers Manuel died hating all of them Juan Miguel Milagros and Olga because they all spoke broken english more fluently than he did And now they are together in the main lobby of the void Addicted to silence Off limits to the wind Confine to worm supremacy in long island cemetery This is the groovy hereafter the protestant collection box was talking so loud and proud about Here lies Juan Here lies Miguel Here lies Milagros Here lies Olga Here lies Manuel who died yesterday today and will die again tomorrow Always broke Always owing Never knowing that they are beautiful people Never knowing the geography of their complexion PUERTO RICO IS A BEAUTIFUL PLACE PUERTORRIQUENOS ARE A BEAUTIFUL RACE If only they had turned off the television and tune into their own imaginations If only they had used the white supremacy bibles for toilet paper purpose and make their latino souls the only religion of their race If only they had return to the definition of the sun after the first mental snowstorm on the summer of their senses If only they had kept their eyes open at the funeral of their fellow employees who came to this country to make a fortune and were buried without underwears Juan Miguel Milagros Olga Manuel will right now be doing their own thing where beautiful people sing and dance and work together where the wind is a stranger to miserable weather conditions where you do not need a dictionary to communicate with your people Aqui Se Habla Espanol all the time Aqui you salute your flag first Aqui there are no dial soap commercials Aqui everybody smells good Aqui tv dinners do not have a future Aqui the men and women admire desire and never get tired of each other Aqui Que Pasa Power is what’s happening Aqui to be called negrito means to be called LOVE
Pedro Pietri, "Puerto Rican Obituary" from Selected Poetry. Copyright © 2015 by Pedro Pietri.  Reprinted by permission of City Lights Books.Source: Selected Poetry (City Lights Books, 2015)
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/58396/puerto-rican-obituary
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tubbyfingers · 6 years ago
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Four Months | 03
Description: You and Jungkook have been happily married for seven years. Or so he thought. After three years of him being completely oblivious to your feelings and personal struggles, you decided that your happiness was more important than trying to salvage a failing marriage, so you filed for divorce, giving him a time limit of four months until he has to move out of your shared home. Unable to cope with the idea of his wife leaving him, Jungkook decides to comply with the terms of the divorce…for now…but is secretly plotting to win you back before the four months is up.
pairing: jungkook × reader
genre: angst, romance
word count: 2.2k
*warning*: mentions of miscarriage and slight profanity
               ~❀~              ~❀~                  ~❀~                    ~❀~
“Please pick up, please pick up,” you pleaded under your breath, pacing back and forth in front of your bed. You had your cellphone pressed securely against your ear, silently praying that your best friend Yuiko would answer so you could dump all your problems on her and she could help you find a logical solution to them.
Finally, after your fourth time redialing her number, you heard a click.
“Hello..?” A groggy voice croaked into the speaker.
“Yui, you gotta help me,” you took note of the exhaustion in her voice and mentally apologized for calling her so early on a Saturday morning, knowing she would forgive you anyway after hearing what you had to say, “Jungkook’s acting weird.”
“What?!” your best friend shot up in her bed, all traces of sleep leaving her voice.
“What did that piece of shit do this time?!” she raged.
“What...wait, no! That’s the thing!"
You went on to explain how he cleaned up the kitchen and continued on to the brownie incident.
“He was actually being nice, and like,” you lowered your voice, “touchy.”
Yuiko breathed in sharply, then there was silence. You started to feel embarrassed, thinking that her lack of response meant you were overreacting, and just when you opened your mouth to apologize for waking her up, a shout pierced the staticky silence of the call.
“What the actual fuck?!”
Your eyes widened in surprise.
Yuiko had been with you from the beginning. The two of you had met in middle school and she had gone with you to high school where you had met Jungkook and the three of you along with a few other classmates had become a group of best of friends. Yuiko was there when your feelings for Jungkook began to get complicated and you started looking at him as more than just a friend. She was there two of you started dating, when he proposed to you, at your wedding day, your honeymoon phase, and now your divorce. She had been a witness to Jungkook’s doting husband period in the early stages of your marriage and later on, a witness to his negative changes. She had been your rock after the death of your unborn child when Jungkook should have been. In all your years of knowing her, she had always been a rational, level-headed girl who was never quick to anger and rarely used profanity even in situations where strong language was definitely reasonable.
Her undisguised shock at your revelation confirmed that you weren’t overreacting as Jungkook’s look had suggested. Jungkook was acting weird, and you weren’t the only one who thought so.
“This is wild. The last time he wasn’t an absolute slob and actually showed you any physical affection was way too long ago for me to even remember.”
“Right?!” you answered excitedly.
“Okay Y/N,” you could hear the rational Yuiko coming out, “I don’t know what’s going on with him, but don’t let his actions sway you; you chose to divorce him for a reason. Personally, I wouldn’t fall for his crap. It just doesn’t make sense for him to have neglected you all this time just to suddenly change his rhythm. Ignore him for now and try to hold on until January when he’ll be out of your house.”
That was the advice you needed.
“Thanks Yui. Four months seems like such a long time but I know I’ll be able to get through it if you’re with me.”
“You know I’m always here for you.”
“Yeah,” you replied, “I know.”
After a few minutes of light conversation and gossip, you said goodbye and hung up.
“What did I do to deserve her?” you wondered aloud, smiling to yourself.
        ��                                        ~  ~  ~  ~
Monday rolled in faster than you would have liked. Glaring at you screaming alarm clock, you violently hit the snooze button before closing your eyes once again; it was customary for you to mentally prepare yourself for the day ahead every time you woke up.
That’s enough, you thought after 10 minutes, knowing that if you stayed in bed any longer you wouldn’t be able to get up. The clock read 6:11AM in bright green as you rolled off of the mattress and began to get dressed for work. The first of your two jobs was at a grocery store a few miles away and you had to make sure to leave in time to catch the bus.
Creeping down the stairs so as not to awaken the sleeping Jungkook, you slipped your shoes on and exited the house, walking quickly in the brisk autumn air to make it to the bus stop on time. In your bag you had a couple snacks, your uniform for your waitressing job after your shift at the grocery store, and lastly, the divorce papers, tucked safely in their envelope. You planned to make a trip to the lawyer’s office immediately after your work ended tonight. The faster you submitted the papers, the faster Jungkook would be out of your hair, right?
The sound of the approaching bus shook you out of your thoughts and you got stepped on, hoping the day would be an easy one.
                                                           ~
The day was a long and tiring one. The grocery store had been somewhat slow, but the family restaurant you worked at was extremely busy, as your shift started during peak hours. You stayed late to clean up and close and you wanted nothing more than to go home. Despite your exhaustion however, you knew you still had to take the divorce papers to the lawyer if you wanted things to get done, so you pushed thoughts a hot shower and a good night’s sleep to the back of your mind and called for a taxi to take you to the office downtown. If only you had used the car, then you wouldn’t have had to waste your money on the expensive taxi fare. There was a car at home, but you had refrained from using it because when you had done so in the past, Jungkook would become irritated with you for being gone with it for so long so he couldn’t go out with friends.
Another reason we’re breaking up, you thought bitterly as you left the vehicle and entered the large law firm behind you.
                                                        ~ 
Your bulky work shoes squeaked on the linoleum floor as the fluorescent lights reflected harshly against the walls. You couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable at being in such a professional setting while still smelling like fried rice and looking like you just walked out of a kitchen, which, indeed you had...but still.
You nodded politely to the well dressed people you came across in the hallway and reaching your destination, you pulled your hand back and rapped on the door three solid times. After a moment, there was the sound of a lock turning and the large oak door pulled back to reveal a handsome, stern faced man with perfectly styled hair, in his mid-twenties dressed in a form fitting beige suit. You looked up at him expectantly and as recognition filled his eyes, his hard features were replaced by a joyous, dimpled smile.
“Y/N!” he exclaimed.
“Namjoon!” you gushed with the same level of enthusiasm.
He invited you in and closed the door behind him.
“Sit, make yourself comfortable. I didn’t expect to see you back so soon,” he said with raised eyebrows as you plopped yourself down in the chair in front of his desk and he moved to sit across from you.
“Yeah, neither did I.”
The two of you were referring to Jungkook’s procrastination problem; the speed at which he returned the papers to you was almost unheard of.
Namjoon — Kim Namjoon — had been one of the people in your group of high school friends. His close relationship with Jungkook along with his smarts meant that he was always spending his freetime helping the more immature boy finish assignments he should have completed way before their deadlines. Namjoon was not only a great friend, but also one of the main reasons Jungkook was able to graduate high school. He always helped Jungkook out of the kindness of his heart, assuming he would grow out of such bad habits by the time he reached adulthood, but he was wrong.
A lot of what you had told Namjoon concerning the breakdown of your marriage had—in some way, shape, or form—to do with procrastination; Jungkook would plan dates with you and either put them off or completely forget about them, he would promise to pick up groceries you needed from the store, and even tell you he’d come with you to your doctor appointments concerning your pregnancy, but he’d never actually get to it. Little things like that...but the little things pile up.
“Anyways,” you said, breaking the momentary silence in the room, “I’m shocked that he had the papers ready literally a day, no, not even 24 hours after I gave them to him.”
“I know...I’ll mail them into court and once I hear back from them we’ll move on from there,” he reached forward to take the papers from your hand, hesitating as a fleeting feeling of sadness overcame him.
You looked up, confused at why the papers were still in your hands.
Namjoon loved you and Jungkook. Like Yuiko, Jimin, and your other friends, he had been a huge supporter of your high school relationship, and later, your marriage. When he found out you wanted to end things with Jungkook, he had first tried to convince you to try to work things out, but something stopped him in his tracks. One late night while Jungkook was out, you had called Namjoon and asked for help. Mentally and emotionally, you were in a horrible place and you had just needed someone to talk to. He couldn’t forget the pain and anguish in your voice on that night even if he tried. He didn’t want the two of you to break up, but at the same time he wanted you to be happy and couldn’t deny the fact that Jungkook was a shit husband despite him being an amazing friend and person. So when you had asked Namjoon to be your divorce lawyer, he didn’t say no.
“You sure you wanna go through with this Y/N?”
“Joon what do you mean?” you questioned irritably, “If I wasn’t serious I wouldn’t have come here tonight.”
“Sorry, I just wanted to make sure,” he said as he took the envelope.
“Hm,” you grunted in annoyance, folding your arms and looking away. Why did Namjoon have to make you question your decision? “Well it’s late, I should get going,” you stood up to leave.
“Wait. You haven’t eaten yet, right? Let me order something from the Chinese restaurant down the street and you can eat on your way home.”
You gave Namjoon and sidelong glance. No matter how annoyed you were with him, you couldn’t pass up an offer for free food.
“Fine,” you sat back down as he called the restaurant.
                                                      ~
After half an hour of playing games on your phone and Namjoon typing away on his laptop, the food arrived.
He gave you a sheepish smile as he turned to face you, plastic bag in hand.
“I wish I could take you home, but I’ve got a whole lot of work to do and I won’t be out of here for a few hours, so…” he whipped out a few bills from behind him “I hope this is enough for the taxi.”
“Joon,” you stated firmly, “you don’t have to do that. I work. I can pay for a taxi.”
“Nope. I’m not giving you a choice...plus,” as though an afterthought, “I make more money than you with this job than you do at both your jobs combined so…”
“Pfft, show off,” you grumbled, snatching the bills from his hand, but you couldn’t help but giggle at your friend’s blunt but undeniably true joke; your jobs really did earn you a measly pay at the end of each week.
“Get home safely,” he chuckled as he handed you the meal.
“Thanks,” you replied, playfully elbowing him in the ribs as you departed, “I’ll see you around.”
                 ~❀~              ~❀~                  ~❀~                    ~❀~
Back in his office, Namjoon was unable to focus on the work he needed to do. Thoughts of Jungkook were running through his head.
I wonder how he’s holding up, he thought. The divorce didn’t sit right with him. Namjoon knew for a fact that you weren’t overreacting and that your feelings were justified. In the past, every time he had called Jungkook to check up on him, he always seemed to be out having fun but you were never there having fun with him. He had scolded the younger boy numerous times, but clearly that hadn’t worked. Either way, Namjoon still felt strongly that you should give Jungkook another opportunity to change his ways, but of course he wouldn’t tell you that. He didn’t want to risk losing your friendship because you thought he was siding with your husband.
It had been a few days since they had spoken, so Namjoon decided to call Jungkook the next morning to see how he was doing, hoping there was still a chance at salvaging your marriage and that he could do something to help. After all, problem solving was one of his strong points.
~ ~ ~ ~
note  ❀  lolol hi this was supposed to be posted on monday night but I was being lazy and didn’t finish until wednesday morning T-T. and btw, y/n’s bff Yuiko is supposed to be the Yuiko who sang Umbrella with Namjoon on duet song festival bc ever since that performance I’ve just shipped them so hard so there may or may not be some fluff between them in later chapters *wink wonk* hope you enjoyed ;)))  ❀
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fuckyeahdialectics · 7 years ago
Quote
They worked They were always on time They were never late They never spoke back when they were insulted They worked They never took days off that were not on the calendar They never went on strike without permission They worked ten days a week and were only paid for five They worked They worked They worked and they died They died broke They died owing They died never knowing what the front entrance of the first national city bank looks like Juan Miguel Milagros Olga Manuel All died yesterday today and will die again tomorrow passing their bill collectors on to the next of kin All died waiting for the garden of eden to open up again under a new management All died dreaming about america waking them up in the middle of the night screaming: Mira Mira your name is on the winning lottery ticket for one hundred thousand dollars All died hating the grocery stores that sold them make-believe steak and bullet-proof rice and beans All died waiting dreaming and hating Dead Puerto Ricans Who never knew they were Puerto Ricans Who never took a coffee break from the ten commandments to KILL KILL KILL the landlords of their cracked skulls and communicate with their latino souls Juan Miguel Milagros Olga Manuel From the nervous breakdown streets where the mice live like millionaires and the people do not live at all are dead and were never alive Juan died waiting for his number to hit Miguel died waiting for the welfare check to come and go and come again Milagros died waiting for her ten children to grow up and work so she could quit working Olga died waiting for a five dollar raise Manuel died waiting for his supervisor to drop dead so he could get a promotion Is a long ride from Spanish Harlem to long island cemetery where they were buried First the train and then the bus and the cold cuts for lunch and the flowers that will be stolen when visiting hours are over Is very expensive Is very expensive But they understand Their parents understood Is a long non-profit ride from Spanish Harlem to long island cemetery Juan Miguel Milagros Olga Manuel All died yesterday today and will die again tomorrow Dreaming Dreaming about queens Clean-cut lily-white neighborhood Puerto Ricanless scene Thirty-thousand-dollar home The first spics on the block Proud to belong to a community of gringos who want them lynched Proud to be a long distance away from the sacred phrase: Que Pasa These dreams These empty dreams from the make-believe bedrooms their parents left them are the after-effects of television programs about the ideal white american family with black maids and latino janitors who are well train to make everyone and their bill collectors laugh at them and the people they represent Juan died dreaming about a new car Miguel died dreaming about new anti-poverty programs Milagros died dreaming about a trip to Puerto Rico Olga died dreaming about real jewelry Manuel died dreaming about the irish sweepstakes They all died like a hero sandwich dies in the garment district at twelve o’clock in the afternoon social security number to ashes union dues to dust They knew they were born to weep and keep the morticians employed as long as they pledge allegiance to the flag that wants them destroyed They saw their names listed in the telephone directory of destruction They were train to turn the other cheek by newspapers that mispelled mispronounced and misunderstood their names and celebrated when death came and stole their final laundry ticket They were born dead and they died dead Is time to visit sister lopez again the number one healer and fortune card dealer in Spanish Harlem She can communicate with your late relatives for a reasonable fee Good news is guaranteed Rise Table Rise Table death is not dumb and disable Those who love you want to know the correct number to play Let them know this right away Rise Table Rise Table death is not dumb and disable Now that your problems are over and the world is off your shoulders help those who you left behind find financial peace of mind Rise Table Rise Table death is not dumb and disable If the right number we hit all our problems will split and we will visit your grave on every legal holiday Those who love you want to know the correct number to play let them know this right away We know your spirit is able Death is not dumb and disable RISE TABLE RISE TABLE Juan Miguel Milagros Olga Manuel All died yesterday today and will die again tomorrow Hating fighting and stealing broken windows from each other Practicing a religion without a roof The old testament The new testament according to the gospel of the internal revenue the judge and jury and executioner protector and eternal bill collector Secondhand shit for sale learn how to say Como Esta Usted and you will make a fortune They are dead They are dead and will not return from the dead until they stop neglecting the art of their dialogue for broken english lessons to impress the mister goldsteins who keep them employed as lavaplatos porters messenger boys factory workers maids stock clerks shipping clerks assistant mailroom assistant, assistant assistant to the assistant’s assistant assistant lavaplatos and automatic artificial smiling doormen for the lowest wages of the ages and rages when you demand a raise because is against the company policy to promote SPICS SPICS SPICS Juan died hating Miguel because Miguel’s used car was in better running condition than his used car Miguel died hating Milagros because Milagros had a color television set and he could not afford one yet Milagros died hating Olga because Olga made five dollars more on the same job Olga died hating Manuel because Manuel had hit the numbers more times than she had hit the numbers Manuel died hating all of them Juan Miguel Milagros and Olga because they all spoke broken english more fluently than he did And now they are together in the main lobby of the void Addicted to silence Off limits to the wind Confine to worm supremacy in long island cemetery This is the groovy hereafter the protestant collection box was talking so loud and proud about Here lies Juan Here lies Miguel Here lies Milagros Here lies Olga Here lies Manuel who died yesterday today and will die again tomorrow Always broke Always owing Never knowing that they are beautiful people Never knowing the geography of their complexion PUERTO RICO IS A BEAUTIFUL PLACE PUERTORRIQUENOS ARE A BEAUTIFUL RACE If only they had turned off the television and tune into their own imaginations If only they had used the white supremacy bibles for toilet paper purpose and make their latino souls the only religion of their race If only they had return to the definition of the sun after the first mental snowstorm on the summer of their senses If only they had kept their eyes open at the funeral of their fellow employees who came to this country to make a fortune and were buried without underwears Juan Miguel Milagros Olga Manuel will right now be doing their own thing where beautiful people sing and dance and work together where the wind is a stranger to miserable weather conditions where you do not need a dictionary to communicate with your people Aqui Se Habla Espanol all the time Aqui you salute your flag first Aqui there are no dial soap commercials Aqui everybody smells good Aqui tv dinners do not have a future Aqui the men and women admire desire and never get tired of each other Aqui Que Paso Power is what’s happening Aqui to be called negrito means to be called LOVE
Puerto Rican Obituary, Pedro Pietri, 1969.
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bi-swamp-thing · 8 years ago
Quote
They worked They were always on time They were never late They never spoke back when they were insulted They worked They never took days off that were not on the calendar They never went on strike without permission They worked ten days a week and were only paid for five They worked They worked They worked and they died They died broke They died owing They died never knowing what the front entrance of the first national city bank looks like Juan Miguel Milagros Olga Manuel All died yesterday today and will die again tomorrow passing their bill collectors on to the next of kin All died waiting for the garden of eden to open up again under a new management All died dreaming about america waking them up in the middle of the night screaming: Mira Mira your name is on the winning lottery ticket for one hundred thousand dollars All died hating the grocery stores that sold them make-believe steak and bullet-proof rice and beans All died waiting dreaming and hating Dead Puerto Ricans Who never knew they were Puerto Ricans Who never took a coffee break from the ten commandments to KILL KILL KILL the landlords of their cracked skulls and communicate with their latino souls Juan Miguel Milagros Olga Manuel From the nervous breakdown streets where the mice live like millionaires and the people do not live at all are dead and were never alive Juan died waiting for his number to hit Miguel died waiting for the welfare check to come and go and come again Milagros died waiting for her ten children to grow up and work so she could quit working Olga died waiting for a five dollar raise Manuel died waiting for his supervisor to drop dead so he could get a promotion Is a long ride from Spanish Harlem to long island cemetery where they were buried First the train and then the bus and the cold cuts for lunch and the flowers that will be stolen when visiting hours are over Is very expensive Is very expensive But they understand Their parents understood Is a long non-profit ride from Spanish Harlem to long island cemetery Juan Miguel Milagros Olga Manuel All died yesterday today and will die again tomorrow Dreaming Dreaming about queens Clean-cut lily-white neighborhood Puerto Ricanless scene Thirty-thousand-dollar home The first spics on the block Proud to belong to a community of gringos who want them lynched Proud to be a long distance away from the sacred phrase: Que Pasa These dreams These empty dreams from the make-believe bedrooms their parents left them are the after-effects of television programs about the ideal white american family with black maids and latino janitors who are well train to make everyone and their bill collectors laugh at them and the people they represent Juan died dreaming about a new car Miguel died dreaming about new anti-poverty programs Milagros died dreaming about a trip to Puerto Rico Olga died dreaming about real jewelry Manuel died dreaming about the irish sweepstakes They all died like a hero sandwich dies in the garment district at twelve o’clock in the afternoon social security number to ashes union dues to dust They knew they were born to weep and keep the morticians employed as long as they pledge allegiance to the flag that wants them destroyed They saw their names listed in the telephone directory of destruction They were train to turn the other cheek by newspapers that mispelled mispronounced and misunderstood their names and celebrated when death came and stole their final laundry ticket They were born dead and they died dead Is time to visit sister lopez again the number one healer and fortune card dealer in Spanish Harlem She can communicate with your late relatives for a reasonable fee Good news is guaranteed Rise Table Rise Table death is not dumb and disable Those who love you want to know the correct number to play Let them know this right away Rise Table Rise Table death is not dumb and disable Now that your problems are over and the world is off your shoulders help those who you left behind find financial peace of mind Rise Table Rise Table death is not dumb and disable If the right number we hit all our problems will split and we will visit your grave on every legal holiday Those who love you want to know the correct number to play let them know this right away We know your spirit is able Death is not dumb and disable RISE TABLE RISE TABLE Juan Miguel Milagros Olga Manuel All died yesterday today and will die again tomorrow Hating fighting and stealing broken windows from each other Practicing a religion without a roof The old testament The new testament according to the gospel of the internal revenue the judge and jury and executioner protector and eternal bill collector Secondhand shit for sale learn how to say Como Esta Usted and you will make a fortune They are dead They are dead and will not return from the dead until they stop neglecting the art of their dialogue for broken english lessons to impress the mister goldsteins who keep them employed as lavaplatos porters messenger boys factory workers maids stock clerks shipping clerks assistant mailroom assistant, assistant assistant to the assistant’s assistant assistant lavaplatos and automatic artificial smiling doormen for the lowest wages of the ages and rages when you demand a raise because is against the company policy to promote SPICS SPICS SPICS Juan died hating Miguel because Miguel’s used car was in better running condition than his used car Miguel died hating Milagros because Milagros had a color television set and he could not afford one yet Milagros died hating Olga because Olga made five dollars more on the same job Olga died hating Manuel because Manuel had hit the numbers more times than she had hit the numbers Manuel died hating all of them Juan Miguel Milagros and Olga because they all spoke broken english more fluently than he did And now they are together in the main lobby of the void Addicted to silence Off limits to the wind Confine to worm supremacy in long island cemetery This is the groovy hereafter the protestant collection box was talking so loud and proud about Here lies Juan Here lies Miguel Here lies Milagros Here lies Olga Here lies Manuel who died yesterday today and will die again tomorrow Always broke Always owing Never knowing that they are beautiful people Never knowing the geography of their complexion PUERTO RICO IS A BEAUTIFUL PLACE PUERTORRIQUENOS ARE A BEAUTIFUL RACE If only they had turned off the television and tune into their own imaginations If only they had used the white supremacy bibles for toilet paper purpose and make their latino souls the only religion of their race If only they had return to the definition of the sun after the first mental snowstorm on the summer of their senses If only they had kept their eyes open at the funeral of their fellow employees who came to this country to make a fortune and were buried without underwears Juan Miguel Milagros Olga Manuel will right now be doing their own thing where beautiful people sing and dance and work together where the wind is a stranger to miserable weather conditions where you do not need a dictionary to communicate with your people Aqui Se Habla Espanol all the time Aqui you salute your flag first Aqui there are no dial soap commercials Aqui everybody smells good Aqui tv dinners do not have a future Aqui the men and women admire desire and never get tired of each other Aqui Que Paso Power is what’s happening Aqui to be called negrito means to be called LOVE
“Puerto Rican Obituary” by Pedro Pietri, 
This is a recording of Pietri reading his work https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XCD0IsZ4HLI
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adeleaux-blog · 7 years ago
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Guideline Ideas For Logical Methods Of Iso Xp Probiotic Protein
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The key to reaching your goals remains the correct training and maintaining a balanced diet, but there are supplements out there which can boost your muscle growth and training capabilities, if used correctly and safely. With the help of James and Tom Exton and Lloyd and Max Bridger at health and fitness experts LDN Muscle , we've pulled together the safest and most effective supplements. From your regular whey protein to the correct pre-workout boost and late night treat, we’ve covered everything from mass-gainers to creatine monohydrate. Remember though, this is NOT an excuse to skip training and eat junk food to your heart’s content. Click on the gallery to see the IndyBest buys       You’ll find whey protein shakes sold everywhere but often it’s hard to know exactly what’s in them. Genetic Supplements' version stands out from the pack as they break down their Bio Whey so you know exactly what’s in it. It is made from micro-filtered 85% whey concentrate sourced from grass-fed Swiss dairy cattle and over 90% whey isolate. Bio Whey has excellent mixability in your shaker, resulting in greater absorption in the gut for maximum efficiency and muscle growth and recovery. £41.99 per-2kg, geneticsupplements.co.uk Many mass gainers – made to help with bulk muscle growth - can go over-the-top in what they offer, but iSupp have hit the nail on the head without going overboard with this. It provides a real boost when it comes to building lean muscle yet avoiding fat gains, having the optimal balance of carbohydrates, proteins and fats to fuel muscle growth. £50 per-4kg, i-supp.co.uk 3/8 THE PROTEIN WORKS™ Creatine Monohydrate Creatine monohydrate can provide visible gains when looking to build strength.
For the original version including any supplementary images or video, visit https://www.independent.co.uk/extras/indybest/food-drink/best-gym-supplements-9187127.html
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Getting Fit: What You Need To Know About Living A Healthy Life
Fitness is not only exercise, it encompasses many different things. It covers items such as gyms, diet, workout routines and exercise programs. There are a lot of things someone can do to become fit and healthy. This article aims to serve as your starting point towards reaching your fitness goals. Lifting weights is not the only thing that goes into fitness. When it comes down to it, you only need to implement push-ups, leg raises, pull-ups, squats, handstand push-ups and bridges to maintain all of your muscles. Create a garden oasis. Starting a garden requires a lot of hard physical work. You must dig holes, do some weeding, and lots of squatting. Gardening is only one thing that can be done at home to stay in shape. Signing up at a gym and paying your yearly fee upfront can give you the motivation to stick to your workout plans. If you don't feel like attending, the money spent might motivate you. Of course, this is something you should do primarily if you have issues committing to a specific location. When thinking about fitness, make a mental picture of what you want to accomplish. In other words, think about your goal. They will help you overcome obstacles and keep your focus away from how hard or how much work individual routines are. Having a goal in place will also work to discourage quitting. It will make you focus more on the ongoing process of fitness, and you will know that you are not done yet. Don't have much time for workouts? Separate workouts into 2 sessions. You don't need to make your workouts longer, you should just divide them into two parts. If you cut your work out into half, do the first session early in the day and the second half in the evening. If you break your work out into 3 sessions, do the middle session near lunch time. If you cringe at the thought of visiting the gym two times daily, do it only once and get your other exercise outdoors. Get toned triceps by performing modified push-ups. Instead of doing normal push-ups, turn your hands at a 45 degree angle. When you do pushups this way, you'll have the triceps targeted and strengthened more effectively. When starting a new fitness plan, it is a good idea to be a little unconventional. There is a large number of activities that would help you losing weight. You should find something that keeps you motivated and happy to continue with the activity. If you work out while you are watching television, it will be very easy to keep up your momentum. You should aim to get out off the couch and walk during commercial breaks. Small weight-training exercises can be done, even as you sit on the couch. There are many little ways to incorporate exercise into tiny gaps in your day. The preceding article makes it clear that fitness encompasses a wide variety of products, services and methods. While there are a few basic rules that have to be followed, every exerciser has a wide array of options to customize his or her fitness routine. Hopefully you'll now have a good starting point of where to begin on your fitness journey.
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A Helpful Breakdown Of Root Details Of Canada
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For the original version including any supplementary images or video, visit https://globenewswire.com/news-release/2018/04/23/1485095/0/en/Maricann-Group-Inc-Receives-Health-Canada-Approval-for-Phase-One-of-Canadian-Expansion.html
Vitamins And Minerals Will Be Less Confusing With This Great Advice
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