Io ci sono sempre, per tutti. Mi accorgo subito quando c'è qualcosa che non va. Mi accorgo degli occhi tristi, spenti, delle labbra rovinate e delle mani che tremano.
Ma vi siete mai chiesti come sto io? Se sono felice, triste, se ho voglia di piangere. Vi siete mai chiesti se anch'io potessi avere una giornata storta?
Già, voi siete troppo egoisti e menefreghisti per accorgervi degli altri.
No, non distrutta. Non sono distrutta, sono sconfitta. Ciò che sento in questo momento è pura sconfitta. Ho passato mesi a combattere contro l’inevitabile, a spingere contro una corrente che era troppo forte per riuscire a trattenere da sola, e ora ne sono stata sommersa senza scialuppe di salvataggio in vista.
Sungjin: big comfy sweaters, cups of hot cocoa, a roaring fire, thick woollen blankets, tucking your frozen toes under his thighs to warm them, falling asleep to Frank Sinatra.
Jae: lazy days off spent in the warmest pjs known to man, building a wicked awesome pillow fort, initiating a battle with a pair of marshmallow guns, roasting discarded marshmallows over a candle while sitting on the rubble of the pillow fort.
Young K: walking through a snow covered park at night, bundled up in multiple scarves, having an impromptu snowball fight, slipping on ice down a bank, landing in a huge snow drift, lying there looking at the stars for a half hour until you realize you can’t feel your nose
Wonpil: building a snowman five minutes after the first snowfall, twig and pebble searching, absentmindedly eating the carrot nose before being able to use it, changing the man into a bunny due to lack of nose
Dowoon: baking sugar cookies at midnight, painting each other’s faces with batter and icing, burning fingers and mouths on hot cookies cause you were too impatient for them to cool, having a contest on who could make the ugliest cookie face
The dense rainfall outsides pours down, hitting the hotel window, causing your little one to stir and begin to wail at the abrupt disturbance. You with great care pick her up from the hotel cot, soothing her as you rub her back. Since the eleven hour flight from London to Las Angeles, she’s been to some extent grumpy and hasn’t been sleeping for too long. You sigh, sitting down on the bed, keeping her in your arms as your eyes move waveringly towards the television. At just two months old she has mastered the art of wailing and being an excessively light sleeper. “I know sweetheart, L.A isn’t like home, I know.” You say with a sigh, pressing her dummy (pacifier) to her small lips, her cries commencing to fade as she sucks on the dummy. Your eyes meet he the dress hanging against the hotel wardrobe, the lavishing black gown residing inside a coal-black bag. Tonight’s original plan was to atten he awards at the Staples Centre, accompanying your husbnd as he’s nominated for ‘best solo artist’ and a few other awards. With your two month old, being inordinately cranky and exhausting the two of you, you determined it was better to stay with your little girl and not have Liam baby sit her while he too is in Las Angeles, but for different reasons. Your eyes shine intermitently towards the television, your little girl cradled contently in your arms just as the ravishing interviewer reveals Harry.
“Here we have Harry Styles, nominated for four awards tonight. How does that feel?” She wears a smile, sticking to the particular opener question she’s probably reading from behind the camera. As customary harry gives an eminently modest and well-mannered response, adjusting his suit jacket, a small indication he’s slightly nervous. “Is your lovely missus back in London holding down the fort?” The young lady beams, handing the microphone back to Harry.
He shakes his head, “no, no, she’s here at the hotel, our little one wasn’t wanting to part ways with her so they’re at the hotel.” He discloses with a smile, a small glimmers to his eye as he’s probed about the love of his life,
“Ah, we are running out of time but your little girl is so precious, we’ve seen pictures, tell us, does she have your eyes?” She queries as others walk behind them, accessing the venue,
“She does not,” he shakes his head with a grin, “she has m’ wife’s, but she does this thing where she crinkles her nose with her smile and somewhat content responses, she definitely got that from me.” He gracefully broadcasts to everyone watching, unable to contain the beaming smile he’s wearing across his face. You can’t help but chuckle and look down at your little girl, her leaden-eyes gazing up at you while she continues to soundlessly suck her dummy. “Your Daddy basically said you’re the cutest thing in the world, yes he did.” You coo, leaning down and placing a small kiss to her warm, rosy cheek. You guardedly lay her beside you on the California king bed, rubbing her very little tummy as she wiggles her teensy legs and becomes comfortable, her eyes shining brilliantly at you to make sure you’re still beside her. You press another tender kiss to her forehead, admiring her beady eyes, long eye lashes, and her gummy smile. She batters her groggy eyes, yawning adorably, before closing her drowsy eyes. When they say you sleep when the baby sleeps, they definitely weren’t wrong.
Your eyes leisurely open as you overhear the hotel door opening and quietly closing, your husband emerging, his tie already undone and hanging around his neck, his suit jacket draped over his arm, “hey,” he talks in a whisper, taking note of his sleeping infant on the bed,
“Hey.” You whisper back, admiring his apparel. A man in a suit has always turned you on, but him more precisely in a suit with a tie hanging around his neck flat-ass kills you inside. “How’d it go?” You delicately question as he places his jacket down on the chair, he shrugs wearily, perhaps with a few glasses of alcohol in his system, “I won, how are you?” He graciously inquires, his eyes narrowing down on you,
“Congratulations, I’m tired. Shouldn’t you be at an after party? Celebrating and getting tipsy?” You smoothly chuckle, remembering the several other nights he has gotten drunk after events and found himself stumbling into the wrong limo. “I preferred to be with you.” He responds, walking closer to the bed as he unbuttons his shirt, allowing it to drop to the floor, exposing his tan skin and tattooed body. “Go and celebrate.” You gently press, not wanting him to miss out on all the fun. After all, you’re only going to sleep with the baby while he’s out, there’s not much fun in this hotel room. He shakes his head, declining your encouragement. “Please be careful, don’t wake her.” You instantly respond as he presses a hand to the bed, getting ready to climb on.
“I don’t intend to.” He assures you, with great care getting on the bed and lying beside her, carefully leaning over and placing a tender kiss to your lips, “if she wakes up you’re calming her.” You give fair warning, holding your breath as he conscientiously presses back down into the bed, being cautious of his light sleeping baby. “I’ll soothe her when she cries next.” He whispers, “do you know how many people asked about the two of you? It was almost as if they weren’t interested in me.” He playfully pouts his lips, not caring at all that people are curious about you and the baby. You’ve been under the radar since having the baby, not wanting to jump back into being thoroughly exposed to the world. So, when Harry is occasionally asked about the three of you, he proudly answers, more than delighted to brag about the newest family addition, and how you’re unconditionally astounding when it comes to the three in the morning bottle feeds that he dreads doing. “Well, I’m sure they’re just interested that Harry had a baby.” You crack a smile, admiring his drowsiness.
“No, darling. Correction; I did not have our baby, you did.” He chuckles adorably, the baby letting out a small grunt as she is sleeping,
“Whatever.” You roll your eyes, “so how many pictures did you show off?” You quaintly ask, knowing that there’s a high chance he proudly showed eager friends some exclusive pictures of the baby. You two have only publicly released three pictures, and there is bound to be at least a hundred pictures stored on Harry’s phone. “I showed a few to other artists.” He admits, “she’s just so lovely, I can’t help it.” He adds. You wear a smile, continuing to listen to all the events that happened at the awards while unhurriedly falling asleep with your daughter securely between you and Harry.
This song is an havanera composed by Càstor Pérez and Glòria Cruz, here sang by their daughter Sílvia.
Havaneres are a traditional style of music that originated
in the 19th century, but they are more popular in the coast of the Catalan Countries, the Basque Country, Asturias and Cantabria. These songs were commonly sung in the ships of sailors and immigrants who went from the Iberian Peninsula to look for a betterr life in Cuba, and for this reason many of these songs are very nostalgic and often talk about missing their homeland or lost loves.
(In the video, the song starts at 1:34)
Here you have the original lyrics of this song in Catalan and their translation to English.
Pinto les notes d'una havanera I paint the notes of an habanera
blava com l'aigua d'un mar antic, blue like the water of an ancient sea,
blanca d'escuma, dolça com l'aire, white like foam, sweet like the air,
gris de gavines, daurada d'imatges, grey like seagulls, gold by images,
vestida de nit. dressed in evening gown.
Miro el paisatge, cerco paraules, I look at the landscape, I search for words,
que omplin els versos sense neguit. that will fill the verses without unease.
Els pins m'abracen, sento com callen, Pine trees hug me, I hear how they go quiet,
el vent s'emporta tot l'horitzó.
the wind blows away the whole horizon.
Si pogués fer-me escata
If I could become scale
i amagar-me a la platja and hide at the beach
per sentir sons i tardes del passat, to hear sounds and afternoons of the past,
d'aquell món d'enyorança,
of that world of nostalgia,
amor i calma, perfumat de lluna, foc i rom love and calm,
scented with moon, fire and rum.
Si pogués enfilar-me a l'onada més alta If I could climb the highest wave
i guarnir de palmeres el record, and adorn the memory with palm trees,
escampant amb canyella totes les cales
sprinkling every cove with cinnamon
i amb petxines fer-los un bressol. and making them a cradle with shells.
Els vells em parlen plens de tendresa, The old ones talk to me, full of tenderness,
d'hores viscudes amb emoció. about hours lived with emotion.
Joves encara, forts i valents, Still young, strong and brave,
prínceps de xarxa, herois de tempesta, princes of the net, heroes of the storm,
amics del bon temps. friends of the good weather.
Els ulls inventen noves històries, The eyes invent new stories,
vaixells que tornen d'un lloc de sol. boats coming back from a sunny place.
Porten tonades enamorades, They carry songs in love,
dones i Pàtria, veles i flors. women and motherland, sails and flowers.
Mitchell spends all afternoon making lemonade. This required a trip to the store specifically for lemons, but he’s quite happy with the end result. It’s been in the fridge for barely ten minutes when the doorbell rings. Mitchell runs to greet his guests.
“I made lemonade!” he announces.
“Mitchell Carter, that’s not how we say hello,” you scold.
“Sorry, Mama.” Then to his guests he says, “Would you like to come inside and have some lemonade?”
“Lemonade sounds awesome.” Dean steps into the house with Ramona and closes the door.
Anon asked: Hi doll!💕
I was wondering if I could please request a Roy Christmas thingy? Haha I’m
aiming for something different like the other anon maybe the reader and him had
this intense snowball fight that they ended up rolling on top of each other
until the reader pins Roy down and tells him “looks like I won this
time” and winks at him. This drives him nuts (they’re just
“friends”) she was about to get up when Roy can’t resist anymore
pulls her in for a kiss? FLUFF!💕if you can if not I’ll change it☺
A/N: This was my first time ever writting about Roy. I know he’s a lot of people’s fav so I was and am pretty scared of showing this to you because I’m afraid this won’t be good enough? But anyways, here it is.I hope you like it, if not, let me know so that I can rewrite/correct it.
It was one
of those really cold winter days and it was snowing. You were walking in a
local park when you felt something hitting your back. You turned around and saw
Roy Harper leaning against a tree with a snowball in his hand.
was that for?” you asked him looking at your jacket.
answer. Instead, he smiled mischievously and threw the snowball. You had good
reflexes so you were able to dodge before it could hit you.
reflexes.” He commented. “Let’s see how good they actually are.” he grabbed another
piece of snow and turned it into a perfect esphere.
Roy.” You rolled your eyes and looked at the snow in his hand. “Oh, you wanna
play?” you smirked “Bring it on, sucker.”
the ball at you and it hit you hard on the chest. How could a snowball hurt so
much? Roy had an amazing aim and he knew how to combine it with his strenght.
He was going to be a tough opponent but you were ready to beat his ass, even if
it was just in a snowball fight.
As Roy crouched
to grab more snow, you started running. You needed somewhere to hide, to be protected,
like a park bench.
you found snow forts some kids had built not far from where you previously were.
You ran to one of then and sit there with your back against it. Roy was quick
so he saw where you went.
calm footsteps in your direction and you knew it was him. You kept quiet and
prepared some snowballs to throw at him.
(Y/N). Get out of there” you heard Roy’s voice “Don’t tell me you’re scared.” he
one of the snowballs next to your chest getting ready to throw it. You peeked
to see where he was but a very cold form was smashed against your face.
dammit Harper!” you yelled at him “Not in the eyes!”
playfully “You have to know how your enemy’s weaknesses.”
not my weakness, it’s my freaking eyes!” you blinked multiple times trying to
get your vision back.
thing.” He shrugged his shoulders and threw multiple snowballs at your fort. “Now
get out of there and fight like a man.”
That was it. You were mad now.You were determined to win this fight, and you
were going to.
back.” You got up looking him dead in the eyes.
back!” you spoke loudly and walked towards him and threw a big snowball at him,
hitting him in the face. He was not expecting it so he started falling
backwards but he grabbed your wrist before he could fall.
now facing each other, faces inches away. Roy quickly inverted your positions
and he was now on top of you.
so unnecessary.” He said.
have to know how your enemy’s weaknesses.’ “ you quoted him making him roll his
guess I won.” he stated.
so cocky.” you raised an eyebrow “It’s not like you won a grammy.”
there is no Snowball Fight grammy. But if there was one, I would definitely win
get tired?” you asked.
he frowned confused.
your positions once again, pinning him down.
your ass kicked by a girl?” you smiled triumphantly “That’s what happens when you
let your guard down, Harper. That and the fact that we, woman, are badasses.” You
laughed at his astonished expression. You leaned closer to him and whispered in
his ear “Looks like I won this time” you looked into his eyes for a bit before
winking at him.
Roy felt a
huge urge to grab your face and kiss you and that’s exactly what he did before
you could get up. Both of you wanted that for a long time. You were friends,
but clearly felt something for each other. You were surprised because you weren’t
expecting him to like you too, but you kissed him back not wanting to loose
jackass.” You told him after you pulled away. “You could’ve done this a long
without a fight before, like couples do.” He chuckled kissing you once again. “You
know what else couples do after fights? Make up se-“
stopped him before he could finish his sentence. “Let’s not go that fast, ok?”
you giggled getting up.
laughed while you helped him get up. “Sure”
went for a walk around the park, holding hands and laughing making people
around you smile and envy you for your cuteness.
So…I’m trying to write another long fic? Am I crazy, overly ambitious, or unrealistic? Most likely, all of the above.
But if you like murder, pizza, hacking, female friendship, romance, bad matchmaking, gay slow dancing, bat puns, drama, family bonding, two idiots getting their shit together under…shall we say…unforeseen circumstances, and above all, Barbara Gordon being the hero of her own story, then this labor of my impulses may be for you.
On April 1, 1988, 8 year old Fort Wayne, Indiana resident April Tinsley was on a playdate with two of her friends. In the middle of the playdate, April told her friends that she was going to go down the street to retrieve an umbrella she had left at a friend’s house. On her way there, a witness saw the little girl getting forced into a blue pickup truck owned by a middle aged man. On April 4th, April’s body was discovered by a jogger in a ditch twenty miles away from Fort Wayne. The young girl had been raped and suffocated. The case went cold until May 21, 1990, when a boy in Fort Wayne alerted the police that a peculiar message had shown up on a barn door. The message had gotten darker as time went by, indicating that someone had shown up repeatedly to write over it. The message, shown on the bottom, read “I kill 8 year old April Marie Tisley. I will kill again. Ha ha.” It was believed that whoever wrote the chilling message was April’s murderer. Three weeks after the message was written, 7 year old Fort Wayne resident Sarah Bowker disappeared, and her body was later found in a ditch raped and suffocated as well. The coroner believed that the two murders were related.
In March 25, 2004, a 5 year old girl found a sealed letter in her bike basket. The letter included an anonymous confession and indicated that there was a present left for the girl. The present was a used condom found in the same bag that the letter arrived in. Three more letters were found as time went on, each more obscene. The second letter was found in a mailbox by a mailman, and included a used condom as well. The third letter was discovered on a 7 year old girl’s bicycle. The last note included a Polaroid showing the perpetrator from the waist down. The letters have been proven to have come from April’s killer, who the FBI described as a Preferential Sex Offender from Fort Wayne interested in young girls. However, the case ultimately remains unsolved.
There’s the sound of quiet shuffling from one room to the next as Morty tries his best to set up a blanket fort with what he could carry.
However, when he got all his ‘supplies’ into the living room, he dropped the mess of blankets in the floor before he then waddled off into the kitchen where his dad was sitting at the table.
Probably doing boring adult things if he had to guess.
Morty didn’t want to bother him though, so without asking for help, the toddler made his way over to the dining table where the other was, and he grabbed one of the empty chairs. Struggling to try and drag said chair back into the living room with him to try and make his fort.