is that a safety vest

Pro Tip

For newer drivers, or those curious, if you’re driving over the road, and especially long haul, you’ll find yourself needing things that, if you don’t have them on hand, might prove difficult or at the least a pain in the ass to acquire. It’s best to accumulate what you MAY need, and restock ASAP whenever you use something.

Just as an example, I carry the following with me all the time:


2 jugs of water

Canned fruit and food



Paper towel

Wet Naps


Glass cleaner


Work rags

Rain gear


Heavy coat

Extra boots (steel toe preferred)

Work gloves

Extra work gloves

Fueling gloves

3 jugs washer fluid

2 jugs oil

2 jugs coolant


8 straps





2 padlocks

kingpin lock



Basic tools- wrenches, sockets, screwdrivers, vise grips

tire guage

kitty litter

High visibility safety vest

Safety glasses

Hard hat


Extra red and blue air lines and pigtail

air gun

assorted nuts, bolts, screws

2 flashlights

First aid kit

Ace bandages


Cold Medication

Pepto Bismal

Duct tape


utility knife

tons of pens

a Sharpie

12v plug in fan

Extra blankets

hand cleaner

assorted bungies

Adaptable attitude

This is besides food, clothes, etc..

Be like a highly mobile Boy Scout, be prepared.

when i was seven the sea-witch cursed me.

she cursed my great-grandfather, actually, who had spat on the hands of the ocean and disrespected the beating heart of the earth - for what else are waves but a pulse - who was silly and violent and who tried to rip from the water what was hers by rights. we were wealthy, before that, a family of merchants. my mother says in her youth she recalls white horses, the gleam of candles, early mornings with bread baked fresh by a horde of servants.

he didn’t ask permission to cross her. that’s what my mother tells me while she spoons porridge with no flavor into the wood of my bowl. he had no faith in superstition, rode with boats that were more decoration than strength, the folly of a man who was cruel and vain and proud of his own gold teeth. the sky had been blue, so regardless of what the village witch said, he would sail that day. and when his boat sank; their lives turned blue like the sky that day.

my mother says she thinks the curse on the men of our family, even if they come in when they marry, is that they will forever be violent, too foolish to see the storm on the horizon. she whispers this to me on the eve of my seventh birthday, while father is his own storm, thundering around the house, looking for her. later, when i am cleaning the cut by her cheek, she tells me the curse is on the women to forever be unhappy, to wane until they are shadows, to walk into the deep like a sinking ship. 

we don’t burn candles often, they are too expensive. she tells me this in the silk of a dark room. the moon kisses her hair. 

in three days, my mother will walk into the ocean, and my father will be my own problem. the curse will pass onto me. 

my father does not believe in superstition, no curse to conquer him. when he is gone, and i am heartbroken, i go to the village witch. i ask her to teach me about magic, and other things, and about how the ocean can be coaxed, and how to save my father’s soul. 

and my hands rot too, keeping a house by myself with things i barely knew. i learn the art of a good scrubbing, keep my mind full of white horses while i endlessly clean, dream of candles in dark while i make the bread that he will not allow me to eat. he keeps me from the ocean, from visiting the place that took my mom, from following in her footsteps where the water makes women undone.

i am sixteen when i see her in the water of a bowl. she scares me so completely that i drop it, and my father comes in with his hands, and the curse, and i almost forget all about it. it isn’t until after that i realize she is beautiful, and young, which surprises me. 

i think about it every evening. her face becomes distorted to me. i can no longer remember the exact shape of it, only the impression of beauty. 

i turn seventeen and wait for the high moon. i pin safety to my vest in little witch herbs and runes. i put naked toes on the sand and slip closer, closer, to the avenue of my family’s doom. i find a little private beach, small and surrounded by rocks, hidden from my father in the event he ever thought to come looking. at high tide, it is barely the span of my body. at low, it feels empty.

the witch of the land has given me what i need to call in the witch of the sea, but i do not use it. it feels wrong, somehow, standing here in the wind and the quiet pulse of the world. i put down the incense and sage and i sit just close enough it feels wild, dangerous - but not close enough to get caught up in thrill. 

when nothing happens, i go home and i make bread that i will not eat.

for months i do this. i climb down to my beach. i learn to do it when the moon is half, and then when the moon is empty. i learn to do it so well that sometimes i go to sleep in my own bed and wake up by the water. i take to sleeping with warding runes to keep me from being pulled in the rip out to the waiting hands of a hungry sea-witch.

i don’t know when i start talking. more often i sing, because singing in my house is not allowed, and something about the way the rocks echo my voice feels comforting. the older i get, the more i can pretend i hear my mother’s voice, answering me, harmonizing gently. i sing songs about sadness and lullabies about curses. when i have exhausted every song i know, i write new ones about fathers who have never learned how to be kind, about the house i work in but do not love, about mothers who left, and about a sea witch.

i see her sometimes. in a puddle, in the drop of rain, in the strangest places. i never expect it, although i always hope. i am never able to see her for more than the length of a wave, breaking, and each time, it does something new to my heart.

at eighteen i am too much of my father’s burden. he tries to unload me onto other men. the land witch helps me with this. i rub hemlock, burn wolfsbane. we arrange so these men have other women to marry. the news of my curse is bad enough to scare most away. my father is not happy.

after a particularly savage night, i wonder how bad it could be. i could marry some boy from the village who didn’t quite bother me. i suppose they’re not ugly. timothy had always been gentle to me. i think about a life, and how i am cursed to be unhappy. my father would finally be proud of me.

i walk to the beach and i tell the waves about him and how i could convince myself it was love if i just never wanted from him. how i could be okay, if not content, how i could be free, how i already had learned life down on knees.

but i go home and i write a rune of warding. and the years pass and i find reasons each suitor is wanting. and the sea witch i see, sometimes, peeking out at me, staying long each time in the water, looking, watching. i see her in mirrors when my father storms against me. it is bad because he mistakes the cause of my smiling. it is better when she is there the next morning.

and i go to the ocean. when i am too sad to speak, it seems like the ocean is whispering for me. i picture my mother’s voice and tell myself i am happy. i am seven again and we are sewing. i am seven again and the curse has not been given to me. i am seven and she came home after she walked to the sea.

i grow silly, brave, unthinking. i leave behind the herbs and i wade deep. i teach myself the art of swimming. i am bad at it, at first, but something about it feels good to me. like the ocean wants to buoy me. in the day i think of it, guilty. what if there was a rip tide, and the water took me? who would care for my father if i stepped off the beach into a long drop? wasn’t i clever enough to know that the ocean is uncaring?

it is not this that does it. i go out after a rain and i slip on the rocks and suddenly i am in water above my head but without the moon i cannot see the up of it. i kick and i thrash and the water surrounds me. the tide pulls on my body and in the cold i feel my body grow weary. water spills into me. it punches through my body, up my nose and into my lungs and some part of me knows this is what mother felt before she was gone.

i kick ground by accident, reorient, drag myself heaving and spitting into the air. i lie there for a long time, half in and half out of death, enjoying the sensation of breathing and of life.

when i look up, i think i see her, watching me, her brows knit with something like worry. but we make eye contact and my heart leaps and then she is gone and i am left alone with nothing but the dawn breaking.

my father is furious when there is no bread. he finds my hair wet, and the salt of the ocean still smelling on me. and that is it. that day he goes out and pays someone to agree to marry me.

this feels right to me, i think. i’m twenty-one, three times seven, a perfect number for a curse to fully come down on me. i will be wed in three weeks.

the land witch comes to visit me. she looks like she’s sorry for me. she gives me a spell and tells me to put it under my pillow; i’ll dream of love and it will soothe me. instead i dream of the seawitch, and how wonderful she is, and the sight of her, out on the water, worried.

even though it is risky, i go down to the beach. i do not bother with protective spells, i have already seen that the water can kill me. fear alone keeps me from wandering. i sit on the beach and in the sand i draw runes for understanding and i make the small magicks i’ve spent years learning and i close my eyes and i ask the ocean “why do you do this to me.”

i fall asleep. i dream that the sea witch talks to me. i dream she is my age, that she is the great-granddaughter of the first to curse my family. i dream she has spent years watching, learning, finding the truth of me. that she just needs to get the courage to come and speak, that she has fallen in love with my singing, that she knows no curse but the one in her heart that brings her back to a human, to a creature of air and not water, to a mistake in the making.

in the dawn i know it is a dream and no more. i make bread. i pour water out before it can make mirrors. i do not look. i do not like the ache that has filled me, as if i’ve been looking for an answer and the answer only leads to longing.

the man i meet - my husband-to-be - is delighted by the house i keep. he believes a woman should keep in her place, and her place should be clean. he hears from neighbors that sometimes i sneak out to the land witch’s house. laughter barks out of him. not going to allow that behavior, not me. he does not believe in curses. he will pack me up and move me from the ocean to somewhere in the mountains, where i know nobody. and i will, he promises, learn to keep my place, and that place clean.

i tell myself i could love him. he is not ugly. he says i’m pretty enough after whiskey. my father mentions i used to sing. i refuse to perform for these men so instead i make them cookies. they laugh and talk about me, even when i am in the room, as if they cannot even see. they shake hands and talk about how useless a woman is for much else than breeding. it’s very funny. the man meets my eyes and promises he’ll put a baby in me. i look down and pretend the thrill i feel is excitement, not fear brewing in me.

the land witch comes by a week before my wedding. she is smaller these days, aging. her apprentice and i get along wonderfully. the two women stand before me, holding something. 

a small box, so tiny and lovely. “break the curse,” the witch whispers, “learn to be happy.”

i smuggle the box, take it everywhere with me. it is days before i have a moment to slip away, to open it by the sea. i take a candle with me, even though my father will notice and be angry.

by the light of fire i read the spell they have left me inside, and then i am so full of gratitude i cannot stop crying.

it must be a full moon, so i must wait. in the meantime, i walk home, and i bake. 

i do not see the seawitch, even though i look for her. maybe i have wounded her, getting married. my father asks why i keep smiling. i tell him it is because i am finally with a man. he grunts and says to stop looking so silly. 

the man kisses me. i let him. we are married on a night with a full moon, and i poison him and my father in the bread i did not eat. i think of how these men were cursed so they could not see a storm coming. i watch them as they lie there, dying, and then i put all of the things i own into a basket for the land witch. i leave it there with a song i wrote for her, a spell i know will make her happy, will stop the aging of her joints, will give her the kind of relief she gave me. 

i go down to the water. i find myself running, even though i am in no hurry. i know the way so well it is like i wake up there, panting. i ask permission first. i lay out the contents of the box, i organize and practice and when the needle and pain comes, i am ready for it. i am used to pain at night. i breathe into it and walk naked into waters that swallowed my mother.

i chew bitter herbs. i swallow fire. i feel myself drown as i change from land witch to sea witch. 

when it is done, i open my eyes in the deep of a moonlit ocean. and i see her. 

this time she does not flicker. this time when i reach for her, she is there, and she is pushing my hair out of my eyes, and we are kissing with the ocean rejoicing around us, and i am laughing, and i hear her voice as clear as bell inside me.

and we live like this, a whole world between us where white horses are the size of pinky fingers and swim with their thin snouts, where i need no candles because i was raised lightless, where we have no servants but the water takes care of us. i show her the magic of land and she unfolds the magic of water. together we are unstoppable. when i come up to the air to sing little girls a promise that they can survive the madness, she sings with me, and we make a beautiful harmony.

Just Shut Up

Spencer Reid x Reader

Requested: Yes. @rxdgers : hi there!! I saw that requests were open, and you’re my fave Spencer Reid writer, so I thought I’d have a go. anyways, could you write a fic where y/n is a medic (but also a agent, but mainly there for if and when someone gets hurt) that goes on a trio mission with Spencer and Morgan to a high-crime area. Spencer gets hurt (I don’t care how he does could be gun or something) and y/n has to help him? Spencer jokes about his wound and spouts statistics and y/n shuts him up by kissing him? Morgan starts telling jokes about how the pretty boy finally got his pretty girl. I know you can make it work somehow😉😉 thanks!!

Word Count: 1.346, Warnings: Gunshot injury, mentions of blood.

Originally posted by sherrykinss

The morning at the police station had been eerily quiet for a Friday morning. You sipped on your latte as you watched the calm surroundings around you, hearing the faint sounds of phones ringing in the background and the delicate steps of Penelope Garcia pulled you out of your daydream as she urged you to follow her into a temporary bullpen that you were using whilst you were in Utah on a case. This was one of the few times Penelope travelled along with the team on sight and because of that, you were incredibly close to catching the UnSub. He had been using social media to entice young girls to meet them in very disclosed locations. It was definitely a hard case for you, these young girls had so much to live for and their lives had just begun and so seeing the under a white sheet in the coroner’s office made you sick to your stomach.

Keep reading

I guess you should never handle a horse anywhere without gloves, a helmet, a dressage whip, a stud chain, a safety vest, etc… horses are dangerous, period.  Where do you draw the line?

wanna one reacting to you not knowing how to ride a bike

-so i decided that it would be better to imagine this as wanna one as dads teaching 5-year-old you how to ride a bike

lai guanlin:  “ok so i think it’ll be easier if we start by taking the training wheels off only one at a time. you know, just to ease into things” *pushes you down the driveway* “wait, oh shi-” 

lee daehwi: “sweetie, dad will just hang onto your seat while you try to maintain balance, alright? don’t worry, i wont let you go” *you go down the hill* *daehwi struggles to slow u down* *is dragged across the ground* “DONT WORRY SWEETIE, DAD’S STILL HANGING ON, YOU JUST GET. THAT. BALANCE.” *forgets reason for living as his clothes get torn on the sidewalk*

bae jinyoung: “dad’s just gonna push you, and you’re gonna ride by yourself ok??” *shoves you as hard as he can* “woah wtf you’RE DOING GREAT SWEETIE” *realizes he didn’t take the training wheels off*

park woojin: “ok, we’ll learn at the park. let’s go!” *finally arrive at park* *forgets bike at home*

park jihoon: *would wrap you in bubble wrap over your helmet, your elbow/knee/shin/shoulder pads* *never lets go* *goes about .02 miles/hour in the grass*

kang daniel: *would be so excited about teaching you* *attaches streamers, pompoms, bells, whistles* *sets you off onto the road* *stares in sheer horror as the streamers get tangled in your pedals and wheels*

kim jaehwan: *refuses to teach you* “we’re tandem biking all day EVERYDAY hunty”

ong seongwoo: “biking is so easy. here, let me show you how it’s done” *rides gracefully down the sidewalk* *turns around to say* “you see? THE KEY IS BALAN-” *plows into a rose bush* 

hwang minhyun: *would carry a loudspeaker with him and forces you to wear a light-up vest because safety is #1 for dad minhyun* *screeches at every living thing that is within 2 feet radius* *doesn’t realize he’d been screaming at a leaf to get out of the way for 5 mins*

 ha sungwoon: “ok, we’ll learn at the park. let’s go!” *finally arrive at park* *forgets you at home*

yoon jisung: *at 3;04 am* “ok the moon should be at a 52º angle in thirty-six seconds, giving you the perfect lighting that will not blind you if you head in a NW direction at 5.3 mph. account the wind at a 3.1 mph, from- *licks finger and holds it out* “-a NNW direction, you’ll go the perfect speed” *bloodcurdling scream when a drop of rain hits him* 

K9 Valentine // Spencer x Reader One Shot

Happy V day my babies!!! <3 <3 <3 
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 


You and Spencer sat in the back of an SUV, Morgan and Emily in the front. This was not how you had planned to spend Valentine’s day, but it was better than nothing. At least the two of you were together.

Penelope had given you the address of a house where your unsub was believed to be hiding out. The car pulled onto the correct street, sirens blazing. Morgan parked a few blocks down, not wanting to scare off anyone in the house.

You all got out of the car, waiting for instructions to go in. You felt a pull on your kevlar vest from behind you, making you spin around. Spencer smiled at you, giving you a quick peck on the lips as he tightened your vest. He was always worried about your safety, it was adorable.

Emily and Spencer took the back door of the house while you followed Morgan up the front steps. It was a one story house, with only a first floor and a basement. You checked the kitchen and the dining room, both of which were clear. You met Morgan back in the living room, silently nodding to him. He nodded back, motioning for you to come down the hall.

You followed Morgan around the corner of the hallway, stopping at the door to the basement. Spencer and Emily turned around the other corner, meeting you in the middle. The four of you looked at the door, readying your guns. You and Emily took either side of the door frame, preparing for action. Morgan got in position to kick it down, while Spencer stood behind him to watch your backs. Morgan began quietly counting down from three, only getting to two before there was a cry from the other side of the door. Without hesitation, Morgan’s foot slammed into the door, breaking it in half. The four of you made your way down the stairs, taking your flashlights out to guide the way.

You each took a corner of the basement, checking for the source of the cry. You let your flashlight dust over each section of the room, inspecting for a victim.

“Clear,” Emily shouted from her side of the basement. You and Morgan announced the same when you couldn’t find anything in your areas.

A loud crash jolted you from your relaxed state. You ran over to the direction of the sound, fear taking over your thoughts as you realized it came from the area Spencer was covering. You shined your flashlight around, desperately looking for Spencer. Emily gasped as her flashlight found your boyfriend.

“A little help?” Spencer cried out as Morgan chuckled from behind your shoulder. You looked down at the scene in front of you. Spencer had been tackled by not only one, but two black and white border collie puppies. They were licking at his face with such ferocity that he couldn’t even keep his eyes opened. You giggled as he tried to push them off without success.

After watching the adorable demonstration for a little while longer, you finally gave in, scooping up one of the puppies and handing it to Emily. You grabbed the other one, holding it tightly against your chest. It had a pink collar around its neck with the address to the house you were in and the name “Anna”. You walked over to where Emily was holding the other puppy, flipping its identical pink collar over in your hands. It read “Elsa”.

Spencer got up from his spot on the ground, dusting off his clothes. You tried to contain your giggle when you noticed the drool and slobber all over his sweater vest.

Hotch arrived at the house with the SWAT team. There seemed to be no unsub in sight, but they were still going to check. You, Emily, Morgan, and Reid climbed the stairs of the basement and made your way outside to the SUV you had driven there in.

Morgan opened the passenger side door, digging through the cupboard. He retrieved two waters bottle and poured some into the palm of his hand, allowing the puppies to drink from it. You glanced at Spencer from the corner of your eye, noticing the way he watched the dogs intently. This gave you an idea.

Hotch walked over to the four of you after doing a sweep of the house. He took a picture out of his pocket of the two puppies and a woman and showed it to the group.

“These were the latest victim’s dogs. They’ll be taken to the local shelter if no one offers to-”

“We’ll take them,” you interrupted, raising your hand.

“We will?” Spencer spun around, his eyes filled with bewilderment. You gave him a puppy dog face, almost as enticing as the puppies themselves. Spencer sighed, knowing you weren’t going to let this go. “We will,” Spencer repeated, looking down at his new adoptive daughters.

You got in the SUV, cradling one of the dogs in your arms. Emily still held the other one as she sat down next to you in the back. The boys sat up front, eyeing the pups in the rearview mirror. Spencer gulped; what had he gotten himself into?

You arrived back at the BAU, bringing the dogs in with you. They had to be checked for licenses and vaccinations before you could officially bring them home. Penelope had gone down to the warehouse on the first floor and asked for some cardboard boxes to make dog beds out of. You, Emily, JJ, and Penelope got to work, painting the boxes pink with sparkles and glitter. One had a big “A” on it, the other an “E”.

By the time your phone rang, it was nearly midnight. The front desk informed you that the paper work was ready and that you just had to sign a couple of documents. You sprung to your feet, excited to take your girls home. You skipped all the way to the front desk, signing the papers and thanking the woman for getting it done so quickly. Who knew such tiny animals could be so much work to obtain?

You walked back into the bullpen, an overwhelming silence hitting you. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Panic set in as you surveyed the room, looking for the puppies. They were no where to be found. You ran into the break room, having the same poor luck as before. Where the hell could they be?

The only place you hadn’t checked was Hotch’s office. You walked swiftly to his door, not bothering to knock. He had already gone home for the night.

You almost fell over as you tripped on something on the floor. It was your boyfriend. Spencer was asleep with the two puppies on top of him. You tiptoed around him, holding your breath as his eyes fluttered gently. You froze in place until he stopped stirring and went back to sleep. You carefully took your phone out of your pocket, taking countless snapchats of Spencer and your babies.

anonymous asked:

Hey! I was wondering if you search for animals by yourself or with friends? I wanna go alone but I'm a little nervous to be out in the woods by myself. Just wanted to ask your opinion on it.

I actually prefer to go alone!! I like to make up stories in my head or pretend I’m my ranger character from my D&D campaign. It’s a lot of fun and really nice to just be out in the woods alone.

But going with friends is fun too, I just personally like going alone. I usually have some good sized knives on me and I keep pepper spray handy as well. I’m also the most anxious vulture and I’m fully ready to hit something with a bag full of bones and rocks if it startles me.

I guess I’ll just leave a small list in case you decide to go out!!

  • This time of year, make sure you wear a hunter orange hat or vest! Hunting season is starting and safety is the most important while vulturing. 
  • Always tell someone where you are going and charge your phone fully before leaving. Take an extra battery pack with you as well, plenty of water, a jacket, and some food. JUST in case you end up injured or you get lost, you won’t be up shit creek. I have a field first aid kit in my bag along with a poncho, thermal blanket, jacket, my camelbac, low-sugar protein bars, and a utility tool. I also carry an entire winter survival kit in my car but that’s also just leftover from the years I spent living in Wyoming.
  • Be aware of the wildlife in the area. Mountain lions, bears, bobcats, and even coyotes are opportunistic. If there are predator signs in the area, please take a friend with you.
  • Get back to your parking area or car before sunset. Sunset is when the predators come out and Mountain Lions are opportunistic. Coyotes are also more active right now, we’ve had three dogs attacked in our neighborhood this month alone. This is also why a LOT of trails and natural areas have a ‘Arrive after sunrise. Leave after sunset.” rule posted.
  • Make sure you don’t wander onto private property. If you see that perfect grove of trees and it’s on private land, go to the nearest house and politely ask. Tell them EXACTLY what you are doing and that you will respect their land, you just want the dead stuff. Ranchers are usually okay with it as long as they don’t have any livestock out there.
WTF is Monitoring?

Today (and for the next 2 weeks at least) I am monitoring. Since I am working on a military base, I needed special clearance, and also I cannot share pictures.

If you are an archaeologist based in an urban area, a lot of the work you do will be monitoring. Some archaeologists hate it because it’s boring. (Some of it actually involves boring. LOL archaeology puns!) I actually like it because I don’t tend to get wet or muddy, and sometimes I can just sit in my truck, waiting for something to happen and reading a book, or working on my own projects.

By law, whenever a ground-disturbing construction project takes place in the US, an archaeological assessment has to be performed, to make sure no significant sites will be destroyed. There are many ways to conduct these assessments, depending on what is known about the history of the area, but in urban/industrial areas with no known sites in the immediate vicinity, one of the most common is monitoring.

Archaeological monitors watch construction crews perform excavation with heavy equipment. If anything cultural (i.e., related to human habitation) turns up, we document it with notes and photos. If it looks significant, we might call in a supervisor or state archaeologist for a second opinion. If it’s human remains… basically all hell breaks loose. Construction gets shut down and the police and coroner are called in to determine whether it is a crime scene. After that, the local Native tribes are usually the next contact on the list.

There is usually some safety training involved in working on construction sites, and required safety equipment, such as high-visibility vest, steel-toed boots, hard hat, and maybe safety glasses and ear plugs.

On these kinds of jobs, you are subject to the vagaries of construction schedules and logistical issues. It is possible to show up for work at 7 AM (or earlier), wait around all day for something to happen, and go home in the afternoon having monitored literally nothing. Technical issues, equipment breakdowns, and unexpected utilities that need to be dealt with are common. On other days you might show up and be told to go home because you are not needed after all. It’s good to check in with a project manager or construction supervisor at the beginning and end of each day, so you know what to expect.

Usually what gets found is nothing. The monitor serves as an insurance policy, just in case. They document the different soils and their depths with notes and photos, fill out a daily monitoring form and photo log to submit to their supervisor, and that’s it. I have never monitored on a site where human remains were unexpectedly discovered, or even anything of archaeological significance. Mostly just modern or recent historic debris (bottles, cans, etc.).

Not very interesting 99% of the time, but it pays the bills.

Chris Evans Imagine


Filming a movie is always fun to you. But when your are 5 months pregnant it could get hard. People around you would make you take time off more then you needed but at the same time you were happy people understood your situation yet some people took it over the top.

You were filming some action moments for the movie, but you weren’t doing all the stunts. From the corer of you eye you could see Chris watching you. He looked stressed and just not having it. Since he found out you were pregnant he has become even more protective. He has stopped all his own projects and has been by your side all the time. You love your husband but this was getting too much.

After doing some scene you were getting strapped up yo do a scene were you are in the air, you saw Chris talking to one of the directors they did not seem to be having a pleasant conversation. Trying to keep your mind clear and ready fro the scene you looked away from them and tried your best to focus.

“You ready (Y/N)?” the director asked. I nodded and waited for them to pull me up.

“No” Chris said walking to me. “Not gonna happen” Chris started to undo the straps on your safety vest.

“What are you doing?”you said moving away from him. He managed to undo the vest, everyone around the two of you were watching this in shock.

“This is ridicules. Let’s go Chris” you pulled him into your trailer. He was saying so many things, so many excuses but you just didn’t listen.  “Stop. Just stop” you yelled out getting film finally to stop talking. Taking a deep breath you looked at him and said

“Chris I love you, but this has got to stop” he tried to speak “No, let me finish. I know you are worried about me and the baby. But this getting crazy. You watch me 24/7. You don’t let me do any work I’m supposed to do. You went with me to the doctor, you know she said I could still do this.” Chris let out a breath he was holding and nodded

“I know” Chris spoke and you let him. “I know I’m going crazy. It’s just I love you too much and having my fist child with you is amazing and I’m just scared.” Chris said slowly touching your belly.

“How about I just say I can’t do the stunts anymore? Will that calms you?” Chris smiled at you but then his smile vanished.

“I can’t make you do that. That would be wrong of me.”

“It’s going to be okay to be honest I don’t want to do them any way. it’s just too much work for me.” you laughed making him smile.  The two of you kissed and you went to finished the scene. After that you didn’t do stunts anymore making yourself and Chris more calm.