[ Juice finds out his old lady has been hiding something ]
Juice pulled off his cut, folding it and placing it on the edge of the bed. He had had a long, tiring day, and all he wanted was a hot shower. He pulled off his shirt, tossing it to the floor, then his jeans. He made his way into the bathroom and cut on the shower. He watched as steam filled the room. He walked to the sink, leaning against it and looking at his reflection in the mirror for a few moments while he waited for the water to get hot. He hadn’t felt this exhausted in a while, and the dark circles under his eyes showed it. He let out a loud sigh. At least you would be home soon.
He turned on the faucet, letting his hands fill a few times with cool water as he lost himself in his own thoughts. He let his hands fill again and let the cool water splash over his face. He stood straight, reaching for the hand towel lying on the side of the sink. He let out another loud sigh as he watched several items fall from the countertop onto the floor and in the trash.
“Shit,” he mumbled, bending down to pick up the mess he had just made. He was rummaging through the trash to retrieve a stray bottle of lotion when something caught his eye. He reached towards the bottom of the trashcan, his eyebrows furrowed. He lifted the object from the trash and stood. His eyes were wide as he looked at the little white stick in his hand. They grew wider as soon as his brain registered the words written on the tiny screen.
“Hey, babe.” You walked into the bedroom of the home you shared with your old man to see him standing just outside the bathroom door. His back was turned to you. You noticed that his skin was still wet from the shower, and he had a towel wrapped around his waist. You let your tired body drop down onto the bed, kicking off your shoes and dropping your purse to the floor. “I’m so happy to see you,” you told him, sighing as you sat down on the bed. “I had such a long day.” You continued to talk about your day. Juice remained silent. Finally, you paused and looked up at him. That’s when you noticed the tense, angry gaze he was directing your way.
You cocked your head to the side. “You okay?”
“I had a long day too,” he told you, his voice rigid and stern. He had spent the last 30 minutes trying to understand why you would hide something as big as this from him. He had really tried to understand. He tried not to be mad. But the more he thought about it, the more pissed off he felt. Truthfully, he was only pissed because he felt hurt. Something like this was huge, and it involved him as much as it did you. He couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t tell him immediately. You were his old lady. The two of you were supposed to be partners. But instead, you were shutting him out.
“I’m sorry, babe,” you responded, standing from the bed and walking to your dresser.
Juice watched as you started removing your work clothes. His eyes fell to your stomach, and his jaw tensed. He swore to himself he wouldn’t say anything. He promised himself he would pretend he didn’t know and let you come to him. You would tell him when you were ready. That’s what he continued to remind himself. But that had all changed the second he laid eyes on you. He couldn’t keep quiet. He couldn’t pretend this wasn’t bothering him. He had to say something.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he blurted suddenly.
“Tell you what?” you asked absently, pulling on your most comfortable t-shirt.
“That you’re pregnant.”
Your eyes widened. Your turned slowly to face Juice. He looked at you with an expression that let you know he wasn’t happy with you at the moment. You knew you had some explaining to do.
You had taken the pregnancy test a few days earlier. In your state of shock at seeing the results, you had totally forgotten to get rid of it. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. You had been keeping yourself busy for the majority of the last three days to keep your mind off things. Now reality was slapping you in the face.
You knew you should have told Juice. You wanted to. But you were terrified. You didn’t know how he would react. You didn’t know if he even wanted to be a father. Hell, you didn’t know if you wanted to be a mother. You hadn’t really thought about it, at least not in the realistic sense. You had always thought kids might be nice. Someday. But someday had arrived, it seemed, and you weren’t so sure how you felt now. You were trying to sort through your own feelings before you told Juice. Mostly, you were just scared. Things were going to change in a major way, and that could either be for better or worse. What if you decided you wanted a baby, and he didn’t? What then? The two of you had never discussed it. You were his old lady, but you never thought about what it would be like to be the mother of his child. Now that it had become reality, you didn’t know how to handle it.
“I’m sorry,” you blurted. It was the only thing you knew to say. “I wasn’t trying to hide it. I just,” you took a deep breath, “It’s just all so new and so crazy, and I just, I didn’t know how I felt about it, or how you were going to feel about it. And I was just really scared. I still am. And - ”
You nerves had gotten the best of you. You ignored Juice and continued to ramble. “And I didn’t know how to tell you. I’ve been trying to process it all, and I just thought I would tell you after I had time to let it all sink in. And I didn’t know what I wanted at first, but I do now, and I - I want to keep it, Juice. And I know you may not want that, and that’s okay. I get it, and - ”
“And I’m sorry if you felt like I was lying to you or something because I never meant for that to - “
“Babe!” His voice was louder this time, and it snapped you out of your jumbled up train of thought.
You let out a deep, shaky breath. Your eyes looked wild. “Yeah?”
Juice crossed the room to stand in front you. He looked at you for a moment, his eyes taking in every inch of your face. Suddenly, his mouth widened into a huge, happy grin. “We’re havin’ a baby.”
Your breath caught. You had been so worried about what his reaction would be for days now, you never thought he would actually be happy about it.
“We’re having a baby,” he repeated, his grin now somehow wider than before. You could see the joy in his eyes as he looked into yours.
Juice licked his lips and leaned in to kiss you. You felt the nervous feeling that had been in the pit of your stomach for days fade away. You watched as his hands slid from your waist to rest on your stomach. You had been Juice’s old lady for years, and now you were the mother of his child. The nervous feeling was gone, and now you felt nothing but happiness.
♫In2 (Kehlani Remix)- WSTRN// Marauders Era: Remus x Reader
Could you do an imagine where you go clubbing with the marauders???(please let Sirius help pick out her outfit because I feel like that would be so cute and funny) and you (usually pretty innocent) Starts dancing with some other guy and Remus gets extremely jealous and ends up telling the guy to leave and Remus admits he fancies you???
“Not that one,” Sirius shook his head at Y/N, as she turned around and raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” she retorted, hands resting on her hips.
“Then you’re lucky enough to get it anyway,” a childish smile spread across his face, “Not that one.”
“Why not?” she took another look in the silver edged mirror placed in her dormitory, trying to see what was so wrong with the long sleeved, dark blue dress that hugged her hips.
“Because it’s got a massive bow on the back. It’s a club, not a bloody wedding,” he reminds her, and surely enough, she sees the silk bow gracing the back of blue velvet as she takes a glance over her shoulder.
“I forgot that was there,” she sighed, stepping away from the mirror and back into the wardrobe, charmed to be about three times the size it looks.
Slipping out of the soft velvet, she scans the hanging clothes for another option, frowning at the lack of inspiration in her head. Finally, she spots a dark crimson dress, surrounded by the dark fabric of her uniforms. She slides it on and steps out again, positioning herself in front of the mirror.
“Nope,” the forgotten presence of her best friend makes her let out a little groan, only met by a chuckle coming from the boy leaning on the headboard of her bed. “I don’t own and endless supply of dresses, you know,” she turns around, frowning at him before she looks over her shoulder in the mirror.
“It’s silk. It’s too fancy,” he explains, matter of factly, his smile never vanishing from his face.
“Maybe you’re just not fancy enough,” her remark is followed by her tongue being stuck out at the lounging boy, who then put a hand over his chest, feigning a hurt gasp as she rolled her eyes and entered the closet once again.
Vexed by the process at this point, she grabbed the first thing she touched when her hand reached for the hangers, putting it on without even noticing what it was. She stepped into the room again, not even managing to take a peek in the mirror before Sirius gave her an approving nod: “That one. I like that one.”
Turning around to look, she found herself in a y/f/c dress, slipping gracefully from her waist to her hips, just barely reaching the middle of her thigh.
“It’s so short!” she exclaimed, looking at her friend, who gave her a simple shrug before paraphrasing his earlier statement: “We are going to a club, not church.”
The Wolpertinger is a fabulous animal from Bavaria, Germany. Wolpertingers are said to be omnivores, eating small animals as well as herbs and edible roots. When they are really hungry, they turn into dangerous predators. In this case, their favorite prey is the Prussian Softhead.
Almost nobody has ever seen and successfully hunted a Wolpertinger, not only because they are quite rare and very shy, but also due to the difficult hunting conditions. It is commonly said that they can only be spotted by young, beautiful virgins if they confide to a handsome, strong young hunter who knows the right place near secluded forest edges. A Wolpertinger can be captured by simply sprinkling salt on its tail. As simple as it seems, it is indeed a complicated process because the hunter does not see the animal, so his hand has to be guided by the virgin without scaring the Wolpertinger away.
Other hunters say that they only need a haversack, a candle, a stick, and a spade to capture them. The haversack is held open by the stick, and the burning candle is placed in the opening. During the twilight hours of the day, the Wolpertinger is attracted by the light and can then be shooed into the haversack by waving the spade. A fair amount of luck is needed in this procedure as the Wolpertingers tend to run over the stick, making the haversack collapse onto the candle and burning the Wolpertinger to death.
A third method relies on the alleged fact that Wolpertingers have legs of different length on their left and right sides. This way, they can only walk properly in one direction on hilly terrain. If you manage to scare a Wolpertinger enough to make it turn around, the animal will fall on its side and can be captured with ease.
Because of their rarity, their real appearance is a matter of discussion among experts. Taxidermied examples sold to tourists from abroad look quite different to the textbook figure shown above, and also differ from source to source.
For that reason, it is believed that Wolpertingers undergo multiple stages of metamorphosis as they are ageing, gaining their wings at some point in the process. According to the famous German author Walter Moers, Wolpertinger puppies are the cutest creatures in the universe, desired as pets by everyone who can afford to buy one, but frequently being abandoned as they are becoming increasingly fickle and moody in their teenage years, when they also start growing dangerous claws and teeth.
Taxonomically, Wolpertingers are closely related to the North American Jackalope, the Australian Bunyip, and the Swedish Skvader.
Naomi leads him out onto the balcony. The air gnaws at them with icy sharp teeth. The city twinkles and glitters 21 storeys below. She drops his hand and desolation once more grips his insides. She walks over to the short concrete wall separating them from the edge and places her hands on top of it, rocking on her heels. He stands there shivering, heartsick. Naomi: Come here, Roy. The view is amazing. Roy: No, thanks. I’m fine where I am. Naomi: But I want to tell you something. Roy: No. I’m staying here. Naomi: What a pity. Have it your way, then. He blinks. In one smooth, feline movement she has climbed on top of the wall. He can taste fear and disbelief and vomit. Roy: NAOMI. Jesus fucking Christ. What the hell-
The final technical challenge for the final episode of the final season of The Great British Bake Off was Mary’s Victoria sandwich. However they didn’t actually get given the recipe on the show, they just got given the ingredients and told to make one… so in the spirit of the challenge I did the same thing and didn’t follow her method either (although mostly just because I didn’t like how she does it).
I’m pretty happy with it! Texture and taste are great, and apart from the rough edges in places - it stuck a bit to the cake tin for some reason - the appearance is really good too. I love the buttercream mounds in the middle; if GBBO has taught me anything it’s not to shy away from using the piping bag, cos it’s worth it even though it’s a pain to clean afterwards.
The faults were I didn’t make my own jam and the not-very-good cake edge, so for this final week I will award myself 4 majestic Mary Berrys and 1 haughty Paul Hollywood.
Also Paul has always been the negative person in this for me but the show wouldn’t have been the same without him and I wouldn’t want to watch it if he wasn’t there. I think he would be happy to see I’ve done all the challenges, so I’m going to add a secret, rare smiling Paul:
More Than A Feeling
(Credence Barebone x Reader)
Opening his eyes blearily, Credence’s vision fixed on the
grey light that was showing through the curtains. He could almost feel the depression
setting in as he contemplated the thought of another dreary, overcast day.
Pushing himself upright and somehow managing to wrench away from the warm
embrace of his blankets, he stumbled over to the chunky stereo that sat on the
desk, placed haphazardly by the edge of the bed. Jabbing at the power button,
the first notes of his favorite song began to play, slipping out from the old
speakers. Letting himself fall back down onto the bed, his eyes drooped shut
once more, the music surrounding him and carrying him away on a wave of sound.
Usually a person
appreciates music, some even love it with a passion like that of a lover, but
Credence harbored feelings for this song that words did not seem adequate to
describe. Allowing his thoughts to drift, coming and going like the tide, one
in particular seemed to return to him again and again. It was the sight of you that
was etched into his memory like some sort of burning scar.
Letting his eyes open and stare up at the stained white
ceiling, Credence forced himself to put all thoughts of you aside. Instead, other
faces began to flash through his mind. Modesty… Chastity… He found himself
struggling to remember the faces that went along with the names. It had been so
long now, yet even as the memories of their features blurred, the events were
still there as clear as ever. Feeling a sort of ugly mixture of guilt, fear,
sadness, and anger rise in his throat, he violently pushed away that section of
his past as well.
The chorus of the song
was echoing around the bare room, pushing into his dreams. This was your
favorite song, he realized with a jolt. No wonder…
Raising his hand and holding it in front of his face, he
felt cold and numb. Like something had broken or died inside him. He was used
to it by now, spending his days locked away in his bedroom listening to a song
on repeat and staring out the window at the clouds that never seemed to lift
and let the sun shine through. You always seemed to be in the corner of his
mind, like some sort of twisted photograph. You had slipped out of his grasp, in
one of his moments of weakness when the darkness inside escaped. He had watched
as you lay there on the crisp white of the hospital bed, unable to stop the
fire of guilt and shame that burned at his insides. He had done this. Yet
again, he had destroyed the thing he loved.
The last notes of the
song faded away, and thunder could be heard somewhere in the distance. Credence
lay on the rough woolen sheets that were strewn across the mattress, the only
sign that he was alive was the faint rise and fall of his chest.
The mighty leader of Team RWBY had run into yet another rock face first. If her Aura hadn’t been in place to take the edge off the blow, she would most likely have needed major corrective surgery to make her face resemble something other than a pancake. As it was, Ruby staggered away from the rock, clutching at her face and muttering some very un-Ruby-like curses.
“Seriously, Ruby?” Yang growled, grabbing her sister and yanking her out of the way as she pummelled another pair of Grimm. “This is the fourth time this week! What’s wrong with you?”
Blake rolled her eyes. “I think it’s pretty obvious what’s wrong with Ruby.”
“Huh?” Yang kicked one Grimm in the face and crushed the skull of another. “What do you mean?”
Blake nodded at the other member of Team RWBY. Weiss Schnee was cutting through the Grimm with elegant ease, her rapier a constant blur of motion as Dust attack after Dust attack annihilated her enemies. The backlash of those attacks had kicked up a mighty wind… a mighty wind that had done some very interesting things to her skirt.
Yang could now see what kind of underwear Weiss liked to wear. Red lace? Very nice.
“Really?” Yang grabbed Ruby and shook her little sister like a rag doll as Blake continued to thin the herd of Grimm around them. “You ran into a rock - again - because you saw up Weiss’s skirt?”
Ruby made a whining sound. “But… but… it’s Weiss!” Ruby pointed at the heiress. “Look at her legs! Look at her -”
Yang sighed and threw Ruby at a bunch of weak-looking Grimm. “Get your head back in the fight, Ruby!” She glanced at Blake. “And can you give me your coat?”
Blake tossed her coat to Yang.
“Wear this.” Yang threw the coat over Weiss’s shoulders.
“What? Why?” Weiss growled as she kicked one of the Grimm in the head, causing Ruby to miss a step and almost impale herself on Crescent Rose.
“Because if you don’t we’re going to end up as Team WBY.”