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#well we can subside off of the queue for a day or two longer
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mmm... scribbling is not in the cards today it seems...
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makarov-my-beloved · 3 years
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Watch Dogs: Legion x AmRev
@burgoyned Pumped this one out in 2 hours @.@ Probably could make some changes but do let me know your thoughts and feedback ^^
Chapter 7: Proud to be Resisting
Hanger stretched and sorted through the shots glass the next day. It was a gray, rainy day in London. Inside The Earl’s Fortune patrons said around smoking, drinking, and chattered about the recent law passed by Lord Germain all citizens will now require a heavy inspection when traveling in and out of London as well as getting fingerprinted. The TV hanging on the wall over the fireplace showed Lord Germain speaking at a press conference stating his proposal on “increase safety measures for the people of London.” Hanger chuckled to himself. Man couldn’t even protect himself over a wet floor. Just last week, news broke out the Minister of Safety and Security (a position granted by Germain himself TO himself) slipped on a wet puddle outside Westminster and broke his left leg.
That was quite sensational. It was the best news Hanger heard all day that day. The door to the Safehouse opened and André emerged with the crew in tow. “Morning, y’all! Where is everyone heading off?” he asked. “Just heading off to the Royal Navy yard to check some stuff out,” André replied. “Is that so? You should also head over to the fighting grounds. Some Clan Kelley gangster managed to beat his way in the Underground fight clubs to the top and is now challenging the leader of the ‘Royal Navy Horsemen.’” The crew looked at each other with surprise. “’ The Royal Navy Horsemen’? The most badass group of fighters across London? Holy hell yes, I’m buying tickets NOW!” Burgoyne pulled out his phone and began processing. Clinton looked over his shoulder while André’s eyes glimmered. “The best MMA fighters England has to offer. What time is the event?” “It’s at 4:30 PM. We got the whole morning to kill and sometime in the afternoon. And I also bought tickets for everyone. Last four remaining.” Burgoyne said as he held up his phone.
“Do you think what we’re wearing is ok? Or is there some dress code we need to abide by?” the hacker asked Hanger. “Not that know of. Besides, who on Earth would enforce a ‘dress code’ in a fight club?” “There is one in Garden City that enforced a dress code.” André looked down at his outfit nervously. He was wearing a black DedSec tank top with brown cargo jeans and low-cut black boots. Everyone else wore similar style outfits; Howe was wearing a black jacket with a white buttoned-down shirt, black jeans, and leather shoes. Clinton wore a black shirt inside his DedSec jacket, blue jeans, and brown boots. Burgoyne wore a futuristic jacket, low cut dark blue tank top with DedSec’s logo on it, black leather jeans, and black combat boots. Normally everyone would be wearing DedSec’s “uniform” (something André ensembled so it would be formal which consists of a black DedSec jacket, white T-shirt, blue jeans, and various colored combat boots) but everyone has now moved on to something casual. We would feel out of place in a fight club.
Hanger shrugged. “So far have not heard of this one, so y’all are fine. Nice to see something casual for a change.” It was then Bagley pinged everyone’s earpiece. “Good morning everyone. I’ve received some intel that there is data sitting inside the National Maritime Museum. A good chance to expose Albion and Clan Kelley for the while. It shouldn’t take too long with four people managing it. I’m sending out the location and the route to avoid trouble. Also, there is a big fight this afternoon I’m sure none of you would want to miss out.” “Don’t worry Bagley I got the tickets we’ll be sure to record every detail and send it to you,” Burgoyne replied. “Fantastic! Hopefully, something bloody happens. Overheard their leader is a bit of a Grim Reaper. Kicked the head off some chap’s shoulder once. Wouldn’t want to miss that.”
Everyone looked at each other with shock on their face. “Will do Bagley thanks,” André said, clicking his earpiece.
Putting his phone away, Burgoyne clapped his hands. “We’re heading out now or what?” “We can wait for a bit. It’s pouring outside,” Howe murmured. Who would be this vicious in a fight club? Clinton sat down at the bar. “I don’t think this data exposure would take too long. But something tells me we might be taking too long turning public opinion in our favor.” Bagley pinged in. “It’s not too late. Lord Germain is turning away more and more of his supporters by the minute. Sure, some cling faith to the government but it won’t be for long.” “Once we recruited enough people I think we can turn our attention to liberating the boroughs. I’m sure everyone is itching for a change,” André said. “Of course. DedSec may be tainted, but that doesn’t stop us from making a noise,” chuckled Bagley.
As they chattered, the rain outside began to subside and the sun began shining through the clouds. Burgoyne got up from the leather couch near the fireplace and patted both André and Clinton on the shoulder. “Well, we off now?” Clinton checked the time. “It’s 10:30. We can leave around noon. It’s just a 20-minute walking distance.” “Fair enough. What now?” “There is two options: use the fighting ground to mess around OR go and get data. Either way, we’ll be waiting,” Burgoyne stated. André hopped off the bar stool. “Heading out! Bye!” Hanger waived as the rest of the crew followed. Making their way through the busy London streets, the crew reached the outside of the museum. Bagley pinged. “You’re right in the proximity of the data.” Slipping on their masks, the crew slid into a large bush next to the massive square building. André pulled out his phone and began hacking the cameras inside. He eventually found the room containing the stored data, which was inside a laptop. Bagley said, “There it is! Quickly now!” André tapped the phone and data immediately began downloading. A few seconds later, the data finished transferring and Bagley spoke. “Alright. I have received all the information from that laptop. It might take me some time to process this as there is a lot of junk files added. Once I’ve completed sorting it out I’ll let you know the next step.” “Sounds good.” Howe replied, tapping on his earpiece.
“Great. Now that’s out of the way, what now?” Burgoyne asked as the crew got up and walked away from their hiding place, mask off. “Head to the courtyard and challenge each other?” Clinton proposed. They proceeded to the Navy’s fight club. It was an outdoor arena, located behind the headquarters; spotlights and speakers hung from the metal columns on top of the ring while the arena itself was structured in the style of the Colosseum in Rome. Leaning over the rails, André smiled ecstatically. “I’ve always wanted to come here and watch the fight.” “We could sit here and wait, or we can walk around and see what else is there,” Burgoyne suggested. Howe looked around. A few people loitered outside, and a security guard stood by the main gate. André turned to his friends. “I wonder why they would set up an arena here and not in Portsmouth.” “It’s too far from London. And besides, His Majesty wanted to see them in action near his home, so they decide to put it here. I personally like it,” Burgoyne gushed as he took pictures of their surroundings.
They spend the rest of the time practicing in a large open area near the arena until crowds started to gather. A midday sun still shone in the blue sky, creating a gentle ambience. The crew headed their way into the queue as the line grew longer and longer. Clinton looked around. “Never thought an event like this could draw so many people.” “Are you kidding me there is a Clan Kelley gang member fighting in these clubs and made his way to the top of course people would want to watch that,” Burgoyne snorted matter-of-factly. One person in behind him spoke up. “We’re also here to watch that fucker get his head kicked off. Fuck Clan Kelley!” he shouted. Many people cheered in agreement. André turned to Howe with a smile and a nod. The line eventually picked up as the crowd stood their place in the arena. Burgoyne showed his ticket to the security guard who directed them into a first spot.
Making their way down the standing crowd, André spotted a familiar face standing up front. He was leaning over the railings before turning behind him. It was Sir Thomas Gage. As soon as he saw the men approach him, he smiled at them. Burgoyne promptly stood next to him. “Fancy seeing someone like you here, hmm Tommy?” he joked to his friend. Gage laughed. “Indeed. You guys also here for the big event?” “Yeah. Who would’ve thought some crazy gang member actually fight in these things?” André said incredulously. The clock ticked 4:30. Immediately, an announcer with a thick Liverpool accent spoke up. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! WELCOME TO THE ROYAL NAVY ACADEMY ARENA!! WE HAVE AN EXCITING EVENT AS CLAN KELLEY CHALLENGES THE FOUR HORSEMEN OF THE APOCALYPSE!!” Boos and jeers arose at the name of ‘Clan Kelley’. Gage shook his head. “Who let those fuckers roam the streets?” “Uh, Germain? Who else?” Burgoyne sarcastically answered.
The door to the arena opened. A tall, bulky man stepped out. His bald head glistened under the now turned-on spotlights. He was wearing a tight black T-Shirt with Clan Kelley’s logo on it, showing off his muscles, large black pants, and large combat boots. He raised his fist as the crowd booed, hissed, and jeered. The Kelley gangster banged his fist on his chest as heavy metal banged on the speakers. The DedSec crew looked at each other while André rolled his eyes. After a few seconds, DeFaLT’s music blasted into the speakers, and the crowd went wild. André grabbed onto Clinton’s arm. “HOLY HELL YES!” he shouted. Four men walked out, wearing outfits (sponsored by Cyberdog). All had their glistening black vest hoods on with different colored bandanas covering their faces. Their leader is a tall figure with a narrow cut, wearing grey cargo pants and black buckled boots that have metal spikes covering the front and back. His black bandana glowed, showing the bottom half of a skull in neon white.
He gestured for his other teammates to step back. The Clan Kelley man cracked his knuckles, leering his teeth at his opponent. “Guess your day is up eh, lad?” he cackled. The man said nothing. The announcer yelled, “ARE WE READY?!!” The crowd cheered. Immediately, the Kelley man took the first swing. The “White” Horseman stepped back swiftly before jabbing at the Kelley’s neck. This stunned the gangster who stumbled down to the ground. Gage and Burgoyne cheered on while the others stood in disbelief. The “White” Horseman motioned for his teammates to pick the stunned man up. Everyone waited with bated breath. The Horseman gave sharp but swift kick to the upper jaw; metal spikes tore into the muscles and the man’s head came clean off. The sound became deafening as people screamed.
The announcer yelled, “THERE YOU HAVE IT FOLKS THE ROYAL NAVY HORSEMEN!!”
“That’s it? Wow.” Burgoyne said. The announcer continued. “THAT WAS A QUICK FIGHT! HOW ABOUT WE SPICE IT UP AND INVITE YOU, THE AUDIENCE, TO CHALLENGE YOURSELF AND SEE HOW GOOD OF A FIGHTER YOU ARE? WHICH ONE OF YOU LUCKY SOULS IS BRAVE ENOUGH TO JUMP INTO THE LION’S DEN?!?” Everyone looked at each other; some prodded their friends. After some time, Howe took off his bag and hissed “I’m going in.” He leaped over the rails and landed on the dirt ground. The crowd cheered hysterically. André turned to the others, whose face were no more than fear and pure shock. Howe walked towards the leader and pointed at him. “One on one. Me and you only.” The three other Horsemen looked at each other then turned towards their leader. He gestured them to leave the arena. The three turned to leave, giving the arena to only William and his opponent.
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deweysdenouement · 4 years
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House of Cards
a/n: this has lived in my mind rent free for longer than i care to admit but i only actually wrote it all tonight. somethin’ a little different. somethin’ likely not that good.
or: years after beatrice and bertrand leave vfd, beatrice and frank get trapped under a desk together during a bank robbery. mostly just them, cameos from bertrand, violet, and ernest + much discussion of kit and dewey
TW for guns and blood (nothing graphic, no death)
“Well,” Beatrice says brightly as a bullet flies over their heads and dislodges some beige coloured plaster in the wall. “This is no good.”
“I thought we were just amicable strangers in a queue,” Frank replies flatly, folded up like the origami swans on the tables at his hotel, trying to keep his body hidden under the desk. 
“Amicable strangers surviving a bank robbery together,” she says. “It brings people closer.”
“That’s never been my experience of the world,” Frank says, and it’s punctuated by another two shots, an effect she imagines he rather enjoys. “In my experience, when people get scared, they just leave.”
‘Well,” Beatrice says, as her heart breaks behind her ribs, “I am actually stuck here right now.”
“You haven’t changed,” he replies, and a hint of softness creeps into his voice. “I thought being a mother would force you to learn to actually listen to people.”
It’s a dig, and an accurate one at that, but they might be dead in a few minutes, so she leaves her arsenal of words she could throw back at him alone. Partly because she’s listening for the footsteps of the man keeping them all in here, partly because Frank looks more pitiful than annoyed.
“I have two children now,” she says softly. “So I should be doubly good at it.”
“I saw. Dewey kept the clipping from the birth announcement in the paper.”
“How is he?”
“You know Dewey,” Frank says, tone carefully even. “If there’s a silver lining, he’ll find it.”
Someone on the other side of the room starts to cry. A few scattered voices hush them.
“He’s not great,” Frank finishes. “So we should try to avoid dying here.”
“We’ll be fine,” Beatrice says easily. “They just want the money. We’ve got nothing to do with it.”
“Bad timing,” he murmurs.
“Because you’re stuck in a hostage situation, or because you’re stuck in a hostage situation with me?”
Frank smiles crookedly for the first time since they had noticed each other in the queue.
“Oh, the latter,” he says. “If I was stuck here with Bertrand? No complaints.”
“Bertrand could have talked that guy down by now,” she says glumly. “You could run off back to the hotel and avoid any awkward conversation at all.” 
“Don’t you always claim to be some genius with people?” Frank shifts slightly, and she hears the crack of his bones. They’re both getting older.
“I can’t even get toddlers to go to bed,” she says ruefully, and it feels more honest than she means it to. “You think I can stop a hostage situation with the power of love?”
“Well, it would be nice. I have a meeting in an hour.”
“I cannot believe you are worrying about work,” she hisses. “Are you gonna try telling him that?”
“I’ve never seen the emotional card work in the movies,” he says, and she thinks he might be joking with her again. “Who can know what’ll work?”
“I do feel very inclined to tell him I have a husband and two children,” Beatrice huffs, and slides down the smooth wood so she’s half resting on the small of her back. “If anything happens to me-”
“Don’t be dramatic,” he says sharply. His face is closed off again. “Nothing is happening to you.”
“Never knew you cared.” She grins at him, knocks her shoe against his. “Anyone else would have let me have my moment.”
“Kit would tell you to shut up,” he says. “Then threaten to run you over with her taxi.”
“That was definitely her thing.”
“It still is her thing,” Frank says. “We didn’t all stop existing when you left.”
“I know,” she says, a little ashamed. “How is she?”
“How much have you forgotten about us that you think Kit and I are talking about feelings?”
“Good point,” she says, and laughs a bit. “But you can tell, can’t you?”
“I guess,” he hums. “She’s pretty mad at you.”
“That’s fair.”
Footsteps move right past their desk, separated only by a thin slice of wood, and they both hold their breaths for a moment.
“She does miss you both though,” he carries on, and she thinks maybe he’s using Kit as a shield, that they’re not really talking about her anymore. “Probably more than she’s mad at you.”
“I guess you can’t know,” she says.
“I guess not.”
“I really am sorry,” Beatrice whispers. “And you can tell her that, if you want. I think a lot of people would have made our choice if they’d been able to.”
Being friends with Frank, she remembers, is a lot like building a house of cards. There’s a lot of fragile and strategic placing, and a wrong step usually means starting over. It’s a shame this isn’t really a good time to be hesitant.
“I would have,” he says eventually, and she breathes a sigh of relief. “But then VFD made the hotel too critical to their operations, even though we just wanted it to be a hotel. And then there’s my brothers. Obviously.”
“I didn’t know you wanted it to be normal,” she frowns.
“Told you you didn’t know everything,” he says, smiling weakly. “What better way to keep us where we were than monopolising our only source of income?”
“Not very noble,” she mutters, then, “Why do you always talk about it like you’re not a part of it?”
“Don’t start reading into things,” he huffs. “I look at most things from the outside.”
“Well, that’s because you have problems,” Beatrice quips teasingly, and she’s about to make an excellent joke when there’s another round of shots so close to her ear that for a second her head is full of ringing, and then Frank is groaning next to her.
When the ringing subsides and she hears the feet move away and sees the light shining through the holes in her desk, she scrambles over to Frank.
“Oh shit,” she says, when she sees blood on the floor. “Are you okay?”
“Oh yeah, feeling great,” Frank snaps, shifting so she can see the wound in his leg. It’s not deep, and he doesn’t look in any danger of dying, but it still makes her a little dizzy after a few years of mainly cleaning up baby food. “Not the first time.”
“When was the first time?” Beatrice asks, stripping off her cardigan to press it against his leg and trying to sound normal. “And why haven’t I heard this story?”
“Oh, it was meant for Ernest,” he says, and hisses when she applies pressure. “I kept up the ruse. Long story.”
“We have time,” she says.
“Not much,” he replies. “I heard police outside.”
As much as she would like to not be hiding from a man with a gun, Beatrice knows that when this is over, so is this conversation. They’re only trapped here together by freak coincidence and her pulling him down next to her when the first shots went off. He’ll be gone with the wind as soon as the doors open.
“Hey, Beatrice,” he says, snapping her out of her reverie. “Listen to me for a moment and don’t say anything.”
“Fine,” she says. “Don’t confess your feelings for me though.”
“Hah,” he snorts. “Well, if I do, it’s the blood loss.” 
“Making you reveal what you’ve felt all along,” she says brightly. “Come on now, before you pass out.”
“I’m not passing out,” he says stubbornly, and she believes this because she’s seen him go three days without sleeping before. “I just needed to tell you that if I die and you live-”
“Obviously not happening.”
“I said don’t say anything,” he grumbles. “If I don’t make it out of here and you do, I need you to tell my brothers-”
“That you love them? We know, Frank, maybe you should just show some affection sometimes.”
“Will you shut up?” Frank narrows his eyes at her. He’s a little pale and sweaty, but still as sharp as ever. “I need you to tell them one of them can take my place. If they want to. It’s probably easier than whatever they’ve got going on.”
“Well,” Beatrice says. “That’s insane.”
“I didn’t ask your opinion on it, I just asked you to do it,” Frank snaps. “Beatrice, for god’s sake, let a man bleed in peace.”
“You’re hilarious,” she says. “I don’t think you have it that easy though.”
“Your opinion isn’t really part of my life anymore,” he says bluntly, and closes his eyes. “I’d pass on a message for you.”
“Eh,” she says. “I think I’m kinda obvious now. I love my family, I want them to move on, I was very noble, blah blah.”
“Duly noted,” he replies. “You have fun with that.”
Then the doors break open, and there’s a cacophony of yelling, and when Beatrice peers over the top of the desk, she sees that the man who took them all hostage is in handcuffs.
“Told you we’d be fine,” she says. “I know you thought we were both done for, but you gotta learn to listen to me.”
Frank flips her off, and she helps him to his feet, slinging one skinny arm over her shoulder.
Outside, there are crowds of people all with their gloved hands over their mouths and some cheer as the little group of hostages trails out.
“Hi!” A little voice calls, and Beatrice looks down to see Violet toddling towards her at top speed, Bertrand hurrying behind her with Klaus in his arms.
“Oh,” he says slowly when he approaches, and sees Frank with her. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Frank says, making some vague attempt to look dignified despite barely being on his feet. “I hope you’re well.”
“Are you?” Bertrand asks, nonplussed. 
“What do you think?” Frank says flatly, and Beatrice nods subtly to the blood seeping down his leg so Bertrand will understand the sudden absence of a filter.
Before Bertrand can come up with any reasonable response to that (and she’s sure he could and she would admire him greatly for it), Ernest is swooping in, and it’s another punch to the gut of a familiar face even if it’s the exact same face.
“There you are,” Ernest says, pulling Frank off Beatrice to lean on him without a word to her. He looks dreadful, but she can’t tell if it’s the present stress or a new normal. “Dewey’s worried sick. Kit drove me here, that’s how dire things got.”
“Hi, Ernest,” Beatrice says. Bertrand stays wisely silent.
Ernest gives her the once-over.
“Thanks for helping,” he says shortly. “You probably shouldn’t come to the taxi.”
“Good call,” she says weakly. “Bye.”
It feels just as hard the second time.
“Bye,” Ernest says, and Frank raises a hand. “Okay, come on, you’re off work for at least a week.”
“It’s a graze,” Frank sighs, and then they’re both gone into the crowd, and Beatrice stands among the bustle of people with Bertrand’s hand on her shoulder and fresh blood drying on her dress.
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alliesweetsong · 4 years
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Starlight & Steel Part II
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Quelling the whispers was something that was as routine for her as eating and breathing are for the other races of Azeroth. Breathing exercises, shut eyes and the utterance of simple phrases as she had been trained to do always did the trick. These few simple things allowed Allie to return within a matter of minutes to her normal self. That wasn’t to say it left her unaffected, like most Ren’dorei dealing with whispers required energy and focus, the latter of which she had scarce amounts of currently given her condition. 
The further from the source of light in Old Town that had caused her to begin calming her mind the more the whispers subsided. Finally able to catch her breath after what felt like an eternity, Allie lowers herself onto a park bench near the King’s memorial and exhales slowly, this episode it seems, had finally passed. Lowering herself onto a park bench, Allie gently exhales as Finian calmly strolls up and takes a seat alongside the void elf and peers at her with his stormy grey eyes. 
“Hi love,” Allie greets him in a short, somewhat exasperated manner. 
"Everythin' alright? Ya' don't seem t'.. chipper." The knight inquires with a hint of concern in his voice as she lets out a sigh. 
Allie gently shrugs and looks in the direction of Old Town biting the bottom corner of her lip as she so frequently did. 
"I went to visit my new job and there's....an incident happening, there's light being used and I just wanted to get to know everybody and the woman there was getting sick and it wasn't making me feel good so I left,” she explains. Exhaling again she leans her head on his shoulder while rubbing her stomach in a calming manner.
Finian wraps his arm around her without much thought behind it, giving her a gentle push to have her closer to him too which Allie didn’t mind. Cinching closer to her lover she felt his warmth which only serve to aliveate some of the tension that was working its way through her body. 
 "Incident? Suppose it's a good thin' ya' decided t' get out o' there when ya' did. Ya' meet them all eventually, aye?" The knight inquiries in a rhetorical manner.
"They are very caring about my well being I assure you. It's rather nice to have employers who care for their own that much I will say, and the first week was rather dull. No happenings other than a normal business day." Allie replies. 
Frowning slightly she looks up at the Gilnean and inhales "I may be overreacting." 
Finian brings up a hand to with his index finger and thumb, not even an inch around. 
"A wee bit, but ya' mean well with it. I wouldn't think t' much on it, they're lookin' out fer ya' two. Good t' see they're not bloody morons that want ya' fightin' with six months along."
Smiling warmly at the elven woman, the knight leans in and plants a kiss on her cheeks. This was what Allie craved and enjoyed. Sure it was a physical connection the two shared, but more than any touching, they bonded over just being near each other. 
"It does feel good, doesn't it?” she replies while moving a hand to embrace his. 
“To not be required to don armor or wield weapons all the time, I could get used to this. I think we are ready for this, though I do need to talk to Simmons.”  
The mention of one of his squad members piques the knight’s interest which is made known as he lifts an eyebrow upward and gives his lover his attention, “ "Wot fer?"
As if on queue Allie had begun sliding her right sleeve upward revealing the rose tattoo while running her hand over it. They had made a commitment to each other months ago about not keeping secrets from each other. And this, by very definition was her last closely guarded secret few even knew about. 
“Under the ink are runes, runes which I have used on a few occasions to slip in and out of Quel’thalas.” She starts. “The last time I did, it was used to tell a lie to my parents, to give them closure I suppose, that I was dead.” 
Allie pauses for a moment and gently caresses Finian’s hand while offering a small comforting smile.
“This was before I met you before I  thought about a future outside of constant fighting and war, I don’t know if they will care, or show up..but I want them here. "I need a favor....to get a message to them, obviously doing it myself is most certainly out of the question," she replies softly. 
"I wouldn't dream of putting Endrickson or freely in danger and Simmons seems to be the one that even if he is seen can disappear before anything terrible happens."
Finian blinks in a mildly confused manner as Allie explains her reasoning
 "Love I think ya' might be gettin' the lads mixed up. Unless ya' want Simmons t' fuck 'is way int' Quel'thalas while clammerin' around in plate, I think yer best bet would be Freely."
Allie blinks in surprise for a moment before blushing while her thin lips curl upwards in a smile. "Now that would be a sight to see...elven women with or without fel in their system all calling one name," she replies jokingly before exhaling. "Do you think freely would do it? I owe him so much already after our last mission." 
“Aye ‘e’d do ti without a second thought fer ya’. Might even ‘ave Endrickson make ‘im some Thalassian garb t’ go alon’ with it.” Finian replies without a moment’s hesitation. 
The mental image of one of the squad seducing his way into an area no longer friendly had certainly amused the Ren’dorei but the images of their final deployment, the blood seeping from under Freely’s head to keep the ranger alive was still too fresh in her mind, she hoped once their son arrived to somehow begin to repay the Gilnean for that. This had clearly this had been on her mind for some time. Biting her bottom lip and gently nodding in a relieved fashion, she begins to rise to her feet 
"I'll talk to him then in the coming days, but right now I’m tired, can we go home?” she replies in a warm manner.
Finian looks around for a moment while humming and watching the ranger begin to stand. "Ya' know, lookin' around can't 'elp but think o' when I was runnin' through 'ere and ya' just stared at me."
"Right over there, eating my sandwich and having my first break in what felt like years," Allie replies with a hint of laughter in her tone as she motions to the spot they first met.
Finian nods and gently takes her hand into his. "Aye, wonderin' if ya' would 'ave stopped starin' at me lon' enough t' 'ear a lick o' wot I was sayin'."
The sudden flood of memories, sitting on that park bench with bandages still wrapped around her body under the clothing she had worn that day, not fully recovered from the ordeal with being captured and tortured. Even through all the pain, he had made her smile.
“I can’t help but stare at something I’m interested in love, besides I love the way you speak.
."Because it doesn't sound like I'm garblin' marbles whenever I'm speakin'." He shakes head with a chuckle. "But can't 'elp thinkin' 'ow lucky I am t' 'ave ya' as mine." He places his other hand onto her stomach. "And wot we 'ave waitin' fer us."
He had a specific way with words, as usual, that melted the heart of the ranger. inhaling and canting her head to the side, Allie’s ears flick with happiness while she begins to partially blush and smile proudly.
Fin takes a deep breath while he removes his hand from her stomach just long enough to reach behind him. "I've been doin' a lot o' thinkin'..rather not 'ave it waitin' fer much longer, but.." He kneels before Allie while prying open the small velvet box with one hand to reveal a ring inside
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“Allisel Sweetsong, will you marry me?” 
Allie covers her mouth in surprise as the knight kneel’s before her and, for lack of better wording, pops the question. Had he been planning this the entire time? A lump in her throat begins to form while the sting of tears threaten to burst forth at any moment while she quickly nods and tries to pull the Gilean up.
“Yes Finian, I will marry you.” 
Finian rises to his feet once again, still holding her left hand in his. Wriggling the ring from its box, he slides it onto her designated finger. "Almost 'ad me worried ya' might 'ave wanted t' run off," he speaks softly while stepping close to her again. His arm wraps around her waist and leans in to press his lips to hers.
The Ring was sized well, clearly, Endrickson had a hand in this to feed the knight her measurements. Tears begin to roll down her face as she sniffles after kissing him firmly. 
“The only time I would run off is if I’m with you love.” she replies before giving  his hand an encouraging squeeze, “Let's go home.”  
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[ @fin-mckendric​ for mentiions]
[ Part i ] 
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imagineseclipse · 5 years
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Your Character Development Imagine
Season 1 Part 7
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The laptop on your lap was starting to burn your legs so you decided to move over to your desk to continue your research into the supernatural. Sighing as you moved two of the hundred plants that now crowded your room.
Since you had added more plants and lights your headache had subsided and you found it much easier to sleep.
“I didn’t know taking care of plants was so hard, they really need watering”you mumbled as you touched one of the leaves gently.
It was like you had formed an attachment to the individual flowers that grew in your newly decorated room. You ran your fingers along the dead stem, noticing that the longer you touched it the more lively it got.
It started out a dark brown but by the time you took your hands away the potted plant was a bright green.
“What the-
Your thoughts were interrupted by a ringing sound coming from your laptop. A box popped up on the screen showing you that someone was trying to video call you.
You clicked the accept button and held your finger against the webcam so that whoever was ringing you couldn’t see your face.
Stiles Stilinski’s head came into view and you immediately took your finger away, replacing the blackness with your “not impressed at all” expression.
“Seriously?! You’re now video chatting me?! This is ridiculous”you shook your head.
Stiles held a toy gun in his hand, waving it around like a child.
“Hey y/n, give me a second I’m just gonna add Scott to the call”Stiles responded, completely avoiding your outbursts.
“It’s bad enough looking at one of your faces a day let alone two”you snapped just as Scott’s face appeared on your screen.
Stiles stopped playing with his green plastic gun for a second, his face coming closer to his webcam.
“Y/n, are those flowers and fairy lights in your room?”Stiles smirked, amused. His eyebrows raised slightly and his brown eyes glistened.
Your mouth fell open and you started to stutter. No words were forming so you just went with the only thing that you could think of.
“No, shut up you dork.”you answered, slightly vexed.
“Can you both just get on with it, so I can hang up and be done with you two for the day there’s only so much I can take”you hurried them.
“What'd you find out?”Scott spoke into the microphone.
“Well, it's bad. Jackson's got a separated shoulder”Stiles reported.
You let out a laugh that wasn’t at all sympathetic.
“Sweet”you were impressed.
Scott looked at your section of the screen blankly for a minute before turning back to Stiles.
“Because of me?”Scott asked
“Because he's a tool”you cut in on the exchange.
“But is he gonna play?”Scott questioned.
“Well, they don't know yet. Now they're just counting on you for Saturday”Stiles shrugged.
“Look, if Jackson gets back into shape before Saturday of course he’s gonna play it’s simple. I would say no offence but I don’t care... the Lacrosse team is shit well now that you’re on it it’s not as bad but they need all the players they can get”you offered your opinion.
“Except for you Stiles, they’d be really desperate if they asked you to play”you insulted him but he wasn’t listening, something in the background of one of your screens had caught his eye.
“Stiles?”you repeated.
As if on queue a message popped up on both yours and Scott’s screen.
‘It looks like - someone's behind you’
Without a second thought you looked around your room but all you could see were plants. Turning back to the screen you noticed that there was a dark figure in the back of Scott’s room behind him.
Your fingers couldn’t go any faster as you typed message.
‘Is your house haunted or something? Because there’s something behind you Scott’
“What? It looks like what? Come on. Damn it. What?”Scott started to panic.
At the worst time the screen started to buffer.
When it reconnecting the figure threw its self towards Scott, the line went dead and it was only you and Stiles on the screen.
Silence followed until you opened your mouth.
“Well, Scott’s dead”you concluded, a little freaked out by the events that had just unfolded.
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The next day Stiles was nowhere to be seen, you were almost about to drop your books and cheer with happiness but that was short lived because Scott McCall approached your locker.
“I see you’re alive”you spoke from observation, poker-faced.
“Or you’re a ghost and you’re haunting me”you went through the several options as Scott walked next to you down the hall.
“Y/n, I can’t play this game”Scott said, stressed.
“Don’t then”you shot back as if it was the most obvious solution.
“It’s not as simple as that, coach is forcing me he also thinks I’m gay?”Scott looked baffled as he pulled his bag over his shoulder to stop it from falling.
You stopped on the spot, facing Scott as you took in his appearance. It took you less then five minutes to come to a conclusion.
“I can see why-
Scott gawped, he shouldn’t have expected any more from your response but even though he was kind of used to your sarcasm and abuse he was still somehow offended. You moved from the spot you were standing in, advancing down the hall with Scott in tow.
“What does this have to do with me? I can’t help you, even If I wanted to...which I don’t. I can’t”you held your books tighter to your chest.
“Can’t you do some magic or something?”he begged in hushed tones.
“I hope that was a trick question, it was a one off I couldn’t control it”you disregarded Scott’s pleads.
Scott was about to protest some more but he was stopped by his text notifications on his phone. His mom had just told him that she’d gotten time off work so that she could see him play.
The pressure had just gotten worse. In the time it took for Scott to check his phone you’d managed to disappear into the crowds.
However Allison came into his view, bouncing down the stairs happily in his direction.
“Hey”she grinned
“Hey”
“Busy?”Allison asked.
“No, no, it's just, uh, my mom, she's nothing. I mean, it's nothing. Uh, I'm never busy for you”Scott blushed.
“I like the sound of that. I have to run to French class, but I wanted you to know that I'm coming to see you play tomorrow”she happily announced.
“You are?”his smile faltered.
“And we're all going out afterwards. You, me, Lydia, Jackson. It's gonna be great. Tell Stiles and Y/n to come too. Uh, save me a seat at lunch. I gotta go”she mentioned before disappearing in the opposite direction to you.
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After your Art class you wandered back to your locker, to your dismay Scott and Stiles were waiting for you.
“Hey, come here”Stiles waved you over.
“I’m coming because my lockers there not because you told me to”you made sure you were clear before you reached the boys.
“Come here. Guys tell me what they're saying. Can you hear 'em?”Stilinski gestured towards the adults stood at the end of the hall.
“You’re using us to get secret information from your dad and the police force?”you raised your eyebrow at the goofy teen.
“Uh-yeah”he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Fair enough”you nodded as you leant into the lockers, tuning into their conversation.
“I want everyone under the age of 18 to be in their home by 9:30 p.m. We'd like to institute the curfew, effective immediately”Sheriff Stilinski informed the Principal.
The principal started to reply to the Sheriff but it sounded boring so you stopped listening.
“Look, we don't-“
“Curfew because of the body”Scott reported back to Stiles.
“That sucks so much”you frowned.
“Y/n, you don’t leave your house anyway”Scott turned to you. You raised your eyebrows at the beta, silently warning him that if he said another word then he’d be getting a punch to the jaw.
“Unbelievable. My dad's out looking for a rabid animal, while the jerk - off who actually killed the girl is just hangin' out, doing whatever he wants”Stiles flapped about.
“I’m guessing he’s ranting about Derek”you yawned.
“Well, we can't exactly tell your dad the truth about him”Scott noted.
“I can do something”Stiles cane forwards.
“Oh no”you facepalmed.
“Like what?”Scott queried
“Find the other half of the body”Stiles suggested.
“I knew it, another stupid idea!”you summarised the conversation.
“Are you kidding?”Scott voiced his concern.
After standing In front of your lockers for about an hour arguing with Stiles, you decided to actually go to your Gym class for once, usually you would ditch but since Allison was now in your class you had a reason to go.
Allison had sent you a text telling you to wait at her lockers for her so that you could walk to the girls changing rooms together. She didn’t keep you waiting long, you could smell her perfume from a mile away.
Sadly Lydia was with her, you didn’t need advanced hearing to know that she was coming down the stairs from the second floor. You leant towards the group that had stopped as the far end of the corridor.
You couldn’t have super hearing and not put it to use right? That would just be stupid.
“This is Allison”Lydia squealed as she introduced Allison to a Lacrosse player. Somehow you knew she had ulterior motives.
“Hi. Nice to meet you”the boy greeted Allison.
“She's the new girl. She just moved here”Lydia filled the boy in on the recent events.
“Oh, how do you like it?”The Lacrosse player asked, trying to be friendly.
“I like it”She answered honestly.
Another voice joined the conversation.
“So Lydia's introducing you to everyone?”Scott said awkwardly. You rolled your eyes, he was smitten. You knew because he reeked of jealousy you could smell it from where you were eavesdropping.
“She's being so unbelievably nice to me”The youngest Argent smiled.
You scoffed. Lydia Martin was never nice, she always had some sort of plan.
“I wonder why”Scott hummed.
Right so at least Scott was on the same page as you for once.
“Maybe she gets how much being the new girl can suck”Allison defended Lydia.
You decided to break up the two lovers by walking towards them tapping your wrist.
“Allison”you whined dragging out her name dramatically.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry y/n I got caught up!”She scurried around her locker gathering her gym kit.
You nodded and sent her a small smile, Scott and Stiles had noticed how different you were around Allison. Even though you didn’t know it yet, you were happy and you actually had fun with her, she was a good influence on you and already she could tell you were going to be a very big part of her life.
You were scared though, you hadn’t really had a female friend especially a close female friend since freshman year. But surpringly you had hung out with Allison a couple of times outside of school.
Although you’d never let her come over to yours because of the endless amount of plants in your room, and you would never go to her house because you were now well aware that her dad was a hunter and you weren’t really keen on becoming pixie dust.
“Let me just grab my jacket and then we’ll go”she pulled you in for a side hug. You still got surprised every time she hugged you, but you were slowly getting used to it.
“Where did you get that?”Scott quizzed Allison. You scrunched up your face trying to figure out why he stunk of desperation all of a sudden.
“My jacket? It was in my locker. I think Lydia brought it back from the party.”she mentioned facing away from Scott as she shut her locker.
“Y/n and Lydia are the only ones who have my locker combination”Allison added.
Scott looked over at you confused,he knew you were acquaintances but he hadnt realised how close you and Allison had become over the past week.
“I’ve never seen that jacket in my life, so it wasn’t me”you dismissed.
“Did she say she brought it back or did somebody give her the jacket?”Scott pestered for answered. You knew where he was going with this.
“Like who?”
“Like Derek”
There it was. Thats the name you had been waiting for. Derek Hale was somehow worming his way into all of your lives. You hadn’t stopped investigating him, and you had no intentions of stopping until you found out what he was up to, if he really was the one who scratched you turning you into a mythical creature then you were going to make him pay.
“Your friend?”Allison was so innocent she didn’t know what was going on behind the scenes, she didn’t know that her love interest was an angry werewolf, she didn’t know that her new friend with attitude problems was a pixie who could perform magic. You doubt she even knew that her own dad was a wolf hunter.
“He’s not my friend”Scott stated, you could tell he was becoming impatient by the tone in his voice.
“How much did you talk to him when he drove you home?”
Scott was becoming irritating with all of his questions. It was starting to bother you and you weren’t even the one he was asking.
“Mmm, not much at all”
“What did you say?”
“Scott chill”you breathed out, finally having an input.
“I - gotta get to class”Allison took a step away from Scott, tugging at your arm signalling that it was time to leave.
“Allison”Scott called out.
“No, I really have to go”she yelled back to him, you could tell she was abit freaked out by his sudden essay of questions.
For a while you and Allison walked in silence, you knew she was thinking about something.
“Look, Allison I know you’re new here so you don’t really know what’s what yet. But Derek... I don’t think he’s a good guy from the vibe I get I think maybe you should try and avoid him”you offered some advice. Allison looked up at you, nodding appreciatively.
Gym wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, you could definitely tell that you weren’t a werewolf because after 1 lap of the field you found yourself wondering if you needed an asthma pump like Scott.
Stiles had appeared half way through the class, promptly talking to coach before he approached you and Allison. A menacing look on his face.
“Not that I care but, where have you been?!”you rolled your eyes as you spoke to Stiles.
Allison watched you closely, she had noticed to look of concern flash across your face and she smirked disappearing slowly as obviously you and Stiles had a lot to talk about.
“Tonight-
“No, definitely not I’m busy”you shook your head, knowing where Stiles was going with this conversation.
“Doing what?!”Stiles exclaimed.
“I-i’m polishing shoes”you almost smacked yourself around the face for that poor excuse. Stiles stared down at your beaten up converse.
“Pshhhh, yeah sure”he snorted looking up to see your ‘I can’t wait to punch you in the throat’ face.
“Be at my house for 5”he ordered before walking off the field.
“I pull the strings here not you Stilinski”you shouted after him, scared that you were losing your touch.
2 hours later
Scott and Stiles’ eyes never left yours as you stomped into Scott’s bedroom, throwing yourself onto the end of his bed.
Scott moved closer to Stiles’.
“Did she come willingly?”he whispered, confused.
“I wouldn’t say willingly”Stiles pouted rubbing his arm from where you’d punched him.
“I can still hear you- you know pixie hearing and that”you warned before yawning.
“Anyway, what did you find? How did you find it? Where did you find it?”Stiles grew excited, proud that his best friend was investigating just like him.
“What did you find now?!”you groaned, not ready for anymore grim discoveries.
“I found something at Derek Hale’s”Scott turned to you. Immediately you became interested in the conversation, because your own investigation into the mysterious Hale had recently come to a stand still.
You were also quite annoyed, the boys had been pestering you and dragging you out to all these places recently, and you weren’t even invited to the one place you so desperately needed to visit.
“Are you kidding? What?”Stiles asked excitedly.
“There’s something there- I could smell blood”Scott revealed. At this point you were just frustrated, why hadn’t you made a breakthrough like this in your investigation.
“That's awesome! I mean, that's terrible. Whose blood?”Stiles asked sitting down at Scott’s desk.
“I don't know. But when we do, your dad nails Derek for the murder. And then you help me figure out how to play lacrosse without changing. Because there's no way I'm not playing that game”Scott planned, he was adamant that he was playing the Lacrosse game after Lydia had grilled him about winning.
You let out a small laugh.
“Stiles? Teach you how to play Lacrosse?”you continued to laugh a little.
“I have to be there when that happens”you added shaking your head in disbelief.
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rareficsnstuff · 5 years
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Quit Thinking About It [Kirishima, Asui]
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Summary: Taking place the morning after everyone’s moved into the dorms, Asui’s still feeling a little anxious and awkward about interacting with her classmates. Luckily, Kirishima’s there to reassure her.  
Words: 990
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“Good morning, Tsu!”
“(Ribbit) good morning, Kirishima.”
Kirishima had come into the dorm’s kitchen this morning to find only Asui, sitting alone at the table and drinking a steaming mug of some rich-scented tea. As he made his way past her to prepare the coffee pot for his morning dose of caffeine, he decided the scent somehow suited her very well.
“What’s in that?” he asked as she nursed the warm, light green brew.
“Cucumber, honey, jasmine, and chamomile. It’s kind of an acquired taste, but my mom used to make it for me all the time and I like to have it in the morning to sooth me,” she explained.
“Just the smell is soothing enough.” As the coffee brewed, Kirishima went to the fridge and grabbed a few eggs and strips of bacon, placed them on the counter and pulled a skillet from one of the cabinets. “You want some eggs and bacon, Tsu?”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that, I can make it myself.”
“No, no, I insist! It’d be my pleasure!”
“Well… Alright (ribbit). Thank you, Kirishima,” she said, looking sweetly up at him. Kirishima flashed a bright, shark-toothed grin in return before he turned to start their breakfast.
About fifteen minutes later, they were sitting across from each other at the table, empty plates smeared with bacon grease and variants of hot sauce, pepper, and fragments of egg. They could hear the occasional stirring of their classmates beginning to rise, yet no one else had come to join them. Out of the whole group, it seemed these two were the only early, social risers, while some others were just early risers who preferred to be alone as long as possible before the day started. Others, still, were the types to wake at the last minute to preform their minimal morning routine. Not that the two were complaining: they enjoyed each other’s company.
“So you’re feeling better this morning, Tsu?” Kirishima asked softly.
“Yes I am (ribbit). Sorry to worry you.”
“Hey, don’t apologize; we were the ones who worried you. I should be apologizing. I’m really sorry we put you in such an uncomfortable position…” His face fell a bit. “But… are you sure you’re really okay? You still seem a little… distant? Reserved? Uh… You just… don’t seem like your usual happy, confident self today,” he told her, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Uh, yeah... I think I’ll start feeling more normal once we’ve had class with everyone again. I guess this sort of thing just takes a minute to dissolve. But… talking with you has really helped, Kirishima,” she assured.
“But you’re still feeling awkward?” The tone came off as more of a statement than a question.
“Ribbit…” she whined, shoulders slumping.
Tsuyu stood to clear the dishes from the table, politely waving Kirishima off when he made a move to help her. She was feeling awkward. Even after that liberating heart-to-heart last night, she still wasn’t sure how to approach her friends in bulk today without feeling like there was a certain strain to not mess something up. To not say something wrong, give a wrong look, or miss a social queue cue. The more she thought about it, the more nervous she became.
Kirishima stared at her back with a worried expression, concerned for his friend.
“I think you’re thinking about this too much, Tsuyu. We’re still you’re friends; no one’s going to treat you differently because of this. Just relax.”
“I know. You’re right.” She sighed wearily as she finished wiping off the last dish.
“No- okay, come’er,” Kirishima urged, ushering he back to sit at the table. “Just chill, okay? Try just sitting there and focusing your breathing for a minute.” Another deep sigh, this one somehow sounding strained as she stiffly collapsed over the table, resting her chin on the polished wood. Kirishima smirked, endeared at the girl’s fragile efforts.
“No. Umm. Okay, I have another idea.” Tsuyu turned her head to fix one eye on the redhead as her cheek puddled out on the table. A flash of sharp, white teeth and suddenly Tsuyu was jolting upright again.
“Ribbit?”
Staring blankly at the wall in shock, Tsuyu heard Kirishima chuckle behind her before she felt the light, fluttering sensations on her sides again and she shivered. When they didn’t subside, she started squirming in her seat.
“H-hey… w-what are you doing, Kihirishima? I dohon’t thihihihi~” she trailed off, unable to withstand the giddy feeling crawling up her sides any longer.
“Just tryn’ to get you to relax a little, that’s all. Quit thinkn’ about it. It’s not even a problem, okay?” he said, moving one hand up to tickle at the back of her neck. At this, her giggling grew a little more intense and she stood up, tucking her chin to her chest and arching her torso away from the offending hand at her waist. When she brought a hand up to catch the one at her neck, it gave Kirishima an idea. This was just a hunch, but he figured it was worth a shot. Hardening himself, he pulled her to his chest and, pinning one arm to her side, wrapped her in a hug as he pulled her other arm out in front of her. With one hand, he held her fingers in a strong grip, while the other began skittering blunt nails across her palm.
“R-ribBIT!” her voice cracked mid-cry. Kirishima was laughing now too. She doubled over, straining to pull her hand free.
“You feelin’ chill yet?” Kirishima asked as his fingers stilled, still holding Asui’s hand.
“Yehes. I’m okahay,” she giggled, regaining composure.
“Good!” The rest of class 1A began trickling in, preparing their own breakfast and the two moved to the common room.
“We’ve still got some time, but do you wanna walk to class together?” Kirishima asked.
“(Ribbit) I’d like that… Thanks Kirishima.”
“Any time, Tsu.”
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raspberry i love you’s [t.h]
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Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader
Warnings: talking about the tensions within relationships
Summary: Is love always enough? The beginning of relationships are so exciting but how do you make them last?
Word Count: 4.2k
Prompt:  ‘Remember when we were kids and every I love you was true.’
This is my submission for @tom-holland-and-textposts writing challenge.  Flashbacks are in italics.  Thanks @uglypastels for reading through it and giving me the confidence to post
happy reading, lovelies 
masterlist
Time doesn’t hold back anymore.
You tilt your head to the right where your husband is crouching down, trying to pull the zipper up on your daughter’s coat. In your haste this morning you grabbed the one with the zipper that sticks. His cheeks grow hot with the effort, the red flush mingling with the lines that are now burrowed deep in his forehead and around his eyes. The once smooth face of a young man was irrevocably changing. The face that you fell in love with. You knew it was happening to you too. That’s what time does. It changes you into unrecognisable people, for better or worse.
That’s what most mornings are like, impatient. Rushed through to make sure everything was done in time for the start of the day. No time for stolen moments, secret kisses, shy glances or whispered I Love You’s. Just life and its fast-paced ways. Not that you were unhappy with it, but something had recently been playing on your mind. The question, is love always enough? It dances around your mind. At first you didn’t pay it no mind but then you started noticing things. Only small but still significant you thought.
Like the way his eyes no longer linger on you for a few extra seconds when you are getting changed. Like how he has stopped saying ‘finally I’m back home with my beautiful, Y/N’ and now just says ‘hey’ when he walks through the door. Like how seconds turn into minutes turn into hours when responding to a text.
Like how his I love you’s become less frequent.
All relationships have ebb and flow, whatever type they are. You can get complacent with someone but that just means you have to work harder to keep them. People always talk about the spark dying out as their reason for ending things, really that’s their excuse for not trying hard enough or not wanting to. No relationship is completely plain sailing, more of them would work out if they were.  So then, how do you know when your own relationship is going through one of these moments of blandness or if something bigger is on the horizon? Is love always enough?
 Contemplating this question, you can’t help but miss those early days. When love was all you needed and that bond felt invincible. When you first meet someone it's like a seed just beginning to sprout or a fire that's caught its first flame. Limitless potential. The mystery is part of the excitement. Everything is new and as such you pay extra close attention to it, memorising every little detail. Watching the way his body dances before you, the gentle roll and flex of the muscles along his back. How you could hear his breath catch in his throat when you locked onto his eyes and teased him mercilessly. Your skin burning at every graze of a fingertip as you could feel the energy transferring between the two of you.
Senses heightened and both on your best behaviours.
He was still beautiful to you but sometimes you both got lost and distracted with other things. You skip over those little details, time no longer allowing you to breathe them in.
Tom was still struggling with the zip, exasperated grunts filling the porch.
“Daddy, hurry, we’re going to be late,” your daughter whines.
“I’m trying,” Tom huffs.
With one final, triumphant tug the zip glides up the jacket, but the force takes Tom by surprise and he falls backwards, landing on his bum.
“Oww," he grumbles. He sits for a second rubbing his tailbone, his features screwed up as he waits for the pain to subside.
That kind of thing used to make you smile, his awkwardness, the clumsiness that comes with being such a goofball. But right now, you feel yourself checking your watch, impatient for them to get going.
People had always said that when you have kids every other part of your relationships takes a hit, you can’t spend as much time together, you start to dislike each other more and more, the love you have for each other is now channelled into your baby. You never believed them, there was no way you could ever stop loving your wonderful husband, Tom. And you didn’t. You knew that. But why did everything feel flatter these days, not bad, more like the sentimentality had been sucked from it.
You guess everyone experiences these times, where things feel uninspiring.
Relationships are multifaceted, they are like a story, with a beginning, middle and end and no one knows how to write the middle.
“What’s the matter, mummy?” Annie is staring up at you with the same brown eyes as Tom, the perfect shade.
You smile at her, softening your eyes and running a hand over her hair, “nothing, darling.”
“Good.” She pushes past you.
“Because we need to go, daddy. I don’t want to be late.” Annie pushes Tom trying to get him back to his feet, her minimal force having no real effect, but Tom playing up as if she the strongest person he’s ever met.
“Okay, okay,” he clambers to his feet, over dramatically rubbing his lower back, “even though I’m so injured and barely able to move.”
“No, daddy.” Annie places her hands on her hips, pouting.
You should be enjoying this sweet moment, but time was really playing on your mind.
Tom lunges forward and grabs your daughter round the waist and starts mercilessly tickling her.
“Stop,” she squeals.
He pauses and looks into her eyes, grinning, “alright, but only because we need to go.” He boops the end of her nose and she giggles.
“Come on then,” he reaches out his hand, which she takes, a great big grin spreading across her face.
Then he turns to you, puzzled at the expression that meets him.
Tears start to cloud your eyes and you try to blink them away discreetly.
“Love?” His voice is quieter. Annie looks between the two of you, still gripping Tom’s hand.
“Remember when we were kids and every I love you was true,” you blurt out.
You don’t mean to say it, but you do.
 It had reached that part in the evening where booze was being absorbed into people's bloodstreams and their inhibitions were lowing. A medley of 80's hits blared from the speakers and drink sloshed up the sides of cups as people begun to cut loose. No more so than Daniel, a particular brash co-worker of yours who was currently standing in the middle of the room, arms flailing with a recklessness that was kind of concerning and very telling of his desperate need for all attention on himself.
No matter how bad these parties got, and they got bad, you never felt exasperated at the thought of them. That was all thanks to Tom. He was your best friend. You could tell him anything. And he was your chance at respite in moments like these. Any moment he would find your eyes in the group of intoxicated workers and pull this face. A face you knew so well. A face that meant, ‘well this is crazy, but kind of funny too right?’
As if he could read your thoughts, he locked on to you with his beautiful brown eyes. His smile lines drawn down and eyebrows pulling together, the face. You returned his look with a little chuckle. Taking this as his queue, he started ducking and diving through all the people who stood between the two of you. Everyone was still contently watching Ethan make a tit of himself, sipping on their own drinks, leaning into their buzzed hum.
You watched Tom as he came towards you, watched as he intently tried to avoid everyone, considerate even when they weren’t. He glanced at you for one second sending sparks filtering through your body. Unfortunately, it was the wrong second because your most grumpy co-worker stepped back and Tom walked straight into him. You saw his face drop, his hands come up to his chest, half-formed stutters fell from his lips as he attempted to calm the storm cloud- that’s what everyone in the office called Hudson, he could ruin even the sunniest of days with his rumbling temper. For some reason, you thought may have to do with his constant pranks and joking around, Paul thoroughly disliked Tom. He found any excuse he could to erupt at him. That poor boy. But you had to admit it was rather funny to watch Tom squirm to the side, lost for words for once. He didn’t find it so funny, for obvious reasons.
After a string of apologies Tom managed to escape and practically ran towards you, blush still coating his cheeks, a slight layer of perspiration clasping at his baby hairs. He really didn’t like confrontation. He reached out his hand, fingers sliding across your bare arm, to reach safety sooner.
As he drew up in front of you, you noticed how the light reflected off his eyes, highlighting flecks of tawny swimming in hickory pools. And the artificial hum of the office lighting coated his skin making him look warm and inviting. Your gaze dropped to the hand resting on your arm, noting the vibrant purpling of the knuckles, fresh bruises from his boxing training the night before.
You both stood in comfortable silence for a few moments, not needing to speak, just connecting silently.
“You want to go someone else, hopefully quieter?” Tom asked.
You titled your head, unable to hear him over the deafening music and merriment around you, “huh?”
Tom leaned in closer, the faint smell of mint on his breath, “somewhere quieter?” he tried again.
That time you heard him, “oh yes, definitely.”
You had something you had been meaning to tell him all day. He’s the first person you thought of when it happened. He was always the first person you thought of.
“Great, go to the roof and I’ll meet you there in five minutes.”
One eyebrow raised, you asked, “why, what are you doing?”
Tom took a quick glance around the room before returning his gaze to you, “there is just something I have to do.”
Biting down on your lip, you cross your arms, “why are you being so secretive, Holland.”
“Nothing,” he breaks out into a smile, which you mirrored, “now just go.”
He started gently pushing you towards the door, but you dug your heels into the ground making it as hard as possible for him. Giggles now escaping from both of you.
“Come on.” His hands slid down to your waist and despite the laughter, you felt them there, pressed into you, a cold force covering your flesh. You didn’t want to notice them, but you did. His hands glided to the small of your back, applying more pressure, edging you closer to the door.
“I’m not going until you tell me what mysterious things you’re planning.”
The crinkles under his eyes grew deeper as he only responded with a curious smile.
You swivelled around, his hands still on your back, that force still at the forefront of your brain.
“Please, Tom, please,” you mock beg, “best friends share everything.”
He sighed.
“I’ll tell you when I get to the roof, how about that?”
“Perfect,” you beamed.
“Well go on then.” He removed one hand from your back and gestured behind you, nodding in the same direction with his head.
Putting your hands up in surrender you walked the last few steps to the door backwards, winking at him before turning on your heel and heading for the roof. Curious about what he was up to but more than anything just excited about getting to spend time with him and only him.
As you opened the door to the roof the icy breeze pushed against you and caused the breath to get caught in your throat. You wished you had brought your jacket. It’s not like you to forget something like that, you were just too excited. From up here you could see across the whole city, the fluorescent glare from the buildings, red and green flashes mixed in. But if you left the buildings behind, above were a canopy of luminous stars that materialised among the vast ocean of blackness. The moon, a complete orb resting in the sky, so large tonight you were sure you must be looking at it through a magnifying glass.
Some people would say this was a romantic view.
And there’s only one thing that came to mind when you stared at it.
Bang!
You spun around to see Tom bent over, holding onto his shoe.
“Ow, my toe,” he sniffled.
His brown curls that had been so neatly piled atop his head where now flopping down in front of his eyes.
“Hey, you okay?” You offered an outstretched hand, which Tom took, and you feel it again. The force.
This wasn’t the first time you had felt the ‘force’, you had just always tried to push it down. Tom was your friend and that was all he was ever going to be so there wasn’t any point in worrying about it, right? Recently it had been harder to remember that as everything he did caught your attention and held it.
Swallowing down the thought, you helped him to his feet.
“Thanks,” he mumbled as he dusted off his jacket.
“So, what was this surprise then?”
Tom bit his lip as he stood up straighter.
Did he seem nervous to you? Maybe just fizzing with a nervous energy.
Tom reached behind him and pulled out a cardboard box.
“Wait here,” he instructed.
“What do you mean?” Your palms started to sweat.
“Just wait here,” he titled his head, “please.”
You reluctantly nodded, and Tom made his way to the middle of the roof. He had his back to you, so you couldn’t see what he was doing, despite your attempts to peak around him.
“Okay, you can come over now.”
Tom stepped to the side revealing what he had been setting up. A blanket was spread out on the ground and in the middle was a pizza, the lid of the box pulled back. Standing next to it were two drinks, a pile of napkins, and a further pink box, this one much smaller than the pizza with the lid propped open too.
“This was your secret?” you questioned, “you were getting us a picnic?”
Tom scratched the back of his head, eyes drifting to the ground.
“Yeah,” he hesitated, “are you hungry?”
You broke out into a wide smile, “starving.”
You clamber onto the blanket, settling in and grabbing one of the pastries from inside the pink box.
“What are you doing? You can’t start with dessert,” Tom cried, reaching an arm out to stop you.
“You know,” you waved the pastry at him, small flakes breaking off and drifting onto the blanket, “you could do with rebelling a bit more.”  
Tom’s nostrils flared as he rolled his eyes, “as you wish.” A slight flicker at the corner of his mouth.
He flopped down onto the blanket, plunging his hand into the pink box and picking up the other raspberry crown.
“Cheers.” You both brought your pastries together pretending to clink them before taking a bite. The pastry was so buttery and soft, the jam sweet but with an edge of tang to it. It was the best jam you had ever tasted. You couldn’t help it, you didn’t even think about it.
“This is so great,” you mumbled through a full mouth, “I love you.”
And that was it.
That was the first time you told him you loved him.
Back then neither of you fully understood the type of love but you meant it all the same.
 "Hey, mine still do," Tom said, his tone low, slow like he was holding back.
You take a deep breath.
“I know, but I think sometimes we don’t put the same meanings into those words anymore. Maybe if you say it enough it starts to lose meaning.”
Tom simply blinks at you, clearly not expecting this conversation. Perhaps that was a good thing, it meant he wasn’t thinking about it right.
“It doesn’t have to lose meaning.” He swallows. “Has it lost meaning for you?”
“No, no,” you quickly respond. “No,” you say almost to yourself this time.
You know you still love him, you’re just wondering where all the secret kisses went. Or more, the meaning behind them.
So, you say, unable to keep it all to yourself anymore, “you used to pull me into a room for a stolen five minutes even though we worked in the same office.”
“You think I don’t love you because we don’t have time for secret little rendezvous?” Tom asks.
“I never said I thought you didn’t love me.”
You knew all your words were coming out wrong. You want to make Tom understand.
“Mummy, daddy,” a little voice trickles into your conversation, “do you not love each other anymore? Are you going to break up?”
Annie was sucking her thumb, something she hadn’t done for a year. This was bad. God this was a terrible time to talk about this. Why were you so selfish.
“No, no, darling, of course not,” you and Tom both said.
“We do have to go though,” he directs towards Annie.
He pulls her towards the door, picking his keys up from the windowsill before undoing the latch. They both step outside before Tom turns his head.
“We’ll talk when we get back, yeah?”
You nod meekly, unsure of whether this was the right thing to do at all.
  “How long have we been talking?”
Muffled sounds from the other side of the phone filled the room, everything else around you so still. The sun long since dipped in the sky.
“Six hours.” Both your voices were heavy with drowsiness.
“Really, has it been that long.” You tried to stifle a yawn.
After telling Tom how you truly felt about him, you felt freer. Able to let him into every part of you and you knew he was more comfortable too. You could feel it in when he put his arm around you, when he laughed with you, when he stayed on the phone with you for six hours without once suggesting that you should both go to bed. The effortlessness of the conversation made sense to you. It was how you felt when you first met him. Like he was the one who could keep you at ease.
“Mmm, I guess it has,” he said, now trying to stifle a yawn himself. “Are you tired yet?”
“No,” you lied.
You had made the mistake of lying down on your bed about an hour again. The soft silk of your pillow and the warmth of your duvet had instantly made you drowsy. You wanted to stay up all night to talk to Tom, but your body had other ideas. You knew you should go to sleep, after all, you had work in the morning, but everyone knows that people start to spill all their secrets at two am and you were only half an hour off.
There was one secret you were hoping Tom was keeping close to his chest but that was just wishful thinking. Just because you felt something doesn’t mean he did too.
“Y/N,” Tom’s groggy voice came through the phone.
“Mhm," you replied, your eyelids weighing more than you ever remembered.
“Just checking you are still awake.”
“Course, stay awake-” For a moment your head lolled onto your pillow, sleep circling in your brain.
You jolted up, rubbing your eye lightly, “mmm, stay awake all night.”
A crackled chuckle came from Tom.
“Whatever you say, love.”
As much as you fought it, you could barely keep one eye open now.
And as sleep pulled you into the world of impossible dreams you thought you heard three little words echo from the phone. A soft voice whispering, ‘I love you’.
 You slump down onto the stairs, letting your head fall into your hands, wishing immediately that Tom was back here in your arms. You want to run your fingers through his hair, tell him all about your day even though it’s only just beginning.
The love wasn’t lost between the two of you, you just have to make sure the other person knows that. To tell them every once in a while.
***
Did you ever have those moments where you are drawn out of where you are? Not to say you aren’t still present but more that you can see the picture like you are looking in from the outside. A moment of pure bliss, where you are hit with all your emotions at once. The moment when you just look at someone’s face and your heart floods with warmth because you know you love them. Everything feels good in that moment, everything feels light, feels calm.
Well as you threw back your head, laughter erupting from you, you had one of those moments. Snapping a mental polaroid that you would later scribble the three big words on, in a black felt tip marker.
Tom sat opposite you, his tongue caught in between his teeth as he choked back his own laughter. His hoodie was pulled down over his palms, so he could dab at the small tears that were starting to trickle down his face.
As you watched him you were overcome with a simple love, an untarnished love, a wholesome love. No complications. It fizzed throughout your entire body and you felt content, more content than you could ever wish to feel.
Tom’s hand on top of yours brought you back into the present. He had inched closer to you as he was laughing. You weren’t sure if he had done it on purpose or not. Should you follow suit and close the gap further? Pretending to shift in your seat, you scooted a little closer to him.
“I can’t believe you actually said that to him.” Tom’s eyes were wide with amusement.
“I just wasn’t thinking,” you said, biting down on your lip, mildly embarrassed.
Tom didn’t seem to notice, he just inched closer. His nose practically level with your own.
“Oh, you weren’t thinking, were you?” he teased, eyes flickering down to your mouth, then back up to meet your eyes.
You smirked, not because of the story but because you knew what was coming.
His lips brushed against yours, so faint you were almost not sure if they were really there. Then a hand rested on the back of your head, a light pressure tempting you forwards. Your lips met again, this time a little harder and you fell into the kiss, small giggles exchanged between you.
Your fingers danced around the drawstrings of his hoodie, trying to find their own place in this moment.
Sighing deeply into his lips, “I love you” slipped from your own.
You hadn’t meant to say it. But it felt right. It felt exciting. You really did mean it. You really loved him.
 You weren’t sure if you should even cry, you didn’t know what any of this meant. You just want to see Tom. As if he could read your mind the door unlocks.
“Y/N, where are you?” He sounds spirited.
“Here,” you call out, unsure of what to make of it. Now unsure of how to act around your own husband, feeling awkward at the thought of talking to him. Now that you had said it aloud it all seems so silly.  
Tom follows your voice into the kitchen where you are sitting at the breakfast table, your hands wrapped around a mug of lukewarm tea.
Tom looks positively gleeful when you say, “hi.”
“I got you something,” he said.  
You hadn’t noticed how one of his arms was held behind his back until he brought it forward, a pink box in it.
You look quizzically at it, not understanding straight away.
Gently, he places it on the table and flips open the lid. Inside lie two freshly baked raspberry crowns, the pastry golden and the filling shiny with glazing.
“I was thinking about what you said throughout the whole drive and I miss putting in maximum effort too.”
You knew this feeling was only a temporary one because as you stare at Tom in front of you, you couldn’t imagine your life being any different and you didn’t want it to be.
“Do you remember the rooftop picnic, the first time we had these?” Tom pulls out a chair next to you, his hand finding your knee and cupping it firmly. Your hand automatically goes to his.
“I do,” you say.
“That was the first time you told me you loved me.”
“And I meant it.”
Tom’s hand drifts slightly further up your leg. The force.
“And I still do.”
Tagging a few peeps: @thelazypangolin @mysteryavengers @tomhollandthirst @anxieteaandbiscuits @rachramblesstuff @h-osterfield @hazsterfield  @whyistomholland
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mimedusa-blog · 5 years
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the memory that shaped the monster ( 18 September 2009 - 21 September 2009 )
nayoung’s parents are the last thing jinah sees before she’s escorted out of the courtroom. the guards muttered amongst themselves after they put her wrists and ankles in cuffs, connected by a chain that sounded like death toll after death toll with every step. she clambered into the bus, alone, and made no eye contact with the three odd prisoners who seemed to have been waiting for her before they were able to depart.
her lawyer told her to go for an insanity plea, and then a guilty plea when that failed the first time. she wrote a letter, as was expected, but nayoung’s family would have none of it. they were convinced that she was guilty (rightly so), but all her mother could do was cry – “she loved you!” the old woman said, “she loved you, jinah! – you were family to us! – why would you do that to her?!”
song jinah knew that full well and still realised that love could never be a priority again when she struck that first blow to her best friend’s head. then the next, and the next, and when that wasn’t enough she strangled her until her face turned blue and her nails no longer scratched at the carpet. even in her dying moments, nayoung didn’t want to implicate jinah. nayoung forgave her for it.
yet, here she is, all because the third-party chose to blow the whistle.
the ride felt like two days instead of two hours, and that still wasn’t enough time for her to think of a way out.
the building they approach is as grey as the sky above it. the metal gate clambers and slides to the side slowly, giving her a moment to look out and see the drab brown of the officers’ uniforms here. for a moment, there’s still fight left in her, still some willingness to escape. as the bus drives in, at a glance, there are spots of vulnerability and precious seconds that she can exploit to sneak out once she’s found her way out, but the cameras on the other side of the drive are another matter, and she can’t formulate a plan without taking into account any contingencies.
it doesn’t sink in until they make her change out of her clothes and into a sky-blue jumpsuit.
of course, giving the corrections officer a funny remark about looking at her ass as she checked for any smuggled goods earned her a quick smack upside the head, but that isn’t new. what’s new is the scratchy material under her skin and the cold cuffs on her wrists. they feel much heavier than they are because jinah doesn’t bother raising her hands and tries to keep her gaze to the floor. even then, she counts the number of doors in the hallway, takes note of how far away each door is from one another, and hears the cacophony from the metal-slatted openings at the upper half of each entry.
it’s just past dinner service, she hears a passing officer say to another, and catches the look that he gives her way. the pity doesn’t settle well. something bitter rises from the back of her throat, but she swallows it and keeps walking.
they stop at a door that she knows is hers, and fear grips her in vines from the floor, wrapping around her ankles until she’s given a nudge between her shoulder blades. 
the room strangles her the moment she enters it. there is a single light in the ceiling and the distinct smell of a toilet soaked in dime-store cleaner permeates her nostrils too strongly. there are six other women here, and her eyes take a moment to adjust from the fluorescent hallway to this cell. light blurs and takes her strength with it – suddenly she’s ten, thirteen, sixteen again, gasping for air in a cupboard under the stairs, smaller and smaller, smelling like the house’s old plumbing and an earthquake thudding above her head whenever her father stomps on a step to keep her cries quiet.
when she exhales, it feels like it’s the last she’ll take.
“no–,” she blurts out as the guard turns her around by the shoulders roughly. she doesn’t realise her hands are trembling until the officer lifts her wrists by the middle of her cuffs and undoes them. “no, you can’t put me in here –!”
she lunges forward, but fear makes her slow. she takes a single step, and the guard punches her in the middle, knocking the air out of her and making her stumble forward, and back on her ass when he pushes her shoulder. “you should’ve thought of that before you killed anybody.”
the door closes with a thud before she can make another desperate attempt.
it goes again, and again. her head feels heavy with the memory. the door feels closer than it is, the ceiling feels like it’s bearing down over her head again, and her heart feels like a pinball bouncing in the too-small canals of her chest. there air is stale here, overused, not enough. someone makes her way over to jinah and touches her arm, but both give out under her in shock. the tremors of her own movements make her crawl to the nearest wall – anything, anything, anythinganythinganythingplease to keep them from closing in. they say something about calm, about breathing, but her forehead rests against the wall and so do her fingers, digging into nothing but concrete.
“breathe,” someone says by her ear, squeezing her shoulder, grips her beyond the fear, and she holds onto that hand as if it’ll lead her out. she listens to the woman, follows it slowly, and closes her eyes tighter, keeping one hand on the wall to keep it from shrinking.
jinah writes the postcard in the yard.
it’s been three whole days, but she’s managed to steal a postcard and a pen. no one waits for her outside, no one gives money to her to send so much as a letter, so her cellmate – who she now knows as jisoo ¬– gives her a few won to send something out. outside, the air keeps her hand stable. she writes a single letter as her addressee.
qian knew – she had to know – jinah’s worst fears, her worst nightmares, and elected to keep her here. but jinah hoped to god it was just anger (surely, it was) and that it would subside. qian would forgive her if she could just explain that she had no choice, that she truly was sorry, and that she loved nayoung, too. maybe qian would do something. anything. qian knew this would be hell for her, didn’t she? she knew, and she still opened her damn mouth, but maybe she could change her mind and it will be alright –
as soon as her pen left the surface, however, a shadow loomed over her on the bench.
“whose postcard is that, little girl?”
she doesn’t bother looking up, and instead folds the 100-won coin in postcard, and tucks it in the front pocket of her jumpsuit before answering. “mine, now. what’s it to you?”
jinah looks up.
they are only numbers here. she doesn’t bother learning who this woman is but, surrounded as she is by others who look just as menacing and just as ugly, she figures it’s someone who thinks she’s the boss. by the way her (unwaxed) upper lip curls, it’s obvious that jinah’s dismissiveness isn’t something that she’s used to.
“i hear you have no one on the outside, girl. no one to miss you, no one to send anything to, no one to get money from. i’m asking you nicely where you got it.”
she doesn’t blink. there are worse monsters like this. there are monsters like her, who sit on the lowest bench and mind their own business because their friends and cellmates are on their own shifts sewing clothes together. so, she answers, “none of your business.”
again, probably the wrong answer. “don’t be a little bitch, kid. give it to me. everyone pays up if they don’t want to get hurt – and you don’t want to get hurt, do you?”
she takes a step forward, and jinah stands up in turn, fast enough that it makes her head spin wild with excitement she wishes she didn’t feel. the woman is definitely bigger than her, taller, bulkier. there’s a clear vein at her neck that would be too easy to stab.
“no.” she scoffs. this is nothing. this woman is tiny, and she glares up and jabs a finger right at her chest, in the middle of her non-existent breasts, pressing against bone and fat and skin. “fuck. off.”
the woman sighs. “fine. i warned you.”
as if waiting for that queue, the women on either side of their leader holds her arms still. they’re too quick, and her hand is still clutching onto a pen. the fist comes for her stomach first. her foot lands on the right woman’s foot, head dodging down as a large fist almost hits her temple. the fight in her shocks them for half a second, and this is enough. the left one goes down next, earning a swift four-fingered jab to her throat. her elbow hits the other one’s stomach, too, just in case, and when they stumble back their leader realises that this is no ordinary little girl, and especially not when jinah aims the pen at her neck – but she catches it with her palm just in time. the ink nib digs into the leader’s skin with the force and speed of it, but instead of fighting back, she steps back and cries –
“she did it!”
jinah’s brows quirk into a frown – “what –,”
and this time, more than one grabs her wrists. someone hits the back of her knees, twists her elbow and her shoulder back. the familiar click of cuffs binds her wrists together, and something hard hits right at her spine, making her fall on her stomach. but this isn’t enough, and she sees the pen sink into the wet, muddy earth almost as quickly as her cheek hits the ground. and still this isn’t enough, because they hit her again. yet it isn’t enough, it isn’t enough, no –
“you think you’re so tough on your own, huh?”
“we knew it was a matter of time. damn, fuck – stay still! – fine, let’s see how you do on your own, crazy bitch –,”
“no –! no! it wasn’t me!” she hears her own voice from far away when they hoist her up from under her arms. her legs struggle to find their footing, stumbling. mud clings to her cheek and it stings her lip. she tastes it when she swallows. “no, get that – fucking ¬– son of a bitch! – NO –!”
she doesn’t know how long she’s spent here.
this cell is smaller. louder. when they threw her in, the coin fell out of her pocket and through the shower drain. there isn’t a shower. there’s a bucket that smells like shit and almost makes her throw up. the flat floor smells like piss and vomit. there aren’t any windows. there’s a single vent at a ceiling that’s too high for her to reach. the mattress is so thin she might as well have slept on the floor itself. at some point, she tore as little pieces off the postcard as she could to pass the time, dropping them into the slots of the drain.
she doesn’t know how long she’s been here.
there’s a ghost every time the light mocks her under the metal door. no one opens anything here, and even if they did, jinah wouldn’t hear it. she doesn’t know how many times in a day her father’s cold, dead fingers sink into her skull in her sleep. she doesn’t know how often her mother steps on her chest when she sleeps. she doesn’t know how often nayoung strangles her.
she measures it by the times she wakes up, by habit, by stale food. there is a single meal in between her waking and sleeping moments, comprised of gruel that tastes sour and bread hard as stone. sometime in between, her mother visits, blames her, yells at her, asks her why she didn’t go with her father, and why it had to be her father who died. then, when she cries enough for her to leave her be, her father takes her mother’s place and says fear without opening his mouth. before she sleeps, he keeps her company, whispering, hurting, bleeding. when she wakes up, right before mealtime, nayoung hovers above her and strangles her with love.
jinah doesn’t know how long she’s been here, and she doesn’t know how it is she finds herself out.
when they let her out, she smells like death.
when they let her out, she smiles like it, too.
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cebeavers · 6 years
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Cedar Point 2018
May 25 & 26, 2018 Photo Album Video Album
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If you can’t find a way to go to Cedar Point during dead week, Memorial Day Weekend has proven to be a great time to head to Cedar Point and find moderate attendance and lighter lines.  In the past four years I’ve spent 3 Memorial Day weekends at the park, and have had a great time on each visit.  Even with the long drive from North Carolina to Sandusky, the trip is worth it to visit America’s Roller Coast, and having followed the transformation of Mean Streak into Steel Vengeance over the last 2 years, I was determined to get to the park this year to ride.  My friends Isaac and Blake joined in, and on Friday morning we headed north.
Isaac found a nice AirBnB about 30 minutes south of the park and, after stopping off there to drop off our stuff and freshen up, we made our way onto the peninsula.  We parked in the Cedar Point Shores parking lot since the Magnum lot was closed, and headed in to meet up with Bryan Bird.  After introductions and salutations, we walked towards Dragster, which was testing after being closed.  The line opened as we walked by, so we quickly got into the queue as the wait wouldn’t be this short all weekend most likely.
Dragster is always a great experience, even if it isn’t a great coaster.  We waited about 35 minutes or so to ride near the back of the train.  Dragster always makes me anxious because of that launch.  This was Blake’s first time at the park and first time on anything like this.  As always, the launch was super fast and intense and I really still like Dragster as a ride.  This was our only ride all weekend because it was being cranky both days.
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We walked around the front of the park and headed over towards Millennium Force.  I noticed when driving by that the line started at the end of the ramp and was happy to see that was still the case.  It only took about 30 minutes to get on the ride.  I know the coaster gets a lot of ‘hate’, but I actually really like it.  The first drop is already amazing and the setting can’t be beat.  There is airtime on the two hills hopping back over from the island, and even the small hop by the station gives you a rise out of your seat.  Blake once again loved it.
After that we headed across the midway to Rougarou, which was nearly a walk on, and we got on in the back.  The ride packs a punch and is so much better than Mantis ever was.  We walked around for a bit and thru Frontier Town.  Steel Vengeance had a very long line, so we walked around the park and finally hit up the burger joint back near Steel Vengeance as Bryan said the food was good.  And the food was decent.  The customer service, however, was severely lacking.  It took way too long and they kept messing up orders, but eventually we did get our burgers.  After that we headed to the entrance to Steel Vengeance to get in line to end our nite.  The wait was about an hour and twenty minutes with them running one train.
Steel Vengeance-I can’t even give a proper rundown of the ride.  Its just as good as everyone said, no overhyping here.  The first drop was amazing.  We rode in the back seat.  The 90 degree drop was amazing.  After that you have the two outward banked ejector airtime hills. Then I can’t honestly tell you much about what happened because it was a big convoluted mess.  And I mean that in the most awesome way possible.  This coaster has the intensity of Voyage (the only ride I can say is in it’s category), but without the rattle (however slight) that any wooden coaster can have.  I was weak in the knees and dizzy afterwards for a good thirty minutes.  Instant number one.  It delivers every thing.  All of the things.  It has them.  Airtime, floater and ejector.  Sideways airtime.  Inversions.  Insanity.
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So that was the end of the first evening.  I was in total ecstasy.  And it shown thru for the entire ride back to the AirBnB thirty minutes away.  Once we got there we got our stuff together and I took a shower and quickly fell asleep.
The next morning we got up and got ready to head out.  There was a McDonalds down the street that was good for breakfast.  We pulled into the parking lot right around 9am and headed in for Platinum Pass early entry.  We had planned to go straight back and get on Steele Vengeance, but once we got back there the line was already full.  We decided to forgo that till the end of the day once again and get some other early rides in.  And the closest early ride was Maverick.  I still love Maverick in every way.  I’m glad they’re restoring effects.  Thusfar some of the lights in the tunnel are working.  I can’t wait till the LED walls and more of the effects are added back in in the tunnel.  It really helps an already amazing ride.
It was getting close to park opening so we headed up to Valravn thru Frontier Town, stopping by the closed petting zoo for a brief visit with some donkeys.  On our last trip, Isaac and I got a back row nite ride because it was the debut year and the line was really long, and the ride barely ran the next day.  This was my first daytime ride, and we rode in the front row this time.
Valravn-That first drop on any dive coaster is great.  The view from Valravn though, is really beautiful.  While not a huge fan of dive coasters I do think this is the best layout, even if Sheikra has better theming.  The inversions are smooth and that zero g roll has great airtime, which was hitting much harder on this visit.  I really like the coaster more on a second go round.
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As we were in the area we hit up Blue Streak, which was (and has been for some time now) running phenomenally along the track.  Great airtime and such a classic coaster.  Then we walked over towards the front of the park.  I mentioned at some point that I wanted to ride Ocean Motion as I never had, and it has such a cute, quaint setting.
Though I'm still trying to get back down to my pre-surgery weight of 2015 (I’ve lost 20lbs since December!), I’m not skinny enough to ride Wicked Twister.  And that’s fine for now because I know I’ll be back down.  But I didn’t want Isaac nor Blake to miss out, so after getting some Starbucks I told them to get in line while I sat and watched and had some coffee.
Since we were already in the area and close to Gatekeeper, that was what we got in line for next, which was basically a walk-on.  Maybe a one train wait.  I know this coaster gets a lot of flack for being big and snoopy and boring, but I like big and snoopy and don’t think it’s boring.  Plus it’s very stunning to look at.  After Gatekeeper I took Blake to see the top floor of the Coliseum, knowing that he’d love the big band era art deco.
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We decided to have lunch, and with Isaac having some food allergies, and Blake being in the mood for it, we decided to hit Panda Express.  Oh, and since I have the dining pass, I was fine with it too.  We walked over to Melt first as I wanted to try it out at some point and decided to have dinner there.  Then we walked to the main midway and followed a marching band.  As we walked across the park we were able to see some of the rehearsal for the new show on the former Luminosity stage.  Meh.  I liked Luminosity. Once we were done eating we got in line for Iron Dragon.  This was actually one of the longer waits of the day, clocking in at around 20 minutes.  But thats okay.  I can give or take Iron Dragon, but didn’t want Blake to miss out.
I wanted to see what the wait for Steel Vengeance would be like so our next stop was back in that corner of the park, but sadly the line was well over 2 hours.  We walked back to the main midway and hit up Derby Racer.  I love this thing.  I really need to ride the other 2 at some point.  At that point we were on our way out the front gate to move the car and hit up the water park for a bit.  The lines were even lighter at Cedar Point Shores.  I never visited Soak City.  The current waterpark looks outstanding.  Much better than what it used to be.  We weren’t planning on staying very long.  After changing into our swim trunks we headed over to some random slide complex and did a pink slide.
Isaac and I had wanted to do the drop slides, as we love them at Carowinds, but we passed for the moment and went to the big family raft slide.  As we neared the top, we could see a storm coming our way.  The large raft slide was really a lot of fun, and I got some good airtime up the side of the trough.  At the end it was starting to sprinkle, so we went for a dip in the older lazy river.  I wish Carowinds’ Lazy River was this long (Or that they had 2 like CPS).  As the rain got heavier we decided to call it a day at the water park after about an hour and a half just as the bottom dropped out of the clouds.
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We went into the bathhouse and changed while basically being stranded in their for around 30 minutes.  Then once the rain subsided enough we headed to the car then drove over to Hotel Breakers for a drink at their bar.  I also had a cinnamon bun from Starbucks whilst drinking my Long Island Iced Tea.
The sun came out while we were hanging at Breakers so we headed down the boardwalk and entered the park by Windseeker, which I contest is still the best one of the group thus far.  Then I wanted to get some pictures from the Ferris Wheel, so that was obviously next.  We had looked at the line for Raptor before going to Shores, but it was still long.  At this point, however, the line was maybe 20 minutes so we hit that up next.  Blake and Isaac were then going to get their credits on Corkscrew as I took some photos, but the line was really long so we headed to Melt for dinner.  This was my first (and hopefully not last) Melt experience.  Our server was great and so was the food.  I like all of the nostalgia Cedar Point pictures in the restaurant.
A ride on the CP & LE railroad was our next stop.  Had it not been getting late we’d have rode the entire circuit but Blake still needed some rides and we hadn’t ridden two of the best rides in the park, so we took another look at Steel Vengeance’s line, then headed over to Gemini.  At this point it was only running the red side, but the ride was still super fun as always.
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By this point it was a little past twilight and we headed to Magnum.  I couldn’t take my small nap sack on so I waited for Blake and Isaac to ride, then Isaac took all of our stuff to the car while Blake and I rode in the front of the car at nite.  Magnum is as glorious as ever, even if I didn’t get trim free rides this time.  But that’s…okay.
Blake still needed the mine train, but I needed a bathroom, so I told him to go ride that since I knew it would be a walk on while I went to the restroom, then we headed to Steel Vengeance to meet up.  The fireworks were going off as Blake and Isaac arrived and we got in line just before the point we had the nite before.  Again it was somewhere between 70 and 90 minutes to ride, but I lucked out and got a ride in row 8 as a single rider.  And it was still so amazing.  As we walked to the Magnum entrance to the park, I saw my first Dragster rollback.
My only main issues with the visit was that obviously they’re only running one train on Steel Vengeance, otherwise I’d have ridden a few more times as lines were light all weekend.  Cedar Point nearly every year is starting to spoil me as I’ve been 3 of the past four Memorial Days.  I think I’ll likely skip next year, but I will definitely be back for more of America’s Roller Coast soon.
We headed back to the AirBnB and we were all wiped out, so I fell asleep pretty soon after closing my eyes, ready for the drive the next morning to Kings Island.
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robronsecretsanta · 6 years
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Fanfic: Just by the side of Amsterdam
To @justleavemebreathless love from your fellow Dutch Secret Santa. Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoy this silly/cheesy fic :P
Christmas 2018
They get the hotel voucher as a wedding present, a weekend away to Amsterdam. Though with their honeymoon and then life just getting hectic again they don’t end up cashing it in until December. It’s the weekend before Christmas and they’ve finally found the time for a weekend away.
The flight from Leeds to Amsterdam is just over an hour long, but somehow Robert had conked at the minute they sat down on the plane, leaving Aaron to entertain himself during the flight. So here he is, staring out of the little plane window at fluffy clouds while his husband is drooling on his shoulder.
Liv is engrossed in some game on her phone as she’s still sulking her loss of the rock, paper, scissors game he had had with her over the window seat. He hadn’t wanted the seat all that much, but he liked riling his little sister up. When he’d offered her the seat anyway she’d just huffed and plopped down in the aisle seat. Robert had shook his head at their antics, happy to sit wherever so long as it was next to Aaron. Turns out he just wanted to use Aaron as a pillow anyway.
Before he knows it the plane already starts making its descent and slowly the clouds are replaced by vast green fields. They’re not here for the tulip season, he knows because Robert had bemoaned the fact endlessly, going on about wanting to see the colourful fields. Aaron had reminded him of the fact that the gift voucher was only good till the end of the year. In the end he had finally managed to shut him up by promising a return visit to Amsterdam in a few months, that and a blowjob that had left Robert gripping the back of the sofa tightly to keep upright.
As the pilot starts telling them they’re about to land and Robert is still out to the world he softly shakes his husband’s shoulder. He knows from experience that getting woken up by a plane touching the ground is no fun. The sleepy look Robert sends him as he blinks his eyes open is so cute it makes him lean in for a kiss.
They somehow manage to steer Liv away from the overpriced food at the airport and get a taxi to their hotel. It’s a simple room, two king-sized beds next to each other. Liv had pointedly packed her noise cancelling headphones when she found out she would be in the same room as them. Aaron had just given her a disgusted look back, as if they were gonna do something with her right there, he’d scar himself just as much.    
It doesn’t take long before Robert whips out his notebook full of things they apparently need to do in the 72 hours they’re here. There were apparently a bunch of Christmas markets all over the city and of course a bunch of cliché touristy things to do. Liv just wants to go ice skating and eat all the food she can find. He doesn’t really mind what they do so long as he has his mum and Paddy’s Christmas presents sorted by the end of the trip. Robert and Liv’s presents are already bought and wrapped, ready to be put under their giant tree back at the Mill.
Neither him or Liv like going to museums, but Robert tells them they at least have to go and see the Rijksmuseum whilst they’re here, so that’s their first stop. Not before they get some food into their bellies though and the smell of something sweet soon leads their way to a poffertjes stand. The tiny, fluffy pancakes doused in powdered sugar and a square of butter on the side are a delicious treat to still their hunger. It’s probably not the healthiest of lunches, but then they’re on vacation.
“You’ve got a little,” he says gesturing at the speck of powdered  sugar on Robert’s nose.
Robert wipes at his nose, but of course he doesn’t get it. It’s like some soppy rom-com moment as he leans in to rub his thumb over the spot, before pressing a kiss against the tip of Robert’s nose.
“Looked like a right druggie, you,” he jokes.
“Oi!” Robert quips back, before tickling at his sides.
“Ugh, are you guys gonna be all over each other all weekend?” Liv breaks them out of their little moment.
“You’re the one that insisted on coming with us. Should’ve known not to join a loved up newlywed couple.” Robert’s quick to retort back.  
“You’ve been married for months now!”
It had taken a while for Robert to get in Liv’s good graces again, but after almost a year they were right back to sniping at each other like before. He drowns out Robert and Liv’s squabbling as they make their way over to the museum, happy to take in the sights along the way. He hears Liv groan as the queue at the entrance gets in sight. Great, waiting in the cold to see some paintings. He sends Robert a pleading look, but his husband is determined.
“We’re gonna get some culture in the both of ya,” he grins as if he hasn’t seen the seemingly endless line of people waiting to enter.
The paintings were nice and all, if you were into that sorta thing and Robert had oo’ed and ah’ed at the paintings hanging on the walls. They’d gone to see the Night Watch first and Aaron couldn’t help but be impressed by it. The massively sized painting a sure crowd pleaser, if it could even get him and Liv to look at it for more than a few seconds. But in the end even Robert had gotten bored of looking at the seemingly endless displays of paintings and they’d venture outside and back into the cold.
That’s when Liv noticed the big ‘I Amsterdam’-sign and the ice skating rink across from it. Excited to get the picture every tourist seemed to get during their stay in Amsterdam she’d hurried along to it. She handed her phone to Robert, because apparently Aaron was shit at taking pictures, and started to climb onto one of the massive letters.
As Robert had taken a bunch of pictures of his sister and she started to climb back down again, Robert pulled him forward.
“I’m not taking a cringe photo like that Robert,” he says pulling a face at the other man that was still pulling at his arm.
“Oh come on Aaron, we’re here now, might as well go full tourist huh.” And the big grin on Robert’s face was enough for Aaron to give in. He handed Liv his phone as she had finally managed to get down from the big ‘I’ without falling flat on her face.
Robert wrapped his arms around his waist as they stood in front of the sign, planting a kiss on his cheek as Liv took their picture. The pose as cheesy as can be, but it still sends a warm happy flush through his body.
“You two are disgusting,” Liv says as she hands him back his phone, the smile playing on her lips negating her words.
It had gotten dark while they were at the museum and the Christmas lights around them give of a warm glow as they walk towards the ice skating rink. His sister bouncing around with a big grin on her face as she sees the rink full of people skating circles.
“Can we go now, please?”
“Let’s get some food first yeah, I’m starving.”
“Fine,” she sighs, before her stomach starts to rumble in agreement.
They devour their burgers and chips quickly, while the poffertjes had been delicious it really hadn’t been a very filling lunch. He’s just drinking down the last dregs of his beer when Liv starts bouncing in her seat again.
“You’re like a 5-year old bouncing around in your seat like that, it’s like you’ve never ice skated before,” Aaron chuckles at his sisters antics.
“I haven’t!”
“What? You’ve never gone ice skating before? Not even with school?”
“No, mum never let me. Always kept me home ‘sick’ because it was too dangerous.”
“Never stopped you before,” Robert quips.
“Yeah well, you don’t get far without the money to rent skates and your mum suddenly being a helicopter parent on the days school went skating,” she says sadly.
“Well let’s get you a pair of skates then, huh.” Aaron says, determined to give his sister an amazing night.
“You sure you’ve never skated before?” Aaron asks Liv as she seems to be cruising along just fine after a first few wobbles.
“Just like rollerblading innit,” she shrugs as she skates off for another lap around the rink.
“Just like rollerblading,” he hears Robert huff behind him. Unlike his sister, Robert was having far more trouble keeping upright. He clung onto the barrier the second he so much as staggered a tiny bit.
“Just get a bloody chair to hold onto Robert, don’t be daft.”
“I’m not using a stupid chair to hold onto, not even the little kids are using them,” he says gesturing at the little kids skating around without any help, before grabbing onto the barrier again tightly as he almost loses his balance again.
“Yeah, well they’re probably Dutch kids aren’t they, they’re born with skates under their feet.” He can’t stop the laugh from bursting from his lips at the look of disdain Robert sends him at that. He shakes his head and reaches for Robert’s hands.
“Come on lemme help you then.”
Slowly they manage to get Robert away from the barrier. Aaron is by no means a professional skater either, but somehow he manages to get them both a lap around the rink. After that first lap he figures they can try a round without Robert holding on to him. They get about halfway around the ice rink before Robert starts to wobble again, arms flailing around wildly before he loses his balance completely and knocks both of them down onto the ice.
The air leaves his lungs in a burst as his back connects with the cold surface and he huffs out another breath as Robert lands on top of him.
“Ouch,” he laughs.
“Sorry,” Robert mumbles as he makes no move to get back up, but instead leans in closer to Aaron. “Hi,” he whispers.
“Hi,” Aaron manages to say back before Robert leans down to press his lips against his. The world around them subsides as their lips connect. Warmth spreading through him, even though he’s literally lying on ice, as Robert’s tongue runs over his lips softly. He lets himself indulge in the kiss for a little while longer as he opens his lips and closes his eyes. Robert’s  nose is cold against his skin as their lips keep moving against each other, mouths the only warm thing about this kiss.
“Oi!” They hear from above them as Liv comes to a halt in front of them. “You two are keeping everyone up.”
He slowly opens his eyes, can’t help the smile lingering on his face as Robert tries to get up from the ice. “You did that on purpose,” he says sending Robert a knowing look. Robert, who’s finally on his feet again, just shrugs, a look of fake innocence on his face as he says, “I think it’s time for hot chocolate.”
“Bit naff innit? A canal tour?” he says the next morning.
“It’s the way to see Amsterdam apparently or would you rather bike around Amsterdam instead,” Robert shrugs, knowing both of them would rather sit in a warm boat than cycle around the city in the cold. Especially with the Dutch cyclists whizzing around seemingly everywhere. They’d been almost knocked off their feet multiple times and had quickly learned not to walk on the red bike lanes.
“Can we go tonight instead, I saw something about a light festival canal tour thing,” Liv pipes up, phone momentarily forgotten as she excitedly explains what it is.
“But then what are we gonna do during the rest of the day?”
“Might as well do that brewery tour,” Aaron grins cheekily.
“It’s 10 am Aaron! Anyway, Liv won’t be allowed in.”
“She will be, she just can’t drink anything,” he says pointedly looking at his sister.
Liv just holds her hands up, a look of fake innocence on her face.
“And it doesn’t have to be right now. Need to sort mum and Paddy’s pressies out still. Don’t you need to buy some presents still?”
“Alright fine. And no Aaron I’ve had everything sorted for weeks, not everyone leaves buying presents till the last minute.”
A few hours later he’s a bag full of goodies from Rituals for his mum in one hand. And in the other hand a bag with a woollen hat with bicycles and the word Amsterdam embroidered in it for Paddy, some foam wooden shoes for Leo and a pair of real ones for Zak.
Liv had made them indulge in some freshly made stroopwafels that had left them with sticky fingers, but had been delicious. She swinging around her own bag of presents now, some ridiculous weed sunglasses for Gerry and some earrings for Gabby. And Robert hadn’t been able to stop himself from buying Victoria an extra present, a nice pair of earrings to match the necklace he’d gotten her.
“Time to go and drink some beer,” Aaron says after they’ve dumped all of their newly acquired stuff in their hotel room.
The tour is actually pretty interesting, he’d never really given that much thought to how his pints were made, but the enthusiastic guide manages to keep his attention all throughout the tour. He learns a bunch of new stuff. He probably won’t be able to impress anyone with it, his family happy to just drink their pints without knowing how they were made, but that’s alright.  
“That was actually pretty fun,” Robert says as they leave the Heineken brewery.
“Told ya! Not enough beer though!” he chuckles.
It’s a few hours later when they find themselves on a boat. Dinner had been a quick affair as they’d had to rush to make it to the canal boat in time. The boat perfectly build to fit underneath the many bridges they pass on the tour.
Robert and Liv are looking around excitedly, taking in the picturesque row houses along the canals and all the light displays along the canals. It is a beautiful sight, but after the first few houses and lights they’d passed it had all become a bit of the same, so Aaron had found his mind drifting off. Thinking about Christmas. It would be their first Christmas as husbands. A proper family Christmas with everyone coming over to the Mill. Victoria and Marlon combining forces to make Christmas dinner for the Dingle and Sugden clan.
Such a difference from last year, when Robert had been in hospital and Aaron pretending he was over him, but actually worried sick about Robert as he lay unconscious in a hospital bed.
It ended up being the beginning of them getting back together though and Aaron couldn’t be happier to finally be able to share Christmas together again.
Before he knows it the boat is slowing down again, reversing and turning to get into its spot again. He hadn’t realised how long he’d been lost in his own mind for, but when he looks up he finds Robert staring at him with the softest look.
“What?”
“You’re beautiful you know that.”
“Shut up.”
“No really. That little frown you get when you’re thinking about something, totally lost in your own mind. The way you look at me slightly confused when you get back to the real world, nose crinkling. That twinkle you get in your eyes, when you think I’m being daft. Like right now. Just for once believe me when I say, you’re so beautiful Aaron Dingle.”
He feels his cheeks warm as he lets Robert’s words sink in, still not used to hearing those words. He believes him though. It had taken him a while to let himself believe it again, but slowly he’d learned to take those words for what they were, the truth. Robert had never stopped loving him and neither had he, he never really could.
The boat has gone quiet and when he looks away from Robert he notices that everyone has already left, Liv standing at the exit waiting impatiently.
“Let’s go.”
The next morning is a flurry of packing up all of their stuff that somehow seems to have exploded all over their hotel room. Liv frantically looking for her phone charger and shouting in victory when she eventually finds it stuck between the mattress and head of the bed.
They manage to pack up everything with just a few minutes to spare before check-out and then they’re on their way. They’ve still got a few hours left in the city before they have to head to the airport, so they walk around for a while. Their first stop is Dam Square where they watch a street performer do some tricks while his crowd claps and cheers enthusiastically.
For lunch they stop at one of the cafés on Leidseplein, the terraces warm and cosy as heaters are on full blast above them. Liv talking excitedly about her plans to go ice skating in Leeds with Gabby after Christmas.
He’s happy his sister has had a nice time. They hadn’t planned on inviting her along with them, but seeing her sad look after he had told her about the trip him and Robert had planned he’d convinced Robert to let her come with them. After the disaster they had come home to after their bachelor party they hadn’t let her stay home alone again. And though she still insisted she could be left alone at the Mill, she usually didn’t mind staying over at the pub or Wishing Well when they went away. However much she tried to deny it though, she still would rather stay with her big brother and husband. They’d become a proper little family, with family dinner every Friday night and everything.
Convincing Robert had been a bit of task. He’d looked forward to a weekend just for the two of them. With Liv living at the Mill and Gabby and Gerry dropping by more often than not they didn’t get as much alone time as they would prefer. Robert loved Liv in his own way though and he’d only really delayed agreeing to her coming along to get some sexual favours out of it.
They’re on the plane back home, Liv happily in the window seat this time, Robert once again sleeping on his shoulder before the plane has even taken off. He envies his ability to fall asleep so easily, his own body tired to the bone, yet sleep still won’t come.
He feels his phone buzz against his leg repeatedly and fishing it out of his pocket just as the pilot is letting them know about their imminent ascent. He opens his messages before the internet connection inevitably cuts out. It’s a bunch of pictures Liv’s send, a few of the three of them together and a bunch on just him and Robert.  
The picture they took in front of the ‘I Amsterdam’-sign is there. The happy look on his own face as Robert had kissed his cheek makes him smile. A picture of Aaron holding Robert’s hands as he helps him skate around the ice rink, followed by a picture of them pressed together as they’d fallen onto the ice.  
Aaron pulling a face as he’d seen what kind of monstrosity Robert had tried on in the ridiculously expensive shop down the P.C. Hooftstraat. Thankfully he had managed to convince Robert not to spend months’ worth of savings on the shirt. There’s a picture of Aaron trying to sneak a bite of Robert’s stroopwafel as he had already finished off his own.    
A picture of Aaron winning the pint pulling competition at the Heineken brewery tour, beer glass raised high in victory. And lastly a picture of the two of them sat on the canal boat, matching grins on their faces and a persistent blush on his own as Robert had told him he was beautiful.  
He nudges his little sister after he’s scrolled through all of them another time. “Thank you,” he whispers.
Liv just shrugs, a soft smile on her face as she goes back to watching the video on her phone. A video he had taken of her as she’d skated circles around them on the ice skating rink. Her ponytail swishing around behind her as she’d skated past him and Robert again and again.
A content smile lingers on his face as he rests his head against the top of Robert’s, might as well try and get a few minutes of sleep for the rest of the flight.  
They’re back home, the ride back home from Leeds too long in Robert’s cramped Porsche and his legs crick loudly as he finally gets out of the car. He leaves Robert and Liv to gather their bags in favour of opening the front door for them.
“Look,” Robert says as he’s about to unlock the front door, pointing up. Pointing up at the strand of mistletoe hanging at the top of the door.
“Really Robert, you planted mistletoe before we left?”
“Maybe…” Robert says, a grin spreading wide on his face, eyes twinkling.
He rolls his eyes, but pulls his husband close nonetheless, can never resist him when he’s looking at Aaron like that. He presses a slow lingering kiss onto Robert’s waiting lips, feels fingers twist into his hair as Robert presses further into him, making the most of the kiss.  
“Welcome home Mr. Sugden,” Robert says breaking away from the kiss, before pressing another kiss against his lips.
“Welcome home Mr. Dingle,” he grins back.
(“Welcome home Miss Flaherty,” Liv mocks from behind them.)
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doa-et · 6 years
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Race Report: UTMB, 2018 or (How I learned to stop worrying and ran 2 races in 70 days)
When I won the starting place for Western States 2018, I thought I had used up all my race lottery luck for this year. Little did I know that I’d get into UTMB as well, second year in a row. Once the initial excitement subsided, I was faced with a small challenge. The races are only about two months apart and they feature dissimilar profiles and terrains. How would I go about training for both? The short version: I opted to focus on the more “run-able“ WSER first, then reassess in July.
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Relying on the base training laid down for WSER, the 10 weeks leading up to UTMB concentrated on recovery, slowly increasing my mileage in a reverted taper and just listened to my body. There are dozens of training plans for marathons and ultra-marathons out there but they are mostly tailored for one race, not two races in fairly quick succession. A few weeks after WSER, my legs regained their freshness and I began to incorporate hill repeats: hiking up with poles, running down steep slopes fast, chasing some Strava KOMs. In hindsight, I may have done the latter a bit too vigorously as my hip flexors, lower back and quad muscles felt a bit stressed 2-3 weeks away from the race. Uh oh. Regardless, I still felt pretty strong and confident overall when I entered the tapering phase. Time to pack. A quick summary of UTMB 2017: As mentioned, this was my second year in Chamonix. Martin and I completed the race together last year in 34:53, just a handful of minutes under the 35 hour goal we set for ourselves. It was an especially cold year and we even encountered a blizzard on one of the peaks. It was tough and unforgiving. I forgot my poles at one of the stations and to double back to retrieve them. That sucked. Took a short nap. Felt refreshed. Started to lose our minds a little on the second night. Hey, we finished.
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As an “experienced” UTMB runner, my goal for this year was simple. Improve on the previous year’s record. I really took my time at aid stations, sticking around for 30 minutes at some places. I don’t necessarily regret that for my first attempt, but if I keep the dawdling to a minimum, it just might be possible to shave off an hour or so. And the weather was looking more favourable this time around. Even better.
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I arrived in Chamonix on Monday and did a couple of short runs and hikes with my girlfriend during the week leading up to the race. The excitement of the race week in Chamonix was coming back to me: the tension, the dramatic silhouette of the mountains, thousands of runners from around the globe, the weather. THE WEATHER. As Friday approached, the weather prognosis worsened and the dark clouds hanging low over Mont Blanc brought back the fears and traumatic memories from 2017. Cold, rain and with bad visibility. Frozen fingers. Shudders.
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I guess I did indeed use up my luck this year on the race lottery. With not much to do after lunch except to anxiously pace around the hotel room, I headed out to the start line two hours early. Why not. A good spot would save me the queueing later. Unbeknownst to me at the time, it also meant standing in the rain for two hours. Just like the year before, the atmosphere was a bit like we were going to war than going to enjoy a trail race. Eventually, Conquest of Paradise played over the PA system and the gun went off. As I was positioned more or less directly behind the seeded runners, I found myself running amidst a pretty fast group at 4:40 min/km pace for the first 3km. Stupidly fast, I thought. I dropped back and fell in with a group running at a more comfortable pace all the way to Les Houches. With the cheering crowd giving me all the motivation I needed, I took on the first climb.
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I had my splits from 2017 laminated in my pocket to keep track if I was going out too fast or needed to make up time. My plan was to take it easy until Courmayeur (80km) and keep something left in the tank for the latter half of the race.
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Nevertheless, I arrived 15 minutes ahead of last year’s time in St. Gervais and 22 minutes ahead in Les Contamines (32km). Physically, I was fine but mentally I felt my motivation slipping. The rain came down harder over the first climb and I dreaded going into the night in the worsening weather condition. There is a commuter train from St. Gervais to Chamonix. Maybe it’s still running. A taxi from Les Contamines. Surely, the €50 I have tucked away in my vest for emergencies should be enough. Alas, I didn’t have a solid reason to DNF. Not yet. I can’t quit because of rain. Not while my legs felt fine. But knowing how long the journey ahead is, knowing how it was last year, just knowing was becoming a burden. Sometimes, experience isn’t an advantage but an obstacle. As I continued the endless climb up away from Les Contamines with these thoughts, the rain finally ceased, instantly turning my mood. At La Balme (39km), I heeded the warnings of cold and wind from the volunteers and put on all the layers I could to face Col du Bonhomme. I guess I was committed now. Into the night of climbing and descending we go! It was all flooding back to me. That 50km-stretch between Les Contamines and Courmayeur. That sight of impressive parade of headlamps on the climb to Col de la Seigne. And the anticipation of daylight ahead. I arrived in Courmayeur at 06:47. I stalled the most between Courmayeur and Champex Lac (125 km) the previous year. I hesitate to say “wasted time” because in the grand scheme of things, it’s hard to know. Maybe I needed to take it slower back then. Maybe not. Still in good physical form, it was nice to be in not just the daylight, but also the sun. It seems always sunny in Courmayeur, no matter how bad the weather overall is at UTMB. I grabbed my drop bag, changed shirts, ate some pasta and left within 25 minutes to take on the 800m climb to Refugio Bertone. On the 15k-long stretch of rolling high country from Bertone to the foot of Grand Col Ferret, I moved fairly well. The ascent to Grand Col Ferret (the highest alt. point in the race), however, was stormy, foggy and indeed very cold. At least it didn’t snow like last time. Yes, let’s focus on the positives.
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The long downhill to La Fouly was a segment I really struggled with in the past and it was just as tough this time. My legs weren’t really up for much running at this point but I pushed myself as much as possible knowing that I’d make up time and possibly avoid doing the last three mountains with a headlamp. The plan was working. While I didn’t shave off drastic amounts of time from running, keeping the aid station stops to a minimum began to add up. Refill bottles, get coffee, sit and eat for few minutes, grab more food while walking out. Repeat ad nauseum. I hit Champex Lac before 4pm, about 01:45h ahead. Best of all, I was able to climb the third last mountain in daylight, leaving my headlamp off until Trient (141km). By now, I had been running with the same group of people for hours. With the end sort of within reach, everyone loosened up. We chatted about our shared dread of upcoming segment or informed each other of the dramatic turn of events that took place amongst the elites (so many DNFs!), making the time pass faster and the endeavour more bearable. What wasn’t bearable was my downhill running. Every single muscle was complaining and my brain was too tired to coordinate the feet over the technical terrain. Bad combo. Still, I must have been moving in some fashion because I was suddenly through Vallorcine (152km) and hiking up the last climb. Ah, the last climb. It’s actually two climbs, interrupted by an extremely steep and technical (albeit short) downhill. I recalled how frustrating that treacherous downhill was, and how much anguish I had felt upon hearing of the second climb. But this time, I came prepared. As I made my careful ascent and descent, I passed two runners staring at their mobile phones who asked if they were on the right track. I reassured them that they were, not losing the opportunity to spread the good news of the second climb ahead. Just paying it forward. La Flégère, 8km from and 900m above the finish line in Chamonix. I had been running for around 31 hours and 10 minutes. Sub-32 sounded tempting but also a bit too ambitious, considering the state of my legs. The first 5km of the last downhill stretch is technical and steep. No need to do anything stupid and risky at this point. With 3.5km to go, the trail smoothed out and as if placements would matter at this point, some guys behind me started charging. And well, so did I. I caught a person after a minute who subsequently also picked up the pace. In no time, we were a small group having a little 3km sprint to the finish. Or at least it felt like a sprint. I was breathing hard and sweating, although the actual pace wasn’t any faster than my regular jogging pace. But things are different after 32 hours. I entered the town closely followed by four other runners. A few meters later my girlfriend Esther was cheering me on at the base of the pedestrian overpass. This metal contraption, by the way, was a new addition for the race. I suppose UTMB had to erect this temporarily as it could no longer block the road for the event. According to Esther, it gave some runners unexpected grief. Stairs or no, I still ran as hard as I could towards the finish.
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32 hours 06 minutes. 2:06 am. 2 hours and 47 minutes faster than 2017. 190th place overall. And one black toe nail.
So what have I learned from my second time at UTMB? That I can save so much time by just efficiently progressing through aid stations. And with slightly better descents (downhill splits after 100km actually were slightly slower than last year), I am certain that it should be possible to finish under 30 hours. It might have even been feasible this year, if I had concentrated the training solely on UTMB. I also learned from both WSER and UTMB that I can gain quite a lot of motivation from splits, either chasing or running away from them. Running in the mid-pack can sometimes lack the urgency and splits can add back some of the necessary tension and excitement into the sluggish sections. Plus they can provide reassurance and objectivity when I often feel slower than I actually am towards the latter parts of races. Nutrition: I ate mostly aid station food: noodle soup during the first cold and wet half of the race, coffee with cake and a dozen mini Snickers during the second half. Occasional GU-chews. Water in one bottle and 70/30 cola-water mix in the second. Did not feel bonky or bloated and no major stomach issues as expected on slower-paced races.
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