#bathrooms midlands

[ukbathroomshoponline]

Best Prices on complete shower kits! A great range of concealed and exposed complete shower packages. Complete shower kits are available in a wide range of styles from BathroomshopUK. Top brands such as Burlington, Hansgrohe, and many more! View our Luxury range of Complete Shower kits. From top designers and in a range of traditional and modern.

[pwlanier]

Railway carriage, London & North Western Railway, Queen Alexandra's Saloon, No 801, built in 1902.

Queen Alexandra's Saloon was designed by J. C. Park and built at the London & North Western Railway Carriage Works at Wolverton.

Originally, the saloon was painted in the purple, brown, and cream livery of the L&NWR, with gold plated door handles and hand-painted royal coats-of-arms on the exterior. The headstocks were embellished with gilt-covered lions heads. The livery was repainted during World War II to its current London, Midland & Scottish Railway red in order to make it less conspicuous.

Internally, the arrangments included a day saloon, two dressing rooms, a bedroom, lavatory, and two vestibules at each end. When the carriage was first built there were two beds, the second being for Queen Alexandra's daughter the Princess Victoria.

After the accession of George V the carriage, along with its 'twin', King Edward VII's saloon, was modernised for the new king and his Queen Consort Mary. Modern bathroom fittings were added and the decor redesigned to Queen Mary's taste.

Science Museum

[kedsandtubesocks]

dance away your cowboy blues

Country Singer!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: who knew the man with the voice of an angel could break your heart this bad?

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, modern/no outbreak AU & Joel has both his daughters, exes to lovers with eventual husband!Joel, angst followed up by good sweet fluff, concert venue, light drinking mention, Joel being stubborn & bad at feelings, hints of spice, fools in love, reader is addressed as ‘honey, darlin,’ use of song lyrics in fic, Pearl Jam & Taylor Swift song mentions, soft & heartbroken!Joel, lovesick!Joel

word count: 6k

a/n: here we are - the last installment in our ‘Let’s Rodeo’ series & I’m so incredibly grateful to finally make it here, also this is my mini tribute to our boy and his SAG award! The main song Joel sings is this one and I highly recommend! Thank you to my forever babe @the-wild-wolves-around-you for letting me scream about plot holes & aiding my Joel brainrot, @tightjeansjavi for always being down to chat about Joel, and to @lowlights & @ahauntedcowboy for being my ever guiding forces for this series, thank you all… And finally to you reading this, thank you so much ♡

A year ago, Joel broke up with you on a warm early spring morning.

He arrived at your apartment, sat you down and shattered your world. You felt every range of emotion as he simply stood there like a man of steel.

So upset and angry, you wanted to rip your heart out and throw it at him.

Then later that week you found out his record was officially getting picked up and you crumbled.

Ending your relationship simply because he was about to step into true proper fame - you never took Joel to be a man so somberly callous. However, you began wondering if that’s what fame sometimes did to people.

When curiosity gnawed too hard, you’d Google him or even check Spotify. Simply catching glimpses of how big he’s gotten sent you spiraling. Last Thanksgiving, your favorite aunt threatened to lock your phone away when she found you upset in the bathroom after discovering Joel was performing at the Dallas Cowboys holiday game.

From that point on you refused to even check any amount of social media or update on him.

A few clunky first dates and a couple of ghosting experiences later, you’ve now decided to simply work on yourself and embrace the selfcare of being single.

It’s why when your best friend called you earlier today eagerly explaining how her parents had extra tickets to the Rodeo tonight, she playfully teased how she knew you didn’t have anything planned for this Saturday night.

You almost hung up on her, but you excitedly scrambled to get ready.

Now the smell of fried foods, popcorn, and beer cloud the air. The fairgrounds hold a chaotic but controlled lively energy. You never knew so many cowboy hats could exist in one space.

Once you meet up with your best friends' parents, you’re transported to a whole new area you never believed could exist during a rodeo. Lux and cozy, the VIP lounge gleams with its elevated experience. You knew your best friend’s mom worked for the construction company managing the arena. You just didn’t realize how big of a hookup it was. The VIP tickets allowed for full premium dining along with a couple of free drinks.

More importantly - it came with the best concert seats.

“In the dirt” is how they’re described because the tickets are literally stationed on the floor, in the dirt of the rodeo stadium, right by the stage.

Ecstatic and bubby energy now fills you. The food being served is divine and you gladly enjoy the free various drinks.

“So wait, did we figure out who’s performing?” You ask curiously while you lounge taking advantage of the nice seating area.

“Uh, I think my dad said it’s that band named Midland is performing today.” Your friend answers but then is quickly pulled away to meet more of her mom’s coworkers.

You’ve never heard of the band, but for a free concert you’re open to enjoy some live music.

It’s a trait you gained from Joel.

Because of him you grew to love music performances, the energy that comes with hearing the band, being among the hum of the crowd. The trips around Austin seeing not just him perform, but enjoying other concerts with him, let you appreciate and admire live shows.

Waiting for the concert allows you to enjoy some of the actual rodeo event. But the main performance of the evening soon arrives.

“You kids go enjoy! We’re getting a little too old and are just gonna stay back and enjoy the free food.” Your best friend’s mom grins with a wink.

The ticket advertisement wasn’t joking when it said close to the stage. The ground level truly sits on the dirt floor. The arena swallows you whole surrounding you like a strange fishbowl. A small crowd already lines the front railing closest to the stage. However sneakily you find a nice open spot by the side that gives a clear sight to the stage.

Even if you don’t know the band, giddiness bubbles in you electric.

You take in the massive general admission floor section already packed full. The band must be popular. So you take plenty of pictures and happily enjoy the time with your dear friend.

The lights dim and excitement crackles in the air. The stage lights up. The large backdrop screens on the stage flutter to life beginning to showcase different picturesque black and white shots of Texas.

Midland, you remember, is a city in Texas so the images make sense. A low strum of a guitar begins playing. The melody dances soft but in a quick beat, a hypnotic tune trying to rev up the crowd.

The tune brews up its intended magic that you even get swept up in the anticipation. The sound gets faster and the strumming is rather simple but so striking.

Then the music stops. Suddenly the lights of the entire stadium shut off. Wild galvanized screams erupt.

The lights brilliantly dance forth back to light. They all focus now on the performer who, like magic, now appears on the stage with the rest of the band.

And the lead singer is Joel.

Your knees almost give out.

Dressed in the most dangerous plaid green button up, it so simple yet beautifully compliments him. More grays pepper his beard and highlight his tousled curls. The brilliant stage lights bask him in a heavenly glow.

Your soul momentarily leaves your body the minute his voice sings his first note.

Instantly your best friend whips towards you panicked. She rapidly screams asking if you’re okay as she apologizes over and over.

“My dad must have gotten the dates wrong! God I should’ve fucking doubled checked or some shit!” She cries deeply apologetic and hurt.

You earnestly tell her it’s not her fault and it’s alright. It was just an unfortunate mixup.

“Do you wanna leave?” Your friend leans closer to you. Her eyes shine understanding and considerate. “We didn’t pay for these tickets and I promise you my parents will completely understand. We can say fuck it and bounce.”

You haven’t even completely processed it’s Joel. It’s like your brain went cloudy and now blinking out of the fog, your eyes return to the stage.

Joel isn’t an extroverted man. He’s reserved, quietly charming, even holds a gruff but poised grace. But right now, he’s an absolute sun on the stage. He’s radiant, naturally swaying to the music while singing his soul soul.

Maybe it’s the piece of you still horribly in love with him, or just the curiosity to see how this goes, whatever it is - you shake your head no.

“We can stay.”

Your best friend’s eyes go wide as saucers hearing your answer.

“Are you sure?” She presses and you nod your head.

“Yeah, let’s stay. Afterwards we can laugh about how old he’s gotten.” You laugh bitterly about him looking more aged even after a year.

When truthfully the stronger wrinkles around his face, the vibrant grays, all of his aging only intensifies his striking looks.

A canyon wide sized hole rips through your heart.

The song flutters to an end and the crowd claps with a thunderous roar. With a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder your dear friend nods then turns back to the concert.

You pray this isn’t the worst decision you’ve ever made.

Then Joel speaks.

“Howdy everyone,” his voice is still so devilishly thick and smooth as a shot of moonshine. His accent does his home state proud. The crowd absolutely adores him, screaming loud just hearing him speak.

“Thank y'all for comin’ out tonight. I’m Joel Miller and m’here to sing y’all a few songs.” So simple, casually eased, and it’s so Joel.

His gruff southern charm made you fall in love with him so fast and now it’s a unique brand of magic charming everyone under his spell.

Joel strums a few notes, rapidly shifting the tune and transitions into the next song.

You now fully soak in Joel.

He seems otherworldly, a god of music reincarnated as a Texan cowboy. You think back to the days sitting in his living room and listening to him play. You were honored to see that side of him, to hear him strum to life so much magic.

During the holiday’s Joel’s daughters, Ellie and Sarah, would often pester him to sing silly songs. He’d grumpily obliged but you knew he basked in their attention and love.

He loved to sing. You always knew he was destined for the stage like it was woven into his veins.

You still remember the day one of Joel’s acoustic performances blew up online gaining so much attention. The excitement and absolute joy you felt then still lingers in the corners of your heart. Although, those feelings have been gathering cobwebs.

There’s of course a bitterness seeing him, but also, an unbearably small twinkling pride knowing he’s here living his dream. The song finishes and again the stadium rumbles in applause.

“How y’all doin’ tonight?” Joel asks and your heart jumps hearing his voice again.

The crowd cheers back at him.

“Good good, let’s keep it goin’.” He yells back and then strums the guitar sharp.

That’s when the stage slowly starts moving.

It’s slow but with the surprise purpose to look out to the entire crowd. For some reason you almost laugh thinking of that man, who couldn’t even remember how to FaceTime on his ipad, on a full rotating platform.

However, the lyrics start and you realize he’s singing a heartbreak ballad.

If you’re going out with someone new, I’m going out with someone too…I won’t feel sorry for me, I’m getting drunk but I’d much rather be somewhere with you…

It’s hard hearing him now with how exhilarated the crowd screams at the stage moving. But you try to hear how the rest of the song unfolds.

At the chorus, your throat tightens.

I can go out every night of the week, can go home with anybody I meet, but it’s just a temporary high… ‘cause when I close my eyes, I’m somewhere with you

The words sting every inch of you, but you believe it has to be just a simple heartbreak story and isn’t about you, isn’t directed at you. Yet the words feel like sharpened edges of a broken mirror that seem to reflect every moment of your time with him.

Then the stage rotates to your side of the floor.

There’s no way he can see you or will even spot you. There’s a whole crowd stretching before him. You’re just a fish in a sea of fans.

Joel continues strumming, allowing his voice to so beautifully carry the emotion.

The stage, in its slow movement, is now front and center to your line of sight. Some girls at the very direct front of the railing scream and wave frantically at him.

A small smile tugs at Joel’s lips as he waves back. Joel’s eyes scan the rest of the crowd -

And that’s when he spots you.

Quickly, you rationalize he could be staring out behind you at someone else alongside the side railing.

But Joel’s eyes even narrow trying to focus more. Your gaze stays on him, like something inside of you refuses to waiver.

His eyes flicker with realization then turn into full moons.

He knows it’s you.

Joel continues singing the chorus but emotions cloud his face. His brows are furrowed hard, almost confused like he’s trying to really comprehend what’s going on.

You understand. You’d be so confused too if you were in his position. You’re still even baffled as to why you stayed in the first place.

The stage starts shifting back to the main center direction

But Joel cranes his face to the side, refusing to have his eyes leave.

His focus stays on you.

It’s obvious enough that your best friend now shakes your body.

“Is he staring at you?!” She tries to whisper but she ends up partly screaming.

You think maybe it’s a hallucination.

Yet Joel’s deep inky eyes stubbornly stay locked on you as he sings now.

If you see out on the town and it looks like I’m burning it down, you won’t ask and I won’t say… but in my heart I’m always somewhere with you…

Your world twists warped, melting into a sea of so many emotions you can’t stay afloat.

Joel finishes his song and the crowd enthusiastically cheers. Yet, it sounds muffled as a numbness crawls over you like a thick soupy fog.

You should leave. You need to. But you’re here now. And decide to see the end of this. If he’s singing about someone lingering within him, then you might as well make true to those lyrics.

Joel lowers his face for a moment and shakes his head. The mic faintly picks up his cough of a disbelieving laugh and your heart sinks.

“Alright folks, let’s jam.” He announces composed and brings his guitar to life.

He’s beautiful walking around with it. Strums effortlessly until he shifts from one guitar, his classic, to a more sleek all black styled one.

Joel lets the music and band take over while he makes the switch. He also leans in to whisper something to the stage hand.

Then as if nothing, Joel steps back into the limelight and illuminates the stage.

He walks around freely now that the stage stopped rotating. The current song is lively with a great beat and you hate how badly you want to bounce around to its infectious sound and the way Joel’s voice elevates the tune.

Caught up in the melody, you don’t notice until it’s too late. Joel walks over to the side of the stage directly facing you.

The guitar carries a large piece of this song’s bridge allowing his eyes to flicker across the crowd.

Until they return to your gaze. Stuck in his stare, Joel suddenly cocks his chin towards you.

Most of the crowd around you screams at his simple action. Even your best friend yells out a loud ‘holy shit’ but you stay quiet.

Not knowing how to react, all you do is stupidly shrug.

It’s awful, not even the best reaction you can give.

But Joel barks a laugh, a true laugh that thankfully happens at the tail end of the song, but your knees go weak.

You made him laugh.

On stage.

Heartache finds its way back into your system fiercer than ever and it poisonously tastes of adoration as well.

Joel transitions into another song. This time moving around the stage more towards the other side.

Yet, either his eyes flicker back to you, or he ends up walking to your section.

A part of you wonders if he’s doing this now to mock you, almost showing off how good he is knowing you’re here. You don’t believe Joel would be that heartless, but you hate how that option still lingers.

“He’s been walking over here a lot.” Someone even behind you even notices.

“Well he is old.” Someone yells back. “Maybe he’s just trying to keep his joints in shape.”

You almost want to snap back that he’s looking damn good for his age and in good enough shape that he kept you bent like a pretzel for practically a whole weekend, but you swallow back the protective bite.

You simply go back to enjoying the show, and it’s fantastic. You can’t deny that. Joel is a performer, keeps the crowd focused and engaged. He isn’t showy or dramatic but takes control of his presence on stage.

You think of the days seeing him at small bars around town, sitting on a stool playing till his heart's content.

Then he booked Stubb’s in Austin and when you watched him own that stage - you knew this was meant for him.

You’re reminded of that so vividly tonight.

“Alright, gettin’ to the end here.” He announces and the crowd sounds heartbroken.

“I know, i know,” he coos back soft and low. “But just wanted to say y’all have been lovely.”

So many shrill shrieks crack in the room and you almost roll your eyes.

Your best friend snickers beside you. “Gotta give it to him, man can work a room.”

She’s right of course. Though it’s still so surprising for a man grumpily reserved and introverted at times.

“This next one I hope maybe some of y’all will know.”

He strums the cords to Pearl Jam’s ‘Alive.’

What gained Joel traction online was his renditions and covers of various songs. He added his own country twang and twist to all the songs he covered.

Pearl Jam happened to be one of Ellie’s favorite bands. A hollow nostalgia rip through you, thinking of the two girls you miss.

The crowd ignites recognizing the familiar rock ballad now turned into the tune of a country song by Joel’s touch. He owns the solo and his husky voice melts into the lyrics beautifully.

Under your breath you sing along. You used to sing along when you cooked breakfast at his place or during drives with him and the girls.

It’s a beautiful fondness, yet one still barbed and so aching.

The song ends with the intense but small burst of fireworks that has the stadium cheering. You even clap.

“Appreciate y’all.” He addresses the crowd. “That’s a one of my daughter’s favorites so always means a lot when I get to play it.”

A smile you can’t fight tugs at your lips at the mention of Ellie.

“Now my daughters, they’re like night ‘n day.” Joel continues and your heart fills up so overwhelming fast for those girls.

“One of them, like I said, loves some Pearl Jam. Now my other daughter…” Joel pauses.

“She’s a big fan of someone by the name of Taylor Swift.”

The crowd absolutely explodes and you think you even feel the arena shake. Sarah honestly was a big fan and Ellie loved to tease her about it so much.

“Normally for this next and final song, I’d play ‘‘shake it off.’” Joel had a few songs of hers that he covered. That one was a fan favorite.

“But tonight, I'm itchin’ to play somethin’ else.” He continues.

You even perk up curious.

“So let’s end this on a high note, yeah? Sing along if you know this one.” Joel concludes.

Then the drums begin and the song bursts to life.

The stadium swims in a dizzying frantic energy.

The way Joel sings, he’s pouring his heart out. He’s memorizing. Utterly heart wrenching.

This is the finale, the end of this strange unreal dream you’ve wandered into. You wonder if he feels it too.

The song’s chilling bridge comes and Joel walks to stare directly at you.

I thought I had you figured out, can’t breathe whenever you’re gone. Can't turn back now, I'm haunted…

His eyes never leave yours.

The lyrics sear through your heart. You think about screaming the song to back him. He’s the one who left, the one who’s ghost lives among your ribs.

Then Joel hits the final high note, lets his voice carry the powerful finale, and the crowd roars in earth shaking excitement.

It’s magical, magnetic and utterly devastating in both the best and worst ways. Another few sets of indoor fireworks go off and the show ends.

Joel wishes the crowd a beautiful night and you’re left in a tangled web of emotions.

Your best friend immediately turns to see if you’re okay. While the crowd starts leaving, you and her take a moment. Out of the edge of your focus, you notice a crew member of the arena approaching the side of the rail. You don’t think anything of it.

“Excuse me,” until that crew member stands in front of you on the other side of the barrier.

Blinking absolutely confused you turn towards the man.

“I’ve been asked to escort you backstage.” He explains and your best friend gasps.

You wonder if the ground opened below and dropped you into a free fall.

Quickly you stammer out that you couldn’t. There's no way. Maybe the man must’ve mistaken you for someone else.

“Mr. Miller said you’d say something like that.” The crew member says reaching into his pocket to hand you something.

It’s a keychain.

Not just any keychain, but the one you gave Joel.

It’s a cartoon armadillo, dressed up as a cowboy, holding a guitar. When you first saw it you immediately thought of Joel. His daughters got a kick over it, giggled at how cute it was, and your heart had bursted when you saw it constantly among his keys.

Now the worn little cowboy creature sits waiting for you. It’s sweet marble like eyes stare up at you like a day hasn’t gone by since you gave Joel this.

Your best friend gasps, maybe not fully recognizing the keychain but understanding the significance.

You ask the crew member if your friend can maybe accompany you backstage, but he shakes his head a sad no.

“Then I…I can’t.” You shakily breathe out.

“Yes you can!” She interjects. “You gotta at least hear him out!”

You turn to her and find determination fiercely burning in her eyes as she nods.

“But what about you? I don’t want you or your parents waiting around for me.” You urge.

“Don’t worry about me or especially about them!” She reassures, even offering to wait for as long as you need.

You’re grateful, unbearably so and embrace her tight.

“You call me if he gets stupid. I don’t care backstage or not, I’ll go get you.”

You laugh watery at her well meaning threat and thank her. With a quick sweet goodbye, you follow the crew member along the rails until exiting.

The walk out to the backstage area fills you with a hurricane of emotions. What else could Joel say to you? A part of you wonders if he’s going to be cruel about this, having you simply show up to his dressing room just to laugh so arrogant and smug about how wonderfully famous he is now.

No, Joel isn’t that type of man.

Or you hope fame hasn't warped him into that type of man. Arriving at the green room door, your heart races loud in your ears.

The crew member knocks and before you can compose yourself, Joel opens the door.

He’s bathed in the golden amber light of the backstage room. It highlights all those grays again but also illuminates more of the time passed on his face. More winkles line against his eyes and when he fully stares at you, you wonder how different you might look in his eyes.

A jackrabbit like urge rushes over you to maybe flee, call your best friend to come get you.

“Thanks for comin’,” he mutters out. “Was worried ya wouldn’t show.”

You want to bitterly joke that you didn’t want to, but the armadillo keychain you hang onto holds the truth.

The door closes leaving you and Joel alone. Awkward stale air chokes the space.

You simply keep your attention on examining the room. His classic weathered jacket rests thrown over the couch. The rider is stacked with so many classic Joel snacks like his favorite jerky, popcorn, and even a few familiar favorite treats his daughters love.

Then your eyes catch the mug on the counter and you grin softly.

It must be filled with Joel’s classic drink - chamomile and ginger tea with honey for his throat.

“It’s…yeah. That’s it.”

You didn’t even realize you said anything out loud until Joel replies casuing your heart to jump. Finally your eyes find his.

It's a curse that your greatest heartbreak is this handsome. Exhaustion weighs in you and feels ancient, like if you carry the sum of so many lifetimes before.

“So…You wanted to talk to me?” You speak first, trying to keep yourself strong.

“I…uh yeah.” Answering so cryptically, his shoulders deflate. “How ya been?”

“Good.” You answer simple, curt almost.

There’s too many things that could’ve slipped out if you said anything more. Like how you selfishly kept one of his shirts and hate that the smell of him on it has faded like a wistful memory. Or how you can barely listen to Dolly Parton or Johnny Cash anymore because you’re reminded of Joel singing along to their songs.

So you turn the conversation back to him.

You ask how the girls are and Joel perks up, eyes shimmering with fatherly pride.

“Good, yeah they’re good. Uh, Ellie’s playing softball for the school again ‘n Sarah’s busy with student council. They’re still just bossin’ me all around.”

“As usual.”

You both say the same line at the same time and it chokes you up.

Joel inhales and his lips press tight, a hard line. The air tightens. No one says anything and now annoyance, frustration and maybe even a bit of panic claw at you.

“Joel, why am I here?” You ask him again.

Sighing, so weary and tired, he looks down.

Feels like ages pass between you and him. The faint noise of the stadium leaks into the room muffled.

You think of your best friend waiting and of your own heart waiting to end this.

“Look, it was good to see you,” you half lie. “You did great, hope you and the girls take care”

You turn to walk out.

That’s when he blurts out your name and you stop.

“I miss you.” He exhales.

“Miss ya so g’damn much. Every fuckin’ day.” He mutters.

When you turn back around, he stares at you unwavering. You don’t know what to say.

“Seein’ ya out in the crowd…thought m’heart was gonna give out.” He barks a weak laugh.

“Almost stoppin’ the fuckin’ show just to make sure it was you… y’look beautiful as ever.” His eyes haze over slightly, almost nostalgic.

Suddenly a heated spark rips into your chest, jagged edged and angered.

“You broke up with me.” You snap, voice already raw.

“I know,” Joel nods. “Worst damn decision of m’life.”

Your lips tremble. Everything hurts like a live wire is burning up your veins.

“Then why? Why did you do it?” You croak. You want to scream, maybe even storm out and not even give him the chance to speak.

“What? Did Mr. Big Country Star hate having a partner that wasn’t famous too?” Venom leaks bitter and poisonous in your mouth, choking your throat.

“Y’know god damn well that ain’t it.” He snarls back hard.

“No actually I fucking don’t know Joel.” You reply with a fierce bite. “You so conveniently left out any real damn reason why you were breaking up with me.”

“I said our paths were going in separate directions.” He glares hard at you now.

“And that’s about it!” Your voice raises and you hate it.

The tears come quicker than you hoped for and you hate that more.

“No real explanation,” you exhale, wanting to stay as calm as you can. “You couldn’t even give me that…what else am I supposed to think?”

Even dabbing away your tears, your composure is slowly slipping.

“I couldn’t do this to you,” he breathes out and it’s broken. His eyes are shimmering obsidian pools.

“This life, all the fuckin’ mess that comes with dating someone in the limelight, I couldn’t just throw that on ya.” He explains and the truth rings out a quiet hum.

“And you didn’t think to talk to me about this?” You whisper out now hurt. “Joel, I thought we were a team.”

“We are- were.” He slips and corrects himself fast. “I just knew if we fuckin’ talked about it you wouldn’t have understood.”

“Understood what?” You’re frustrated and it leaks into your voice.

“That I didn’t want ya fuckin’ hatin’ me!” He finally screams the weighted truth.

Stunned quiet but still slightly confused, you ask Joel what he means.

Pain travels across Joel’s handsome face as his jaw clenches hard.

“This shit…it takes away a lot.” He croaks out. “Hell I’ve even missed things with the girls. Didn’t want ya sacrificin’ your life or wakin’ up one day and realizin’ how much you’ve lost ‘cause of me…couldn’t let myself do that to you.”

Your chest aches like a rocket got shot into you. You’re angry he took that chance for you to decide, but you understand.

Joel never wants to be the cause of pain to others, especially those he loves.

He agonizes so much over his decisions and how corrupting he believes he is. When in reality every action he takes you know simply stems from his endless deep devotion to keep those he loves safe.

His decision to end your relationship was him, in his own frustrating Joel way, trying to keep you safe. Even if it was from himself.

Your lips tremble and you cuss bitterly hard under your breath.

“You damn stupid man.” You hiccup. “I didn’t…I don’t care what life fame would’ve given me with you. I would never resent you. For better or worse I just wanted a life with you, that’s all I ever wanted.”

Through a few sobs, you wipe the tears fogging up your sight.

Before you can see it happening, strong sturdy arms suddenly wrap around you and shock you breathless. Curled in Joel’s arms, it’s like a sad coming home party and you cry even more.

“M’so sorry, my darlin’.” Joel whispers against your forehead.

“I hate you.” You don’t. Even on your hardest days, you never could.

“I know, hate my fuckin’ ass too.” Joel replies.

His arms squeeze you tighter.

“Never stopped lovin’ you. Never will.” His voice wavers and now your arms wrap around him.

“You left.” You whisper back so small while tears continue to prickle in your eyes.

“I know honeydew, ‘n I’ll never forgive myself for it.” He replies fiercely like a strike of lightning with its bright force. “Been a fuckin’ mess without ya. Tommy would be the first to agree and the girls too.”

You absorb his words, basking in the safe haven that is Joel. Hours, maybe days pass just in his arms.

“Please forgive me, baby.” He whispers hoarse against your head.

You nod a soft yes.

Because even the part of you that wants to yell and stubbornly say no knows the ultimate answer is, and always will be, him.

“Of course…I love you.” You mutter half dazed against his strong chest. “Love of my life.”

Pressed so close to him, you feel how hard he swallows and his arms squeeze you impossibly tighter against you.

He says your name and you hum out a soft noise.

“Marry me.”

Your eyes, which have sort of glazed over, snap open wide.

“What?” You mutter out, maybe think you misheard him.

“Marry me.” Joel repeats himself.

You practically squawk like a confused bird and scramble in his arms.

“Joel Miller, you can’t be serious?!” You shriek through the tears still lingering in your voice.

Your face snaps up to him. His face is composed, almost serene in a way as he look at you with molten eyes.

“Serious as that g’damn ring I bought ya.”

His words are a mumble but so soft and unwavering. Your soul leaves your body like you were thrown into a cold lake.

“You what?” You stammer out.

“Y’heard me.” He nudges his chin to you. “A ring. Bought it after you dropped everything to go take care of the girls when they got sick.”

Too many emotions overwhelm you and the tears return with a vengeance.

Joel, like a steady man in the storm, places his warm hand on your face to gather you back into his embrace. He places the softest kiss to the side of your head.

“We gotta have a chat about discussing your feelings with me more, Miller.” You manage to chide him through your tears.

“I know.” He mutters against your skin while he continues softly kissing you with utter tenderness. “‘N I’m not lettin’ ya go again.”

You squeeze him hard, trying to burn his memory into your arms worried you’re going to wake up and find this is just a heartbroken hallucination.

“Baby,” he begins.

“Hm?”

“Stay with me for the night.” He urges. “The bus got plenty of room-”

“Ooo, is this what you say to all your groupies, Mr. Miller?” You tease with a snort.

“Behave.” His hand playfully squeezes your hip but his underlying somber tone even with his chuckle ignites a familiar heat brewing in you of the times he’s reprimanded you like that before.

“No groupies.” Joel reassures you. “Only you sweetheart, only ever gonna be you.”

His words flutter into your heart and make a nest there.

Gently you draw back to stare at Joel. Your hand moves to his face, aching to just touch him. Even in his arms you’re waiting for him to vanish from your touch as if he’s a figment of your wrecked heart, a ghost of lovers past haunting you now.

But his stubble tickles against your palm. Running warm as usual, his face feels like a soft morning sun. Your thumb strokes his cheek and his eyes close, melting into your hold.

Gently you place a soft kiss against the corner of his lips.

Joel now tilts his head so he can deepen the kiss before you can even draw away.

It’s not a consuming passion that you expected. No frantic fierce clash of lips or an overflow from a year passed between you two.

Instead it’s a soft welcome home. It’s a kiss you’ve given him when he’s come home late or when you leave for work.

Because his blood, his soul, you believe are simply stitched into the very fabric of you. It’s like a piece of you is returning back to you, or maybe back to your other home with him.

“So you gonna stay with me?” He mumbles against your lips.

“I don’t know Miller, you haven’t even offered to sign anything for me. What kind of famous country singer are you?” You smirk against his lips.

He laughs, hearty, a true wild deep one sweeping you into its joy.

“Hell yeah I’ll fuckin’ sign something for ya, our marriage certificate.” He snaps in classic grumpy Joel fashion and you almost think about dragging him to a courthouse.

You text your friend a million apologies and even take pictures of all the signed merch you’re bringing back to her.

Now in the cocoon of Joel’s cozy bed on his tour bus, among the warmth sheets, you hold the ring up in the dim light inspecting it. Because of course your secretly romantic man kept the ring with him.

“You sure you weren’t keeping this around for someone else?” You ask.

“Fuck no.” He growls low. “S’yours…only yours.”

From behind his arms slide around you and you’re encompassed by his swallowing presence. His beard scrapes against your shoulder.

“If ya don’t like it, can get ya another one.” He mutters casually but hesitant softness peeks out from under his gruff tone.

“It’s perfect.” You reassure him.

It’s the ring Joel got you then and it’s the ring you want now and always will. You even tell him that.

The kisses places on your bare shoulder whispers of his devotion.

“Honey.” However, his voice now is hesitant and makes you pause on your ring inspecting.

“I gotta ask…but do ya have my armadillo keychain?” Joel asks with an utter somberness.

You burst out laughing and it shakes your body.

“Honeydew, I’m being serious!” He growls out. “Want that lil’ fella back!”

Wheezing with giggles you lean back against Joel, floating so blissfully floating in renewed adoration.

Twisting in his arms your lips find his.

“Tryin’ to distract me ‘cause you lost him, huh?” He mutters.

You snort, shaking your head.

“No I just love you so much, you dumb cowboy.” You tell him.

“Your dumb cowboy. For better or worse.” He vows, kissing you back firmer now.

“For better or worse,” you nod breathing into him.

In this carved out slightly cramped space it feels holy, sacred, chapel like. You’re even afraid it might be gone tomorrow morning. However, the ring on your finger is the steeled reassurance it isn’t going anywhere.

But, just in case, you gather this glory and Joel into your arms with the promise of never letting go.

[onenicebugperday]

@forgedfromglass submitted: A pair of very chunky slugs in East Midlands UK woodland, feat. some apparently delicious mushrooms

And this beautiful well dressed moth who I helped escape from my bathroom

Very beautiful Arion slugs! I will kiss them. And the moth, too. Tbh those mushrooms DO look delicious.

[writtenbyjeanofarc]

#!! - 𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑻 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑹𝑰𝑴𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵 — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ; ᴀ ᴄᴏɴꜰʀᴏɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

CHAPTER ONE - CHAPTER TWO - CHAPTER THREE

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: smut.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Griffith X You (fem! reader)

𝖈𝖜: slight power imbalance.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: It’s basically my first time writing fighting scenes, so if there are any inaccuracies, feel free to point it out :)

Getting back from the coronation ceremony never felt….this draining. You took off your red heels as you reached the second story of your palace, sluggish and exhausted from mingling with thousands of different people out there in the ceremony. It was truly an honor for you to be called and addressed with the newly acclaimed title. You were now the certified Queen of Midland. Starting tomorrow, you have to make the necessary preparations for another upcoming event—a sort of celebration that welcomes you into the new world of authoritarian rule.

With that, you thought of treating yourself to a warm bath as a reward. You immediately rushed to the bathroom, its golden, intricately designed walls standing out as you opened the steel doors. Even the black sink formed a heart shape, the architects paying very close attention to the way you exactly wanted your home to look like. Your approach to architecture was not far off from a gothic Medieval look, the castle’s dark mahogany interior filling your surroundings with a sense of regality.

Turning the faucet on, you stripped off your gown and waited with barely any clothes as the tub filled itself with water. You looked for your favorite bath bomb, a crimson-colored sphere that had fragrance resembling that of a wilted flower. Whatever this wilted flower was isn’t close to your favorite flowers of all time (you loved collecting flowers), but its smell still gave you the satisfaction you so needed for sheer relaxation.

Once the tub was full, you dipped your body as the bath bomb slowly dissolved into the water, leaving a blood red color. You sighed in relief as you entered the tub bare naked, contemplating your future as you wallowed in pure tranquility. You slowly felt yourself lose consciousness, unmindful of your surroundings as the door to the bathroom was still wide open. You were wide open.

In the exterior of the palace was a fight between Griffith and three royal guards. Griffith dashed forward, aiming for a swift kick to hit the crotch of one guard. This led to the guard falling to the ground while Griffith pounced over to stab the guard right in the heart. Ceasing to get up, the two remaining guards grabbed him by the arms, making Griffith unable to resist. Griffith drops his sword, and as a last resort, spits on one of the guards’ faces to create a sense of distraction. Causing one of the guards to shrug and flinch, Griffith took advantage of the guard’s weakening grip as he elbowed the guard to the face. Quickly picking up his sword, he managed to deliver a slice through the cheek of the other guard, totally knocking off the guard’s helmet.

“Griffith!” Rickert yelled, getting off his horse and running towards the bewitching young man who was determined enough to enter your castle.

The sword fight went on for about ten minutes or more, this time with Rickert joining in. The fight continued to ensue, the noise of swords slashing against each other. The noise echoed through the hallways as there was no one else in sight.

Trapping the remaining two guards by wrapping their arms around their necks, Rickert and Griffith strangled the guards altogether, restricting airflow to enter their windpipe. It wasn’t long before the guards lost consciousness as they were freed, dropping down to the floor as if they were lifeless bodies.

Rickert panted hard, calling out Griffith’s name one more time. “Griffith….Let’s head back to the camp!”

“You might as well leave, Rickert. There may be more guards awaiting our presence and I don’t want to risk getting my comrades hurt.” Griffith replied confidently.

“Ugh, if you say so….” Rickert huffed in annoyance, following Griffith’s orders as he fled from the palace.

Griffith preyed his way into the entrance of the palace by swiftly lockpicking the doors with his sword’s tip. It was strange how the security of the palace was neglected especially at a time like this, a time where a big event was to be held with regards to the development of Midland.

Entering the palace was…quite the strange, yet self-gratifying experience for Griffith. He certainly wasn’t used to the sophisticated look of the interior where black and gold dominated the scene. The architecture was far more impressive than the usual camps where he and his comrades slept and lived in.

But, in a way, this experience of visiting the palace only reminded him further of his dream. The closer his footsteps were as he walked up the stairs, the closer he was to achieving his dream. This was his plan. It was all a part of his devious plan.

You woke up from the bath, feeling refreshed as opposed to minutes ago. “My, has it really been an hour?” You stood up from the tub and reached for the bath robe, preparing yourself for bed.

Exiting the bathroom, you felt an eerie cold breeze blow through your hair. Was it the wind?

The lightning outside struck harder than expected, a flash of white light overtaking your vision. In that moment, you made sense of what seemed to be a silhouette of some sort…..a silhouette that belonged to a rather familiar young man you constantly kept out of your thoughts.

From behind, the charming young man spoke.

“Princess.”

You froze dead in your tracks, not knowing what to say, act, or think at that given time frame. All you could picture in your mind was the way he emphasized the word “princess” in such an elegant, smug, confident, yet vulgar tone.

No. No. No. Don’t look back. Try to picture that all this was just a dream by closing your eyes and count to three.

One. Two. Three.

…

No changes.

It was dark before you even knew it, the thunderstorm completely overtaking the atmosphere as the man behind you approached by taking five steps closer.

“You’ve been looking quite the buzz today, my lady.”

You slowly turned around to face the young, depraved man before you.

“G-Griffith?”

[petertingle-yipyip]

MAD AT GOD - MATT MURDOCK

season 2b epilogue - sad, beautiful, tragic

tags: @americaarse @dusstory @ironprincessstranger @mayasaurus--rex @astrobees @johnmurphys-sass // six // masterlist // season 3

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (past) / Billy Russo x Reader

Word Count: 3,854

Summary: Time drags on without Matt Murdock, though he still lingers in everything around her. Attempting to move forward, Y/N is pushed over an edge. (warning: short attempted drowning scene. written in red so it can be skipped)

Being back in the apartment after the police finally released you, it felt empty. Almost as empty as you did. Matt’s clothes were still laid about the floor, all over the bedroom and even the living room. The place still smelled like him, like his scent was soaked into the floorboards. You kicked the clothes into the closet, unable to bring yourself to touch them, worried they would disappear if you grabbed them.

The bed was too big without him, uncomfortable to be alone in. His side was too cold as you tried sitting on the floor with your back against it, your side was too warm when you did the same thing. You shoved yourself away quickly and felt your heart begin to race.

There were memories covering every inch of space that began closing in. Painted on the walls, sewn into the sofa, carved into the floorboards. Pinned to the fridge, tucked into books, saved in picture frames, hidden in every nook and cranny. Everywhere you turned, you could hear his voice as you were bombarded with instances that had made you happy. Now, you wanted to forget you ever loved him, made you want to burn the apartment down. Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so bad if everything was gone.

Suddenly, it didn’t feel like that apartment was home.

You didn’t belong there.

It was supposed to be a home. A place born out of love and full of warmth, with a hopeful outlook for your future together. It was a place where two people tried to beat the odds and have a normal life. The lawyer- turned vigilante -turned lawyer again and the assassin- turned law student- turned vigilante- turned lawyer - turned security detail. It was supposed to be a home, where strength and tragic pasts met the idea of hope and redemption. Maybe not with a family made up of mini Y/Ns and mini Matts, but with the family you two found along the way.

But you felt like a stranger in your own place. You didn’t belong in Y/N’s home. That place was reserved for Y/N and Matt. Not whatever you were left with since a huge piece of you went down with Matt at Midland Circle just hours before.

You felt more like Exodus than you ever did before, angry and alone.

Maybe you deserved all of that. The agony. The loneliness. The guilt. The regret. The despair. The gnawing pang in the center of your chest that threatened to engulf you with every swelling breath.

Just days before, you were enjoying the balance you managed to find. You had someone to keep you in check, to force you to take a step back and realize what was going on around you. But now… Now you were left with nothing.

Now you were nothing.

How were you supposed to live like that? With that pain. With that crushing weight of knowing you didn’t save him. You didn’t save the man you loved. The man who loved you for you, who knew you long before you really knew yourself.

You went into your bathroom and left your mask, Bites, and belt on the counter. You started the water and pulled the tie from your hair. You didn’t care to fight your boots off so you stepped in with them on, seeing the water stain red with blood and the floor black with the grime of your boot soles. You sank to the floor and let the water soak your suit, hoping it could rinse the lonely feeling off your skin.

It didn’t.

You let yourself slide down until your were laying flat, water bouncing off your chest as your eyes closed. The moments replayed as soon as you did. Your foot knocked the lever to cover the drain and you felt the water pooling beneath you.

You knew you should get up. You had a life to get back to. If you fell apart after Daredevil died and Matt would coincidentally disappear around the same time, it wouldn’t be long before people put two and two together. That would connect you to Exodus. Everything you worked to keep secret would be brought to light and all hell would break loose without either of you there to serve as floodgates to take the brunt of the beatings.

But if Daredevil was dead and Exodus was dead… It wouldn’t matter if Y/N and Matt went missing or if people found out. There’d be no one to attack.

Those thoughts ran rampant as the water level rose, now enough to cover your arms.

Maybe the Bulletin would run a story that someone drowned you. Followed you home and snuck in, caught you by surprise as you were defenseless and getting ready for a shower. That’s why the boots were on but the accessories were off.

Now the water started covering your chest.

Hopefully Karen would write the story. You trusted her to create something that didn’t criminalize you or Matt.

You figured the water would eventually soak the floorboards and bother your downstairs neighbors. They’d call the landlord, who’d come in and find your body. Karen or Foggy would have to ID you.

Karen or Foggy would have to ID you.

The water had reached your chin when you realized that. You remembered what it was like when your office had to ID Elena’s body, how heartbroken Karen was. You remembered what Foggy felt when he realized one of his best friends weren’t coming back. Could you really do that to him?

The water was creeping up your nose when you made a decision.

You shot up so quickly that the water sloshed over the side of the tub and soaked your mat. You turned the water off and cleared the drain, sitting in the draining water while you coughed violently to clear the water from your airways.

You decided quickly that you wouldn’t tell anyone about that.

As days passed and there was no news on any bodies beneath the rubble, you truly gave up hope. You had lost everything. And everytime you woke up in that bed, the bed that would always smell like him, you were slapped in the face with that reminder. Every morning it made you scream.

One morning a few weeks of nothing, you thought there was somewhere you could go yet again. You knew it would be the same, that being there would change nothing. But still, your heart forced some hope into your thoughts.You told yourself that you could find comfort in this place, like you did before, because it was somewhere so dear to him. Somewhere maybe you could relish in his memory rather than be suffocated by it. Wearing one of Matt’s old college sweaters, one that still smelled like his cologne, you walked the familiar path to the church.

You sat alone on the bench outside, though if someone had asked you what was special about the church, you wouldn’t have had an answer for them. The building didn’t pulse with devotion anymore, despite patrons walking in and out. It didn’t feel warm or smell like cinnamon. Instead it was like abandoned ruins, like the fire inside was snuffed out after being used to tear it down. You turned to face the church and leaned against the rod iron fence, resting your chin against the hands you had folded over the metal.

“Little lonely out here, isn’t it?” Father Lantom asked as he came and motioned to the space beside you. “And cold.”

You scooted to make a bit more room but said nothing.

���Y/N, right?”

“Mhmm.” You hummed.

“You know, it’s much warmer inside. And my offer for a latte still stands, or just a conversation.”

You offered a weak, polite smile. “I actually think it’d be colder.” You said honestly. “I just…”

“Seal of confession applies to this bench.” He offered genuinely. “If you need it.”

You were quiet for a moment as you thought about it. You knew how Matt trusted Father Lantom, how he knew he would get honest advice from him. And if Matt trusted him, that still meant something. You let your head fall to the side and looked at the older man beside you, feeling like a lost child looking for someone to help.

“I miss him… Everyday I wake up alone. Every night I sit on my rooftop and wait for that damned suit. But I know it’ll never come. Then it hits me and everything is fresh again and I feel like I can’t breathe anymore. He’s gone… He’s gone but I’m still here.”

“And you blame yourself?”

“I couldn’t stop him…”

“I see… And you joined him in this other life?”

“I did..” You smiled softly, thinking of nights you and Matt spent running around Hell’s Kitchen in your vigilante suits. “And when we were out there, all night… It was like we were unstoppable. We had each other’s backs.”

“That’s why you feel you should’ve saved him?”

“C’mon, Father. You knew him.. He was a better person than me. Why did he deserve to die?”

“Y/N, no one deserves to die… When Matthew was young and struggling with his new life, I once explained to him that God’s plan is like a beautiful woven tapestry. But only He can see the true beauty of it. We see the frayed strings and messy stitches, and even that is just a fragment of the picture, so it doesn’t make sense. But what is planned for each and every one of us is truly remarkable.”

“I’m sorry, Father.” You sighed. “I know bringing in your big guy upstairs is the whole point of this place, but I didn’t come here to find religion. To be honest, God and I are never gonna be on the same page. That’s why I gave up on religion.. There’s not a single one that can save me.”

“Then what did you come to find?”

“A memory of Matt that didn’t make me feel like I was drowning.”

“Thought I’d find you here.” A familiar voice announced from behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Billy. “You doin’ okay?”

“No different than yesterday.” You shrugged and got to your feet. “Thanks for the chat, Father.”

“You’re welcome here anytime, Y/N. Whatever the reason.”

That was part of your new routine for the next few days. You would wake up, go sit on your worn spot outside the church until Billy or Curtis found you. Sometimes they’d bring coffee or breakfast. You went to work and took it out on the new recruits. You went home and felt everything drain out of you, except on nights where you went to Curtis’ support group for veterans or beat the shit out of a punching bag at Fogwell’s. But most nights, you laid on your rooftop when the sun went down until the air grew cold and damp enough to make your nose runny. Then you’d climb into your far too big bed, sleeping on Matt’s side to make sure no one else dared to touch it, and fight through the night to sleep just to wake up in a daze.

You woke up confused why you were on the wrong side and reached over to find yourself alone. Then you remembered he was gone and you started the cycle all over again.

You started inviting Billy over after work instead of your rooftop isolation after about a week of waking up screaming for Matt and getting no response.

“Finally bringing me home to meet the mister?” He teased the first time you had him in your cold, lonely apartment.

“Nah, you wish… He’s gone, actually.” You said simply, trying to keep any type of emotion out of your voice. “Drink?”

“If it’ll get you to tell me what’s really goin’ on with you lately..”

“Since when are you so interested in my personal life, Mr. Russo?” You tried to joke as you sat beside him and handed him a beer.

The same beer Matt always kept on hand. It was cheap and tasted like it. You didn’t even like it that much but… Matt.

“Since the guys have been complaining about ‘the chick who takes her job way too seriously’. All of a sudden you invite me over while your guy’s away… Somethin’ isn’t adding up here, Y/N.”

“He’s not away, Billy. He’s dead… He’s been dead for a little while.”

“So that’s what happened…”

“Yeah.. I thought I’d be okay but it just hurts. And I’m tired of being alone…”

That was when you started sleeping with Billy.

It was a distraction. And it worked for a week, maybe two. When you woke up with Billy in your bed - on your side of course, you’d never let anyone else sleep on Matt’s side - you didn’t feel so empty. Until you realized you weren’t acknowledging it was Billy until you woke up fully. You went to bed and in those first few moments in the morning when you were still groggy and unsure, in your mind it was Matt.

The day you realized was the same night Foggy came over with something to say.

“It’s about time we finally talked.” You ushered him inside. “You’ve hardly said anything to me since you found out about Ex.”

“Can you blame me for needing some time?” He asked with a weak shrug.

“Couple days, sure. It’s been- What, almost two months?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come by sooner.”

You shrugged. “Why are you here now? Wanna hear my tragic backstory or rationale for being a murderer?”

“No one said you’re a murderer.” He sighed.

“Y’know, Karen once told me what you said to her. I think it was about Fisk… You said ‘You can’t just run around killing people and call yourself a human being.’ So what, Fog? Am I not a human being anymore?”

“Y/N… I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Just say what you want.” You said flatly. “What did you come here to tell me?”

“That I’m worried about you.” He said softly. “I’ve never seen you shut down like this.”

“Yeah, well, Matt’s never died before. Has he?” You laughed bitterly. “Honestly, Foggy, I feel absolutely shitty every day that I wake up. I’ve never felt this horrible. I don’t even want to get up and go to work. I wake up and I remember that I was too weak to beat him. He kissed me and suddenly, that’s all I could think about. Next thing I realized, he uses my own discs against me and I’m being pulled to the elevator.”

“I will never understand what it feels like.” Foggy said softly, carefully stepping closer to you. “I wasn’t there. But Y/N, shutting down isn’t gonna help you process this grief. You need us around.”

“I don’t know how to grieve!” You shouted suddenly. You caught the small movement out the corner of your eye and you quickly realized what it was. “Did you just flinch?”

Silence.

“Foggy.. Are you afraid of me?” You asked carefully.

He sighed instead of answering.

You swallowed the lump building in your throat and nodded slightly. “Yeah, of course you are.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He tried quickly. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“C’mon.” You scoffed. “It’s practically dripping off you.”

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” He insisted. “We’re just worried about you, Y/N/N. I know losing Matt was hard for you.”

“Of course it was. It hurt like nothing in the world. If anyone gets that, it should be you.”

“I do, but we don’t think that this is the best thing for you to be doing.”

“And what exactly do you think I’m doing?”

“C’mon.” He scoffed slightly but you stared expectantly instead of answering. “Billy Russo?”

“What does it matter who I sleep with? It’s not like I’m cheating on anyone.”

“So it doesn’t bother you to bring guys into Matt’s apartment?”

“My apartment.”

“Into Matt’s bed?”

“My bed.”

“Either way. Sleeping with your boss-“

“He’s not my boss anymore.” You cut in. “I’m leaving Anvil. I have to report to Quantico for training next week.”

“Really?”

You nodded. “Dex called a few days ago.”

“That’s great.” He gave a small smile. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“When was I supposed to?” You have a small shrug.

“Do you think this is gonna help you feel better?”

“I don’t want to feel better..” You shook your head and laughed bitterly as you spoke a truth you hadn’t even admitted to yourself . “Because no one is ever gonna love me like that again! I don’t want to get over it! I want to sit with him in bed and I know it’s really fucking selfish but I’m so fucking lost without him. Someone loved me, Foggy. Someone actually loved me and I loved him, too! And goddamnit, I was worth something to him!”

“That’s what this about?” He pressed. “You want someone to tell you you’re worth something?”

“I earned something with Matt. Despite every odd being against us and everything that tried to kill us, we made it because we fought for it.” You said as you stared at the countertop, a cold sadness creeping into your chest that you tried to push away. “He showed me that I had the right to die, right to live. Just a right to choose, yknow? Me and him, we were both a trainwreck but also somehow making it. And I would do it all again.”

“You guys had something special.” He nodded. “I’d never seen him as happy as he was when you were around.”

“All my miserable life, I loved someone I barely knew.. I remember figuring out he was Daredevil and I felt absolutely gutted. It was like… Who was he? How had I not known sooner?”

“None of us knew, Y/N. He thought he was protecting us.”

“Yeah, you’re preaching to the choir here.” You rolled your eyes. “My point is that now he’s down there-“ You made a vague gesture towards Midland Circle. “-and I’m still here. What else am I supposed to do?”

“Not shut us out. Y/N, we love you! We’re here for you but you won’t talk to us!”

“Cause I don’t want to feel better! What part of that isn’t getting through? I want to rip the skies apart and fight God! I want to make a deal with any religion that’ll bring him back!”

“I want him back, too.” He tried, stepping to the opposite side of the counter.

“But it wasn’t your fault, was it?”

“I’m the one who brought him the suit! I brought yours! It’s my fault just as much as yours!”

“The difference is that we were going in there whether you brought the suits or we had to get them ourselves! He’s dead because I couldn’t stop him!”

“No one blames you!”

“I do! I wake up every day and when I wake up without him, I know it was because I failed him. I loved him so goddamn much and…”

“Y/N..” He said softly, reaching for the hand closest to him. Looking down at your palms that rested on the countertop, you noticed they were shaking. “You don’t have to put yourself through this alone… We all get it.”

“Then why is everybody not angry? Crying out? Screaming and cursing and acknowledging he’s gone?” You looked up to meet his worried eyes. “Why is everybody so happy in the sun like nothing happened at all? Jessica. Luke. God, Luke. He could’ve tried to stay. You don’t think the unbreakable man wouldn’t have had better luck surviving a falling building than a blind man in a devil costume?!”

He didn’t have an answer.

“But the same goes for Danny. Or Claire. Nobody has talked about it. You wanna know who actually called? Colleen. And I hardly talked to her! Everyone else shrugged it off that Matt Murdock is dead. He died for this city that he loved so much and this city doesn’t even know it!”

“Me. You. Karen. We all have matching wounds from what happened.”

“Do we?” You laughed bitterly and stood tall, pulling your hand away. “Matching wounds? Cause it seems like mine is still black and bruised and hurting, but you guys are perfectly fine.”

“Y’know what.” He sighed and stood a step back with hands up in surrender. “If you don’t want us around, you want to do the same bullshit lone soldier routine Matt did, go ahead. But if you get yourself killed, that would be your fault.”

He left after that and slammed the door behind him.

You stood in the kitchen for a moment, quiet as you processed what happened. Then you screamed in frustration and slammed your hand against the countertop. You winced and peaked down to see the split skin at the base of your pinky’s knuckle where it hit the handle of the fork you had left out from the morning. You groaned in annoyance before rinsing it in the sink as three quick taps sounded on your door before it opened.

“Hey. Saw your friend in the hall.” He announced his arrival.

“Yeah..” You said absently.

“You alright? What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Y/N.”

“It’s not your problem to worry about, Billy.” You sighed and lifted your eyes to look at him. “That’s not the kinda thing we have going here.”

He offered a slightly amused but challenging raise of his brows as he came around to your side of the counter. He put his hands on the counter on either side of your hips, caging you in as he leaned closer. You huffed quietly and hopped up to sit on the cool marble.

“Y’know you’re burning up?” He tried with a smirk.

“Yeah, tends to happen when I’m pissed off.”

“So what do you say…” His hands slid up the side of your legs and under your shirt, fingers dancing against your lower back. “… we burn off a little steam?”

The next day, you stared in your bathroom mirror after you woke up and left Billy in the bed. Your conversation with Foggy bounced around your skull all night but you kept coming back to one solid thing.

Everyone else was fine. They were done grieving and had accepted his death. You had to do the same.

You let your mind drift to Midland Circle, to the crushing memory of watching the collapsing building swallow the man you loved.

You watched the blue cloudiness fan across your eyes and you let yourself feel frozen until suddenly, your vision cleared and you felt nothing as you flicked away the single tear.

You weren’t happy. You weren’t sad. You weren’t grieving or angry or alone.

You were absolutely empty.

Maybe that’d be a better way to start this new chapter of your life. A few months away from the Kitchen, away from your grief and any sort of feeling might be what you need to find some semblance of who you used to be.

Or you’ll find someone new to be.

[ao3feed-obikin]

Mr. Lonely

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/51186523 by hey_honey Obi-wan's life has crumpled into a complete mess...divorced, depressed, with pitying friends and no one but a cat waiting up for him. And then a Sharpie'd message on a bathroom stall door catches his eye, and he's calling a self-professed 'Mr. Lonely' for conversation. That the man should happen to look like a Greek statue and have a deliciously dimpled smile doesn't hurt. Neither does it hurt that he tumbles willingly into Obi-wan's bed for the hottest night of his life. But morning dawn can cast a whole new light on a situation...leaving Obi-wan reeling in its wake. Based on Midland's "Mr. Lonely". Words: 10798, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker Additional Tags: Meet-Cute, Sort-of, Older Man/Younger Man, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Past Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Bottoming, Awkward Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker Has a Big Dick, Misunderstandings, Obi-Wan Kenobi Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dom/sub Undertones read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/51186523

[linnheidi]

Oversized for the midlands bathroom

[the-institute-promos]

➤ OPEN CHARACTER: JACOB, 26, MASTER, WEREWOLF

FULL NAME: Jacob Nash NICKNAME(S): Cub PRONOUNS: He/Him BIRTHDAY: October 12 AGE: 26 STATUS: Master MAJOR: Veterinary Medicine SPECIES: Werewolf SPECIAL POWERS: None SEXUALITY: Straight I AM A: Dominant I WANT A: Submissive TURN-ONS: Submitting (Receiving), oral, praise, power TURN-OFFS: Pain, bathroom play, gore, scat, urine

➤ BIOGRAPHY

Jacob Nash, or really just “Cub” to all those who know him, was born in Houston, Texas to a young mother. Unable to take care of the child, she put him up for adoption almost immediately after his birth. His last foster home he would be sent to was to a farming couple, outside of Midland, Texas. He loved being on their farm, taking care of the animals and wasn’t opposed to the manual labor that came with the responsibilities. For whatever reason he never was adopted. He would never admit to it, but he felt so inadequate because of it. He stayed up countless nights wondering why he wasn’t good enough to have a real family.

Cub’s grades were never extraordinary. He’d rather be at a party, or exploring his foster parents three hundred acre farm. He enlisted in Army Rangers along with his best friend, Todd. Cub quickly rose through the ranks, and the two of them were stationed in some of the most dangerous areas of Iraq. Todd was dating one of Cub’s oldest friends, Erica, and Erica would write to both men. Todd read a few of Cub and Erica’s correspondences. Jealousy, suspicion and insecurity grew in Todd’s heart. Eventually Erica couldn’t handle it anymore and broke up with Todd, while they both were away. 4 years into their enlistment, Todd left the military and returned home.

At 23, 5 years into his military career he was stationed near a small village on the eastern portion of the country. There was a local legend of a creature, best translated in English to “She-wolf”. By day she was a beautiful woman, but when the clock struck the devil’s hour (3 am) she would transform into a wolf until sun up. The foreigners, especially soldiers were simply unable to resist her. Usually these men never even knew that they were with the she-wolf after the night had passed. They would wake up to an empty bed as she would usually leave after she shifted. But, whenever she picked one up on a full moon, she would bite the man she took home, forcing him to bear the same affliction as she.

Although the myth itself was not completely accurate, she did in fact exist and Cub had the misfortune of being her prey on the night of a full moon. The next full moon, he realized the legend was all too real. The burden of keeping his power a secret too much to handle, he left the military a year later. When he returned home, he and Todd had reconciled their differences, Cub assuring him that he didn’t have feelings for Erica. With Todd being his best and most trusted friend, Cub revealed to him that he was a werewolf.

For whatever reason, Erica and Cub shared a kiss with Todd walking in on them. In Todd’s mind, this proved that Cub was the reason she broke up with Todd. Todd was bent on revenge, wanting to take someone important to Cub. Todd did just that, killing his foster parents on a night of a full moon. Cub walked in not long after it happened. Todd told him that this was retaliation. Cub had taken who he loved most and now Todd did the same. Todd said that if he didn’t confess to the murder he would reveal his secret that he was a werewolf. Signs would point to Cub, seeing as he lived there, and with it being a full moon, he could have been compelled to hunt. Cub had heard of a school that catered to the supernatural. A place far from Midland and the allegations. He took his savings and left to enroll in the Institute.

➤ PERSONALITY

✚ Loyal, quiet, protective ▬ Low self worth, unmotivated, emotionally isolated

➤ ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS

None

➤ FACE CLAIM & OOC INFO

Jacob’s faceclaim is Taylor Kinney. // Could Jacob be right for you?

Bio written by Mason.

CURRENT BAN: MALE PROFESSORS

Main - Plot - Rules - Ask - Apply

[floorinsite]

PADL Bathrooms expanding its offer using Schlüter-Systems

PADL’s bathroom installation at Schlüter-Systems’ gallery in Coalville 

An installer of high-end bathrooms and wetrooms for homeowners and leisure sector clients, who was also involved in fitting out the display areas within the recently opened extension to Schlüter-Systems’ premises in Coalville, Leicestershire, has reported a growing number of applications for the German based manufacturer’s impressive range of high-performance tiling products. 

Antony enjoyed a long, successful solo career including projects with PADL companies, prior to the establishment of PADL Bespoke Bathrooms in the Midlands in 2022. The company has grown to cover the whole of the UK by offering high standards of workmanship at realistic prices.  The specialist installer won the Behind The Tiles Best Bathroom Project in 2023 and was a finalist for The Tile Association’s ‘Excellence in Tiling’ Awards 2024.

Within the scope of its operations, PADL makes regular use of Schlüter-Systems’ KERDI-BOARD as well as the waterproofing membrane and the KERDI-BOARD-W washbasin, along with correspondingly large quantities of the DITRA HEAT underfloor heating systems and the company’s rugged as well as elegant tile trims.   

Company lead, Antony Marson commented: “Prevention is better than cure and the benefits of the Schlüterproduct range is primarily the prevention of damage resulting from the substrates to the installed tiles, including cracking.  If the grout lines were to fail, the Schlüter products will prevent the water being absorbed into the wall or floor underneath.  This benefits the installer and the customer: with less time spent diagnosing and fixing problems for the installer and less stress and time for the client.  The initial outlay on the cost of the product is justified by the losses saved with failed installations. 

“As an installer of Schlüter, you are made to feel part of the family, while the Schlüter team share the same passion and enthusiasm for the application of their products as part of your installations as you do.  The team at Schlüter go above and beyond to ensure the company’s customers are equipped with the correct knowledge, whether that’s inviting you to a training course or spending time talking through technical aspects on the phone.  It’s always a pleasure to have a visit from your local Schlüter rep. 

“From the smallest domestic project to large scale commercial refurbishment, walking away from a finished job with complete confidence in the products providing the foundations to your work allows for an installer to sleep peacefully at night.  And from talking with our customers, we also know they share a confidence in the products, and that they are buying into durability when they choose to purchase Schlüter materials to support their installations.” For further information, call 01530 813396 or visit https://www.schluter.co.uk/

[ukbathroomshoponline]

Shop an exclusive range of designer radiators online at Bathroom Shop UK! Our range of affordable, stylish and modern designer radiators come in both horizontal and vertical styles! We have a wide range of Designer Radiators including slimline, flat panel, traditional and striking modern designs. Quick delivery in Midlands, Yorkshire, Lancashire and all over England! All available from top brands such as Bisque radiators, Zehnder radiators, Vogue designer towel warmers and, more!

[onenicebugperday]

@forgedfromglass​ submitted: Wanted to share my bathroom spider with you, they set up on some ornaments by the bath and have been a much appreciated companion, so shiny, although I'm worried they're not eating now it's winter and there's no little bugs about

I'm in East Midlands UK in case you know what species this fancy friend is

You can always move them to somewhere sheltered outdoors if you’re worried about food sources! This lil friend is a noble false widow :)

[yourcomedyminute]

YOUR COMEDY MINUTE WITH LARRY HANEY #StandUp #Comedian #Clovis #NewMexico #First #Podcast #Sucks #Stink #Smell #Bad #Look #Great #Feel #Good #Snooze #Hard #Age #Wine #Mother #MaggieSueWheeler #Dream #Entire #Life #Born #Raised #Love #No #Cranky #People #Happy #Dairy #Cows #Albuquerque #Competition #First #Round #Catalyst #Forced #Crowd #Eat #You #Favorite #OpenMic #Serious #Deadline #Least #Lubbock #Texas #College #Central #RedRaiders #Bits #Son #Sister #Homeless #Yelling #Woman #Permission #GeorgeCarlin #Line #LouisCK #LouieAnderson #Worms #Dark #Starving #Bugging #Hell #TacoBell #RoundUp #ComeOutside #DownThePipes #Airplane #Feed #Son #Cry #Angry #Asian #Chinese #Restaurant #Locked #Bathroom #Door #Pee #Pants #True #Story #Biteable #Nephew #Jujitsu #BallsOnFace #Quit #OnlyFans #Jokemon #Instagram #TikTok #SocialMedia #Content #Creator #YouTube #Polish #Buddy #Butcher #Mullet #Sam #Birthday #Party #Cat #Mad #Threw #FlipFlops #Toe #Window #Sister #Dog #Dryer #Child #Frog #Blender #Smoke #Bombs #Fish #Lake #Jesus #Beaver #Dam #Teacher #Black #White #Brown #Reality #Vegas #Tired #Mother #Midland #Texas #Yellow #Industrial #Mop #Bucket #Highway #Schools #Walmart #Janitor #Work #Hours #Clean #Laughing #Driving #Inspiration #NothingYouCantDo #Turkey #Emu #Hat #Comedy #Humor #Live #Stream   

If you would like to be a guest on Your Comedy Minute please contact me

[findamericanrentals]

Title - Midland House is a spacious and beautifully decorated family –friendly home with a neat bunk bedroom, tropical landscape and a wooden deck which extends the reach of the livable space to the outdoors. The master bathroom features and amazing clawfoot tub which is perfect for soaking your troubles away.

[ap-emergency-services-24h]

Plumbing Emergencies? We got you covered, Fast Emergency Plumbing 24/7, we are only one call away!

In plumbing emergencies, timely and dependable assistance is crucial. Our 24/7 professional emergency plumbing services address unforeseen issues, from burst pipes to malfunctioning water heaters. Our skilled engineers of Fast Emergency Plumbing 24/7, ensure swift and efficient solutions, maintaining the integrity of your plumbing system with comprehensive services, including repairs and installations. Customer satisfaction is our commitment, and our dedicated team prioritizes precision and efficiency. Our transparent and reasonable pricing reflects our dedication to affordability without compromising excellence. For inquiries or to discuss your requirements, feel free to contact us. We are ready to serve you with professional diligence and a focus on customer satisfaction.

Services That We Offer

A diverse range of Plumbing Services to keep your systems running smoothly!

Heating Repairs and Installations: Ensure the effective functioning and durability of your heating system for a cozy and comfortable home.

Faucet Repair: Expert solutions to resolve issues such as dripping faucets and leaks, restoring functionality and water efficiency to your fixtures.

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Drain Cleaning: Comprehensive solutions for eliminating clogs and restoring proper drainage for the best plumbing system.

Leaking Pipes: Efficient repair services to address and prevent water leaks, safeguarding your property from potential damage.

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Toilet Repairs: Comprehensive solutions addressing leaks, clogs, and various other issues to ensure the smooth and efficient operation of your toilet.

Bathroom Repair: Professional solutions for bathrooms, addressing leaks, drips, and related concerns for the best customer experience.

Effective solutions for all your emergency needs!

• Planning and Installing Services

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Fast Emergency Plumbing 24/7 covers various regions in England, including:

LONDON – City of London SOUTH EAST – Maidstone SOUTH WEST – Bristol NORTH WEST – Manchester, Stockport, Bolton, Oldham WEST MIDLANDS – Birmingham, Wolverhampton, Dudley, Walsall EAST OF ENGLAND – Watford, St Albans, Chelmsford NORTH EAST EAST MIDLANDS YORKSHIRE AND THE HUMBER

Conclusion:

In the event of a plumbing emergency, contact Fast Emergency Plumbing right away. We are the greatest option for taking care of your plumbing problems quickly and effectively because of our committed staff of talented engineers, a wide range of services, upfront pricing, and dedication to client satisfaction. Contact us right now, and allow us to serve you with professionalism and a client-centered approach.

We invite you to visit our website at https://fast-emergencyplumbing247.co.uk/ for further details about our services and to get to know our team better. For immediate assistance, call us at 07418378301. You can also fill out the provided form on our website, including your name, telephone number, postcode, email, the service you need help with, and additional information about the problem.

[ankulometes]

The Travellers, Vol 5, Pt 1: The Arrival

Once again, four variants rematerialised during the pitch-black night on Rannoch Moor. The year was 1898. The crew were en route to a more distant point in the past where they planned to undertake a huge mission. However, ever cautious and desiring to be as well prepared as possible, they had decided to stop at this point to stretch and test their readiness. Moreover, while they had already seen 1968, Miles really wanted to take a good close look at the so-called “golden age” of capitalism. There were so many things he wanted to see, and on their next mission it was probable that none of them would happen in quite the same way. Naturally, they planned to intervene a little bit here and there eventually. However, they weren’t intending to create thousands of variants this time. It would be more about discovering how much they could achieve with a comparatively small team.

[[MORE]]

They had packed much as they had done for their escapades in the post-war period. They had a couple of changes of clothes along with a few essential bits and pieces, some period spending money, and a stash of bullion to create a startup fund. However, they weren’t carrying much in the way of identity documentation this time. They wouldn’t really need anything like that.

It took the crew an hour or so to fully recover from the physical side effects of the jump. Fortunately, they were in the middle of nowhere on a moonless spring night that they had specifically chosen for its clear, dry, and relatively warm weather conditions for the time of year. At least, that’s what the weather station records they had access to had told them. Depending on which way you looked at it, they had a stroke of luck that these were a little off. Rannoch Moor was enveloped in a thick, freezing fog. As soon as they were mobile, they packed away the time tent into one of the two device chests they brought with them. An hour later, the chests vanished, transporting themselves to the variants’ favoured secure storage location, within the craton deep beneath the earth under several hundred metres of ice and rock in the middle of the frozen wastes of Greenland.

Dawn was imminent by the time they had finished all these manoeuvres. The team needed to get into position. They headed out across the moor towards the new railway station that had been opened just 6 years earlier. They timed their arrival for an early local train, emerging onto the platform in the gloam of dawn as if they had been passengers. In their current forms, they looked like four decent young chaps in their early 20s on a jolly healthy holiday in the Scottish Highlands. After making it look as though they had gone for a lovely stroll in the surrounding countryside, they repaired to a nearby inn for breakfast before purchasing first class tickets for the sleeper train to London, which arrived more or less on time at around a quarter to eleven in the morning.

The Caledonian Sleeper eventually pulled into London St Pancras at 5:30 AM the following morning. They checked into the best available rooms at the Midland Grand Hotel and, over the course of their first week, they went shopping to acquire complete wardrobes and sets of accessories while exploring their new situation. As soon as they had acquired the trappings of (sufficient but not ostentatious) wealth, they relocated themselves to The Savoy, which had electric lighting and ensuite bathrooms.

The team stayed for a couple of weeks at The Savoy, generally endeavouring to be unobtrusive and entirely forgettable while planning the logistics for their next steps and keeping one eye open for a more permanent address in the city. However, before they could begin to think about doing anything like setting up home, there was some preparatory work to complete.

For now, the team were using transient forms and identities which they intended to shed in due course. During their stay in London, they visited accountants and bankers in The City and established several corporate and trust structures under various names with associated bank accounts. They would use these facilities over the coming months to start feeding their untraceable forged coinage money into the system to build up a financial provenance for their long-term personas. Meanwhile, the team as currently incarnated would mainly rely on replicated notes and coins.

With their business in London complete, they settled their bill and checked out from The Savoy. The four of them would spend most of the summer travelling to various places in the British Isles. With Cassiel’s assistance, they broke into churches, records offices, schools, and other similar institutions. Here they would locate and scan relevant documents which were then reproduced as deep fakes to support a chronology for the invented identities they and their other planned variants would eventually assume. These identities would have no physical relations nor any real context or associations. However, that would not matter all that much for what the first generation would need to achieve. By the time anyone was even potentially likely to be interested in investigating their past, most memories and recollections would be lost to time. All that would remain would be the documents, and they would speak the only truth that mattered.

Toward the end of summer, the crew jumped on a liner and headed south, continuing their deep fake operation. They travelled down to the Gold Coast, Nigeria, and South Africa. Never staying in one place for more than a few days, they proceeded up the east coast of Africa before heading over to India and down to Australia and New Zealand. From the depths of Australasia, they cruised over the Pacific to Santiago in Chile from where they travelled by land to Buenos Aires. They then proceeded up the east coast of South America via Brazil and through the Caribbean to New York before heading back to England at the end of April 1899.

All told, they had been away travelling for over 250 days. While they had not necessarily achieved everything they needed to do on the journey in terms of planting documentation, they had gathered more than enough intelligence to be able to fill in any remaining gaps at a later date. Moreover, over the course of their travels they had been regularly paying money into their accounts in London. By the time the team had arrived in Belem in northern Brazil, their forms had changed, and their number had increased to eight through the addition of four clones. They were now the Delaney and Moore families. Both were respectable but would generally be perceived as coming from the ranks of the middle classes. However, their fortunes were on the rise, and they had a decent amount of capital.

In May 1899, William Delaney was a young man of 23 to 24 years of age who had recently married the 19-to-20-year-old Cara Walsh. His father, also called William, had been a businessman of modest wealth from Manchester and William Jr, an only child, had spent most of his youth being dragged around South America during his vain search for get rich quick schemes. His old man had died young from a malarial infection contracted in the Amazon. Consequently, he had inherited some money while his mother was also supporting him. She was a woman of Irish birth from Manchester named Anne — or “Annie” to her friends — and was a 48-to-49-year-old clone.

Cara was the daughter of William Snr’s close aide and companion, an Irishman named Thomas Walsh (the second clone, also aged around 50). Thomas had survived the fateful expedition but was nonetheless a widower. Cara’s mother, Bridget (or “Bridie” to her friends), had died shortly after giving birth to her. After their tragedy in South America, Thomas and Anne had grown close. Although they were not officially a couple, they were taking care of one another. Clearly, their children had also become close.

John Moore was a 19-to-20-year-old self-taught mechanic and engineer who had been an employee of William Snr. Having spent his early years in an orphanage in London, he had been taken in by the Delaney family at the age of 12. He was accompanied by his young wife, an American girl of similar age named Alice Clarke. John had met her during a layover in New York on their way back to England from South America and they had married after a whirlwind romance. Alice was accompanied by her parents, David and Elizabeth, both in their mid-40s. She was an only child because, sadly, Elizabeth had found herself unable to conceive again following Alice’s birth.

Having disembarked at Southampton, they made their way back to London and once again checked into The Savoy, but this time using their assumed long-term names and appearances. They also took possession of the keys for a few rental properties in the city which they had acquired through an agent while on their travels. The crew spent around a month staying at the hotel while they awaited finalisation of the exchange on a couple of handsome late Georgian terraced houses on Montagu Square in Marylebone. In the mid-summer of 1899, they moved in.