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immajustvibehere · 2 years

Text

Chance Encounter

Chapter 3

Chapter 1: here // Chapter 4: here

Warning: violence

Summary: You have finally left your life on Emerald Ranch behind. You expected some peace and quiet in Valentine. Unexpectedly, you find yourself in the midst of a bank robbery with a voice that sounds awfully familiar.

2670 words, 12 minutes reading time

The train ride passed rather quickly. You spent the time reminiscing on what you had left behind on that ranch. Pretty much everything you had ever known. You grew up on that ranch. Lost your family, your mother, on that ranch. Your thoughts lingered on your mother for a while. Her death was a confusing business. You had been forbidden to see her a few days before she had passed. You didn’t even know why she died. They told you it had been a fever, but you never really believed that. There were no friends you had to part from on Emerald Ranch. You were sorry for the animals; you loved the dogs and especially the cats which were pretty much in your care alone. They all had names, not that anyone besides you really cared.

On the train you also took out the knife Arthur gave you. It was in good condition, though the grip was dirty, and you could clearly see that it had been frequently used for years. You wondered how many throats had been slit with the very blade you held in your hands. The thought made you shudder a bit and push the knife back in its sheath.

After your arrival in Valentine, you headed straight for the hotel. This wasn’t your first time in Valentine, you had been there a couple of times. Mostly to run some errands for the ranch. Now, one dollar for a night wasn’t cheap. This was half a week’s earnings. But since you had been saving for years you could technically stay for a couple of weeks before it would become a problem. You had to consider that you’d also need a bath from time to time, as well as some food and maybe a couple new cloths. However, this would be a problem for another day. For now you crawled into your new bed which was more comfortable then the thin layer of hay you had been sleeping on all those years.

What a day, you thought. It had started terribly. And for a moment it had looked like it would be your last day. Then you had been saved by Arthur Morgan. As far as you could tell, he was a criminal...but a nice one? He probably had killed a lot of folks before, but he’d still let you feed his horse or ride you to the train station, which would have been a ten minutes’ walk. You fell asleep with the sun low on the horizon, thinking about the cowboy.

The first few days were spent on what was necessary. You got a haircut, bought food supplies that would last you a few days, asked around for possible work and bought some new clothes that didn’t look like you were fresh off the field. Maybe unusual for a woman, but you sticked with trousers, finding them way more comfortable and useful than a dress. This brought you some weirds looks, but people mostly ignored you. This was a welcome change to being always picked on.

You sat on your bed, counting the money you had. This was plenty. It was too much to carry around all the time, too much to leave in your room unguarded and too much to spend all at once. What were you supposed to do? Hide it? This sounded too risky. What if someone found it or something made it impossible for you to access? Next to the hotel was a bank. You were aware that a bank has something to do with money, you weren’t sure exactly what their deal was but maybe they could lock up your money for you?

You shrugged. The least you could do is ask. You decided on how much money you would give the bank, leaving some money in your hotel room, that would last you a week before you would have to deposit some. You entered the bank and found yourself at the end of a small queue that was waiting to deposit some money. A sigh escaped you, somewhat annoyed that this could take a while before you remembered you actually had all the time in the word.

Without any kind of warning, a woman frantically stormed into the bank: “But I’m ruined! I’m...” She was crying, looking hysterical and desperate. You were glad you were not the only one who was confused about the scene, because the people in front of you in the queue looked disgustedly at the woman, probably annoyed that it would take even longer. “I’m not sure this is quite the place...”, the bank clerk interfered. “He said he loved me!”, the fair woman exclaimed, “he said he’ll make a lady of me!” A man left the queue and approached the woman, seemingly with the intent of leading her out: “Would you care to-” “I’m with his child and it’s - I don’t wanna go back to the workhouse!”, the woman sniffed. The man was now nearly there, he already had his hand extended to touch the woman’s shoulder when everything happened really quickly. You blinked. The woman had a gun in her hand, her tears were gone and her voice stern: “Get you goddamn hands up! This is a goddamn robbery!”

The gun was pointed through the whole room, and you could see everyone ducking away. Immediately, three more people entered the bank, dressed in black and armed. “Nobody move!”, screamed one man. “You heard him! Nobody move!”, the other one repeated, louder and more threatening. He was the man closest to you. “Don’t make us hurt you!” “Here, unlock the door!”, a key was tossed through the room. The woman rushed to the door which you were next to. Everything was happening so fast; you didn’t know where to look and how to behave. You suddenly noticed that behind you, close to the fireplace was a man who had either fainted or had been knocked out. You weren’t sure. At this point, you were on your knees, hands behind you head, scared shitless.

The door with the metal bars was kicked open by the third man who had yet something to say. “Oh, you think we’re here for fun!”, the man threatened while he lunged at the bank clerk. Your head shot into the direction where this man, now with his back to you, dragged the clerk through the room. The bank clerk was now pushed through the next door, the man in black rushing him with a loud: “Come on!”

Damn it, you knew that voice. You had heard Arthur’s deep, threatening voice twice before, so there was no doubt about it. “Hey!”, one of the men shouted at you. You quickly looked at him, feeling as if you were caught again, but there was no way he knew you recognized Arthur. “While we are at it, why don’t you hand over your money!” The man in front of you was big and threatening, you detected some beard under his mask. You simply stared. Even though he spoke clearly and you had understood his command, you couldn’t move. Fear had you motionless like a stick. It was only when the grip of his riffle hit you on the side of your head when you let out a small scream and fiddled for your purse which the man snatched out of your hand. “Right then. Lay down on the floor, don’t move”, came the next order which you readily obliged, afraid of getting another hit.

Was it really Arthur? You felt nauseous from the hit and your stomached hurt from fear. Some time must have passed because you heard steps from the room in the back. Turning your head slightly you had perfect view on a pair of boots. A pair of boots that you had just studied a few days ago when you were coughing up the water you should have drowned of.

“I think...I think we are fine”, the woman stuttered, “Come on, I’ll lead the way.”

“Let’s go. Everybody stay calm”, Arthur said to his partners. His voice was composed and even though you were sure by now, you had heard this voice too often to have any doubt. Arthur took his mask off and turned to the room: “All of ya count to a hundred and keep your mouths shut, you understand me?”. This was when your eyes met his. It was only a fast twitch on his face, but you caught his confusion. You thought you saw his lips mutter a curse, his eyes resting on you, brows furrowed as if frustrated. Then, like an innocent man, he turned around and left the bank. You watched a man who was laying at the other end of the room, who counted silently but with a shaky voice to one hundred.

Later, in your hotel room, you pressed a wet cloth against your temple which was still hurting from the hit. With your free hand you counted the money you had left in the room, before heading to the bank. You did it very absent-mindedly, since you remembered very well how much money you still had and your thoughts were busy with other issues. Arthur had recognized you and he understood that you had recognized him. This was dangerous for him because you knew his full name. You wondered if he had contemplated shooting you when his face had twitched.

After mulling over the robbery in your head a dozen times, you actually started worrying about your future situation. You had money to last you a week, and then? You needed a job, but from your asking around the previous days you knew that there wasn’t anything decent. A headache started tormenting you so you decided to lay down, even though it was still day. At least you wouldn’t have to think about your problems if you were asleep...you could worry about them tomorrow.

The next few days were spent looking for work. You ended being up something like an errand boy. Nobody needed you employed, but the newspaper guy promised you part of the profit if you sold enough papers while he had couple of rounds at the saloon. Then the workmen needed a hand carrying some wood. A woman offered you half a dollar if you could find her dog that had been missing for a few days. To summarize: you were beat after four days of running around. You had managed to barely touch your money for the week, but this also meant you haven’t had a warm meal since.

With a couple of dollars in your pocket you went for the saloon, eager to at least have one decent meal. Tomorrow you would have to find double the work because you didn’t like how close this meal brought to being broke. You ordered your meal on the bar and while preparing it, the barkeeper looked at you: “Are you y/l/n?” “Yes”, you answered a bit surprised he didn’t know since you stopped by daily to ask for work. The barkeeper placed the steaming plate in front of you and added: “There is a man waiting for you in room 1A. Up the stairs on the left.” You looked up a bit confusedly only to be met by a slightly disgusted grimace. You took the plate with a “I’m not expecting anyone” and headed for the next table. Weirdly, your first thought was that someone from Emerald Ranch had come to collect you. I mean, you did walk out without officially resigning…

You gulped down the soup, satisfied of having something warm in your stomach. You had a bad feeling about all of this, but you still brought the plate back to the bar and headed upstairs to room 1A. You halted before the door. What now? What if-? What if this was some pervert you had never met before? You sniggered at the thought of someone finding you even remotely desirable to pull that move. Then you grinned about your coping mechanism. Nervously fumbling around with your shirt, you found Arthur’s knife fixed to your trousers. You left your hand to rest on it, knocking on the door and slowly opening it.

You saw a carpet, a double sized bed with a picture on the wall above it and a plant on the nightstand. Then your gaze fell on Arthur who was sitting on a chair in the right corner, smoking while scribbling something in a small book.

“Oh”, a sigh escaped your lips. You cursed yourself for not thinking about the option that it could have been Arthur. This was actually by far the most reasonable possibility.

“Y/n”, he nodded and closed his little notebook. You were about to let your hand slip from the knife, when you remembered he did have a motif to hurt you. But you still let your hand drop, finding the thought of even being able to scratch this mountain of a man more than ridiculous.

“Close the door”, Arthur commanded. You obliged immediately, again, knowing that reasoning wouldn’t do anything.

“Isn’t it...a bad idea for you to be here?”, you remarked cautiously.

“Why?”, he asked. Walking right past you to the window, he lit another cigarette, but turned back around to face you.

“Because the bank robbery and dozens of law men being killed is pretty much still present in the minds of everyone here”, you walked to the bed, sitting on it.

“Surprisingly, nobody knows who they are lookin’ for”, Arthur exclaimed. You didn’t answer, so Arthur came a bit closer. Now you had to look up to his face. It was a strange scene and you wondered what he wanted to achieve with this. If this was supposed to be threatening in any way, it didn’t work very well. It rather made you think about the time you sat on his horse, resting your head on his back and-

“Why didn’t you tell ‘em? You had my name and a location.”

“There wasn’t anything in for me, was there? Why would I rat out the man who had saved my life a week earlier?”

Arthur shrugged: “Dunno. Maybe you’re a law-abiding citizen.”

“Sure”, you grinned. Arthur’s face also relaxed a bit, then he pulled out a sack of money and let it drop in your lap.

“S’pose that’s yours”, he mumbled a bit apologetic. In your lap lay your money that had been taken at the robbery. You smiled in relief.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Never meant to steal honest money”, he put a comic amount of stress on honest, you figured he did this as homage to your first conversation.

“Much obliged, Mr. Morgan. Looks like you saved me from doing people’s dirty work once more!”, you teased.

Arthur leaned against the wall and cast an inquiring look on you: “What’s your plan, y/n?”

“I don’t know”, you sighted, “I can’t seem to find a job and even if I do...what are the odds of being surrounded by people who are...kinder than the folk on Emerald Ranch? I guess I’m just a bit reluctant to...oh, I don’t know...”

“Ya could always travel to another town”, Arthur suggested.

“C’mon...train tickets are expensive. Living with almost no money...I learned this week that this might not be something for me.”

“Then take a horse?”

“I can’t ride no horse”, you shook your head, “you could have figured that out when I almost slipped off yours.”

“I thought you were just drowsy. Well then, I guess...”, Arthur seemed rather tired of asking and suggesting stuff, “find someone who teaches you how to ride.”

“Like who?”, your gaze was on the ceiling when you suddenly looked down at Arthur. He immediately caught your eye and you saw his eyebrows shoot up: “Now, y/n, I don’t know if-”

“Will you teach me how to ride?”, you asked before he could go on. He looked at you, seemingly contemplating if he should. “A horse”, you added, with a sheepish grin, putting an innocent “Please” at the end.

-----x

Chapter 4: here

I’m sorry I found this a very appropriate end for this chapter :’)

Also let me know if there is something you expect to happen in the next chapters, not promising I’ll use it but I’m always grateful for inspiration!

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr fanfiction

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seethesuncoming · 4 years

Text

Blackinnon Week 2021 - Day 4

You can also read this story on FFN

Last picture

Two figures materialize at the southern end of Diagon Alley, in front of a trinket shop that neither of them has ever bothered to enter. They do not attract anyone's attention, it is usual for wizards in a hurry who want to avoid going through Muggle London to appear in that place, one of the less crowded in the area.

The shorter figure walks to the large window of the shop. She looks at herself in the glass, the tousled brown fringe and wrinkled nose in disapproving expression. She tries to comb her hair as she turns to her companion.

"Are you serious? Did you drag me from the door of Caradoc's house to come to Diagon Alley?"

The boy, a head taller than her, stands next to her and runs his hand through his hair looking at his reflection in the same glass.

“Of course I am” He smiles cheekily. "It was a routine meeting, Marlene. Reports of the last missions, in which we participated. Nothing we don't already know”

He turns to look at her and winks.

“Besides, there is something more important that I have to do today”

She doesn't remember, but few days ago, she gave him the perfect idea for Harry's birthday present. He had been searching for an ideal gift for three months, until she told him about the launch of a new line of children's brooms.

A toy flying broom fits the profile of what Sirius was looking for: something fun and rebellious that allows him to get on Lily's nerves. That is the reason that has led them to Quality Quidditch Supplies. That day is the launch of the new Shooting Star 3000 toy broom and Sirius is willing to get one before they are sold out, he will spare no expense.

Sirius offers his arm, in a formal gesture he only does when he's in good mood and flirty. He smiles seductive. Marlene rolls her eyes, but accepts the gesture and puts her arm around him. The corners of her lips betray her and curl upward. They start their way to the store. As they get closer, the number of people in the alley multiplies to become a large crowd at the doors of the premises.

"It will take hours for the queue to advance," the girl complains as she receives shoves and tries to find a clerk in the crowd, "that if the brooms don't run out first.

Sirius finds a shortcut.

"Hey boy!"

A boy his own age in a blue robe with red edges approaches obediently.

“Yes sir?”

"How long is the waiting list for the Shooting Star 3000?"

"Well ... they'll probably be sold out before half the people here can be served."

Then Sirius does something that surprises Marlene and the store clerk: he puts one arm around the girl's shoulders and places his other hand on her belly. She fixes her expression immediately, understanding Sirius's plan.

"The child will be born in five months." He reads the name written in the pin of the boy's tunic. "I'm sure you could do an excited couple of future parents a great favor, Marius."

Marius stares at Marlene's flat stomach in disbelief, then moves on to her hair, Stevie Nicks styled, which gives her a bohemian look. She smiles at him sweetly. The boy then notices Sirius's shirt that says "The Who", with an arrow sticking out of the 'o'. They definitely don't fall into the stereotype of responsible future parents. It was probably an oversight by the young couple, but neither seems displeased with the idea.

To finish convincing him, Sirius takes out a generous amount of money and shows it to him. That ends up dispelling his doubts.

Moments later, Sirius Black walks out of the store with an elongated package and a childish smile. Marlene comes out laughing next to him. They have gotten away with it.

"Do you know what else you should do?"

When he turns his head toward her with interest, she continues.

"Instead of giving him the broom wrapped in that bland brown paper, you could wrap it like Muggles do, with what they call wrapping paper."

Sirius takes the advice, leaves the toy broom at The Leaky Cauldron and they head out the front door onto Charing Cross Street. Sirius has visited the Muggle world several times, but to attend concerts or visit music stores and bars. He has rarely been to large shopping malls or gift shops. He definitely has no idea where he can get the paper that Marlene mentioned. He is guided by her to a large building through which people enter and leave all the time.

"I once came with Lily and Mary to find a gift for James." She explains as they walk through the large doors of the mall.

They don't take long to get to the place they are looking for; but they do take a long time to wait for Sirius to choose the layout of the paper. Marlene, tired and bored, goes out window shopping while Sirius finishes making up his mind. As she turns to retrace her steps, she spots a photo booth out of the corner of her eye. A beaming smile spreads across her face as she quickens her pace to return to Black.

"You just stepped on me!"

"If you would just stop moving around so much, I might be able to accommodate myself fine."

Finally, they stop being a jumble of legs and arms, and manage to sit in front of the camera.

"When the count hits zero, they'll take four pictures of us, okay?"

Sirius nods inattentive, he's more interested in understanding how the machine will take four photos of them and deliver them to him as soon as they come out without using magic.

"The muggles’ ingenuity never ceases to amaze me." he says, his brow still furrowed when the first flash blinds him.

Marlene laughs with amusement.

"Relax your expression and smile for the next one. Remember that these photos have no movement."

Then, he shows that smile with which he used to melt hearts at Hogwarts. The flash illuminates them again. She turns to look at him and adjusts a rebellious lock that fell over his left eye. Sirius looks her square in the eye and smiles at her, mischievous and genuine. Both are lost in the gaze of the other and everything else disappears. The cabin lights up with the last flash.

The session is over.

When they go out, Sirius expects the photos to appear in his hands, as they would if it were a magical photo booth. Marlene scoffs at his ignorance once more and sticks her hand in the groove. She hands the boy two strips with four photos each.

He examines them, detailing box by box. He smiles at his own confused expression on the first and Marlene teasing on the next. His face turns serious with the last one, a photo that portrays the complicity and intimacy between them both. A photo that could turn against them if it falls into the wrong hands.

"Take them yourself."

Marlene looks at him confused. He explains, all trace of joy has disappeared from his face.

"There is… I think there is a traitor in the Order. If someone sees me with these photos... no one can know about us.”

She nods and receives them. She caresses his cheek lovingly, understanding how worried he is.

"They'll be under the loose tile on the ceiling of my room, okay?"

He nods. He knows which tile she means; they've kept things there before.

Thirteen years later, a large black dog enters the McKinnons' abandoned house. Inside, safe from prying eyes, he transforms into a slim man with a dirty and unkempt appearance.

Sirius has returned to London as soon as he learned that Harry's scar had hurt again. He takes advantage of his return to recover memories buried under the tile of the last room to the right of the second floor, Marlene McKinnon's room.

He holds his breath as he searches for the tile. Contrary to what he expects, the tile is still there. Still after more than a decade.

Its precious content has also survived time.

#blackinnon #blackinnonweek2021 #sirius x marlene #sirius black x marlene mckinnon #marlene mckinnon #sirius black #marauders #marauders era #hp fanfic #blackinnonweek #harry potter fanfiction

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exquisitley-obsessed · 4 years

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I’m Right Here (part 1?)

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: Arthur’s torn up over Mary, and his old friend and fellow gang member y/n drags his pitiful ass on a hunting trip; little do they know, they’re the ones about to be hunted.

Word Count: 3588

Pairings: Arthur Morgan x Reader (some Arthur and Mary angst)

Warnings: Hunting, guns, etc.

A/N: Currently playing RDR2 so please no spoilers <3 Literally took five minutes for me to fall in love with this damn fool and so felt like I needed to write something angsty for him. There’ll probably be a part two to this. (Also this made me seriously realise I cannot spell ‘Arthur’ for the life of me)

REQUESTS OPEN <3

MASTERLIST

“Well he aint in a good mood.”

Abigail was standing near her tent blowing gently on her boiling coffee as she watched Arthur swing into camp, readily jumping off his horse and loosely throwing the reigns towards the hitching post.

“No, he don’t,” Y/n answered. She was sitting with Jack in her lap, watching as Arthur made his way to his tent, cursing venomously under his breath. “I overheard Dutch mention something about Mary being in Valentine - that she wanted to see him.” Y/n shared the gossip with her long-time best friend and fellow gang member.

“Really?” Abigail’s head snapped to y/n as she busied herself with Jack’s excited giggling and blubbering. “She’s got some nerve.”

“Ha!” Y/n chuckled to herself as she bounced Jack about, “You can say that again.”

“It aint a secret that none of us like her,”

“Yeah, someone that even Hosea isn’t a fan of…now that’s an accomplishment.”

“He knows how to pick ‘em,”

“Sure does,” y/n sighed, throwing a glance at Morgan. Watching Arthur and Mary run back and forth to one another was like watching a dog chase its tail – futile, funny and somewhat depressing. With there being such a tight knit in the Van Der Linde gang, Mary had always felt alien and other – like she was a piece that didn’t quite fit in a rather strange and elaborate puzzle. Y/n’s bitterness towards the woman had only grown as she watched Arthur yo-yo between complete euphoria one night to a mild mental break the next; ultimately, it hurt watching him day in and day out tie himself to the train tracks and look with woozy, loving eyes at the incoming train.

“When was the last time you talked to him?” Abigail attempted to ask inconspicuously, dipping her nose into her mug as she took a swig. Y/n eyed her, Abigail had made it somewhat obviously clear she believed there to be something more between Arthur and y/n; y/n couldn’t figure out if she was amused or conflicted.

“Not since before this Blackwater mess…not a proper conversation like we used to have.” Y/n’s attention now back on the bubbling child pulling at her braid.

“Not had the chance?”

“Well, no.” She didn’t look at Abigail, “Everything blew up and…Dutch aint been letting me out on any of missions recently so I can’t talk to him then. Not with how badly things went for me in Blackwater.” Y/n was talking about her bandaged right arm, still pink and puckering from that night. When the pandemonium erupted on the waters, y/n found herself caught in a minor explosion when some TNT barrels were caught in the crossfire. The result was a degree of burns lashed across most of her right arm. Dutch, seeing her like a daughter, reacted in a rather extreme and protective manner – extreme by y/n’s standards at least.

“It’s a goddamn joke you know, I have to prove myself to be twice as better just to be even considered to go on missions. They all treat me like I’m gone break or something – I been shooting longer than most of them too.” Abigail nodded along hazily; the gang was somewhat used to y/n’s frequent outbursts and rants, having never been one much for holding her tongue. However, they couldn’t blame here; it was just a result of her start in life.

“Now’s a good time y/n - go take him hunting or something,” Abigail was still peering at Arthur over her mug.

“Hunting?”

“Yeah, you can get some fresh air, help him clear his head and also bring back something Pearson could turn edible.”

“Dutch aint letting me leave camp right now-”

“Oh, come on! You know he’d let you go if Arthur was with you”

“Abi-”

“Don’t fight me on this y/n. He’s hurting, it’s obvious, you’re the only one he’s ever…you know…” Y/n raised a brow at Abigail who simply looked away; she couldn’t figure out what she hated more, the assumptions or the fact that y/n’s heart twinged slightly at the thought of going hunting with Arthur, it being just like old times.

“Fine,” Y/n huffed scooping Jack up under the arm, “Here’s your son back.” Jack’s chubby little fingers reached out for his momma as his aunt handed him over, “But I’m doing this for you.”

“And Arthur,”

“And Arthur.” Letting out a sigh, y/n made her way over to the closed flaps of Arthur’s tent, picking up her hunting jacket along the way. Pausing, she took a breath, before rapping her knuckles across the wooden frame of his camp. “Arthur it’s me.” A pause, a small rustle from within and then he was there, looking down at y/n with a raised brow.

“Miss y/n,” He tried out the words in his mouth, as if her name was a question in itself, “What you doing here?”

“Oh, so I can’t just come and see Mr Morgan whenever I please…is there a queue I need to join?” She feigned looking around.

“Oh, don’t give me that – you know you aint come knocking on my tent for weeks now.”

“Well Arthur, I don’t know if you remember but there was that whole business of Blackwater that somewhat got in the way of our nightly strolls.” Arthur pulled back a little, his brows knitting as he frowned down at her.

“What’s going on y/n? What you want?”

“You really think every time I come see you I want something…I mean, actually now that you say-”

“Y/n-”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding, Morgan! Come on,” She smirked up at him, he shook and lowered his head, his russet hat covering his face leaving only his strong set jaw and bristly beard visible in the candlelight. A grin had melted into his cheeks and y/n couldn’t help but feel a soft flutter in her gut, he was heartbroken over Mary and yet she could still make him to smile. “I was actually letting you know that I’m going hunting, I thought you might wanna join y’know, ride out like old times,”

“Dutch letting you go?” He asked, leaning against the wagon. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh please; Dutch this, Dutch that. Can’t a girl just live?”

“I don’t know y/n, you banged yourself up real good at Blackwater if I remember correctly,” He nodded at her mummified arm.

“I’m fine, besides, it aint my shooting arm,”

“Y/n…” He sighed.

“Come on…fine. If I can convince Dutch to let me go, will you join me? We’ll take the camp and really do it like old times, stay out all night and catch birds as the sun rises.” Arthur gave her a look as if he was on the fence, but that usually already meant he was coming. Y/n didn’t even wait for a response, just smiled real wide and started walking backwards toward Dutch, “Saddle up and meet me by the horses in 10.” Arthur just shook his head and batted her away, disappearing back inside.

Turning around, y/n tiptoed her way past Dutch’s own quarters, peeking in slightly she caught the sight of him in deep discussion with Hosea. Well, there’s no point in disturbing what seems like such an important conversation. Instead, y/n chose to make her way back to Abigail where she could quickly grab a few things before setting off.

“So, you going then?” Abigail grinned up at her, already knowing the answer.

“Yup,”

“Oh good,” Abigail clapped her hands together. Y/n simply rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “You tell Dutch?”

“Um, not quite,”

“What do you mean?” Abigail raised a brow, always the ever-worried mother.

“Come on Abigail, you know Dutch won’t let me out, especially not for a whole night.”

“Course he will, you’re with Arthur,”

“No Abi, I don’t think he will,” Y/n paused her packing and met Abigail’s stare.

“What do you mean?” Her tone was tense.

“Look, Dutch has been treating me real weird since Blackwater, he won’t let me out of his sight. He won’t even let me do watch, no, I stay here in camp where he can see me and do chores. Which would be fine, but we all know that I’m much better out there, in the big wide world.” Y/n returned to packing, “He’s just got spooked from Blackwater a lil and you know how he sees me, he raised me and all.”

“So…what’s your plan?”

“Well…I guess I don’t have one.” Abigail let out a frustrated huff, “Look, don’t be mad! It aint your fault and I can handle Dutch when I get back. I thought tonight I’d focus on Arthur, wasn’t that your plan, come on now Abi.” Abigail simply responded with one of her infamous motherly glares, hands on hips and everything.

“Okay, but it’s getting dark so you best head off now before you loose your way, and y/n…” Bag now packed, y/n was half way out of the tent when she stopped, “Be careful…”

Y/n grinned back.

“Always am.”

***

“So, where you wanna go?”

Arthur and y/n had ridden their way out into the fields, far away from any signs of life or civilisation. Free at last. “Since you’re in such a sour mood I’ll let you choose.” Arthur sent her a glare.

“You know, you talking about how sour my mood is…aint making it any less sour.”

“Why are you in a sour mood anyways?” Y/n peeked at him from the corner of her eyes. Their horses had slowed into a rhythmic trot as the flowers and fields passed them by.

“Mary.” It was a gruff, clipped response; but it was enough. Arthur never needed to elaborate on his problems with Mary, it was common knowledge amongst the gang. Hell, it was obvious from day one what was going to eventually happen between the two. “Here, let’s stop here.”

“I’m sorry to hear bout it,” Y/n pulled her horse to a steady stop as they strolled onto a circular ledge, looking out on a cliff drop and the rolling hills that followed, the greenery not stopping until it blurred into the horizon.

“Are you?” Arthur said after a moment, his eyes busy assessing the terrain.

“Arthur,” Y/n snapped to him as if he had hit her, “You know I do.” The two stared at each other, a standoff, then he seemed to soften a little.

“Yeah, yeah I know you do y/n don’t worry. Don’t know what got into me. She’s messing with my head is all.”

“You can say that again,” y/n turned back to her horse, unpacking all the bits and bobs. She began to get a fire going, the crackling flames warming her back as she moved to stand near the ledge, looking out at all the little people and all their little lives.

“Wait stay still a second,” Arthur called out to y/n who of course, didn’t.

“What you doing?” She questioned walking over to him as he fumbled about in his satchel.

“I said stay still woman…almost got it…here.” He pulled out a small, metal box with a look of triumph. “Now,” He instructed holding it up to his face, “Go back to where you were standing.”

“Okay,” Y/n agreed cautiously, walking backwards a few paces, “Here? Wait…you’re not taking a photo of me are you Arthur?”

“What?” He asked, looking up and shrugging his shoulders as if there were no problem.

“Oh Arthur, I don’t want no photos of me taken,”

“Why?”

“Because…” She trailed off. It had been so long since someone had offered to take a photo of her. When it happened, she had venomously refused, spitting out something about keeping her identity secret. But now, looking at Arthur’s innocent smile as he gestured toward the camera, all ideas of protesting against the photo seemed futile. “Oh, all right then, but if I look real bad promise me we’ll burn it on the fire.”

Arthur said nothing, simply smiled wide before holding the camera up to his face once more. Suddenly, she felt incredibly self-conscious of her appearance, her hair was lazily knotted in a braid to keep it away from her face, she was wearing her old work pants and one of John’s old shirts that he had grown out of. She wondered if he thought she was pretty, she wondered if that’s why he wanted a photo of her – she pushed those thoughts away and swallowed. A quick flash, mechanic clunk and it was over.

“Lemme see, lemme see!” Y/n bounded over to Arthur, reaching out for the camera but Arthur swept it out of her grasp holding it high above her head.

“Just wait woman! God…gotta let it develop first then you can see, and then burn it,”

“I was kidding Arthur! You want a photo of me so bad I’ll let you have one – but it’s the only one you getting so you better cherish it.”

“Oh, I will,” He sighed, turning back to the camp and the fire, “I will.” He muttered once more under his breath, his eyes glossy and happy as he carefully rested the camera near his bag.

“Come on, we best settle down,” Y/n sighed, her fingers resting near her gun. The two hunched down together near the edge of the cliff, their feet sloping down with the ground as they watched the last few hours of light spill across the landscape.

“Well if we’re going about this the old way,” Arthur grunted after a moment, before twisting round and grabbing a box from behind him, swinging it around y/n’s eyes widened as she realised what Arthur had snuck off camp.

“Uncle’s secret stash of whiskey,” Y/n stared wide eyed at the crate, “Arthur you didn’t!” She half gasped, half grinned.

“You said it would be just like old times,” He hazily smiled at her, pulling out a bottle and squeezing off the cap. He then looked around, conflicted, “Uh, I didn’t think to grab any cups.”

“Oh, it don’t matter Morgan,” Y/n grinned, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig straight from the lip, “If we’re really doing it like old times, it won’t matter.”

Arthur looked at y/n then, really looked at her. The time of his life when she wasn’t in it had always felt hazy, it had always appeared to him that she had simply just been there, like Hosea and Dutch, even John. Dutch had bundled her home after finding her on the street, she had tried and almost successfully robbed him as he headed back home. She was young, too young to have been living life like that and yet, weren’t they all. He remembered shooting lessons with her John and Dutch as Hosea dipped in and out with scattered pieces and parts of plans.

There had been a time when he was sweet on her. Really sweet on her. They were young, growing up in a wild world where it felt like anything could happen. He never told her, life just seemed to get in the way and, after a while, he just figured she wasn’t into him like that. Maybe there was a part of him that would always be sweet on her, like the way he could never seem to shake away Mary. No, that’s not right. Mary and y/n were different, always had been different and always would be. But then again, what did Arthur Morgan know about love, about women?

“I…have this theory,” She turned to him suddenly, shattering apart his worried thoughts and replacing them with a warm glow.

“Theory? What you doing getting all philosophical on me?” The corner of his eyes crinkled as he grinned back.

“I aint getting philosophical Arthur, it’s just an idea-”

“Okay, okay,” He held up his hands in defence, “What’s this big idea, hm?”

“So…with this Mary business…I think that all she done this past while is talk about how you aint ever gone change, and my theory is that…that aint fair,”

“How come?”

“Because her asking you to give up this life, is exactly like you asking her to give hers; and…I don’t think love should be like that.” The liquor was loosening her tongue, making her slosh a little with her words, “I don’t think you should have to change yourself for love.”

“But aint that the point?” Arthur pondered after a beat, “That love changes you, makes you a better man and what not.” Y/n’s nose crinkled.

“Sure but…there’s a difference between growing with someone compared to changing who you are just so you don’t give them a bad reputation when you walk down the street together,” Arthur reared back a little but ultimately understood there was no malice behind her words, it was just the ugly truth. “I feel like,” She continued, now on a roll, “Mary aint in love with you…or maybe she was at one point but now it’s…I don’t know, hell, the only time I ever met the woman she barely said two words to me.” A soft chuckle, “But…I feel like she’s in love with this version of you, in her head. There’s a reason everyone back at camp, especially the girls, don’t like her Arthur. It’s because she aint like us, she aint ever had to worry about when her next meal gone be or if she’ll get the privilege of sleeping in a bed that night or…”

Arthur’s eyes were steady on the sunset, watching as it swam down over the horizon, disappearing into an inky, spotted night. The sky was surprisingly dull for a sunset, no explosion of colours as the sun sunk lower, no ecstasy of oranges and pinks – just an ever-expanding dull grey hue.

“I don’t like saying it Arthur,” y/n was still going, “Because I know you love her and I know an ounce of love is more than any of us deserve – but please…stop hurting yourself over her, I can’t take it anymore.” Arthur turned his head slightly to the side, peeking at y/n; he wasn’t necessarily upset by what she was saying, just numb to it. I mean, if he didn’t have Mary, then what did he have?

Silence blanketed them as the sun and its warmth slipped over the edge of the world, leaving the cold to creep in from all sides; only battled by the spluttering warmth of the fire. Arthur looked at her, really looked at her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving her y/n.” A pause. He waited for her reaction.

“I know.” She did, and her heart ached for it.

***

The mood and pace picked up from then on. With the world at rest around them, being out in the open night with a crate of whiskey and a wheezing fire – it was enough to feel like they were the only ones who were truly alive. Perhaps, in that moment, they were. Old friends who knew each other better than they knew themselves. A conversation concocted with a mix of reminiscing of the past, laughing about the present, and theorising about the future.

Arthur told y/n that she was going to be married before she knew it. Y/n politely told Arthur that the only instance in which she would ever marry would be for money. Arthur laughed and commented on how it was money that was ruining his relationship, not building it.

They talked about Dutch, about how much they had grown from being scared kids with guns too big for their hands. And all of a sudden, Mary felt a million miles away - Mary didn’t even feel important anymore.

They drank themselves silly, forgetting about the whole point of their little getaway in the first place. Eventually, they curled up against the shrubbery, lying on their backs and looking up at the bottomless sky above them. Not even talking, just enjoying for a moment how the world was spinning underneath them.

***

When Arthur awoke the first thing he noticed was the dryness of his throat. Wincing, he coughed some of the dust out of his lungs as he sat up and then lay back down again, the weight of his head pulling him back.

“God damn.” He grunted – how much had he drank? Still, standing up he shook the dust off him, he knew he had gone through worse, an infamous night with Lenny ringing a bell. The sun was high in the sky meaning that he had slept through all, if not most, of the morning. Sighing he looked around for y/n. And looked again. Something wasn’t right.

She wasn’t there; not curled up next to him, not draped across the sleeping rolls, not near the horses – nowhere. She was gone. An ugly, familiar knot twisted its way into Arthur’s gut. Trying to douse the fire inside of him he calmed himself with the idea that she could have just gone for a walk or pulled through on the hunting after all – but her horse was still there.

“Oh no…no…no.” He choked standing up. He couldn’t lose her, not now. His fears climaxed, his whole world skidding to a stop as he noticed a note made from rich paper taped to the whiskey box.

Arthur Morgan,

You don’t seem to want to talk about Dutch. Maybe your friend will.

- P

Numb, he went completely numb. But that feeling didn’t compare to when he had eventually stumbled back into camp, the note limb by his side as looked up and saw an irate Dutch waiting for him, his eyes black.

“Where, the hell, is she Morgan?”

next part

#Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 1 #rdr2 #rdr #rdr imagine #rdr2 imagine #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan imagine #abigail marston #Dutch Van Der Linde #dutch

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finn-wolfhard · 4 years

Note

I need me some quality content and this is the best place for it. Could I get some being Steve's sister and dating Robin? (If that already exists somewhere then please direct me to it bc this idea is like crack to me) Thanks!!

Yo! I've just gotten back into Tumblr since quarantine has given me an abundance of time. I can guess that you ended up getting this elsewhere, anon, but for the folk who also want to read about wlw Robin B and Big Bro Steve - this ones for you!

Enjoy x

I Do

“Turn that shit down! GOD! I feel I’m listening to them in concert.” Steve was screaming from downstairs for me to turn my music down and before I could move an inch to do so, he barged through the door. “Look, I don’t want another complaint from Mrs. Fritz next door. Can you please turn it down. I promised mom and dad that the roof would still be on this place by the time they got home. I’m heading to work. The money for delivery is on the table. Just try not to get yourself into bother, OK?”

“Yeah, sure, sorry Steve. What time will you be home?” our parents are both out of town on business and so Steve has been appointed man of the house. Last time we were left alone, Mrs. Fritz called the police on us, placing a noise complaint. It was just me playing my radio a little bit too loud in my room. My bedroom window is right next to her living room.

“I’ll be home around 8. Do you want to wait till I’m home to order pizza?”

“Sure thing, dude” I answered, giving him a thumbs up and a grin.

“You’re a goof. I’ll see you at 8.”

Steve and I’s relationship is reasonably good for the average brother and sister. He’s a year older than me and has the same interests. Such as; Hair, Pizza, our looks, and girls. I’ve known I’ve been into girls since I was a little kid but dad would kill me if I ever brought a girl home. Mom would be a little more understanding, yet still against the idea - and I don’t even know how Steve would react if he found out. I think he’s the only person I’d be fully comfortable telling, but I don't want to risk it going the complete opposite way.

I hear the door slam and decide to get out of my pajamas and actually DO something today. The schools broke up for summer last week and all I’ve been doing is reading, listening to music, and waiting for my best friend Jennifer to get home from vacation and tell me all about it. She’s due home in three days. I finally muster up enough self-motivation to move from my cozy, pink bed to the bathroom. The cold tiles under my feet wake me up and I stare at myself in the mirror for a bit. I had managed to grow a little spot just below my hairline (which I quickly treated with zit cream) but that was about as far as the flaws went. I usually take good care of myself; drinking enough, taking my vitamins, brushing my teeth after every meal. I do care about my looks and I shouldn’t be ashamed of that. It helps gets me a lot of attention in school, and I’ve never been an outcast. I guess having Steve as a big brother does contribute to the high school fame, but I don’t let it get to me much. I'm just glad I’ve gotten through high-school without being bullied at least once. I looked at my scraggly hair. I had just had a perm done two weeks ago and it seemed to be holding up pretty well. I scrunched my hair to make it look nice and messed it up a bit to give it volume.

In the kitchen, there was the money on the table, like Steve said, and a note next to it.

Save me a slice! Steve :)

He must’ve written the note then realized that a slice won't suffice after a long shift at his dorky Scoops Ahoy! job, and asked me to wait up for him. It's a shame people don’t get to see this side of Steve and I. I know how we come across to other people. I’ve heard the odd remark here and there about how he’s a player and I’m a priss. It mostly comes from the social outcasts in the school, the ones who aren’t in our friend circles, and don’t get to see what we’re really like. Even then, our school personalities are a bit of a performance to uphold our popularity. Only Steve knows my real self and vice verses, and we both understand why it has to be like that. Its an unspoken rule type thing.

I open the fridge and get some milk for cereal. I pour a bowl of Fruity Pebbles. Fred smiles at me from the box as I grab the phone off the wall and dial Amanda’s number.

“Hey Mands, you want to go to the mall today”

“y/n! Hi! That sounds great. I need a new outfit for my date with Justin on Friday.”

“Cool, so, 12? That sound ok?”

We agreed on 12:30 (since she had to take her dog on a walk) and she suggested we meet outside the Gap. Soon enough, 12:30 rolls around and I see Amanda smiling wildly at me, where she said she'd be, outside the Gap. She sweeps me into a warm hug and we gush about how much we’ve missed each other since school broke up.

“Ok, so I need to go to Claires to get some earrings.” I agree to help her find a pair that would, quote “make Justin harder than math.” I don’t really understand how a pair of earrings could do this to a guy, or even if guys pay attention to earrings at all, but I was open to being proved wrong. We start making our way to the stairs when Amanda realizes she’s suddenly craving ice cream. I put it down to the fact that there were Scoops Ahoy! Adverts on every trash can (I’m unsure if that is a sign or not). We make a detour to Steve’s work and I make a plan to pull a few strings to get a free cone or two. We enter the ice cream parlor and… Steve isn’t there. Instead, a girl with short blonde hair is serving the queue of customers.

I squint at her, trying to remember her name. Rosie? No, that's not it. It begins with an R for definite. Its to do with an animal… a R-R-Robin! Her name is Robin. And she’s…pretty? Like, really pretty. And not very girly? I can’t tell since she’s wearing a silly uniform… but god, is she pretty.

As I’m staring at her, a slew of slurs come racing into my mind. Slurs I panicked were being shouted at me down the halls but never were. They were always aimed…at her. At Robin. Words beginning with D and F that make my blood boil. Chip, A boy in my own friend group, muttering “Stay away from my sister, homo!” In class. I put a hand up to my mouth to hide a gasp. This girl was outed, by someone she thought was her friend from band, in Hawkins - which isn’t known for being the most accommodating and accepting town.

Amanda and I reach the front of the queue and I find myself unable to look directly at the girl serving me.

“Hi! Welcome to Scoops Ahoy! What can I get you today?” She seemed overly enthusiastic for some reason.

“Hi, is Steve here?” I say, breaking the awkwardness I had built up in my own mind. She looked away, disheartened? I couldn’t tell.

“Steve, your sisters here” then she whispered something that sounded like “you can leave your little nerd friend to figure it out for a bit” but I wasn’t really sure.

Steve appeared from around the corner.

“what do you want, squirt?”

“2 sundaes please” I replied, smiling.

“that will be five dollars pleas-“

“STEVE! Can’t you gift your baby sister with a sundae for once?” I cut him off, appalled that he’s making me pay, but still keeping it lighthearted.

“…fine. But only this ONE TIME” he shot back. I winked at him, thanked him, and waited for him to finish our sundaes. He brought them over and sat with us.

“Who’s that girl?” I instantly questioned, trying not to sound too interested but failing miserably.

“Oh, that's Robin Buckley. She’s in your year at school, don’t you know her?” I do know her. But I don’t want to admit that yet, I want to play it cool.

“I think I’ve seen her around yeah, I’ve just never had a good look at her before. I think she’s in my social studies class?” I look to Amanda to ask this question but Amanda is already nodding by this point. Steve looks unconvinced.

“well, I invited her for pizza tonight,” he said, not wanting to ask ‘is that ok?’ In front of Amanda to keep up his macho ‘I’m Steve Harrington’ persona. I glance over at Robin. By this time, she’s known as lovely Robin in my head. Not that I could help it, along with the butterflies in my stomach or the extreme excitement that she was going to be having dinner. With me. In my house. Tonight!… What am I doing? Get a grip of yourself! You’re not out - as if that is ever going to happen anyways - and Robin was coming for Steve. Of course she was. I mentally roll my eyes. Just my luck.

The rest of the day goes by pretty quickly. Amanda gets her outfit and ‘math’ earrings - which I still don’t understand - and I get a few cute t-shirts and skirts thanks to my allowance mom gave me before she went away. By the time I get home, it is 4 pm which means I have precisely 4 hours to get myself ready for tonight. I go to my room, read for a bit, then put my makeup on in my vanity mirror. I don’t want to mess this up, but then again, why am I caring so much?. I eventually get myself sorted and wait for 8 pm to roll around. At 7:45 I phone Hal’s Pizza Shop and order 2 pepperoni pizzas and 1 plain Margherita. I came to the decision that If Robin is vegetarian then she can have the just cheese, but if not, I’ll take it.

I hear Steve’s key in the lock and he shouts to me from downstairs.

“Hey that's me back, y/n, did you order the pizza?”

“Sure did!” I came to the top of the stairs and looked down at the front door. Robin was staring up at me and I couldn’t help staring at her back. Steve obviously missed this whole exchange of tension.

“Good! Because I’m starving. I’m gonna put a video on, anyone down for watching Indiana Jones?” He mimics a whipping sound and runs off to the living room, leaving Robin and me to awkwardly start a conversation.

“So, you work with Steve. I’ll apologize on your employer's behalf.” I laugh, eventually. Robin looked relieved that I had said something, and even more so that it was a joke.

“It's not as bad as you would think, he brings in loads of customers with that ‘magnificent hair’” she replies, making fun of Steve’s obsession with his, admittedly, perfect mane.

“I’ve seen you about school before, sorry I’ve never talked to you before,” I said. I really meant it, she seems cool. And kinda hot? But that wasn’t important to me…

“Yeah, I guess our groups don’t tend to mix as much. I'm surprised you even know my name” she looks at her feet. She knows I know about the slurs and bullying, I can tell. Just then, there's a ring at the door and Steve reappears, running to get the door that we are standing 2 inches away from.

After sitting, eating, chatting, and laughing our way through Indiana Jones, I realise Steve has fallen asleep beside me. So does Robin. We both snicker at him and then collectively tuck him in with the blankets on the back of the sofa. We sit in silence for a minute.

“Robin. I want to say I'm sorry for all the stuff you get called at school. It's not cool and especially from my group-“

“it's fine” she cuts me off. She seems distant though.

“I don’t think you understand what it does to me hearing people shout words like that at someone. It's inhuman,” Robin looks at me over her cup of hot chocolate Steve made us halfway through the movie. She looks on the verge of tears. “I mean, I don’t know how I would cope with that if people knew I was one too.” I look away from her confused stare in embarrassment. Robin is the first person I tell this massive secret to and I've only been in her company for the past 3 hours? But it felt right. It felt too right, almost.

Robin picks herself up from her space in the armchair and comes to sit on the arm of the sofa. She doesn’t hesitate to put her arm around my shoulders and squeeze me in for a side hug. I hadn’t realized that I had started to cry and I wipe my eyes and nose with the back of my hand.

“I’m so sorry they said those things to you” I whispered while silently sobbing.

“Don’t worry about it, y/n, I have pretty thick skin when it comes to bullying. I've been in band for the past 3 years,” I look at her and let out a small laugh. The smile fades from her lips and a serious look takes over her face. “You don’t need to feel ashamed. Or embarrassed. I’m honored you told me, I know how much trust that takes. Thank you.”

We sit embracing for a couple of minutes and I try to defuse the tension. “You know, I think you’re pretty hot.” She laughs, and I can feel the heat radiating off of her. She’s blushing.

“You’re not too bad yourself, Harrington,” she gives me a small smile. “I think you’re the prettiest girl in our year.” Now it was my turn to blush. I’m not sure if she’s saying this out of courtesy, sympathy, or if she really means it.

“You don't have to say that” I roll my eyes and let out an embarrassed giggle.

“I do.” She whispers back, the darkness multiplying the tension by 10. After a while of nervous silence, not sure what to say next, Robin asks you a question.

“I hope I’m not out of line for saying this, and you can one hundred percent say no,” I looked at her, questioningly, “but why don’t we go out sometime? We can go to the park or we can go to the cinema. Your choice… if you want-if you want to.” She was visibly nervous. In the pitch black, with only the dim glow from the paused movie TV static lighting up the room, I agreed to go on a date with her (”I’d like that”). We both can tell the other is excited but can also tell the other is exhausted. Robin moves back over to the armchair, which was just big enough for a teenage girl to curl up in, and I curl up to my sound asleep brother. It takes a while to finally get to sleep, but I can’t help my mind doing laps, thinking about my future date with Robin Buckley.

#steve harrington 4 ever x #i love steve #big brother steve #dating Robin Buckley #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley fic #robin buckley #st3 #robin #robin buckley one shot

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calumcest · 4 years

Text

you and i were fireworks that went off too soon - chapter seven

[ao3]

did i just pull this entire chapter out of my arse tonight? maybe! not that i don’t write these chapters all in one sitting at like 9pm-1am every single time don’t get it twisted i’m not organised i am a binge-writer

i always do my long ass a/ns on ao3 i dont know why feels more REVEALING to do them here because i know people actually read them and i think probably one person on the whole planet has ever read my ao3 a/ns its a safe haven so i’m just going to say my brief thank yous: thank you to @clumsyclifford for literally everything you do always, thank you to @ashesonthefloor for listening too me bitch about this fic and having the most wonderful thoughts and ideas about it, thank you to @kaleidoscopeminds for motivating me to keep writing this fic w your kind words, thank you to @allsassnoclass for always being so wise and understanding of authors dilemmas and encouraging me w your lovely words, and thank you to my spoiler anon for being so lovely about this fic and holyverse and also for asking about another chapter because i swear to u i would have kept putting it off were it not for u. also big thank you to noel and liam gallagher for writing the SMASH hits i wrote this entire chapter to and for being [redacted] and also to richard madden because i just fancy him and feel like i should thank him for existing and allowing me to perceive him

It’s a twin room, thank God, because Luke would have rather slept in the hallway than shared a bed with Ashton for four weeks.

“I’m taking the window bed,” he announces, before Ashton has a chance to say anything, out of pure spite, because he knows Ashton likes sleeping by the window. Or knew, maybe. He’s not sure anymore.

Ashton opens and then closes his mouth, nods curtly, and puts his carry-on bag on the bed nearest the bathroom. Luke puts Clifford down on the bed first, muttering at him to stop fucking yapping (which Clifford, of course, ignores), and then drops his suitcases next to it with a sigh.

“So,” Ashton says, and his voice fills the entire room, too loud and too much, a jarring reminder that Ashton’s here, in Luke’s space, and Luke’s got no option but to live with it. “Should we go out?” Luke blinks at him.

“What?” he says.

“Well,” Ashton says, with an uncomfortable shrug. “Study doesn’t start ‘til tomorrow, and it’s only nine. Thought we could spend the day exploring?” Luke stares at him.

“Think I’d rather spend my last day of freedom alone,” he says, a little harshly. Ashton blinks, and Luke doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that crosses his face, but then he nods again.

“Have you still got my UK number?” he says, and Luke hesitates, and then nods. He’s not sure why it feels like he’s giving something away by admitting that he’d never deleted Ashton’s numbers; he’d been the one to text Ashton about the tattoos first, so clearly Ashton already knows that Luke still had his Australian number, at least. “Well. Text me if you need anything?”

“Don’t think I’ll need anything,” Luke says, and Ashton sighs, and Luke feels a little small, a little stupid, like Ashton’s a patient parent putting up with a melodramatic teenager.

“I’m going to head off, then,” Ashton says, a touch awkwardly, and Luke just nods, busying himself with getting Clifford out of his travel cage, thinking he’ll ask at reception for directions to the nearest park and let Clifford stretch his legs. He steadfastly doesn’t look at Ashton as Ashton gathers his things together, patting his coat pocket to make sure he’s got everything, and then slips out of the room, door clicking shut behind him.

As soon as Ashton’s left, Luke suddenly feels simultaneously relieved and overwhelmed. He feels like he can breathe a little easier, think a little clearer without Ashton in his personal space, making him feel like he has to be alert, on edge, but the hotel room feels strangely empty without him. Luke shakes his head, tries to get the latter thought out of his mind, focusing on Clifford’s insistent yaps to draw him back to reality and distract him.

“Alright, little man, we’re going,” Luke mutters, fumbling around in his bag for Clifford’s lead. Clifford jumps around at his feet, already panting, and Luke rolls his eyes, clips the lead on, checks he’s got his room key and phone in his pocket and heads out of the room.

He decides to take the stairs, since he doesn’t think Clifford’s got the patience to wait for the lift, which proves to be the right decision when Clifford’s straining at his lead trying to bound down the stairs, giving Luke reproachful looks whenever he tugs him back. They’re only on the second floor, so it’s not long before Luke’s back in the lobby, and Clifford finally pulls himself together and trots smartly at Luke’s heel, giving other people milling in the area imperious looks as they pass.

“Hi,” Luke says, and the receptionist smiles politely up at him. “I’d like to walk my dog. Can you tell me where the nearest park is?” She nods.

“Of course, sir,” she says, and pulls out a brochure. Luke mentally pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s going to look like a massive fucking tourist walking around with one of those. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get mugged.

“You just need to turn left out of the hotel, take a right at the end of the road, take the second left after that, take two rights, and you’ll be at the park,” she says, trailing her pen across the streets and ending it with a flourish, circling a rectangle of green on the map and smiling at him again. Luke smiles back, having taken absolutely none of that in, thanks her, pockets the map and decides he’ll probably just walk around the nearby backstreets for a while until Clifford’s worn out to lower his chances of getting lost.

Clifford, it turns out, is surprisingly tired, having apparently spent all of his energy on pestering Luke to take him out. He only manages about half an hour of walking up and down a few streets around the hotel before he’s flagging, sitting down and staring up at Luke beseechingly when Luke tries to pull him along. A passing couple throw Luke an amused look and titter to themselves, and Luke sighs.

“C’mon, little man,” he says, tugging again. Clifford refuses to budge, just stares up at Luke with a look that Luke knows all too well. “Come on, Cliff, you’re embarrassing me. It’s two streets away. You can walk that far.” Clifford stays put, and Luke rolls his eyes, but bends down and scoops Clifford up into his arms. Clifford immediately nuzzles into Luke happily, licking at his neck, and Luke pulls back, wrinkling his nose. “Gross, Cliff, don’t do that.”

Luke pretty much speedwalks back to the hotel because little though Clifford is, he’s surprisingly heavy after a while, and Luke’s much weaker than he looks. He throws the receptionist a polite smile on his way back up to the room, unclips Clifford from the lead as soon as he’s in there and rummages around in one of his suitcases for the bed Michael had shoved on top of all of Luke’s warmest clothes. Clifford watches him patiently, and hops into the bed as soon as Luke’s unfolded it, curls up and closes his eyes. Luke can’t help but smile fondly down at him, bending down to press a kiss to the top of Clifford’s head and scratching behind his ears.

“I’m going to go out again, little man,” he tells Clifford. “I’ll be back to give you your dinner, though.” Clifford just sniffs, which Luke takes to mean ‘yeah, sure, now fuck off and let me sleep’, and Luke straightens again, throws Clifford one final fond look and heads back out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

He decides it’s probably fine if he wanders aimlessly, since the brochure in his pocket has the name of the hotel on it and Michael had paid for his phone plan to cover the UK for six weeks so he can look it up when he inevitably gets lost. Having spent half an hour in the streets surrounding the hotel already, he decides to get on the tube and head somewhere new, picking a stop name he recognises - Leicester Square sounds vaguely familiar.

Leicester Square, it turns out, sounds familiar because it’s a tourist hotspot. Luke’s ducking and weaving between people, mumbling apologies as he slips through gaps that he doesn’t actually fit through and splits up groups (but seriously, he thinks, slightly irritated as he smiles politely, who the fuck walks in a row of five?). There are countless little side alleys and back roads leading off the main street, but even those are difficult to walk through, filled with the native Londoners who know their way through the labyrinth of twisting streets and know better than to be anywhere near Leicester Square in the first place.

Eventually, half to get out of the crowds and half because he’s actually pretty hungry, Luke ducks into a Costa and buys himself a ham and cheese toastie, balking at the price when the cashier rings it up. Five fucking pounds, what’s that, ten dollars? For one sandwich? Fucking hell. He’s definitely going to be demanding those reimbursements from the university.

He’s waiting for his sandwich to come out of the toaster, only two baristas serving a queue of at least twenty, when someone taps him on the shoulder a little tentatively, making him jump. He whips around, wondering whether he’s in the way or something, and comes face to face with-

Ashton.

“Are you serious?” he demands, before he can think about it. Ashton shrugs, and looks a little uncomfortable. “Are you following me?”

“I was already here,” Ashton says. “I’ve got a table.” He waves his hand in the directions of an empty table in the far corner, and Luke can see Ashton’s coat bunched up on one of the chairs.

“Oh,” Luke says. Ashton gives him a look, simultaneously sad and calculating, and for a brief moment, Luke thinks fuck, his eyes are pretty. Jesus Christ. Maybe he should have stayed at the hotel and napped.

“D’you want to sit with me?” Ashton says. Luke hesitates - not particularly , is the first petulant thought to cross his mind, before his rational side kicks in and tells him sleepily that he won’t find a seat anywhere else - and then nods.

“Ham and cheese toastie?” the barista calls, and Luke steps forwards, takes it from her hand and heads wordlessly in the direction of Ashton’s table, Ashton in tow.

“Sorry,” Ashton says, when Luke picks up Ashton’s coat off the seat and holds it out for him. He takes it from Luke and his finger brushes against Luke’s, and something like liquid gold rushes through Luke, making him giddy from head to toe. It’s the sleeplessness, he tells himself, averting his gaze and snatching his hand away. God knows he’s felt even more unexplainable things on the same amount of sleep.

“‘S alright,” Luke says, sitting down to avoid thinking about the warmth of Ashton’s finger brushing against his own and the way his finger is still burning from the contact. “You didn’t know I was going to be here.” Ashton hesitates, and then busies himself with tucking his coat behind him, like he’s looking for something to do that isn’t stare across the table at Luke. Luke’s not going to complain about that, and takes a bite out of the first half of the toastie so he won’t have to say anything else.

They sit in silence for a moment, Luke eating his toastie, Ashton fiddling with the bracelet on his left hand. The silence is uncomfortable, oppressive, and Luke kind of wishes he’d just sat on the fucking floor or something. Nothing makes him wish that more, though, than when Ashton opens his mouth and says: “I wondered.”

Luke swallows his last bite of toastie with a frown.

“You wondered what?” he says. Ashton shrugs, tension and discomfort visible in the movement.

“I wondered whether we’d bump into each other,” he says. Luke rolls his eyes.

“Not this again,” he mutters, but it’s more tired than anything. Ashton sighs, and drops his hands onto the table.

“Look,” he says carefully. “I don’t think us bumping into each other all the time is a coincidence.”

“Fucking hell,” Luke says, but there’s no heat behind the words. He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes and squeezes them shut. He’s too fucking tired for this.

“Luke,” Ashton says, like Luke’s being unreasonable. “We’ve lived in the same city for years-” Luke opens his mouth to interrupt, because Ashton was always away half the time when they were together, and he can’t imagine that’s changed much “-okay, on-off, because I’m in LA sometimes - but we’ve not once bumped into each other. Then we get the tattoos, and suddenly I’m seeing you every other week?”

“What’s your point?” Luke says, a little irritably. “You think this is some grand plan from the universe to make us fall back in love? What, I’m Cathy, you’re Heathcliff?” Ashton bites his lip, and Luke’s mouth twists bitterly in a humourless smile. “This isn’t fucking romantic, Ashton. You leaving me was-” he cuts himself off. He’s not quite ready to tell Ashton that , yet. “Awful,” he says, eventually. “This isn’t part of some, like, big romantic redemption arc for you. You fucked up, and you fucked me over, and we’ve just got to find some way to live with the tattoos. That’s why we’re both here, isn’t it?” Ashton’s silent for a moment, and if Luke’s not mistaken, looks a little paler than he had a minute ago, and then nods.

“Can we at least be civil?” Ashton says, and then, seeing the look on Luke’s face, adds: “We’re stuck together for four weeks, Luke. I know you don’t like me, and I’m not asking for- for friendship, or anything. I’m just asking for you to be civil with me.” Luke exhales heavily.

“Fine,” he says tiredly, before he has the chance to think too much about it. “Civil.”

“Civil,” Ashton agrees.

(Luke’s pretty sure civil doesn’t involve thinking God, I’d forgotten how long his eyelashes are, and the way you can see a hint of his dimple when he speaks, but he’s also pretty sure that’s entirely to do with the exhaustion, and nothing to do with him.)

-------

Ashton talks Luke into going down to the Houses of Parliament, with a combination of a sincere look on his face, big, serious eyes as he says look, we don’t want to risk another bumping-into-each-other tattoo, and it’ll just be civil, and the fact that Luke just doesn’t have the energy to argue. Plus, he thinks, Ashton seems to know where he’s going, and Luke had forgotten to take his charger with him so he’s kind of fucked if he gets lost.

The walk down from Costa to the Houses of Parliament is only about twenty minutes, but feels so much fucking longer, both of them all too aware of the awkward silence hanging between them, amplified by the noise of the city surrounding them. They walk through Trafalgar Square, and Ashton tells Luke something about art installations and the fourth plinth and Luke just nods along, trying his best to do this whole civil thing by quelling his instinct to snap I don’t fucking know what a plinth is and you know full fucking well I don’t care about art. Ashton seems to sense it from him anyway, though, because he falters and then says, with an uncomfortable laugh, “You probably don’t care about this anyway.”

“Not really,” Luke admits, because they’d said civil, not dishonest. Ashton smiles wryly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Sorry,” he says, and Luke just hums, and they fall back into an awkward silence.

It’s easier, Luke finds, when a man in a suit shoulders into him and keeps walking without so much as a mumbled apology and Ashton turns to him, outraged, and says Londoners really are cunts, if they interact with each other through their surroundings. Talking about people, things, even the fucking weather, adds a sheen of superficiality, a layer of removal that they can both look at and pretend there’s nothing more to it, no years of hurt and pain bubbling beneath the surface.

“How is it this sunny yet this cold?” Luke grumbles, shielding his eyes and squinting up at Big Ben.

“You should be here in April,” Ashton says, stabbing the button at the traffic light repeatedly.

“I’ve got no intentions of being here any longer than I have to be,” Luke mutters. “What are we looking at, again?”

“It’s parliament, Luke,” Ashton says, like that’s supposed to mean something to Luke.

“So?” Luke says. “We’ve got a parliament.”

“And? Have you ever seen it?” Ashton says shrewdly, and Luke scowls, biting back the scathing retort on the tip of his tongue. Civil and Ashton are two concepts that he assumes will take a while to marry in his mind.

“Whatever,” he says, stepping out into the road as the light turns green. “Just don’t get why I’m supposed to care about some random country’s government, is all.” Ashton doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that, jogging to catch up with Luke, and they walk the rest of the distance to the buildings in silence.

It’s quite imposing, Luke thinks, up close. The buildings are sort of dirty - or maybe they’re meant to look like that - and incredibly intricate, bordering on fussy. It towers over them, looking more like a palace than a place of governance, Big Ben casting a long shadow across the road. He’s not sure he’d want to be governed from this place.

“I don’t like it,” he says.

“Really?” Ashton says, squinting up at the buildings. “I think it’s kind of pretty.” You would, Luke thinks darkly. Old, ornate and overcomplicated? That’s exactly the kind of thing Ashton would get excited about and find unwarranted symbolism in.

“Yeah, well,” Luke says instead, because he’s pretty sure that thought doesn’t count as civil. “Think it’s just a bit too elaborate.”

“It’s Gothic Revival,” Ashton says, like Luke’s supposed to have a single fucking clue what that means. Actually, Luke thinks bitterly, he’s probably fully aware that Luke doesn’t have any idea what that means, and is hoping Luke will take the bait and ask so Ashton can demonstrate his massive intellect, or whatever.

“Right,” Luke says, a little shortly. Ashton glances at him, looking a touch taken aback, but then looks back at the buildings.

“We can go somewhere else,” he says, and it’s an offer. An olive branch.

“Yeah,” Luke says, because annoyance at not knowing anything about architectural styles aside, looking at an old building is just pretty fucking boring.

“There’s an aquarium not too far away,” Ashton says. “I remember you-” he stops himself, and Luke swallows. Yeah. He loves aquariums. He loves them so much that Ashton had taken him to the Sydney Aquarium for their third anniversary, a month or two before he’d broken up with Luke.

(Two months on the dot. Not that Luke has both dates seared into his mind, or anything.)

“Yeah,” Luke says again, to fill the silence of both of them thinking back to that day. “Let’s go to the aquarium.” Ashton hesitates, and glances at Luke like he wants to say something else, a sort of semi-pained expression on his face, and then he sighs, shakes his head, and throws Luke a tight smile.

“Let’s go to the aquarium,” he agrees.

-------

The aquarium, it turns out, is a much better choice.

Despite the odd screaming child, the aquarium has a calming silence to it, an almost pensive quiet that pierces to the depths of Luke’s soul. It settles the air between him and Ashton, means they’re not silent for lack of civil things to say, but rather because they’re both caught up in the muted beauty of the ocean.

They don’t walk together, because Ashton likes to pore over every single placard and study every creature in minute detail and Luke’s drawn to the pretty, colourful fish. It’s Luke, though, who’s always the last to move on, and Ashton waits for him before they head to the next room. It’s almost nice, Luke thinks, as he heads for the door and sees Ashton slip through it when he sees Luke’s ready to move on, that they don’t have to have awkward conversations about it, that they can just understand and fall into it.

(He tries not to think about why.)

They spend hours in the aquarium, dawdling in every room, because they spent so much fucking money on it and they’re both going to be damned if they won’t milk it for all it’s worth. Luke spends an extra long time looking at the clownfish, for some reason, hypnotised by the way they can weave in and out of the anemones. There’s some kind of symbolism to be found there, he thinks, something about toxicity and safety, but he’s too tired to come up with it himself. Ashton would probably correct him if he tried, anyway.

Ashton’s particularly taken by the sharks, it turns out. He’s already staring at the huge tank in awe when Luke gets into the room, barely even blinking as his eyes follow one shark after the other. The room itself is dark, like the rest of the aquarium, but the tank’s so huge that Ashton’s bathed in light, rippling and shimmering and Luke, for the briefest of moments, feels something sharp stab at his heart, something he remembers feeling the last time he’d stood in an aquarium with Ashton. It makes his stomach clench, twist in on itself, because he knows exactly what he’d identified that feeling as before.

“They’re fucking beautiful, aren’t they?” Ashton says, interrupting Luke’s train of thought before it can take the leap off the cliff edge of panic, and Luke looks up at the sharks.

“I guess?” he says, because he doesn’t really see it.

“You used to like them,” Ashton says, sounding a little surprised.

“I used to like a lot of things,” Luke says. I used to like you, he adds spitefully in his head, and sort of hopes Ashton’s telepathic.

“Guess I’ve got to get to know you again,” Ashton says, and it’s a little wistful, a little sad. Luke doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know what would sum up I’m not sure I want you to, I don’t think I’ll give you a chance and Good fucking luck in a civil way.

They stand there for a while, watching the sharks, and people filter in and out of the room behind them. It feels oddly hypnotic, being stood there with Ashton, the only two static parts of a moving whole. He wonders if the sharks feel the same, swimming aimlessly in their tank, watching the world pass by and powerless to move with it.

“I’m sorry,” Ashton says quietly, after at least ten minutes have passed. It’s so quiet that Luke thinks he might have misheard it - maybe it was the family behind them, or just the sound of the tank - but he can sense Ashton stiffen next to him, like he’s preparing for backlash of some sort.

“What?” Luke says, just to make sure he’s heard right.

“I’m sorry,” Ashton repeats. Luke pauses, waiting for Ashton to elaborate, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t really have to, though, Luke finds, because he knows what Ashton means.

“I know,” Luke says eventually. Ashton swallows, but says nothing, just carries on gazing at the sharks, but out of the corner of his eye Luke can see that Ashton’s gaze is fixed now, not following the sharks around.

They stand in silence until an announcement blares through the system telling them that the aquarium is closing soon, making them both jump.

“What time is it?” Luke asks, just for something to say.

“Uh,” Ashton says, pulling his phone out. “Five.” Fucking hell. It feels much later than that. “Do you want to go back to the hotel?” Ashton adds, like he knows what Luke’s thinking. Luke nods.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” he admits, as they head back up the steps away from the sharks and towards the exit.

“Me too,” Ashton says. “I wanted to stay up until at least ten, but…” he trails off, stifling a yawn, and Luke can’t help but snort. Ashton smiles, small but genuine. “Fuck off,” he says, but it’s good-natured.

“Yeah,” Luke says, as they traipse out into the little shop. “Think I’m just going to crash when we get back.” Ashton nods, pushing open the door to the exit. Luke’s expecting the glare of brilliant sunlight to hit him, squints in preparation for the onslaught of light, but it’s pitch fucking black.

“What the fuck?” he says, sounding kind of perplexed and kind of outraged.

“What?” Ashton says. Luke gestures up at the sky with one hand, and uses the other to pull his coat in closer towards himself, because fucking hell, it’s freezing.

“It’s five o’clock,” he says. Ashton looks up at the sky, and then at him, an amused expression on his face.

“Wrong hemisphere,” he says, and Luke rolls his eyes.

“Fucking miserable place,” Luke grumbles, tucking his arms in and huddling in on himself. “No wonder they invaded the rest of the fucking world, Jesus. I wouldn’t want to stay here either.” Ashton says nothing, but when they pass under a streetlight, Luke sees the corners of his lips tilted upwards, and something warm and pleasant spreads from his stomach outwards.

“D’you actually know where you’re going?” he asks, when Ashton takes a sharp right turn onto a bridge.

“Of course I know,” Ashton says, in that infuriating, I’m-Ashton-Irwin-and-I’m-an-intellectual manner that Luke had never liked. Luke rolls his eyes, not entirely playfully, and jogs to keep up with him.

Ashton leads them across the bridge, past the parliament buildings again, up a long road that a lot of people are ambling down, and then cuts into a small alley on the right.

“You definitely don’t fucking know where you’re going,” Luke says, standing at the mouth of the road, something uneasy in his stomach. “I’m not going down here.”

“I know where I’m going,” Ashton says.

“Where are you going?” Luke says sceptically.

“Charing Cross.”

“Why is that down an alleyway?”

“It’s just a shortcut.” Luke stares at him, narrowing his eyes.

“Why can’t we walk on the main road?” he asks, because it feels right. Something about the alleyway feels wrong.

“We can,” Ashton says. “But it’ll take longer.” Luke makes no indications of moving, and Ashton sighs, and it’s tinged with sadness. “Come on, Luke, are you serious? You think I’m going to, what, murder you in an alley in London?” Well. Not specifically, but something’s telling Luke not to follow Ashton into that alley. Much more than that, it’s telling him not to let Ashton into that alley, but Luke’s trying to ignore that part of it.

“I just don’t want to go that way,” Luke says stubbornly. “Let’s just go on the main road.”

“It’ll take much longer that way,” Ashton says.

“I don’t care,” Luke says. “We’re not exactly fucking wanting for time, are we?” Ashton takes a step further into the alleyway, almost out of Luke’s line of vision.

“Come on , Luke,” he says, and takes another step, and Luke’s stomach tightens uncomfortably as he does.

“Don’t,” Luke says, before he can stop himself.

“Why?” Ashton says, sounding exasperated. “Look, the longer you stand here arguing, the longer it’ll take us either way.”

“I’m taking the main road,” Luke says. “Just- let’s fucking walk on the main road.”

“You don’t even know the way,” Ashton says. “I know the way.”

“I’m not going that way.” Even in the darkness and despite the distance, Luke can see Ashton roll his eyes.

“There’s nothing fucking down here, Luke,” Ashton calls, taking another step into the alleyway, and Luke edges forwards without even thinking about it, needing to keep Ashton in sight. It’s not really working, though, because Ashton’s walking further in and Luke’s at an angle to the alleyway, and it’s making him panic a little.

“Don’t fucking go down there,” Luke says, through gritted teeth. “Ashton, seriously. Just fucking come on the main road with me.”

“What’s your problem?” Ashton says, and even though he sounds genuinely surprised and curious, it makes a flash of anger flare up in Luke.

“Can you stop being a cunt for, like, two fucking minutes?” he bites out.

“Luke, I-” Ashton cuts himself off with a shout, and the anger’s gone, replaced with pure fucking fear and panic and protect protect protect running through Luke’s mind, and Luke’s barely even aware of his surroundings as he takes off, sprinting as fast as he can to the alleyway, getting to the entrance to it just as Ashton comes running out, wild-eyed. He doesn’t stop or say anything, just grabs Luke’s hand as he passes and tugs him hard in the opposite direction. They run to the main road, Luke’s heart pounding in a way that definitely isn’t just from the exercise, and then they run up it, and they don’t stop running until they’re outside the station. Luke doesn’t even realise that they’re still holding hands until Ashton drops his hand to lean on his knees, panting, hair completely windswept as it falls into his eyes.

“What the fuck was that?” Luke spits, fury beginning to set in between the racing heartbeats and gasped breaths.

“Someone fucking-” Ashton waves a hand, like it’s going to explain what ‘someone’ did. It doesn’t fucking matter, because those two words alone are enough to make Luke’s heart tighten, to make his stomach clench

“I fucking said-”

“I know, but it’s fucking five p.m., and I always go that way-”

“I told you-”

“I know, Luke,” Ashton says, breathing almost back to normal, and he straightens and gives Luke a look that looks almost sad. “Why d’you think that was?”

“Why do I- are you fucking insane? Because it’s a creepy fucking alleyway? Anyone would fucking know not to go down there!” Luke says, throwing his hands in the air.

“You were so fucking adamant,” Ashton says.

“Yeah, and if you’d fucking listened-”

“Luke,” Ashton interrupts. “I didn’t sense fucking anything.” Luke stops.

“Are you trying to say this is another fucking soulmate experience?” he says. “We don’t have three. Most people don’t even have one. ”

“No,” Ashton says. “I think it’s the same one. The first one. The protecting one.”

Oh.

It’s kind of a blur already, even though it’s only been like, three minutes, but Luke remembers the haze of protect protect protect that clouded every single other one of his thoughts, that stopped anything and everything else - including his own safety - from mattering, that made him move without even thinking, running straight fucking into the alleyway he’d been so uneasy about because nothing mattered more than Ashton.

“Fuck,” he says, and Ashton nods grimly.

“Yeah,” he says. Neither of them need to say didn’t realise it went both ways, because it’s both written clearly across their faces.

“You got this on the fucking phone?” Luke can’t help but ask.

“Yeah,” Ashton says again. Luke rakes a hand through his hair, trying to organise his thoughts. All he can really focus on is the what the fuck and Jesus Christ and fucking hell swirling around in a mess in his mind.

“Well,” he says. “Shit.” Ashton huffs out a shaky laugh, raises his eyebrows, and nods, and Luke thinks that about sums it up.

-------

They don’t talk much on the journey back to the hotel. Luke snipes at Ashton when Ashton tries to show him how to use his contactless card on the barriers, because he’d much rather use a paper ticket, thank you very fucking much, and Ashton calls Luke back when he heads down the wrong escalator. Luke asks once what their stop is and nods when Ashton answers him, and then they don’t speak again until they’re in the safety of the brightly-lit hotel lobby.

Luke’s not entirely sure how to take the silence between them in the lift up to the second floor. It still feels awkward, stilted, uncomfortable, but there’s something grander now, something bigger than the both of them that they can both feel but neither of them want to acknowledge.

Luke fusses over Clifford when they get back into the hotel room, pulls out the pack of dog food he’d brought with him because he hadn’t been sure what brands the UK would have, and Clifford munches his dinner happily while Luke carefully removes his coat and plugs his phone in to charge, not looking at Ashton. It feels overcrowded, even though the room is made for two people and certainly big enough to accommodate both of them.

He takes his time washing up Clifford’s bowl, refilling his water, but Clifford seems perfectly content to doze back off to sleep after his meal, leaving Luke with nothing to do but think about how fucking tired he actually is.

“I think I might sleep,” he says, even though he doesn’t really have to announce it to Ashton. Ashton looks up from where he is on his bed, book in his hand, and nods.

“I think I might too,” he says. “Do you want the bathroom first?” Luke blinks at him.

“Oh,” he says. “Uh. Yeah. Thanks.” Ashton nods, and turns back to his book, but when Luke turns his back to get his things out of his still-packed suitcase, he can feel Ashton’s eyes on him.

He makes quick work of putting his pyjamas on and brushing his teeth, only hesitating with his hand on the bathroom door handle to leave as he throws a quick glance at himself in the mirror, because he looks so fucking disarmed in his pyjamas, so strangely small and vulnerable. Whatever, he thinks, forcing himself to push the door open, because what the fuck else is he going to do, sleep in the bathroom?

“Bathroom’s free,” he says, because it feels like what he should say, turning his back to Ashton and making a show out of putting his clothes in his suitcase. He should probably just unpack it, he thinks - he is going to be here for four weeks, after all - but not tonight. He’s too fucking tired for that.

“Thanks,” Ashton says, and Luke hears the sound of a book closing and then feet shuffling as Ashton heads for the bathroom. He waits for the door to click shut behind him before tucking himself into bed, drawing the duvet close to his chin to try and keep the cold out. Why the fuck is it so cold in England, seriously?

Ashton doesn’t take long, or maybe Luke falls into microsleep, or something, because it feels like it’s about two seconds before he’s coming out of the bathroom, placing his clothes on the chair opposite his bed, and getting into bed. He’s got plaid pyjama bottoms and a casual t-shirt on, and he looks just as disarmed and vulnerable as Luke had in the mirror, which makes Luke feel simultaneously better and worse.

“Can I turn the light off?” Ashton asks, and Luke nods. Ashton reaches over, clicks the light switch, and they’re plunged into darkness.

“Night,” Ashton says after a moment, and there’s a shuffling sound from his bed.

“Night,” Luke says, suddenly wide awake. He rolls onto his side and stares at the wall opposite him, willing the exhaustion that he’s felt all day to return. Even if he hadn’t slept, like, three fucking hours, he should be tired; it’s the middle of the night in Sydney.

He feels the time passing, times it by Ashton’s shuffling and Clifford’s even breathing and the noises from the street outside, and he’s sure it’s been at least an hour before there’s what sounds like Ashton flopping onto his back and sighing.

“Are you awake?” he whispers. Luke debates saying nothing, but knows if he evens his breathing out now it’s going to be pretty fucking obvious he wasn’t.

“Yeah,” he says, a little reluctantly.

“I can’t sleep,” Ashton says.

“Me either.” There’s a moment of silence, and then Ashton says-

“We could push the beds together?” Luke squeezes his eyes shut, and Ashton takes the silence as hesitation. “Just for tonight. We’d sleep much better, and we probably need it for tomorrow.”

“No,” Luke says. Civil is one thing, but spending an entire night pressed up against Ashton? That’s something else entirely.

“Luke, I-”

“Ashton, I said no.” Ashton’s silent for a moment, and then sighs.

“Okay,” he says, and it sounds a little small. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to, like. Push.” Luke inhales deeply, exhales heavily, and rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s fine,” he says.

Ashton says nothing, but Luke doesn’t hear his breathing even out until Luke himself falls into an uneasy, dreamless sleep, and when he wakes up in the morning, exhausted and grumpy, Ashton’s staring up at the ceiling again (or maybe still).

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spacehologramcollection · 5 years

Text

Request; Kombat Krew and embarrassing dating stories.

I cannot remember who requested this for the life of me! But this was a nice and easy ask to do! The rest are coming don’t worry! I’m just a wee bit tired and need some rest! But here it is, some Embarrassing dating stories. Mix of NSFW and SFW, some are just NSFW or SFW, some are a mix. Warnings; NSFW below the cut, 18+, mentions of Kano but its a shitpost, me telling the fucking truth about him! GIFS aren’t mine/ Don’t belong to me.

Kabal;

· SFW; He once got lost on the way to your date. This man, is not good with directions. It’s the last time he uses apple fucking maps. He was panicking a little on the inside. He’d sent you like ten sorry messages, about him being potentially late. He was praying you wouldn’t think he was standing you up. He ended up sitting on a bench, trying to work out where the fuck he was. He looked up, saw you sat in the restaurant, smiling, holding back a laugh and waving. He fucking died on the inside. Had to wave back and smile. Recovered his pride and walked in. Apologised for being super late and offered to make it up to you.

· NSFW; He once, during one of the first times you were intimate, made the ‘I’m Kabal’s deep in you’ joke. You weren’t disgusted or repulsed by it. But you started laughing, laughing so hard that you lost balance and fell back. Your laugh is infectious to him, so he started laughing. His cock was still in you but you both couldn’t deal with it and had to stop. Like, tears were coming down your face. It’s such a shit fucking joke. Bonus NSFW; he’d always wanted to try shower sex. You were down for some sensual dicking in the shower, turns out, it’s harder than the movies make it out to be. He slipped and chipped a tooth on the side of the bath. You’ve also broke a sink when getting too heated in the bathroom. Accident prone Kabal is a thing. He needs to wear his damn glasses more.

Sub Zero (Kuai Liang);

· SFW; Okay so dating for him is awkward anyway. He’s confident in everything but his love life. You’ve the patience of a saint to put up with him at times. He’s not a pain, he just takes things very slow. Anyway, during one of his more sleep deprived states, he thought it would be cute for him to pick you out a book to read. He was planning on going on a long-haul mission, one that would take a few weeks at the most, so he wanted to give you something to pre-occupy your time. Isn’t he considerate? Plans changed, he asked Bi-Han to deliver the book to your quarters, because he had to go. Fucking Johnny Cage being impatient. Bi-Han, being the little shit lord that he is; changed the book to the Karma Sutra. He literally gave you it and said it was from Kuai. You had a lot of fucking questions to ask him when he got back. He was fucking beet red on the tips of his ears, regretting that he ever saved his brother.

· NSFW; Because of his inexperience in the field, there are a fair few awkward and potentially embarrassing encounters. But this one takes the cake. You laugh about it now but at the time, he was fucking mortified. You had asked him very nicely to cum on your face. He wasn’t sure, but like, how hard could it be to cum on someone’s face? The answer, hard when you over think it. You’d been giving him some top-notch head, like he was so enthralled and enamoured by it; you’d reduced him to a hot mess. Well, when it came to it, he pulled out but was unsure where to aim. Whilst he was trying to think about it, he just kind of, jizzed on your face… getting it in your hair and partially on the sheets. He was fucking mortified. How could his aim be that bad? Maybe he should ask Erron for aiming lessons. You tried to laugh, but then it got in your mouth, so you were howling. Kuai was embarrassed. Because he’d just cocked it up. He laughs at it now, but only because he can actually aim now. Fucking hell.

Kenshi;

· SFW; He once planned the perfect date. One of his old school style ones. The type of date that has never failed him before. Okay, he’s prepared, he’s going to surprise you and take you to the best joint in town… you get there and its closed. Turns out, it had rats and roaches. He’s gutted, because why the fuck did he not think to research beforehand? He’s kind of embarrassed, because this is so unlike him. It turns into you two eating hot dogs on a nearby bench and giggling about it. You found it funny, and it was a nice evening, so you ended up having a nice walk and just talking. Probably one of your best dates. Every time he asks if you fancy going out, he will always suggest that place, because its funny and he needs to laugh at his mistakes... Don’t tell Johnny, Takeda or Hanzo, he will never live it down.

· NSFW; He can sense when you’re having impure thoughts about him. It’s just something he’s good at tuning into. What a useful skill. Well, he was sensing you, thinking about last nights activities. And you were really going into detail. He was far too focused on you, that he became a bit bold and brash, asking you outright if you were always this naughty before proceeding to describe what he’d do to you tonight… and queue Johnny laughing. So yeah, Johnny overheard a bit of dirty talk coming from Kenshi to you. You tried to stop him, trying to warn him that Johnny was attempting to sneak up and give him a scare. But nope. He was too busy thinking with his penis.

Raiden;

· NSFW; When you asked him if he’d be up for you giving him some sweet, sweet head. He panicked. What the fuck does one say in a situation like this? Panicked a little bit too much and actually, really, did say ‘I Must consult the Elder Gods’ he froze, had he actually just said that. You found it funny, leaning back and gesturing to the sky, before saying ‘You better go ask them quick, my soaps are on soon’ It become a little inside joke between the two of you. He doesn’t know shame or embarrassment, so he found it humorous. Maybe because it made you laugh so much. So yeah, anytime you ask him if he fancies trying something new, he will always ask you that.

Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi)

· SFW; So, this happened before you were dating. You were both having a few drinks, one led to two, two led to four. And soon he was on his arse. He is not a great drinker, he avoids it because he will be tit over arse, before he knows it. You ended up helping him to his room, he’s heavier than he looks. Just pure muscle and all that BDE of his. Anyway, when you finally get him to his bed. He may, before he fell asleep, have admitted that he wants YOU to spoon HIM. He likes to be the little spoon when he feels a bit softer. So yeah, when you let out a chuckle. One eye will shoot open, his lips kind of curl together so their pencil thin. He cannot believe he just said that. God damn Sake. Why is it always Sake!? He knows it loosens his lips a little too much. But that all fades when you slide into the bed next to him, beginning to spoon him and giving him a kiss on his neck. Promising it yours and his secret.

· NSFW; Right. So, he does known his own strength and knows sometimes, his Scorpion side kind of creeps up on him. So, when you two are fucking, it’s pretty normal to start with. Until you ask him to go harder, and harder and harder. Eventually coaxing the Scorpion side out of him. This fucker raises his kinky head out of nowhere. Starts pounding into you at the exact pace you want. Like fucking hell, the force of a thousand suns type pounding… and you heard a creak. The bed fucking breaks. He fucked you so hard. The bed broke. You both kind of fall off it and onto the floor. He’s mortified, cock still balls deep in you, his eyes are wide, and panic is setting in. Johnny is staying over, in the room below yours, and now he’s probably awake. Because it was loud. How does one recover from this? Well, simple. He loudly compliments your stance, before offering you advice on how to improve your form. Fucking smooth. Some Kombat advice whilst he’s balls deep in you. So yeah, he has the power to break a bed. If that isn’t big dick energy, I don’t know what is.

Erron Black;

· SFW; He has so many cute pet names for you. And he’s actually a big softie at heart. He just wants to flatter, worship and make you feel divine. So, he has a habit of sending cute messages whilst he’s at work. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself. One day, during a sleep deprived state, he types up a rather cute message. About how he cannot wait to get home, cuddle and have a bath. Ends up sending it to Kabal instead of you. Queue Kabal asking what bathbomb he’s going to use, who’s going to be the bigger spoon and if there will be some Barry White background music. He’s thankful it was just Kabal who received the message. Because he can deal with that little shit. All he has to do is hide his glasses and threaten to out him for collecting dolls. They aren’t dolls, their action figures, but to Erron they are the same thing.

· NSFW; He’d snuck you into base. He knew he shouldn’t. But you were horny, he was horny, everyone was horny. You’re both being really quiet, as quiet as you can possibly be. He’s got his hand over your mouth, he’s biting his lip real good. Like there will be no noises tonight! Even though he’s dying to hear them. One problem, he didn’t give a damn good reason to why he was going to his room early. He just said none of your damn business. Not a good excuse. Queue Kabal coming in and asking if he had the new Wi-Fi password. Kano in tow because he wants to watch Porn. Because he’s fucking disgusting and nobody loves him. So yeah, they caught him dicking you. It was not a pleasant experience. Kabal just kind of stares before leaving, like he isn’t that desperate for the password, he’ll come back when he’s finished. He actually says that. Kano pulls up a chair and asks if he wants pointers. Erron tells him to get the hell out, unless he wants a bullet in his face. Kano scoffs, but he keeps a gun on the nightstand just in case. One shot just to the left of where he’s sitting, and Kano is gone. You were shielded mostly from them, just your face on show, but still. Fucking mortifying.

Kung Lao;

· NSFW; Once for a joke let you try on his hat. Because he thought, hey, that would be cute, seeing you in his hate. Oh no. It was more than cute. He got hard watching you wear it, attempting to toy with it. My god why is his dick so hard?! Can you tell?! Please say you can’t tell. He’ll end up shifting, trying to hide it, because this cannot be normal. You ask if he’s fine and he’s like ‘Oh yeah, me? Sure. Fine and dandy. Fine. Yeah. Sure.’ He’s fucking burning up on the inside though. He must resist temptation to ask if you wanna wear it whilst you fuck. But the fucking hat on you, it makes you look so powerful and strong. Long Story short, you do end up fucking, and you’re still wearing the hat whilst you’re fucking. He’s like ‘Please don’t tell Liu Kang or Raiden. Or just anyone.’ The Great Kung Lao is smiling down, with such fucking pride at him right now. Wiping a tear away from his spirit eye.

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hortascountrysidenotes · 4 years

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Swallow, Bat and Brimstone

Last night in the clear dusk we could see the first bat flitting about the perimeter of the roof and this morning with a strong southerly wind, we saw the first swallow, and a brimstone butterfly. The swallow circled about the house for about an hour - much as it did last year - a male judging by the length of tail feathers and since then we have not spotted it, but I would hope it was ours and will duly take up residence this evening.

Whilst doing a fairly major change at the top of the garden we spotted the first brimstone - no doubt just come out of the ivy where it loves to overwinter. We have cut down, as far as is possible without a chain saw, the Viburnum rhytidophyllum - not one of my favourites, at the time of planting a useful evergreen to help give protection from the north wind, but now rather superfluous - not only preventing the Cornus mas from spreading on both sides evenly, but also becoming a visual thug. It was sitting in the space needed to make the opening into the wood - the purchase of which had to go on hold with the advent of the BUG but which will hopefully still progress when the panic settles. I now have approximately 4 metres to sow with grass seed as soon as we get some rain - typical we are now desperate! We are promised a little and I only need a little, just to dampen the fine tilth I have prepared in two places and the seed can go on.

We are listening to warblers arriving in numbers - I watched a dear little chiff chaff on my early walk this morning and blackcaps are everywhere. Insect life is taking off and today the bees are going ballistic - actually they are too busy and have given the dogs a couple of stings each - they are always very grumpy when its so windy so tend to pick on anything moving near their hives. Mavis has taken refuge inside and is very nervous - pray to goodness she does not get like Hobby!

We continue with this strange way of life - enjoying certain aspects of it - the quiet, the undoubted good it is doing the natural world, but wondering where it will all lead and whether these draconian measures will continue for much after the end of this month. It is frustrating that garden centres have closed and could not have been run along the same lines as supermarkets - not only the waste of plants, but the difficulty getting garden staples when we have the time to garden is annoying! I have managed due to having a trade account to get 40 bags of compost coming from Dalesfoot but not every one is in that fortunate position.

Nonetheless, things are moving albeit slowly from the endless frosty nights and very cold dry days. Temperatures have soared today, but the damage is done and a lot of things especially roses have all the young growth blackened from frosts that should have come in January and February. We have also had visits from a Muntjac and Roe who have managed to nibble some of the roses as well! Bin Liners and old CDs are festooned around the garden which seems to do the trick.

The broad beans are ready to be planted out - Tuesday after the rain I think and the sweet peas have had their tops pinched out. Tomato seedlings are coming through strongly - Rosette, Moneymaker and the strange ones Mr Horta brought back from Ireland two years ago - now his annual mission is to prepare the seed for the following year and he’s getting very good at it! Luckily the trailing blue Lobelia are looking amazing - never grown them before so good to have done it in a year when it will be hard to get bedding plants if this goes on. Also the Verbena Obsession have suddenly germinated so I hope my containers will look good!

Tulips are nearly out in the pots - some lovely white ones already in flower amongst the Brunnera - a lovely combination. The wallflowers are flowering so there is colour and the blackthorn looks stunning with these wonderful blue skies. All the dahlias are in - sticks to mark them and watered - so now the only gaps are for some Echinacea still waiting till they are a bit stronger as they are so easily ravaged by snails, and then ultimately the Cosmos and Nicotiana. I did manage after queueing for 10 mins on line to get some more Cosmos seed from Suttons as I have three clients now wanting some - Fothergills, Chiltern Seeds and Sarah Raven are all shut for the moment for new orders.

Three types of lettuce are in seed trays and now that at last the nights are about to be warmer I will sow some carrots, spinach and beetroot outside.

A week for some more dog training I think - the dogs are very well exercised each day so long as present measures continue but if we are confined even more we shall have to do a lot of training in the garden to tire Mavis out mentally!

We live through interesting times - it certainly will be fascinating to see how many things if any change for good - local shopping and supply - less international travel - less importing so much from China and going back to making things here - the speed at which we can get projects underway if we cut out red tape - ventilators and masks being an example - railways being nationalised again for good - people continuing to work from home perhaps two or three days a week - public health improvements and working internationally on this front - important to keep notes I think to look back upon in the months to come.

HORTA

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jasonvtodd · 5 years

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life update from the australian who hit the uk three weeks ago :)

so much has been happening ya’ll i don’t even know where to begin... i don’t know if anyone will even care that much... but, i had a few mutuals say to keep them updated so... at long last, here we go lads!

got involved in some gym drama i didnt want to know about my first time in my gym (caused by a 10am day drinking mistake with the manager guy... dont even @ me this was only end of week 3)

it lead me to now having a new friend who is a personal trainer. she also teaches pole dancing classes, salsa, boxing and so much more amazing things! she’s a queen and like the older sister i always dreamed of. shes giving me free boxing lessons in exchange for me helping her out with photos for her new business and helping her get shit set up

shes killing me but i love it

went on a date with a guy for the first time here a few days after the gym stuff, he initially was a sweet guy but lol well then some other shit went down

(a one night stand went down ayee at some bar and one date tinder guy got stupidly jealous and oof... messy... we not sure about him anymore..)

one night stand guy was needed mates

the family im au pair’ing for is pretty good

the room i have is fucking AMAZING and freshly built?? like?? god love that for me

have my first cacti (hope i dont kill it)

went to 3 museums in one day and walked around so much i thought i was going to actually die

been going to the gym essentially every day!! so!! look at us go!!! been walking everywhere every day too and been eating a lot better too

theres dogs!!! everywhere!!! and i just! yeah!!

got a friend called hamish whos in his 50s i think. he owns a beautiful border collie called lara and i see them both on my way to drop off the kid on his way to school every morning. hamish is a smartass shit with a sarcastic sense of humor... and its great fun

anyway there’s a lot more. but this is just the quick, cliff notes version. i’ve been god awful keeping up with some messages on whatsapp (carmen i adore you) and snapchat (jessy... 💖) probably not going to be as active around here other then filling up my queue and whatnot buuut. if you’re interested to be kept up with my travels... i’m trying to be more active on instagram over here so follow me there if you want. if we’re mutuals, feel free to ask for my whatsapp/snap/facebook :)

#fassbevder #sandrahoh #lebannabell #wickerjulias #wormdelivre #can't remember what other mutuals were interested and so supportive about my travelling escapades #buut yeah here we go i guess!#stow it em #london adventures

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lilyvandersteen · 6 years

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Puppy Eyes Chapter 21

Well, this is it... The ending! Enjoy! I may add an epilogue if you'd like a glimpse into their lives years later. Let me know :-)

Thank you so much to everyone who sends me feedback - you’re wonderful and you spur me on to keep writing :-)

This story is also on AO3 and on Fanfiction.net.

The other parts can be found here: Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20

Chapter 21: The Wedding

After breakfast that Sunday, Kurt steered Blaine to the sofa for a much-needed conversation. It was all too easy to get lost in pleasure and just roll along with whatever Blaine had in mind, but Kurt knew that they needed to discuss their relationship and their future.

What Kurt hadn’t counted on was the phrase “We need to talk” scaring Blaine, who had to be reassured they weren’t breaking up.

Now where did you get that idea? I don’t want to break up with you ever. I want you for keeps, honey.

Blaine told Kurt he was planning on proposing, and Kurt, remembering some of the more outlandish proposal ideas he’d read on the post-its in his scrapbook, warned Blaine not to go overboard, and to keep it private. As romantic as it seemed to be proposed to in a carriage in Central Park or at the top of the Empire State Building, Kurt didn’t want an audience. He wanted the moment to be just about them.

Blaine agreed to that, and also to looking for a place together. Kurt was relieved. He knew Blaine owned his apartment, and he’d thought he’d want to stay there.

Blaine didn’t put up any objections about waiting to have children, either, and went along with the plan to adopt a dog. So much so that later that afternoon, they found themselves at the local animal shelter, petting a mini dachshund and her four pups.

Kurt fell in love with them instantly, and had to tear himself away when it was time to go. Walking home, he pictured himself and Blaine each with a pup of their own on a leash. They’d be a family.

It filled Kurt’s stomach with butterflies to realise how close he was now to all that he’d yearned for, and it made him smile like a loon.

Over the next few weeks, Kurt went back to the animal shelter whenever he could spare a moment, and each time, he came home more smitten, and happily anticipating taking two puppies home.

The weekends were filled with date after date. Blaine seemed to think that he needed to make up for all the missed opportunities by cramming in as much quality time with Kurt as he possibly could. Kurt happily went along with it, though he liked cuddling on the sofa watching reality TV just as much as all the outings Blaine came up with. He just enjoyed spending time with Blaine, period.

There was no denying Blaine had a good grasp on what Kurt liked, though.

For their second date, Blaine took him for brunch in a quaint tearoom with an Alice in Wonderland décor, a feast for both the eyes and the palate. Kurt soaked it all in greedily, and told Blaine about the tea parties he used to have on his lawn, with his dad and his stuffed animals. “Remind me to show you some pictures the next time we’re in Lima.”

Kurt laughed at Blaine’s shifty eyes and scared expression at the mention of Burt. “I told my dad it was all a misunderstanding, and that we’re together now. So he’s not mad at you anymore. You can come home with me without fearing for your kneecaps.”

That last comment made Blaine’s eyes widen even further, and Kurt giggled some more.

After brunch, they visited the zoo, and Blaine showed Kurt the sights in Central Park. They sat down on the grass at the Gapstow Bridge for a while, enjoying the beauty of the scene before them.

“I feel like I’m in a storybook,” Kurt said.

“Well, maybe you are,” Blaine quipped. “And you’re the hero of the story, breaking my curse.”

“That would have been the ending already,” Kurt pointed out. “So where are we now, in the epilogue? In the sequel?”

Blaine chuckled. “I guess.”

“So there’s more drama to come?”

Blaine sighed. “Nothing too major, I hope. But yes, every life has its ups and downs.”

Kurt put his head on Blaine’s shoulder. “Together, we can weather any storm, can’t we?”

“We can.”

The next day, they went to the Met. Blaine had bought tickets beforehand this time, so that they wouldn’t have to queue. The exhibition was beautiful, but in his heart of hearts, Kurt preferred the Museum of Natural History.

The following weekend, Blaine took Kurt ice-skating, and laughed and cooed when Kurt proved to be an uncoordinated Bambi on the ice. After about an hour of flailing and falling, they called it quits and went for a luxurious high tea in a tearoom close to the rink, where Kurt moaned over the madeleines and financiers – “So good, Blaine!” – until Blaine slapped down a few bills and tugged a giggling Kurt out of the establishment and straight into a cab to get home asap.

Another week passed, and this time around, Blaine’s weekend plans included a showing of a 1950s musical starring Gene Kelly and afterwards dinner at a restaurant with an amazing view.

“You spoil me,” Kurt said to Blaine, taking out his phone to snap a picture of the artfully arranged amuse-bouches the waiter had set in front of him.

Blaine smiled. “I like spoiling the people I love.”

Kurt felt himself beaming ear to ear. Maybe there would come a time when a love declaration from Blaine would not make his stomach flutter and his heart beat double-time and the corners of his mouth turn up, but he doubted it.

When Valentine’s Day arrived, Blaine took the wooing up another notch. Kurt hadn’t counted on them celebrating Valentine’s, seeing as it was an ordinary Friday, scheduled chock-full from dawn till dusk. Blaine, however, had other ideas.

Kurt woke up that day to Blaine kissing him everywhere, a trail that led from his forehead all the way to his toes and left tingling awareness in its wake, but when Kurt wanted to grab Blaine and return the favour, he’d gone. He came back with a breakfast tray worthy of Instagram, but Kurt pouted at it and at Blaine. “You’re such a tease!”

“We have no time, beautiful! We need to be at school in half an hour.”

Kurt shot up from the bed. “What?! The dogs!”

“I walked them. Relax. They’ve had their walk, they have food and water. They’re happy.”

Kurt enjoyed the yummy breakfast Blaine had made him, and knew he’d have to think of something to surprise Blaine with, too. Between his two morning classes, he hurried to their favourite bakery and bought Blaine a brie and honey sandwich and two cronuts, which he then dropped off in Blaine’s office with a sweet note, enlisting Professor Scher’s help to unlock the door.

While he was walking the dogs during his lunch break, his phone chimed with a thank you, and he grinned, already looking forward to seeing Blaine at the animal shelter that evening.

Nothing, however, could have prepared him for what he saw at the shelter, in the room Eileen showed him to. Somehow, Blaine had managed to turn the place into a piece of paradise. It was like walking straight into a forest – trees and flowers and running water. And in the middle, there was a table that seemed to come from the penguin scene in Mary Poppins. It was beautiful, and Kurt gaped at it all, gobsmacked.

Then he saw Blaine, looking at him with so much love it took his breath away. Blaine had two of the puppies on his lap, and he was… Oh my goodness, he was on one knee… Was this…? “Blaine!”

And yes, it was the proposal Kurt had been waiting for, and it was so moving and so unbelievably perfect that Kurt cried buckets, laughing wetly when one of the pups tried to cheer him up by licking away his tears, because aww, that felt familiar.

Before Kurt knew it, he had a ring on his finger and was clutching the Devon key he’d given back to Blaine in January. As it warmed up in his hand, he thought, Mine, and it filled him with so much happiness that he just had to kiss Blaine, over, and over, and over.

Blaine had not only provided the perfect setting for the proposal, he’d brought food, too: some of Kurt’s favourite dishes.

“I’m sorry it’s all cold,” Blaine apologised. “It’s not really picnic season, I know, but I didn’t know how to keep food warm here, so I chose cold dishes.”

Kurt, his mouth already full, swallowed and hastened to say, “It’s perfect. Seriously. I love this. All of this. Wow, Blaine. This is just… Perfect.”

Blaine beamed at him and started eating too.

K&B

The next Friday, Kurt moved back into Blaine’s apartment. They also went back to the animal shelter to officially adopt the two puppies they had chosen. They called them Margaret and Oliver, or Mollie and Ollie for short.

A few days earlier, Kurt had called the dog walking agency to tell that he would be unavailable for the next four weeks, as he was adopting two puppies of his own, and Sheila had squealed excitedly and asked for all the details. “So I take it you won’t be dog-sitting anymore? Just dog-walking after these four weeks are over?”

“Yes. I think I’ve found my place.”

“Aww, you sound so happy. Well, good luck with the pups, and send me a pic once they’ve settled in, will you?”

“I will.”

“Oh, and give me your new address, to put it in the database, please?”

When he told her the address, there was a moment of silence. “That’s Devon’s address! Are you scamming our agency by dog-sitting for Devon’s owner without going through us?”

Kurt’s skin prickled uncomfortably. Uh-oh. Should have seen this coming.

“No, Devon isn’t there anymore,” Kurt said. “I’m marrying the guy who lives at that apartment. And we got ourselves two new dogs, to replace Devon.”

“Devon died? Oh, poor dear!” Sheila commiserated. “So that’s why Mr Anderson stopped calling on us. I did wonder. Okay, I’ll make a note of that. And sorry for accusing you.”

“’S all right,” Kurt mumbled, feeling guilty, because he had done exactly what she’d accused him of.

“So Devon’s owner fell for you, did he? How did that happen?” Sheila asked.

“Well, we got talking… And we have a lot in common. And ugh, he’s so gorgeous, Sheila, and so sweet. I had a crush five minutes in.”

Sheila giggled. “And he did, too?”

Kurt scoffed. “I wish. No, it took him a LOT longer. I pined for ages.”

Sheila laughed. “Can’t have been too long, ‘cause you’re getting married already and your first time looking after Devon was in… let me check… January 2012. That’s only two years ago!”

“Well, it FELT like ages,” Kurt amended, and then he laughed too.

“So when’s the wedding?” Sheila wanted to know.

“July 14th. At the New York Public Library.”

“Oh, wow, nice! Well, congrats to you both, and if you need a dog sitter for your honeymoon, you know who to call!”

“We do. Thank you, Sheila!”

K&B

Mollie and Ollie were happy playful pups, and Blaine and Kurt loved them beyond measure, even though they ruined more than a few shoes and pieces of clothing.

Kurt had to keep telling Blaine not to laugh when Mollie playfully bit his hand or Ollie tugged at his jeans. “Don’t encourage them, Blaine! People and their clothes are NOT acceptable chew and tug toys. We BOUGHT them toys, give them those!”

Kurt and Blaine drove to Ohio to visit their family at Easter, and both Pam and Carole cooed over the pups, who took to them instantly.

Blaine was jumpy around Burt for days, until at last Burt sat him down and told Blaine to stop treating him like a bomb that could go off any minute.

Blaine’s face shone when Burt added that he’d accepted him as his son-in-law. “Took you way too long to make your mind up, but I can tell you’re making Kurt very happy now. You guys are good together. Just don’t screw it up, okay?”

“I won’t, Burt,” Blaine vowed, taking Kurt’s hand in his and squeezing it way too hard.

Kurt laughed and kissed Blaine on the cheek. “Don’t stress him out, Dad. I want him to live long enough to actually marry me.”

“I’m not!” Burt protested. “I just welcomed him to the family!”

Carole patted Burt on the arm. “Aww, that’s nice, honey. Now can we get back to the wedding planning? Kurt was just saying he’d like you wear your black suit with the blue tie.”

Pam was equally eager to discuss the wedding plans, and offered to look after Ollie and Mollie while Kurt and Blaine would be going on their honeymoon.

Slightly less welcome was her news about Cooper. “I told Cooper that you were getting married, and he’s very disappointed he’s not the best man. He said he’s writing a speech anyway, ‘cause nobody else knows you well enough to give a decent best man’s speech.”

Blaine blanched, and Kurt looked at him in alarm.

Pam laughed. “Oh, honey bee, it will be okay. Your brother loves you.”

Blaine huffed, muttered something under his breath and changed the subject.

When they were in bed that evening, Kurt asked, “Are you really worried about Cooper’s speech? How bad can it be?”

Blaine let out a deep sigh. “Let me just say that Coop lives to embarrass and belittle me. That’s his favourite pastime.”

Kurt rubbed soothing circles on his back. “If it gets too bad, I’ll find a way to distract everyone. Did you know that I can sneeze about twenty times in a row?”

Blaine huffed out a laugh. “No, I didn’t. That’s good to know.”

He sighed again. “Maybe I’m overreacting anyway. I really hope I am.”

K&B

In May, Kurt graduated with two degrees: one in fashion design and one in graphic design.

As Blaine had predicted, R/GA hadn’t even waited until Kurt’s actual graduation to offer him a job as a junior designer.

“I’ve no doubt that you’ll be a senior designer in five years max,” Ellie had told him. “You’re just that good. The work you’ve done so far has been a hit with our clients, and several of them have requested you as the main designer for their next campaigns. So… Will you stay with us?”

Kurt had signed the contract right then and there.

Now, at the ceremony, he was talking to Professor Scher, who’d given him a big hug and told him she’d miss him in her classes. She whooped in celebration when he told her about scoring a job at R/GA. “Now you’re glad you took that minor in graphic design, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Kurt agreed. “I’m sure my fashion design degree will come in handy too, though.”

Professor Scher smiled at him. “Oh, I’ve no doubt.”

She lowered her voice and whispered, “Are you designing the tuxes for the wedding?”

Kurt nodded and grinned. “Yes, I’ve designed them, and I’m sewing them, too. Blaine’s outfit is already done, bowtie and all, and now I’m working on mine.”

He saw Blaine look at him from across the room and sent him a smile.

“I told him to stay away from you at the ceremony,” Professor Scher continued in an undertone. “The whole board of governors is here today, and he’s way too obvious around you. You’re graduating today, but still. I don’t want Kay Unger to suspect anything, and sack Blaine over it.”

Kurt bit his lip.

“Go say goodbye to your friends and then go home to celebrate,” Professor Scher advised. “I’ll send your man after you. And I’ll see you at the wedding. Congrats on your job!”

Kurt beamed. “Thank you, Professor.”

He moved on to Maizie, who’d come to the ceremony with her parents and her big sister. It made him miss Burt and Carole, who had decided to stay at home. “We’ll be travelling to New York already for your wedding. I can’t go hopping on a plane every two months, I’ve got a business to run!”

Kurt understood that, but it stung a little anyway. Instead of his parents, he’d brought along Rachel, who was now chatting with Blaine. They’d met a few days after the proposal, when Kurt really couldn’t keep the news to himself anymore and needed to squeal about it to Rachel and Mercedes. They’d both been very surprised, obviously, and miffed that Kurt had never said anything about Blaine before.

Rachel had insisted on meeting Blaine for brunch that Sunday. Kurt had been a bit apprehensive about it. He really wanted them to like each other, and what if they didn’t? But he needn’t have worried. Rachel and Blaine clicked from the very first moment and were soon chatting away a mile a minute. The Sunday brunch had become a staple of their lives, and Rachel and Blaine were now fast friends.

Kurt tore his eyes away from Rachel and Blaine and moved in to hug Maizie and her sister, and shake her parents’ hands.

Then he went to the group that Elliott and Neil were standing in, and got pats on the back from everyone when he mentioned he already had a job lined up.

Elliott had scored a job at Elle Magazine, where he’d interned, but the others had had no luck so far in their job search.

“I guess I’ll stick with dog walking for the time being,” Neil said glumly, and Steve mentioned moving back in with his parents.

Kurt said his goodbyes to everyone and then slipped away home, where Mollie and Ollie greeted him with enthusiastic licks and wagging tails. “Time for your walk, sweeties?”

K&B

Two weeks later, he grinned when his phone rang and he saw that it was Elliott calling. “Hey Elliott! How’s Elle Magazine treating you?”

“Oh, great! I really love it there. We did a photo shoot with Meryl Streep the other day, can you believe it? She was so nice, too.”

“That’s amazing!” Kurt said. “I’m working on an ad campaign for Nike at the moment, and it’s all in black and white. Very classy.”

“Nice! Hey, Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“I got something in the mail today, and I didn’t really know what to make of it.”

Kurt’s grin grew wider. “Oh?”

“It’s a wedding invitation.”

“Uh-huh.”

“To YOUR wedding!”

“Right.”

“And it says you’re getting married to Professor Anderson. Seriously, what gives, man? Is this payback for that April Fools prank?”

Kurt laughed. “I guess you’ll just have to turn up and see.”

“What?” Elliott spluttered. “Not cool, man!”

“Suit yourself,” Kurt told him. “You don’t have to come. If you’re too chicken, you can stay at home and wonder for the rest of your life what that invitation was all about. If you come, though, make sure you’re dressed up. The dress code is black tie.”

“What? Kurt! Have you planned some kind of candid camera thing?”

“You’ll see. Bye, Elliott!”

He ended the call, still with a huge grin on his face.

Blaine, who was sitting on the sofa next to him, shook his head, chuckling. “You have the poor guy thinking you’re going to do something awful to him that makes him look like an idiot and put it on YouTube.”

Kurt shrugged. “I can’t help it that he’s paranoid because he’s got a bad conscience.”

Just then, his phone chimed with a text message.

From: Elliott

I just got a text from Neil that he got a wedding invitation too. Seriously, Kurt, what is going on?

Kurt giggled and put his phone on the coffee table without texting back.

A hand crept to his side and started tickling him.

“No, no, not there,” Kurt implored, but by then, Blaine had pinned him down and was torturing all of Kurt’s sensitive spots.

“Stop! Please stop!” Kurt begged Blaine, tears of mirth in his eyes.

“Admit it, you’re totally enjoying putting the wind up Elliott!”

Kurt let out a shout of laughter, and then shrieked, “Yes, yes, I am! Happy now?”

Blaine stopped tickling him and sat back on his haunches.

“You’re evil!” Kurt complained.

“So are you, beautiful, to scare your friend this way.”

Kurt grinned at Blaine. “I can’t WAIT to see his face. It’s gonna be priceless!”

K&B

The night before the actual wedding, Kurt met Cooper at the rehearsal dinner.

At first, Kurt stared, because wow, how had Blaine never mentioned that his brother was the most handsome man in all of North-America? But then Cooper opened his mouth, and admiration quickly turned into irritation. What a windbag!

Cooper didn’t stop talking all evening, turning every possible subject into a soliloquy about himself. Even when he gave a speech that was supposed to be about Blaine, it turned out to be a comparison in which Cooper always came out on top.

By the time the dessert was served, Kurt was sick of Cooper’s voice, and whispered into Blaine’s ear, “Okay, I get it now. Your brother is insufferable. Ugh. Can we duct-tape his mouth shut tomorrow?”

Blaine, who’d just taken a sip of champagne, snorted it out again through his nose from laughing so hard. It took a full five minutes for him to compose himself again, and then he whispered, “I wish. Thanks for the laugh, beautiful, I needed that.”

That night, Kurt slept at the loft again for one last time. Rachel and Jesse hadn’t been able to attend the rehearsal dinner because they were both starring in a revival of My Fair Lady, but they would be there for the actual wedding.

Kurt told them all about Blaine’s brother, and asked them to keep Cooper away from Blaine and from any and all microphones during the wedding. “Please. I don’t want him to ruin our day. I’m sure the two of you can keep him… busy.”

Jesse and Rachel looked at each other, and then turned to Kurt.

“On one condition,” Jesse began, and Rachel added, “That you plan our wedding for us.”

Rachel held out her left hand, and yes, a big diamond was sparkling there.

Kurt’s mouth fell open. Then, he grabbed Rachel’s hands and they both started jumping up and down, squealing so loud that Jesse clapped his hands over his ears and swore.

Kurt inspected the ring, and nodded approvingly. “It suits you. Now, tell me, how did it happen? Oh, and congrats to you both! This is AMAZING!!”

Rachel’s great news and the subsequent talk of dresses and venues and other details kept Kurt from stressing about his own wedding, and when he woke up, his mouth stretched into a wide smile of its own accord.

Humming Get Me to the Church On Time, he got up and made breakfast for all three of them. By the time the eggs and Rachel’s vegan sausages and faux bacon were in the pan, the humming had turned into singing, and once the smell of the cooked breakfast spread, Rachel and Jesse appeared in the kitchen and chimed in too.

“Not bad,” said Jesse as Kurt handed him a plate and silverware. “Not bad at all. You’d make a decent Alfred P. Doolittle.”

Kurt rolled his eyes at the meagre praise. “Thank you.”

K&B

Kurt, Rachel and Mercedes met up with Burt and Carole in their hotel room in the afternoon, and Kurt helped with the women’s hair and make-up before doing his own hair and putting his tux on.

He’d chosen blue and burgundy for the wedding theme. The invitations, the decorations, even the cake were in those colours, and the tuxes he made were, too.

Kurt’s outfit was deep blue, and the lapels of the jacket as well as his bow tie were made of a material with metallic thread in it, which shimmered in the light.

Blaine’s jacket was made of a rich patterned burgundy velvet, that Kurt had paired with black lapels, black pants and a black bow tie. Kurt couldn’t wait to see Blaine in it.

They’d decided that Kurt would be the one walking down the aisle, with his dad, so when they reached the venue, the women squeezed his hands, kissed his cheek and went inside, leaving Burt and Kurt alone on the steps.

The photographer they’d hired for the occasion made Kurt and his father pose for a few pictures and then hurried inside. Kurt watched him go, and his stomach turned into knots with sudden nerves.

Burt cleared his throat. “Well… This is it, son. Last chance to run if you wanna.”

That startled a laugh out of Kurt. “Dad!”

Burt shrugged. “You looked so pinched there for a second, I thought maybe you were having second thoughts.”

“Never. Blaine and I are forever.”

Burt nodded and patted Kurt on the back. “All right, then. Time to go in and tell that to Blaine.”

Kurt exhaled shakily. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

When he entered the Astor Hall on his father’s arm, he spared only one look for Elliott’s gobsmacked face, and then looked straight ahead, where Blaine was waiting for him with so much love in his eyes that it made Kurt feel like he’d just swallowed the sun.

Kurt put his hands in Blaine’s, looked into his eyes, and everything else just fell away as they were in their own bubble.

Kurt didn’t hear a word of Blaine’s vows, and had to be gently reminded to say his own. When it was time for the rings, he held out the wrong hand for Blaine to put the ring on, but Blaine just tickled the hand for a second and reached for the other so fluidly that Kurt was pretty sure no-one else noticed his mistake.

And then, finally, it was time to kiss, and Kurt trembled in Blaine’s arms and shed a tear or two.

Trent handed Kurt a handkerchief, and smiled when Kurt hiccupped, “They’re… h-happy tears.”

As soon as the ceremony was over, the photographer whisked Kurt and Blaine away for a photoshoot, first outside, on the steps, and then in all sorts of beautiful spots at the library. He clicked away happily while Kurt hugged Blaine from behind and wound his arms around Blaine’s middle, while Blaine kissed Kurt on the mouth, on the cheek, behind the ear, while Kurt dipped Blaine playfully and then Blaine picked Kurt up bridal style.

“This is great, guys! Keep it up!” said the photographer, so they tried out some more poses: Blaine wrapping himself around Kurt and kissing his forehead, Blaine grabbing Kurt’s tie and tugging him closer, the both of them running away and then towards the photographer, standing a few feet apart from each other and leaning in for a kiss.

Then it was time for their big entrance as a couple, and they did so to loud applause.

For their first dance, Kurt had picked another Céline Dion song, J’attendais, and he happily let her inimitable voice wash over him as he danced with his husband.

Burt had agreed to give the welcome speech, and he kept it short and sweet, saying he was hungry, which led to laughter and applause.

Kurt realised that he was hungry too, and as soon as the waiters served the first course, he tucked in. In between the different courses, Kurt and Blaine went to talk to the family and friends they’d invited. Kurt saw to his relief that Rachel and Jesse kept their word and monopolised Cooper to the point where he forgot all about giving a speech.

When they reached the table where Kurt’s college friends were sitting, Elliott breathed, “Dude!”

Kurt quirked an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“You actually got married.”

“Yes.”

“How…? When…?”

Maizie interrupted Elliott’s bumbling. “I bet they got together after that dance they shared. For Kurt’s 21st birthday, remember? Or was it before that, Kurt?”

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other and shook their heads, smiling.

“I bet you’re glad Santana dared you to dance with Professor Anderson,” Maizie beamed.

Kurt inclined his head. “I am.”

“Well, congratulations to you both,” said Maizie. “I’m so glad it all worked out.”

“Yeah, congrats,” said Neil.

Elliott nodded, still speechless, and Kurt giggled, tugging Blaine to the next table.

Blaine chuckled, raised their entwined hands and kissed them. “You’re a minx.”

“You love it,” Kurt countered.

“I do,” Blaine admitted. “I love you.”

“I love you too. For as long as we both shall live.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

#puppy eyes #klaine fanfiction #my fic #chapter 21 #enjoy!

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villiansarepeopletoo · 6 years

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To Infinity and Beyond: What to Expect in Toy Story Land

As a cast member, one of the best things about constantly being surrounded by Disney is knowing what’s real and what’s rumor. It was an awesome feeling scrolling through Facebook and seeing all these crazy rumors about what was happening in Disney World and knowing they weren't true (but sometimes wishing they were). I loved being in the know, and just as my program was ending, Toy Story Land was just beginning.

I moved back home the week Toy story Land opened, so I really wish I could've stayed just to go on opening day…But ill make it back down there soon to see what it’s all about. In the mean time I’ll live vicariously through all my friends that are still Making Magic. Through the help of Snapchat, Instagram, Facebook and all these beautiful tools to post everything they are doing, my friends have kept me up to speed on how totally immersive Toy Story Land is, and it is definitely next on my to do list. I still think Andy’s Lunchbox was a lame idea and Disney World is more than deserving of our own Pizza Planet…But its fine. I’m not bitter.

From what I’ve seen and heard, Toy Story Land’s ultimate success has been in the atmosphere. The incredible, larger than life characters that are scattered throughout “Andy’s Backyard” are the perfect size to make everyone feel like they’re a toy.

“Toy Story Land…what an immersive area. From the moment you walk in you are treated like a toy! Your imagination gets to go places no where else in the parks takes you! Also, the Slinky Dog roller coaster is just enough more than a family coaster to keep the adults wanting more and just enough not to scare the lil ones. Such a perfect ride. My only negative would be that the “land” itself wasn’t as big as I had imagined it. It feels very small, and I assumed with me being a “toy” in a backyard, that it would feel huge!” -Victor, Server at Disney’s Contemporary Resort

“I think it perfectly captured the essence of being shrunken down to toy size right down to the benches in the land. The benches made of popsicle sticks that still had colorful stains on them were my absolute favorite. It definitely met my expectations and slinky dog dash exceeded them! It’s a fun ride for the entire family and has children feeling like they’re on an exciting thrill ride without it being too overwhelming. I think it’s 100% worth visiting!” -Carlee, QSFB at Epcot’s World Showcase

Disney thinks of everything, I know my opinion is biased but...it’s true. Before I started my program, I hadn’t been to Disney in years. A lot had changed by the time I earned my ears and took my first trip through the parks. One of the biggest changes I noticed were the queues. Imagineers have gone out of their way to make almost every second of waiting in line both interactive and entertaining, and apparently it’s no different with the new attractions in Toy Story Land.

“One of the things I loved most about Toy Story Mania wasn't the ride itself but the queue. I always loved walking into Andy's room and with the size proportions actually getting the chance to feel like a toy. It was absolutely amazing getting to walk into Andy's Backyard and getting that same feeling/perspective in an even larger sense with such a big area. I also thought the queue for slinky dog did an awesome job of setting up the Story for the attraction with Andy's toy roller coaster building kit and walking through that. The ride itself had several surprises and I especially enjoyed the huge singing Wheezy animatronics at the end.” -Ron Server, at Disney’s Contemporary Resort

I’ve talked to so many people since the new attractions opened and there’s been a mixed bag of reactions. My last week in Florida, Disney was hosting a random selection of cast members to be chosen to test ride Slinky Dog Dash and Alien Swirling Saucers. Everyone was waiting for the email with their date and time and people were begging for shift swaps to go to opening day. That was a really cool perk for cast members, but everyone had different reviews about the rides. But none were as ready for it as my friend Kristin and especially Eric, who are both College Program employees. They both definitely went in with high expectations.

“Slinky dog dash to me is the cousin of Seven Dwarfs Mine Train. Its fun and at certain points, faster than expected. It has a lot going for it for the family perspective, but alien swirling saucers is clearly meant for the little toys. While the theme is enjoyable, alien swirling saucer needs a little more for the big kids. While it’s true that toy story land is family friendly to include younger kids in mind since the film is geared towards them, all the kids that originally watched the first toy story are just like Andy in the third film, in their 20s. It would’ve been nice to have a few more young at heart but “grown up” rides or other qualities to go off of. Given that, toy story is a fun spot to hit, but once you do it the first time, the second and third will feel just like another amazingly well themed area that Disney has pulled off but won’t be as busy as some of the other rides, like Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster, located at Hollywood Studios.” -Kristin, Bus Greeter

“While the new rides don’t deliver top notch thrills like Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster and Tower of Terror, they are a genuinely fun pair of rides.

The thing that impressed me most about the land is definitely the theme inside of the land. The story behind toy story land is that you’re being shrunk down to the size of a toy in Andy’s backyard and it does truly feel like you are the size of a toy. Between the giant wooden fence and the massive footprints on the ground from Andy’s shoe, it is an extremely immersive area of the park. And Disney didn’t skip on the small details either whether it be the fun Easter eggs you can try to find throughout the land or the fact that the railings near alien swirling saucers spell out their famous “Oooooh”

Toy story land in my opinion lives up to the hype and it adds in a new element to a park that was desperate for a jolt of new energy. I think this land will be warmly welcomed by fans of Disney and toy story and it is the perfect thing to hold crowds over until the real star of the future for Hollywood Studios, Star Wars: galaxy’s edge, opens late next year.” -Eric, Seater at the Sci-Fi Dine in Theater

The question I asked all these Cast Members was, “Is it worth it?” Is it worth the two and three hour lines, is it worth working through the masses of people? I think the general consensus was yes. It completely lives up to the hype. The expectations of high speed crazy rides in Disney World will always be let down. Disney targets “Safe-D Begins With Me” and entertainment for children. Are you really surprised the rides aren’t crazy? But their ultimate goal of making every guest feel completely transported into the world of Woody and Buzz was met with flying colors. And Hollywood Studios needed this more than any other area of Walt Disney World.

#toystory #toystoryland #DisneyWorld #DisneyBehindtheScenes #disneycastmember #CastMemberQuotes #CastConnection #WaltDisneyWorld #Woody #Buzz #Jessie #SlinkyDogDash #VillainsArePeopleToo #MeganDowning #DisneyBackStage #DisneyVacationPlanning #toinfinityandbeyond

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nhlhoser · 7 years

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We Do, - Tom Wilson

Cavity warning!

2176 words

“You ready?” His eyes starting to water for the hundredth time this morning, it was cute and justified. His baby girl was about to get married and she looked as brides do - beautiful beyond words.

The only appropriate response is to cry his eyes out because despite this day being marked in the calendar for little over a year since you and Tom agreed on a date he wasn’t ready to give his little girl away just yet.

“Yes, dad and if you cry -I’m gonna cry then Anna will kill me for messing up her hard work before Tom even gets to see me,” Your eyes had definitely had started to water but it wasn’t at makeup ruining levels just yet. Your dad took a deep breath and smiled largely his eyes still watery.

“Well, that just won’t do will it,” He winked before pulling out a hankie from his inner suit pocket to blot under his eyes and take some more calming breaths. “I just don’t know if I’m ready,” He confessed with an airy laugh.

“It’s okay, Dad. I am marrying the man I love most. No matter how dense and dumb he can be,” You bother to laugh at this because it is a subject discussed at length and volume between the soon to be a married couple. “Honestly, I don’t think I could find a man to love me as much as Tom does,” You signed dreamily remember all sweet moments in your relationship.

“I’d hope so! You are about to marry him,” Your dad joked but gave you a look that was meaningful as to remind you just how serious marriage is- Yes you’ve had your moments of cold feet leading up to this day but Tom always warmed them for you and vice versa.

“I’m ready,” You breathed signaling the to your dad and bridesmaids to get this show on the road so you could go marry the man of your dreams.

Approaching the door leaning out into the garden of your home where there are at least a couple hundred of your closest friends and family- despite to original plan was to keep it small and intimate. Tom realistically through hockey had too many friends he wanted to have and you were in the same boat so you guys just agreed to invite them all because you couldn’t stand thought of leaving someone out.

The chairs were lined up in a semicircle -like an amphitheater rather than just straight rows- surrounding the beautiful archway at the opening of the path to the lake at the back of your property. As timed the sun was on the way to setting but was still rather high in the sky giving everything a glow. The rows of chairs were parted down the middle of the aisle you are more than likely to trip down if the rehearsals were any indications.

Behind the arch held the small string band and in front was the officiant and Tom.

Tom had his back to everyone as agreed upon but it was obvious that he was nervous by the twitch in his leg and the fact that Mike was whispering things into his ear yet he wasn’t laughing as boisterous as he usually would for his best friends antics.

The groomsmen consisted of 6 hulking hockey players that are facing the crowd and being goofy, trying to make Tom laugh but doesn’t really work.

Getting into position, your maid of honor fluffed out your train behind you and adjusted the bouquet of dark red roses in your hand to sit prettier than you were already holding them. Hands started adjusting your hair, dress and poking at your face as the officiant announced for your guest to ‘please stand,’. Swatting the caring hand off of you and gave them a look to get back into position.

You know how in Harry Potter: The Goblet of Fire the Beauxbatons flutter in with a graceful a dance? Yeah, that’s not how they entered but you thought that it would of be amazing but it didn’t fly with your unimpressed bridesmaids when you had mentioned it a while back.

The music starts and the braids maids start the trek down the aisle one by one slowly, Toms back still turn and what looks like is being held in that position by Mike who has a strong grip on your soon to husbands shoulders.

As the music changes from ‘River flows into you’ to a string version of ‘I can’t help falling in love’.

Your queue to start walking and Toms to turn around-finally.

Stepping out of the back doors onto the deck, you froze briefly as Y/C/E locked with Toms blues that are already red-rimmed from unushered tears. The urge to run down a couple of steps and aisle crosses your mind as you take in how scrumptious your fiance looks in his dark grey suit that hugs him in all your favorite places.

His eyes are practically ravishing you as he takes in your long sleeve lace dress that starts to flow just above your belly button- hiding your wedding present for Tom. The neckline was a deep v cut that made your breast look phenomenal - the selling point of the dress for you. Your hair is long waves over your shoulder and braided out of your face, your makeup soft eyes and a strong red lip that complimented your skin tone.

Helping you down the steps, your father loops his arm and you rested your hand in the nook of his elbow. Taking calculated steps onto the aisle runner with your matching lace heels, being careful to not fall on your face or ass.

By the time you made it halfway, Tom had fat tears rolling down his slightly red cheeks. Mike had his hand on his shoulder in soothing but was also tearing up because you had grown up with Mike and were childhood friends and is the reason you ever met Tom in the first place.

Reaching the arch Tom stepped forward to take my hand as the officiant asked who gives your hand away and you dad starts crying. Both Tom and you wrapped your arms around your father and lead him to sit beside the empty chair holding a single sunflower in a vase for your recently deceased mother.

The sight is a surprise as sunflowers were your mother favorite flower. The only person that could be responsible for this is Tom as you had both made it clear that all decision were to be made by the two of you.

You didn’t know it was possible to love as much as Tom as much as you did in this moment. If it weren’t for the wedding proceedings waiting you’d of kissed the living daylights out of your man.

A fat rogue tear spills down your cheek much to your efforts to stop it.

“Okay, let’s get married as my makeup is still intact,” You tease fanning your face with the hand not hold holding onto Tom like a vice.

The officiant starts but you’re not really listening to much of what he says and it doesn’t seem like Tom is either but when it comes to the vows part and Mike has to tap toms shoulder causing a blushing groom rather than the bride.

“This is where I promise to not do the things that annoy you but we both know that would be a big fat lie because I can promise you two things; I am going to annoy you the way only I can but it won’t be the end of the world because I love you more than I thought I could ever could and two,” Tom’s eyes held your captive as tears start leaking from both sets. “I promise to try, take things one shift at a time. We just need to keep getting pucks to the net and bring our A game,” Tom’s vows started to sound like his post/mid game interviews.

Everyone gets a kick out of that and a teary laugh from you.

“I didn’t want to start our marriage with a bunch of lies because I want to live with you openly and honestly for the rest of my life because I love you, Y/F/N,” He finished up with his voice getting a little high from being choked up.

The officiant said some more things and it was your turn.

“Well, How the fuck do I follow that?” You sob/laughed as you wiped some tears away with your hand. “Tom Wilson, I will promise to love your face even when it’s litter with a bruise or cut up from ‘hockey’,” Tom’s eyes closed as his cheeks pinked and his shoulders shook because he knows there will be a lot of those bruises. “I’ll also ice the wounds inflicted by merciless chirping from the team or me,” more laughs.

“I promise to be patient even if you annoy the living daylights out of me because I didn’t think I could love someone as much as you and that scared me but you held and protected me through my darkest hours proving your love match mine,” Tom gripped your hands a little strong as the implication of your mothers rapid decline in health and your ultimate lose.

“I want to live my life open and honest too because I love you, Thomas Wilson,” He openly cringed at his full name with a grin.

The officiant started the ‘Do you take ___ to be your ___’ part and You say I do inappropriate places but at the last, you change it up.

“We do,” Thick Tears well up as you reveal your 14-week pregnancy to your slightly dense Man you look at you with a confused puppy dog look.

“Ahem, we?” Tom’s voice cracking as his eyes start searching your body for the indications of a baby bump. You don’t have much but you pull his hand over the usually flat surface of your tummy with a nod.

“Please hurry so I can kiss my wife,” Tom whispered in trance.

More words then come to the words you’ve been waiting for for….

“By the power vested in me. I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,” The word bride hadn’t even been utter yet when Tom near attack you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground in a kiss that would have made your knees weak.

Resting your foreheads together you take in the moment and let it sink in that you’re now married to the man of your dreams.

“Announcing for the first time, I present to you- Mr. and Mrs. Wilson!” The MC’s voice boomed through the speakers surrounding the tent as Tom carried you bridal style (fitting) through the entrance of the tent and onto to the dance floor for the first dance

“Remember what we practiced,” You whispered into your husband’s ear before he set you down. What started as dancing in the kitchen a couple weeks ago turned into nightly dance practice for the two of you.

“Wise men say, only fools rush in,” Elvis’ deep rhythmic voice washes over your body leaving goosebumps in its wake. Tom slides his arm around your waist pulling you in close and holding your other in his.

You move small circles until the second version when tom twirls you away and you spin emphasis the flow of your dress and spinning you back into his arms, this time your back against the chest and move side to side for a couple beats before facing him again.

Ducking his head to rest his forehead on yours like you had at the altar, slightly rubbing the tip of your nose with his. The other people in the room fade away even as they join you on the dance floor. You breathe in your now husbands scent.

“We did it,” Tom sighed as he squeezes you closer. “We’re married,”

‘Take my hand,

Take my whole life, too’

“For I can’t help falling in love with you and you too,” Tom crunched down to kiss your belly.

“Them, there’s 2,” You held your husbands face in your hands, even as he stands and looks like he might faint. Multiples ran in your family and when Tom found out he was adamant about having twins. He pulled you into a bone crush hug and buried his face in your neck, crying heavily.

The rest of the night was spent with Tom wrapped protectively around you as he became your shadow, the paternal instinct kicking to 100 in the span of an hour. You both agreed that for now the knowledge of the twin would remain between you two. You both floated around the room in a blissful haze as you greeted and thanked people, toasted with sparkling apple juice that you had snuck onto the menu.

It’s the happiest day of your life….so far.

#tom wilson #tom wilson imagine

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12-3amproductions · 6 years

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Elisa Lam

The body of Elisa Lam, a Canadian student at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, was recovered from a water tank on top of Cecil Hotel in Downtown Los Angeles on February 19, 2013. What may have happened to her before she died, leading to her body being found in that water tank?

Elisa Lam was born on April 30, 1991 in Canada. Her parents came from Hong Kong and opened a restaurant in Burnaby, a district of Vancouver, Canada and she was a student at the University of British Columbia. She had a twitter account and her own blog which she would update frequently about fashion and some of her life’s personal moments.

She was having depression at that point of time and would often post depressing thoughts mainly on her blog to share the journey with people that could possibly relate or to just have a platform to express her feelings on. Her blog was last dated back in July 2012 and she afterwards moved to tumblr and continued her expressing her thoughts there.

It was said that she had to take medication to keep her illness in check; Dexedrine, Serequel, Efexor, Lamictal & Zyban. She traveled alone, on Amtrak and intercity buses. She visited the San Diego Zoo and posted photos taken there on social media. On January 26, she arrived in Los Angeles. After 2 days, she checked into the Cecil Hotel near downtown’s skid row.

It was said that she was assigned a shared room on the fifth floor, but was complained by her roommates to the hotel management about her (what was described as) ‘odd behavior’. She was then moved to the fourth floor of her own after two days. According to her family, they intended to keep her history of mental illness a secret. Though she had no history of suicide attempts, there is one report claiming that she had previously gone missing for a brief period before but was very brief and could not be deemed certain.

During her time in Cecil hotel, she would often call her parents everyday to update them about her stay and it was only on January 31, 6 days of staying in Cecil hotel that she was scheduled to check out of the hotel on that day and leave for Santa Cruz. Her parents did not receive any call or messages from her and called the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD). The family immediately flew to Los Angeles to help with the search. She was last seen by Katie Orphan, a manager at a nearby book store just down the road from the hotel. She described Elisa Lam as ‘outgoing, very lively and friendly’ upon a chat with her about whether what book she was getting and also about traveling with the weight of it.

The police searched the entire hotel during the investigation of her case of going missing. They searched Lam’s room and had dogs go through the building, including the rooftop, however unsuccessfully attempting to detect her scent.

The officer in charge Sgt. Ruby Lopez said later that they didn’t search every room in the hotel and explained that they could only do that if they had an evidence or a solid cause to believe that it is caused by a crime. On February 6, a week after Lam was last seen, the LAPD decided that they needed more help and began distributing flyers in the neighborhood and on online websites. This brought the case of Elisa Lam to the attention of the public, especially in social media where it became viral.

On February 14, after another week with no sign or sighting of her, the police department released a video of a last known sighting of her taken in one of the Cecil Hotel’s elevators by a video surveillance camera on February 1. This became viral once again and drew more attention to the case due to Lam’s strange behavior in the video.

In the clip, it shows the camera at one of the elevator cab’s rear corners looking down from the ceiling, offering a view inside the lift as well as the view from the lift door that shows part of the hallway. Elisa Lam entered the lift with a red zippered hooded sweatshirt over a gray T-shirt, with black shorts and scandals. She enters the lift and selects 4 in the button panel. She then took a few steps back and waited for a few seconds. After seeing that the door did not close, she stood beside the control panel. Then, she began to put her right foot forward and pop her head out of the lift to look at her right and left before she stepped back in the lift quickly. She stepped back to the right side of the lift and leaned against the wall beside the button panel and stood there for awhile. Then after, she walked towards the doors of the lift and stood there for a few seconds before stepping out of it and into the hallway. She went back into the lift again and went back out, moving to the left side of the CCTV’s view. While she couldn’t be seen from the range of the CCTV’s view on the footage for a few seconds, she was revealed faintly leaning beside the lift on the outside of the hallway. She then came back in the lift and this time, selects more buttons and seemed to only be pressing on the ones at the middle section of the button panel. She went out of the lift again and is seen doing seemingly odd hand gestures as though she was communicating with someone on the outside. She then went to the left side of the hallway and couldn’t be seen from the range of the CCTV anymore. The lift remained opened for awhile before it started closing after Elisa Lam stepped out a few moments later.

Many of the people comment the video after watching saying that it is very ‘unsettling to watch’. Though there were several theories evolved to explain her actions, many viewers argued that the video had been tampered with before being made public.

youtube

Despite the obscuring of the timestamp, they claimed that the the video had been deliberately slowed down, and nearly a minute of the footage had been discreetly removed. This could have been done simply to protect the identity of someone or conceal evidence that her death had been the result of a criminal act. It was on the morning of February 19 when Elisa Lam’s body was found in one of four 1.000-gallon (3785 Litre) tanks that provides water to guest rooms, a kitchen and a coffee shop in the hotel. Her body was found by one of the hotel’s staff as there were complaints from the guests at the hotel that the water pressure was very low. Some claimed that their water was colored black and had an unusual taste. The hotel staff mentioned that when he was about to inspect the water tanks, he noticed that one of the water tanks were opened and he looked inside only to find Elisa Lam floating in the tank.

On February 21, the Los Angeles coroner’s office issued a finding of accidental drowning, with bipolar disorder as a significant factor. The full coroner’s report, released in June, stated that Lam’s body had been found naked, clothing similar to that she was wearing in the elevator video was floating in the water, coated with a “sand-like particulate”. Her watch and room key were also found with her. Her body was moderately decomposed and bloated. It was mostly greenish, with some marbling on the abdomen and skin separation evident. There was no evidence of physical trauma, sexual assault, or suicide. Toxicology test was incomplete due to insufficient blood being preserved. Though the investigation had determined how Lam died, it did not offer any explanation as to how she got into the tank in the first place. Doors and stairs to access the hotel’s roof were locked, with only staff having the passcodes and keys. Any attempt to force them would supposedly have triggered an alarm. However, the hotel’s fire escape could have allowed her to by pass those security measures, if someone had accompanied her there.

There was a video made by a Chinese user after her death posted on the internet to show that the hotel can be easily accessible via the fire escape and that two of the lids of the water tanks were open. A lot of viewers mentioned about going to the tank by herself which was merely impossible. All four water tanks are 4 by 8 foot (1.2 by 2.4m) cylinders propped up on concrete blocks.

There is no fixed access to them and hotel workers had to use ladders to look at the water. They are protected by heavy lids that would be difficult to replace from within. Police dogs that searched through the hotel for Elisa Lam, even on the roof, shortly after her disappearance was noted, did not find any trace of her (although they had not searched the area near the water tanks). The autopsy report and its conclusions have also been questioned. For instance, it does not say what the results of the rape kit and fingernail kit were, or if they were even processed.

It also recorded subcutaneous pooling of blood in Lam’s anal area, which some observers suggested was a sign of sexual abuse; however one pathologist has noted it could also have resulted from bloating in the course of the body’s decomposition and her rectum was also prolapsed. Even the coroner’s pathologist appeared to be ambivalent about their conclusion that Lam’s death was accidental. What was amidst was that her autopsy result was only out 4 months later, which should not be the case as an autopsy would usually come out within 2 weeks, latest. One page of the report has a form with boxes to check as to whether the death was accidental, natural, homicide, suicide or undermined, in large type and a sufficient distance from each other. The ‘accident’ box is dated June 15; however three days later the “undetermined" box was checked instead.

Since her death, her tumblr blog still continued to update, presumably through tumblr’s queue option which allows posts to automatically publish themselves when the user is away. Her phone was not found either with her body or in her hotel room; it has been assumed to have been stolen at some time around her death. Whether the continuous updates to her blog were facilitated by the thief of her phone, the work of a hacker, or through the queue, is not known; nor is it known whether the updates are related to her death.

In September, Lam’s parents filed a wrongful death lawsuit, claiming the hotel failed to “inspect and seek out hazards in the hotel that presented an unreasonable risk of danger to (Lam) and other hotel guests”, and was seeking unspecified damages and burial costs. The hotel argued it could not have reasonably foreseen that Lam might have entered the water tanks, and that since it remained unknown how Lam got to the water tank, no liability could be assigned for failing to prevent that. In 2015, the suit was dismissed.

Case’s Conclusion

#cases

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jafreitag · 3 years

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Grateful Dead Monthly: Oxford Plains Speedway – Oxford, ME 7/2-3/88

On Saturday and Sunday, July 2 and 3, 1988, the Grateful Dead played two shows at the Oxford Plains Speedway in Oxford, Maine.

Oxford Plains opened in 1950 as a half-mile track, but was later shortened to three-eighths. According to the Wiki, it’s the largest sports venue in Maine, seating 14,000. The Speedway has hosted events in the NASCAR Busch Series (sort of the minor league for stock cars), but back in the late ’60s, it hosted three NASCAR Cup Series races – two won by Bobby Allison and one won by Richard “The King” Petty.

Yes. That’s Richard Petty in his trademark powder-blue #43 Plymouth. If you had 1960s motorsports figures on your GDM bingo card, right on!

In June of 1988, the Monsters of Rock tour with Van Hagar, die Schorps, Dokken, Metallica, and Kingdom Come stopped in Oxford.

And if you had Van Hagar and/or Dokken on the bingo card, sweet!

The following month, so did the Good Ol’ Grateful Dead for two nights. Our very own GD Editor (and Lester Bangs wannabe) ECM attended. Here’s his extended and incredibly awesome personal reflection.

Thirty-three years ago Deadheads flocked to Oxford, Maine for two days of peace, love and music. The weather was great, the scene was chill and the Grateful Dead played dream set-lists for what would be their last shows in Maine and yours truly was fortunate enough to have been there. It was one of the very best experiences I ever had seeing the Dead and I often wish I could relive it again. So, gather ‘round the campfire and let’s get started, shall we?

PROLOGUE: Summer’s here and the time is right

I had just graduated from college in June 1988 and after treating myself to a 2-week backpacking trip to Europe I dutifully hopped on tour with the Grateful Dead, because like… isn’t that a rite of passage? The mail order Gods were very kind to me which was no small miracle when you consider the huge influx of new fans on the scene in the wake of Touch-mania due to the commercial success of In the Dark. Another factor that contributed to making tickets tough to score was the fact that the band opted mostly for small, outdoor sheds for this tour instead of the ginormous stadiums they had played the previous two summers. I scored tickets for Pittsburgh (6/26), SPAC (6/28, my 22nd birthday) and both nights of Oxford Plains (7/2-3). The latter was a venue the band had never played and it also happened to be the tour closer which raised the stakes even higher. In addition, there was a rumor that the band might add a “surprise” extra show on July Fourth (alas, that never happened). And, of course let’s not forget about the band’s storied history of playing legendary shows in Maine such as 9/6/80 (Lewiston) and 10/12/84 (Augusta). Needless to say, the Oxford shows were highly anticipated by everybody.

Prior to Oxford, I attended Pittsburgh and SPAC with my brother Dan and a bunch of friends. I could write a separate essay on those incredibly fun adventures alone but I will save that for another day. I attended Oxford with my childhood friend, Brad, whose family had a house in Whitefield, New Hampshire which is a tiny, rural New England town near the White Mountains. We used that as home base to travel back and forth to the shows which is only about an hour and a half drive. The plan was to stay for the July Fourth holiday after the shows and then return home to New York.

BACKGROUND: Jumping queues and makin’ haste, just ain’t my cup of meat

Before I review the shows, I must first describe the scene/vibe since it was such a big part of the overall experience. Like most of the surrounding area, Oxford is a small, rural, New England town with a population of about only 4,000 people. It is quiet, serene and wooded. Within that setting is an unexpected attraction – the Oxford Plains Speedway, a car racing track that was established in 1950 and seats 14,000 people. In 1988, the Speedway decided to dabble in rock concerts – something the tiny town was ill-prepared for. Here are just a few obstacles that quickly come to mind: A single, one-lane road was the only access to the Speedway, very few local hotels and a police force of one(!)

On June 25, 1988, Oxford hosted the Monsters of Rock Festival featuring Van Halen, Scorpions, Dokken, Metallica and Kingdom Come. A torrential downpour combined with rowdy fans left the site trashed.

Now, before we get all judgy about metal-heads, let’s acknowledge that the Grateful Dead scene was not without its own problems. As I mentioned, the commercial success of the album, In The Dark, resulted in an incredible influx of newbies known as “Touch-Heads.” The show at SPAC on June 28th was a disaster as ticketless fans crashed the gates and rushed the ramps that led inside the pavilion. As a result, there were scuffles with security and lots of arrests. It turned out to be the last straw and consequently, the Dead never played SPAC again.

The town of Oxford had good reason to be concerned about the Grateful Dead concerts that lay ahead just one week after the Monsters debacle and the news about the Dead show at SPAC just a few days prior. Fortunately, the band and its fans sent around a plea to leave nothing but footprints. The 90,000+fans that descended upon the tiny town of Oxford not only gladly complied with that request but harmoniously co-existed with the residents. Maine papers reported that it was a most enjoyable weekend for all people especially the towns people.

THE SCENE: Strangers Stopping Strangers

Grateful Dead archivist, David Lemieux, had this to say about Oxford:

“It seemed a little out of the way, which is why it was a good place to end the tour. It was a nice mellow place. I was bummed that they never played there again because everybody I knew who went to the Oxford show, to this day, will say it was one of the most fun Dead shows they ever saw. They were great shows musically, but they were just fun…It was extremely easy-going. It was a West Coast vibe on the East Coast. I heard from so many people who said it felt like an Oregon Dead show. That’s the highest compliment for a concert on the East coast.”

David Lemieux thought so highly of the Oxford shows that he included July 3, 1988 as the show to represent the year of 1988 for 30 Trips Around the Sun, the special 50th anniversary box-set that featured one complete show for each of the thirty years the band performed. Note that the box-set also includes a second Maine concert – the Augusta Civic Center show on October 12, 1984. Supposedly, the Lewiston show on September 6, 1980 would have also been included if a better audio source existed.

My friend, Brad and I arrived in the town of Oxford in the early afternoon on July 2nd. Getting there was slow. There was a lot of traffic congestion because of the one-lane road leading to the Speedway. Many people abandoned their cars and opted to walk. Enterprising locals let Deadheads camp and park on their lawn for a small fee. As our car inched along we were able to check out the scene. And what a scene it was! The town of Oxford had been transformed into a little Dead village. The vibe was incredible – perhaps resembling a latter day Veneta or Woodstock. Deadheads were grooving everywhere — swimming in streams, hanging out in fields, playing hacky sack, tossing Frisbees, hiking along the local route through the small town. Everybody was friendly, smiling and having fun together. Strangers stopping strangers just to shake their hand…

The parking lot itself was nothing more than a giant, dusty, plowed dirt field but the scene was outrageously good. The weather was perfect and the Speedway parking lot circus was in full swing – thousands of happy people, tents, cars, hissing nitrous, tie-dyed flags, loose dogs running around, fireworks going off, Hibachis, ice chests and goo-ball hawkers everywhere.

The “Shakedown Street” was enormous – two huge avenues of merchandisers selling everything legal and illegal from bagels to ‘shrooms. Everything was “kind.” Kind beer for $1, kind water for $1, kind cigarettes and kind bud… Kind, kind, kind.

Cops ignored just about everything. To be fair, they were greatly outnumbered. Supposedly, the town’s sole police officer was aided by about 30 officers from the Maine State Police and neighboring communities, but the sheer number of people was overwhelming.

Fortunately, the Dead had the foresight to set up a field office out in the parking lots. People from the Grateful Dead office were out in the trenches all weekend long handing out garbage bags, keeping their pulse on the rhythm of what was going on and even scolding destructive trouble makers when necessary. This turned out to be crucial in keeping things peaceful, clean and safe for everybody.

SATURDAY JULY 2: Life may be sweeter for this, I don’t know

The scene inside was mellow – a giant field surrounded by a racetrack and bleachers. Delay PA towers placed behind the soundboard made hanging out in the back of the field pleasant – you could dance or lie down on a blanket and hear the concert perfectly. In fact, a lot of tapers set their rigs up directly behind these towers and were able to get very good audience recordings of these concerts.

We went into the show early so that we could see the opening act – Little Feat. They had recently reformed after being inactive due to the death of Lowell George in 1979. Now in 1988, they were opening for the Dead to support the release of their new album, Let it Roll. It was exciting to see them rekindle their magic for fans both old and new. Some clever vendors sold bumper stickers on the lot that said “DEAD FEAT.” The band was in fine form and they turned in a really strong set consisting of everything you would want to hear from their live album, “Waiting for Columbus” mixed in with songs from the new album.

After Little Feat finished their set, Brad and I decided to upgrade our spot. Unfortunately, between the sea of people and the big open space, we got separated. I knew that finding him would be almost impossible and I wanted to get some good real estate for the show so I decided to make my way up towards the front. It was still early and there was plenty of space. I eventually settled in front the soundboard where I knew the sound would be perfect. I mingled with some friendly Heads while we waited for the band to take the stage. They were a bit older than me and took me in when they heard that I got separated.

At one point, we noticed a hippie girl in a long flowing dress gracefully floating through the crowd. She was wide-eyed, smiling and clutching a single red rose. She eventually made her way over to our area. She stopped and stood directly in front of me, staring and smiling. She was in a state of euphoria, radiating beauty and kindness but not saying a word. I stood there paralyzed with awkwardness not knowing what to do except smile back. Ever so gracefully, she held the rose out for me to smell, which I did, and then she was off. It was a beautiful moment that encapsulated the entire weekend at Oxford.

It was still daylight when the band took the stage for the first set. Since I was up so close I could see how relaxed they looked. The beautiful scenery was clearly agreeing with them. I remembered what Phil said at the beginning of the Veneta show – “This is really where we get off the best.” I hoped and prayed that this was one of those times.

The band surprised us by opening with “Iko” which juxtaposed the mellow vibe we were feeling with a celebratory one. I looked around and watched people laughing, dancing, and hugging. This was not a typical high-energy East Cost rocking version. Rather, this was band easing into the first set in the late afternoon on a summer day in Maine with a “feel-good” purpose.

The band continued that easy-going vibe into the next song – Jack Straw. It started out almost too mellow. However, by the second jam we have lift-off as Phil carpet bombs the Speedway, taking no prisoners.

Next up is a copacetic West L.A. with a slinky groove that acknowledges the “Speedway.”

While the band is tuning for “Memphis Blues,” the audience starts a “Let Phil Sing” chant. This was the norm at most shows following the “Box of Rain” bust out in Hampton in 1986. However, what wasn’t normal was for Phil, who is notoriously reserved on stage (at least in the latter years), to respond to those requests as he did on this occasion. Cleary in good spirits, Phil has some fun with the audience:

Phil: “Don’t you think the guys in the band are going to get jealous if you yell for me all the time? I want you guys to yell for Mickey, Bill, Jerry and Brent, alright> Next time you see somebody yell ‘We want Phil’ you yell ‘We want Brent’ or ‘We want Mickey’ alright? Thank you.”

That brings Jerry and Bob to the microphone, who add that we should extend our requests to the crew – “We want STEVE! We want KIDD!” – and even to volunteers from the audience(!) This naturally draws lots of laughter and applause. Everybody was having a good time.

With that that band tears through one of the best renditions of “Memphis Blues.” Bobby’s Pepto-pink Strat lit up the Maine sky. Once again, the crowd begins to chant Phil’s name.

Bobby: “Phil can’t hear you. He’s been stone deaf for eight or ten years now. If you hold still he can read your lips. Brent can’t hear you ‘cause he’s run for it.”

Jerry: “Don’t listen to Weir. He’s been crazy for years.”

“Row Jimmy” is superlative. Although it was played at SPAC just three nights earlier, who could complain when such a great song is repeated? Jerry’s notes blissfully echoing into the cosmos. The audience gently swaying to and fro…not too fast and not too slow…it’s the common way to go. Weir uses his guitar to do his paddling shtick during one of the choruses. Classic Bobby.

The band closes the first set with three of the new songs that were introduced earlier in the tour – “Blow Away”, “Victim of the Crime” and “Foolish Heart.” All were well received. Everyone listening intently.

The setlist for the second set is of what dreams are made. Although nothing the band played could be considered a “best of” performance, everybody who attended would agree that this was a delightful set of nighttime, outdoor music.

The sun begins to set behind the band as they gently ease into the opening notes of “Crazy Fingers” creating a breathtaking visual and aural landscape. “Life may be sweeter for this, I don’t know…” The outro jam was everything you could want in “Crazy Fingers” starting with Phil’s lead lines on the high neck of his bass as Jerry picks away in the background. The instrumental journey builds to the next level as Jerry takes over with a delicate lead that flows into the Middle-Eastern flavored jam.

The “Playin’ > Uncle John’s > Terrapin” sequence that follows is divine. Bobby delivers the verses in Playin’ with oodles of confidence and then the band drops into a luscious spacey jam led by Phil’s bouncy bass lines. This drifts into an anthem-like version of “Uncle John’s Band.” Garcia’s mid-song solo is pure bliss. Smiles abound everywhere. The song oozes with kindness and joy and melts into “Terrapin” – Counting stars by candlelight…and eventually we come to the Drums/Space segment of the show.

Supposedly, all the fans that had travelled without tickets were “miracled” when the doors opened as the band went into “Drums.”

Post-Space, the band finishes in fine form with short, but solid versions of “The Wheel > Gimme Some Lovin’ > Watchtower.” The audience cheered when the band sang, “so glad you made it” since Oxford was not easy to get to.

Then, we get the Holy Grail – Morning Dew. Jerry goes deep with his vocals – especially the final Anywaaaay…Phil and Jerry trading melodic licks in the quiet part…the song building momentum… and then the kind of triumphant, powerful ending that makes your hair stand on end….Magical, Electric, Spiritual.

Instead of ending the show, we are treated to a rocking “Sugar Mags’ as a bonus show closer. Rock Star Bobby strutting around the stage with his long, shaggy hair and getting the crowd all fired up. The “Quinn the Eskimo” encore is basically an audience sing-a-long that leaves a big smile on everybody’s face.

There is a video of Set 2 on YouTube if you are interested.

The post-show parking lot scene picked up where it left off. Fireworks and bonfires burned, lost dogs wandered everywhere, people were passed out in the dirt and thanks to the Dead’s crew, a slew of Deadheads scurried around with garbage bags trying to clean up.

SUNDAY JULY 3: All I know she sang a little while and then flew off

On Day #2 the band turned in two sets of music that were inspired and full of energy but the game ball rightfully goes to Brent Mydland for his outstanding performance. Over the two days at Oxford, he played some of his best songs and was a very conspicuous presence in the 2nd set on this evening.

The band comes out raging with “Hell in a Bucket” complete with the same motorcycle effects that were used on the album, In the Dark. Bobby thoroughly enjoys this ride and gets off on Healy’s vocal effects. “Sugaree” is competently performed. Brent lights up “Walking Blues” with a fierce B-3 organ solo.

Bobby then steps to the microphone and continues the joke from the day before by saying: “There’s a guy down there saying let Mickey sing. Now he’s obviously never heard that. You can have it if you want it.”

Garcia delivers the first real highlight of the day – a funky and twangy “Jed” which benefits greatly from Brent’s bouncy keyboard work. Garcia growls some of the lyrics.

Queen Jane fills the “Dylan slot” nicely and features heavenly solos by Jerry and Brent.

The set-closing “Bird Song” at sunset is easily the highlight of the show, and perhaps of the entire weekend. This one gets jazzy and goes way out there into a scary meltdown before building to a huge peak. An added bonus to those who were in attendance was the ultra-light plane that appeared during the jam and circled around overheard. The audience cheered in delight and started pointing up to the sky. The band looked confused as they noticed the audience’s attention being diverted from the stage to the sky. Alas, the distraction probably killed the jam. However, the pilot took a perfectly timed graceful swoop over the stage as Jerry sang the last verse.

Like most people, I was expecting one more song since “Bird Song” rarely was a set closer (at least in 1988), but I’m guessing that the distraction of the plane combined with the potential danger it presented caused the band to err on the side of safety and prematurely end the set after just 6 songs. However, they would make up for that in the second set by playing 6 songs before “Drums ,” which was also pretty unusual. Another unusual aspect of that set was the absence of a Garcia ballad but I am jumping ahead of myself.

In between sets, there was an epic drum circle at the back of the Speedway. Also during the set break Brad and I ran into an old friend from high school, Kevin, who we hadn’t seen in years and we wound up hanging out together for the rest of the evening which was a lot of fun.

As the band took the stage, the audience started a Help/Slip/Frank chant (not played since 9/12/85) but….paradise had to wait until the fall ‘89.

Set two starts off with a highly charged “Touch of Grey” that gets the crowd’s energy going. Immediately afterwards, Bobby strums the chords to “Looks Like Rain” but stops suddenly and instead the band breaks into “Hey Pocky Way.” What a great call! This is an immense version that showcases Brent. The dance party is in full swing.

Bobby eventually gets his way with “Looks Like Rain.” He delivers passionate vocals while Jerry delivers a textbook performance of the noodly musical “raindrops” that was a trademark of this tune in the 80s. The band breaks routine with “Estimated Prophet” by giving us a double dose of Bobby instead of the usual alternating Jerry/Bob sequence of songs. The mid-section jam builds to a nice head and Bobby gives his best screeches before the final jam which is fluid, if not standard.

“Eyes of the World” is short but sweet. However, the real buzz about this version of “Eyes” is Brent’s piano solo(!) which was fantastic and a very rare treat since that was not a song where he would typically take a solo. He should have done it more often! Brent really brought his game to Maine. Phil also steps up for the jam. Everyone is pitching in and listening to each other making for some really strong interplay.

Normally, “Eyes” would wash out into to “Drums” but on this evening the band made the unusual decision of tacking on another song. In addition, it was very unusual for the band to play 6 songs before “Drums.” Here, Brent performs his new song, “I Will Take You Home” for just the third time. His vocals and keyboards are delivered tenderly.

During the “Drums/Space” segment, Mickey ups the ante with The Beam. Just when things can’t possibly get any weirder, Jerry brings us back to earth when he starts picking the notes to “GDTRFB.” Each of the instruments fall into place and soon we are chugging along at an upbeat pace. Brent takes a B-3 organ solo and hands it off to Jerry who builds things to a thrilling peak. Bobby continues the high energy streak with a segue into a raging “I Need a Miracle” complete with audience participation.

The show has an unusual close to it. The double-barreled rocker, ”Dear Mr. Fantasy/Hey Jude” ends with some very funny, over-the-top vocal stuff. Bobby and Brent trade incoherent screams/yelps that may be technically deficient, but the energy is amazingly high.

The “NFA” encore has a cold start with just the vocals before the music kicks in which makes for yet another unique aspect of this show. Full crowd participation goes on for five minutes long after the band has left the stage and probably the Speedway

Mmm-bop mmm-bop bop bop…

Epilogue: Never had such a good time

Brad and I returned to the White Mountains in New Hampshire to celebrate the July Fourth Holiday with his family. We stopped in Springfield to check out the Basketball Hall of Fame on the way home. A few weeks later I traveled to Boulder, Colorado to visit some more friends in the mountains. We visited Red Rocks even though there was no concert. I wanted to experience the vibe and imagine what it would have been like to see the Grateful Dead perform there.

A month later I was working at a “Big Eight” accounting firm in New York City. It certainly was a reality check but it didn’t stop me from attending 7 of the 9 shows the band played at Madison Square Garden in September. The memories of Oxford and that summer are some of the best in my life. Ah, to be 22 years old again…

Thanks, Ed. That was great!

Transport to 7/2/88 on the Live Music Archive HERE.

Transport to 7/3/88 on the Live Music Archive HERE.

Video Sources:

7.2.88 – Set 2 (voodoonola2)

7.2.88 – Set 2 (Kevin Tobin)

7.3.88 Lot Scene

Finally, if you had bad fan dvd art on the bingo card, you’re welcome.

And if you had “the original” Jerry plane dropping a Phil-bomb on your bingo card, you win. Seriously!

[Ed, we sent GDM bingo cards to all the blog followers, right? Right? Dude, idk. I didn’t, did you?? Omg. This was a thing in a zoom meeting mid-Covid. You don’t remember that. Ok. Cool. I know that 31 Days gets way more likes than LN on the ‘gram, and that’s great, really. But bingo was my idea to juice the audience. And now what. What? We are so busted. Corporate is gonna be pissed. WFH is totally over. I hope the bathroom remodel is done at HQ.]

Bingo plan aside (apparently), I will send something random – could be a snapshot, a stick of gum, a two-dollar bill, or basically anything that fits in an envelope and requires one first class stamp – to the first three people who post something substantive about this show below the line. Get to work, hippies! Free sh!t is the best

NOT kidding. Mail will be sent.

More soon.

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blamebrampton · 6 years

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Eurovision 2018, Semi Final 2

I’m watching on replay and it’s getting late, so this is going to be as swift as possible. We open with a gorgeous montage and I really do feel like going to Lisboa after this week, were I not broke as a broke thing. The women are back and they look great. The NCIS one has come in an assassin’s cocktail dress, the saintly one is dressed like a tasteful wedding cake, the blonde has come over all black swan and the little one has picked up on last semi final’s sci fi villains theme and is cosplaying Servalan. They are doing nautical allusions again and I will continue to ignore them wherever possible. And also their jokes. They are lovely people, but I am here for the singing.

1. Norway, Alexander Rybak, That’s How You Write A Song. He’s back! With the air fiddle this time. In fact, a raft of air instruments that are animated in. Look, he’s still cute as a button and charismatic as a puppy, but this song is reminding me of Cliff Richard and that is not something I wish to be reminded of. It’s no Fairytale. ACTUAL violin has just appeared! About bloody time. He nearly transcends the song, but the song is well meh. Watch it win now. Backing dancers exist and are perfectly fine. Let’s move on.

2. Romania, The Humans, Goodbye. White dress, drink. No, it was a fakeout, the lead singer is wearing purple. She’s surrounded by band members in white with creepy white masks. And mannequins in in gimp suits, also with creepy white masks. I’ve got a real Bonnie Tyler vibe here, which is at least a step up from the last song. BIG power chords into the main body of the song. She’s exhorting the mannequins to live their best life and I cannot bear to break it to her. White dress girl is back, she’s the cellist and I respect a band with a cellist. BIG HERO NOTES! ooh, her purple frock has matching shorts. Nice. Song was OK, band was great.

3. Serbia, Sanja Ilic and Balkanika, Nova Deca. Pipes and wailing vocal intro and I am sold already. If I was up this morning, this would have had my vote. Soz, kids. Three girls wailing mystically with a man looming behind Rasputinly. Seriously, his whole outfit is mad monk. Big Taiko style drums with an enthusiastic man beating away — erm, on the drums — and now some dance beats to lift it. I have to say that I would love this on the club floor late at night when you want something a bit slower and trippier. The girls’ outfits are sort of earth goddess meets debutante. I’m not going to lie, I flipping loved this one.

4. San Marino, Jessika, featuring Jenifer Brening, Who We Are. Lead singer in a lacy red frock over undies. Two human girl dancers and a set of robot dancers. Look, Ive seen worse. Jenny B has just stonked out down the walkway rapping determinedly and it’s all … fine. It’s a perfectly fine song and there will be some young folks who love it. A robot is holding up body positivity messages, actually, the poor wee thing just dropped it, but now he’s holding hands with the singer. It’s a bit community centre talent night, but they’re enormously likeable and I wish them well.

5. Denmark, Rasmussen, Higher Ground. Sudden plunge into darkness. Faint mystic chord as of pipes over water. Dry smoke. Backlit bearded man standing on a ramp. Square sails and more bearded men. Yes, we have hit peak Viking for the night and there is chanting and stomping and more beard pomade than is probably safe in an environment with pyro. We’re singing about men laying down their swords and making their mark and it’s all very Scandirevival, but I have to confess I rather like it and they can all bloody well sing. I have a nose full of North Sea wind and my cheeks feel windbitten at the end of this song, Oh, look, a white flag of peace. Sure. Key change! Snorri Sturluson would love these guys. The boy Aussie commentator has just said they remind him of when Durmstrang walked into the Hall in Harry Potter and he is right on the money. Definitely a contender.

6. Russia, Julia Samoylova, I Won’t Break. Set design is from the cousin of whoever did Estonia, so it’s nice to have two iceberg singers in the one contest. Super dancers: ballet this time, with Russian technique, which is always lovely to see. Look, I disagree with her politics and her country, and the song’s another meh one, but I wish her well. Moving on.

7. Moldova, DoReDoS, My Lucky Day. They have brought a whole miniseries in the staging of this song. She’s seeing blue suit, but red suit behind his back. Now she and red suit are official, but blue suit is getting some on the side. Lots of comedy from the dancers in the background, who are working within a white box set. It’s silly, it’s saucy. it’s a lot of fun. It would absolutely be the theme song of a sex comedy from 1959 starring Sophia Loren.

8. The Netherlands, Waylon, Outlaw in ’Em. Steel string guitar, pulsing lights and wailing vocals. I’m sorry, I’m allergic to wailing dead dog country that uses gun metaphors, They’re very talented, just not my thing. I’m sure he’ll make a fortune in America and good luck to him.

Short presenter is down with the audience and why?

9. Australia, Jessica Mauboy, We’ve Got Love. Cards on the table, I love Jess. She is a super lovely person as well as a great singer. I don’t the song is quite as good as Dami’s Sound of Silence, but she can perform like a goddess. She is bringing her inner Beyonce with the hair and squats, and selling the lyrics, which are basically, ‘don’t give up, we’ve got love’ and look, sure, but this is a country that numbers Sia, Nick Cave and Kate Miller Heidke among its leading lyricists and I just feel we could have done better for our Jess. But she is putting it all out there, and getting the crowd in on side. The drapey bit on her minidress is a bit distracting, but who gives a proverbial, she’s a champ and she should definitely go through to the finals.No matter how absurd it is that we are there.

10. Georgia, Ethno-Jazz Band Iriao, For You. My first question is whether that is actually the group’s name or if they added a little descriptor for the booking agent once and it’s stuck. It matters not. Lovely quiet jazz piano opening, then classical vocals soaring over the top, dry ice already, and a chanting backing vocal that is somewhere between Gregorian monks and Il Divo, but entirely pleasant to listen to. The vocals are very tight and the arrangement intelligently spare and restrained in parts to show off the voices. I approve! There is a lot of eyebrow emoting, but I don’t mind that in a dark Eastern European man, it’s like queueing if you’re British or buying sausage sandwiches at hardware shops on weekends if you’re Australian. That was a good three minutes for me, I hope they get through!

11. Poland, Gromee, featuring Lucas Meijer, Light Me Up. They are wearing ridiculous hats. More Pharrel than Devo, but the sort of hat that will stand in for a personality when you’re young and nervous. Fair enough, some of them look about 14. Good performers, strong backing vocals and the sort of winning stage performance I would have loved the first 250 times I saw it. It’s not your fault I am old and jaded, Gromee, but I am. There is pyro, there is hand dancing, he is dancing with the audience, he is counting. It’s all fine. OK, bye.

12. Malta, Christabelle, Taboo. She is standing inside four big screens and now a heart is glowing against her black dress. People writhe on her screens and the world spins out from her hands. She is singing about the need to respect and support each other in a world that can be hard and cruel. I… I really like her. I’m not sure whether I also like the song or if I just find her so committed to it that I think I like it, but it doesn’t really matter. There’s a real dancer inside the screens now, and Christabelle loves us all. I love you too, Christabelle. I would totally invite you to my barbecue with Jess.

13. Hungary, AWS, Vislát Nyár. Going for the risky Lordi without masks vote, they drum their way in and then launch straight into rich, angry, headbanging lyrics that are upset about something but my knowledge of Finno-Ugric languages begins and ends with a song about little piggies. Another performance with sincerity rather than just polish, though, and that counts. CROWD SURFING GUITARIST! He’s been returned safely, bless you lovely Eurovision crowd. Angry shouting, epic pyro, lots of drumming. There we go.

14. Latvia, Laura Rizzotto, Funny Girl. Another red lace minidress, with a train this time. Actually, it’s more a shorts dress. A playsuit with train. She looks lovely whatever it is. Her song is apparently about a girl who just a wee bit of a stalker. You know you can tell a chap you like him and not just hang around waiting for him to notice you, yes? Some nice bits of tricky tempo and big hair singing. It’s not my cup of tea, but it is well brewed.

15. Sweden, Benjamin Ingrosso, Dance You Off. Brief moment to mention it is bloody freezing in Sydney tonight, for the first time in forever. This is another very polished performance from a skilled performer and it’s doing nothing for me. Might go and find a blanket for my wee toesies.

16. Montenegro, Vanja Radonovic, Inje. Man at piano, women in background, intense man in front, who is Vanja. He is upset. Possibly because some bastard has bedazzled the crap out of his suit. Nice vocals in the ballad, though. The girls are striding, the piano is staying still, which is as it should be. Ooh! The girls are playing statues. Nice. There is a lot of emoting, but the girls’ costumes and facial expressions make it a little unfortunately close to ‘help us, we have been enslaved by vampires and need you to stake us to free our souls’. Lighting and key change, but otherwise much as before. The girls are still suffering. It’s probably a complex retelling of current politics.

17. Slovenia, Lea Sirk, Helva, Nei. She has pink hair so I like her already. Backing dancers are muscular and fast, I like them, too. Do not bother any of these women or they will make you regret it almost immediately. Her frock is another curtain over undies number, but with more plastic than most others. Who can explain it, who can tell you why? Their music cuts out at one point and they get the audience to clap their beat and I am not certain that was real, but it was nicely handled. Confirmation that was a faux error on the music. Whatevs. As no-one says anymore.

18. Ukraine, Melovin, Under the Ladder. Before I hear a word, I learn he likes horses, David Bowie and Verka Serduchka, so we’re basically friends now. He opens the song in a crypt, which opens up in a cheerfully cheesy Hammer Horror way. He’s dressed like an old-school vampire and the crypt is really the inside of a giant piano at the top of a set of stairs. Clearly Dead or Alive were 30 years too early for this chap, but I am glad YouTube will let him experience them. As everyone guessed, he is back up the stairs to play the piano, soulfully. And now the stairs are on fire, and there’s random pyro everywhere. Of course there is. Vampires love fire. At least dress your backing singers as avenging villagers, who have finally arrived to free the girls from Montenegro.

And we are done! Voting is about to open. I am fast forwarding through this bit because life is too short. ESCLOPEDIA IS BACK! Hello bearded man! More clips from past songs, and an allegation that there is a link between Eurovision and fashion. That is A LIE. You know, Portugal, you’re no Sweden and the women are no Petra and Mans, but I respect that you have kept these interval bits short and cool.

I spoke too soon. Presenters are back with costume changes. NCIS is in a short blue cocktail dress, Blondie is in a pink line dancing dress, Saintly is wearing a costume from my Grade Two Tap exam and the little one is cosplaying Severus Snape. They are doing dance moves from Eurovisions past. The Little One is actually pretty funny, but you will have to download it as I am not up to describing that much physical comedy. There is a Riverdance moment. Which I believe is obligatory for every third Eurpovision.

They run through the acts again, and Denmark’s lead singer has brows you could crack nuts on. Walnuts. Not the other kind. Though he looks as though he would be against toxic masculinity, so perhaps that would also be OK.

Votes are closed. We are touring through Portugal. It is very lovely. The acts are ding the bits that have preceded every song and coming out through their doors and visiting locations and generally cocking a lot of it up, bless them. They look as though they are having fun.

Little presenter has just turned up at the Aussie table and is handing out pastéis de nata a la Oprah and Jess looks as though she is in heaven. Custard really is that good.

Saintly presenter is talking about Eurovision’s role in Portuguese politics! 1974, the year Sweden won with Waterloo, was the year that the Portuguese entry was chosen to be the signal for a revolution. It was played on the radio in the early morning as a signal to take to the streets and by the end of the day there were carnations in gun barrels.True story.

Black swan presenter has found British fans and I think they may have been on the drink, but they say lovely things about Portugal (and Jess), so well done, kids!

Bridal cake presenter is introducing the tracks from France, Germany and Italy and Little One is with them. The French performers are cute as, and sing last years’ winning song in French. Suck ups. But lovely voice. Ooh, NCIS has taken over with Germany. who looks a little like Josh Widdicombe. He’s doing a ukulele cover of Fly on the Wings of Love and I confess I liked it. The entry is nice, too. Look forward to the full version in the finals. And now it’s Little One again with Italy, who really look 100% drunk. But they have spectacular hair. And do a chorus of Nel Blu Dipinto Di Blu, ‘Volare! Oh-oh. Cantare, oh wo-oh-oh’ They are SO VERY drunk. Or just exhausted after sitting through 17 hours of this.

Jon Ola Sand says the votes are in. Thank Zeus!

The winners are: Serbia! Fair enough. Moldova! Excellent. They were hilarious. Hungary, because all those Norwegian Death Metal fans were there for you. Ukraine, sure. Sweden. Really? Look, you’re a lovely country. Australia! YAY JESS! Norway, meh. Soz Sasha. I love your country. Denmark, which is entirely fair. Slovenia, which is good news. Last spot goes to The Netherlands, which is fine, the country and western people need something. That’s it till Sunday morning, Which will probably be Sunday night, let’s be honest.

#eurovision #eurovision 2018

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