#Capping beams Sydney

[meazalykov]

my love is back home

sydney lohmann x actress!reader

summary: after being away to film movies and do press tours, you know where home is

love, closed distance

it’s been months since you’ve last seen sydney. 

between her football schedule and your intense filming commitments in the united states, the days felt like they blurred into one long stretch of distance.

the time zone differences, the constant travel, the late-night calls that sometimes ended in one of you falling asleep mid-conversation—it was all part of the routine now. 

but even with all of that, you wouldn’t change a thing. both of you had dreams to chase, careers that demanded your full attention, and somehow, you’d made it work. 

you remember how it all started, how you met sydney through laura—your mutual friend. laura had always teased that sydney was the perfect mix of soft and strong, and at the time, you didn’t think much of it. but when you finally met her, everything clicked. 

you admired her instantly—her dedication to football, her quiet confidence, the silliness in her personality, and the way she could make you feel at ease even on the most chaotic days. 

your schedules were never easy, but there was something about sydney that made all the juggling worth it. 

now, sitting in the stadium in paris, your heart beats a little faster just thinking about her. sydney and the german national team had made it all the way to the bronze medal match at the olympics, and here you are, doing everything you can to surprise her. 

filming had wrapped up just a couple of days ago in los angeles, and the moment you could, you were on a flight back to europe. you thought about heading straight home to munich, where the two of you share a home, but something pulled you toward paris. 

this moment was too big, too important to miss. 

the atmosphere in the stadium is electric, fans from all over the world– especially spanish and german fans– buzzing with excitement, but you’re trying your best to stay lowkey. with a cap pulled low over your face and sunglasses obscuring your features, you hope that most people will overlook you. 

but, of course, they don’t. whispers of your name float around you, people nudging each other, pointing in your direction. some even snap a few photos discreetly. you do your best to smile politely but avoid drawing attention.

after all, this moment isn’t about you—it’s about sydney and everything she’s worked so hard to achieve.

you’ve positioned yourself with sydney’s family, sharing nervous smiles and quiet conversations about the match. her parents are beaming with pride, and it warms your heart to be here with them, to share in this special moment. they’re sweet people.

sydney introduced you to them around two years ago, not long after the both of you started dating. her mother recognized you from a movie she loved years ago so she was happy to meet you. the lohmann parents treat you as one of their own, and are happy to see you back.

when the match starts, you’re on the edge of your seat, watching every move, every pass, your eyes glued to the pitch. 

then, when sydney comes on, you can’t help yourself—you cheer loudly, her name slipping from your lips before you can even think about it.

your voice carries over the noise of the crowd, and for a split second, you see her pause on the field. her head turns slightly, like she’s trying to figure out if she really heard what she thinks she did, but then she refocuses, too locked into the game to dwell on it.

you laugh to yourself, leaning back in your seat, your heart swelling with pride. she’s always so focused, so driven, and it’s one of the many things you love about her. 

you know she’d never let anything—especially the thought of you possibly being in the stands—distract her from the task at hand. the match is tense, both teams fighting tooth and nail for that bronze medal, but when spain misses a crucial penalty, the entire stadium erupts in cheers for germany. 

you jump up from your seat, clapping and shouting, adrenaline rushing through you as the final whistle blows.

sydney and her teammates are celebrating on the field, hugging, laughing, some even shedding a few tears of joy. your heart feels like it might burst with how happy you are for her. she’s worked so hard for this moment, and to see her here, to know that she’s walking away with a medal—it’s everything. 

you watch her from a distance as she runs toward her teammates and the coaching staff, but it’s not long before she starts making her way toward her family. you’re standing with them, tucked behind her parents, when her eyes scan the crowd and finally land on you. 

the second she sees you, her face lights up in disbelief. yes, you’re wearing sunglasses and a brown dodgers hat, but your girlfriend recognizes your silhouette and casual outfits. 

her smile grows impossibly wide, and before you know it, she’s running toward you, her eyes filled with nothing but joy.

“y/n?!” she gasps, her voice full of surprise and excitement as she pulls you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground just a little since she is still on the grass. 

“you’re here?”

you laugh, wrapping your arms around her neck and holding her close. 

“of course i’m here. i wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“i can’t believe it,” she whispers, burying her face in your shoulder for a moment before pulling back just enough to look at you. 

“how long have you been here? why didn’t you tell me?”

“i wanted it to be a surprise,” you grin, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. 

“besides, this is your moment. i didn’t want to steal the spotlight.”

sydney shakes her head, her smile softening as she holds you a little tighter. “you could never steal the spotlight, y/n.”

without another word, she presses her lips to yours, right there in front of everyone—her family, her teammates, the cameras, the fans. none of it matters in this moment. 

all that matters is that you’re here, and she’s home again, in your arms. you feel her relax against you, her fingers threading through your hair as she deepens the kiss, and you can’t help but smile into it. when she finally pulls back, her eyes are bright with tears she’s trying to hold back.

“you’re finally home,” she murmurs, her forehead resting against yours. “i’ve missed you so much.”

“i’ve missed you too,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “and i’m home now. no more long shoots, no more late-night calls from different time zones… it’s just us, at least for a little while.”

she lets out a soft laugh, pulling you back into another hug. “i don’t care if it’s just for a little while. i’ll take whatever time i can get with you.”

the two of you stand there for a moment, wrapped up in each other, oblivious to the world around you. it feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest now that you’re finally back together. 

you’re home—not just in the sense of being back in europe, but in the sense that sydney is your home. wherever she is, that’s where you belong.

“so,” she starts, pulling back just slightly to look at you again, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. 

“how did filming go? how’s the big movie?”

“it went well,” you shrug, feeling the excitement of the past few months starting to settle in. 

“it was a lot of work, but it’s done. we wrapped a few days ago.”

“and now you’re back to me,” she grins, leaning in to kiss you again, softer this time, more tender. “i can’t believe you came all this way just to see me play.”

“of course i did,” you say, your voice full of affection. 

“you deserve this, syd. you deserve everything. i’m so proud of you.”

her smile widens, and she pulls you in close again, her arms wrapped around your waist. “and i’m so proud of you too. my superstar girlfriend.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “please, you’re the superstar here. you just won a bronze medal!”

“yeah,” she laughs, her cheeks flushing slightly. “i did, didn’t i?”

“you did,” you smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “and you deserve it. you deserve the world.”

as sydney greets her family and the celebration continues around you, you find yourself feeling more at peace than you have in months. 

being with sydney, standing beside her in this moment—it feels right. you’ll always find your way back to her. because at the end of the day, she’s your home. and nothing will ever change that.

masterlist

[rivaldreamer]

House of Malignant - CH 2

Crossover between House of Wax & Malignant

What happens when one pair of conjoined twins meet another?~

CHAPTERS:

CH1

————————————

Driving up through the old town, Madison admired little old Ambrose. The quaint setting reminded her a lot of the rural areas where she and Sydney grew up, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. With this remote location, she didn’t feel as anxious about being recognized.

Throughout the rest of the car ride, Lester and Sydney had been happily chatting away. Madison smiled, especially noticing how Sydney blushed at Lester’s corny jokes.

However, the closer they got to town, the more Lester’s easygoing demeanor faded.

The truck came to a rickety stop beside a gas station.

“Well, thanks a bunch Lester,” Sydney said, beaming at him.

Lester’s grip tightened on the wheel. “Y-yeah…don’t mention it…” he turned to them, “l-listen, if ya want…I can just tow yar’ truck on’ down here. Save’s ya girls the trouble and all…ya can wait back where I found ya at…”

Madison felt an odd pit in her stomach.

Sydney frowned. “Lester… we’re already here though. We may as well have a look around,” she smiled softly, “I kinda wanna see your hometown.”

Lester’s ears went red.

Just then, Madison’s phone began to screech violently, everyone jumping at the ear splitting pitch.

“S-sorry!” Madison exclaimed, fumbling with her phone, casting a look Sydney’s way.

She put the phone to her ear, Gabriel’s voice rasped and static…

“Get out of the car…”

“What-? Gab-”

“Something doesn’t feel right. Get. Out. Now.”

Madison didn’t know what to think, her fight or flight instincts kicking up. Or was that feeling coming from Gabriel…?

Before she could even react, a hand slammed down by her window.

Madison yelped.

A man came into view, smiling beneath his cap. “Well’s… you must be the fine pair of ladies Lester called ahead about,” he spoke, his southern accent thick and suave, “I’m Bo, the one he told ya’ about.

He offered his hand to shake.

Madison hesitantly shook it. “Emily, nice to meet you.”

Bo tapped his hands on the car window. “Heard you were havin’ some car troubles up the road?” He opened Madison’s door for her.

“Uh…y-yeah…”

As Madison hopped out from the truck, she got a good look at Bo. He was tall, strong features, chiseled chin, curly tuffs of hair peeking out from underneath his cap and an all around charming smile.

Overall, he was very attractive, in spite of the grease stained mechanic suit he wore.

But something about how he carried himself, how he spoke, how he smiled, egocentric, domineering… reminded her of another monster from her past…

Gabriel watched through Madison’s eyes. He too felt an odd familiarity. He didn’t know this man, if they’d met him in the past, they’d remember.

It was than that Gabriel recalled a similar man…the first face he saw after waking up for the first time in 20 years…

A man that dared put a hand on his sister and whom became Gabriel’s first kill in his rampage.

Drawing connections, Gabriel already didn’t like Bo, making his disdain known by growling, Maddie’s phone and the truck’s radio blaring with jumbled static.

Madison jumped, reaching to the back of her head and desperately shushing them.

Bo furrowed his brow, looking over into the truck. “Hey Lester! Somethin’ wrong with ya radio there?”

Lester was in the middle of helping Sydney out from the driver’s side.

As the static blared, Lester moved to hear Bo. Sydney, who’d been using him as support to get down, yelped when the movement caused her to lose her footing, falling forward and causing both her and Lester to go tumbling down into the gravel.

Lester groaned looking up to find Sydney sprawled on top of him.

“Uh…” He went red and so did Sydney once she realized the position they were in.

A wolf whistle was heard, making them both turn to see a smirking Bo.

“Well, Lester, when’s ya get a little lady on the side?” He teased.

The two of them immediately scrambled up, apologizing and giving excuses, faces red and burning.

Madison was still desperately trying to get Gabriel to calm down.

“Gabe, CALM DOWN!” She hissed into her phone, feeling his emotions flare up.

“Something’s not right!”

“Gabriel, please, we can’t just start acting out. They haven’t even done anything.”

“Yet…”

Gabriel added with cynicism.

“Gabriel…” Madison sighed, a hand to her forehead, “Gabriel, I’m not gonna say your worries are unjustified. I’m worried too…”

“The filthy one, he’s acting suspicious and his brother…I don’t like him…he’s too much like… like…”

Madison flinched at the reminder.

“Sorry…”

“No…” She reached a hand to the back of her head, “I noticed too… but I’m not afraid. I’m stronger now…”

She smiled softly.

“…and I have you.”

Madison truly meant it. She felt safer and secure knowing that Gabriel was there, assured that no matter what happened that he would protect them. Her affectionate feelings travelled over to Gabriel.

A purring buzz came over the phone. Madison couldn’t help but laugh. “Gabe! Are you purring?”

“…shut up…”

She laughed even harder.

“Talkin’ to a boyfriend?”

Madison gasped, spinning around. Bo leaned against the truck, arms folded and one leg overlapping the other, a lazy smile on his face.

Madison felt her face warm.

“Uh…no…” she waved her phone, “just my brother…”

Bo inclined his head, arching a brow. “The two of ya must be pretty close huh?”

“Oh… you have no idea.”

Madison had to bite her bottom lip to keep the shit eating grin off her face.

Bo pushed off the truck. “Well, you and your sister can go have a look around the town. Town’s a little quiet at the moment, all other folks are attending a funeral down at the church. I suggest not disturbin’ em. I’ll have Lester head on back down the road and tow ya car in.”

Madison nodded. “Thank you…”

Sydney came stumbling into view.

“Oh Sydney, where have you-?”

Sydney, red faced, stumbled over and buried her face in Madison’s chest.

“Wha-?! Sydney?!”

“Kill me now…” Came Sydney’s muffled reply.

Madison furrowed her brows. “What…?”

Bo chuckled, getting Madison’s attention.

“Seems’ ya sister and mah’ baby brother ended up gettin’ real nice and acquainted with each other.”

Madison’s brows shot up. “What? Sydney-?!”

“It was an accideeeent…” Sydney whined, still hiding her face from view.

A fierce anger and protectiveness spurred from Gabriel’s end.

“WHAT-?!”

Gabriel’s voice screeched from the phone.

Both sisters jumped, immediately shushing him, sending panicked glances Bo’s way.

Bo rose a brow.

Madison nervously chuckled. “Ah heh… guess I didn’t end the call when I thought I did…”

She immediately shoved the phone into Sydney’s hands. “Explain, to our brother what happened young lady. You know how he gets…” she ordered, trying to play it off.

Sydney raised the phone to her ear, raising a brow. “Gabe? Since when were you concerned about my love life?”

A moment of silence passed, Sydney beginning to grin like the Cheshire Cat.

“Aww! Is my big brother Gabby being overprotective?… oh you so are! Don’t deny it, ya big softie! And no I will not drop the nickname!”

Bo chuckled in amusement at the sight.

Madison let out a sigh of relief. He seems to have bought it. Then again, what else could he have expected in this situation? What are the odds someone’s going to suspect you for hiding your conjoined twin?

Bo turned to her, giving her a smile. “Seems ya brother’s a bit overprotective.”

Madison shrugged. “Would you believe it if I told you Gabriel didn’t really like her at first?”

“Not too surprisin’ ,” Bo stuffed his hands in his pockets, “most siblings don’t like it when a new one comes along, ends up stealin’ all the attention.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s a bit more complicated with Gabe and I…”

“Oh yeah? How come?”

“Well, the two of us, Gabriel and I are…twins…it’s-…It’s… a long story…”

Bo looked particularly interested at that.

“Hey…” he shook his head, “we got time, gonna be a while fore’ Lester finishes towin’ ya car in. Wanna have a drink? I got beers in the garage.”

Madison meekly smiled. “I’m… not much of an alcohol person…”

“I got colas, too?” Bo offered without even passing judgement.

Madison blinked, smiling awkwardly . “Oh… okay then…”

The two of them headed into the gas station, Lester passing them to talk to Sydney. Apparently, Lester’s arrival caused Gabriel to go into a tirade of threats, his voice blaring from the phone as he told Lester to keep his filthy hands off of his sister, and offering very graphic descriptions of where he will put those hands if Lester does not heed said warnings.

Bo opened a small cooler in the corner, passing an ice cold cola to Madison. Honestly, with the sweltering heat, a cola had never seemed more tantalizing. Madison did inspect the bottle though, still suspicious, but didn’t find it to be tampered with in any way, the cap sealed tight and good.

Before Bo could even so much as offer a bottle opener, he gawked as Madison effortlessly opened the cap with her bare hands.

“Well damn… I was not expectin’ that…” he pulled out a drink of his own, leaning against the counter as he opened it. “ya sure got a strong arm on ya, little lady.”

“Oh yeah, it… runs in the family,” she shrugged, taking a long deep and soul refreshing gulp.

Bo watched her intently as she drank.

“That hit the spot…” she sighed, “how much do I owe you for the drink?”

“Nothing, it’s on the house. But ya can pay me with a story. Mind tellin’ me about the whole situation with your brother?”

“Uh…well…” Maddie really had to choose her words carefully.

“Syd- I mean-…Sunny, she’s not our biological sister. Gabriel and I are orphans, our mum gave us up when we were still a baby.”

Bo looked down into his drink, particularly scowling at that. “Sounds like a real piece of work your mother…” he huffed, going to take a sip.

Maddie glared at him. “It wasn’t her fault, she had no say. She was just a child.”

Bo choked on his drink.

“Are you okay?!”

“Fine-!” He coughed, clearing his throat, “s-sorry…”

Madison gave a sad smile.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know…”

She looked down at her own bottle as well. As she told the story, Madison could feel Gabriel’s presence slink in, no longer preoccupied with the others outside.

She took a deep breath, whispering. “It’s going to be okay…”

Bo tilted his head. “What’d you say?”

“Oh uh- sorry. Still um…bit of a rough topic to talk about, especially for my brother…”

“Well, he ain’t here right now ain’t he?” Bo took a swig from his drink.

‘Oh if only you knew…’

Gabriel grew smug and Madison smiled to herself.

“Let’s just say… um…the two of us-… kinda…disconnected? As kids?” That was the best way she could phrase it to Bo.

Bo furrowed his brows, looking up her from under hooded eyelids, gaze calculating.

“Why’d ya do that? Ain’t twins supposed tah’ stick together? Ride or die as they say?”

Madison shook her head. “We didn’t have a choice in the matter…”

Bo nodded, seeming satisfied with that response. “But the two’s of ya seem pretty close now, from what I’ve heard. Ya said he ain’t like the little blondie outside much? The one currently chatting’ up mah’ baby brother?”

Madison snorted. “S- Sunny’s real friendly like that. As for Gabriel um-… well-…let’s just say my new family adopted ME but not HIM.” She intentionally emphasized the words.

A wave of hurt and loneliness drifted in from Gabriel’s side. Madison found herself unconsciously reaching back to comfort him.

“I guess-… with a new family and a new sibling, Gabriel…um-… he must felt like… like I had abandoned and replaced him…”

“So, while you were livin’ every orphan’s dream, where’d ya brother go off to?” Bo asked curiously.

“Well- Gabriel’s always been around? Just-…just not- ugh…” she rubbed a hand over her face.

Gabriel’s emotions and hers became jumbled and confused during the conversation, neither knowing which feelings belonged to who.

“Sorry, it’s just a lot and-… it’s-… honestly it…it turned into quite a big fucking mess when both of us reconnected. Recently actually!”

Bo leaned in, brow raised. “What type of mess?”

Maddie smiled weakly. “Like…blood being spilled type of mess?”

Bo blinked looking down at the floor.

Madison shook her head vigorously.

“Sorry, you must think we’re a real cheery pair…”

Madison’s fingers dug underneath her hair, Gabriel nuzzling into her palm.

Bo tapped his finger on the bottle contemplating, before looking back up.

“Nah, I get it. I got into my fair shares of fights with mah’ brother. When I tell’s ya, the two’s of us could get into some real nasty fist fights. Hell, couple of times, back when’s we was teens, both of us had to be rushed to the emergency room. Our momma just screamin’ at us. Mostly at me,” he chuckled wryly.

Madison tilted her head, confused. “Who? You and Lester? Don’t get me wrong, he’s a bit… eccentric. But my sister’s got a good eye for people. And well… he seems like such a sweeyheart…”

Bo chuckled, shaking his head. “No, no, Lester’s third in our family. Talkin’ about mah’ other brother, the two’s of us…well, let’s just say; we’re closer in age. Sometimes the bastard can really get on mah’ nerves,” he sighed exasperated, “…but all the same, I can’t just leave em’.”

He twirled the almost empty bottle in his hand. “Funny thing’ ain’t it? Family. They can do the most fucked up shit and yet we’re willin’ tah’ forgive and protect cuz’ of the blood we share? Blood is thicker than water and all that shit...”

Bo finished off the last of his drink.

Madison tilted her head. “That’s incorrect.”

“What’d you say?”

“That saying? ‘Blood is thicker than water’? It’s actually a cut out piece from the full phrase, which is; ‘The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’ Basically, the bonds you make through life are supposed to be stronger than the family bonds you have,” Madison smiled to herself, “although, I only partially agree with that phrase.”

Bo smiled at her.

It was small, and for a moment, it seemed like the most sincere smile he gave her since they started talking.

“Huh… well, ain’t you a well educated little lady.”

Madison felt her cheeks become warm.

Bo pushed off the counter. “So… where exactly is this Gabriel? Does he know where ya at?”

“Oh he’s… around.” Madison brought the bottle to her lips.

‘Way closer than you think…’

“What about you? Will I get to meet this mysterious second brother while I’m in town?”

Bo smirked. “Oh ya know, he’s…around.”

Madison narrowed her eyes, smiling.

Bo looked out the window, seeing Lester still chatting away with Sydney, the younger Sinclair now showing off his Bowie knife as he twirled it around.

Bo rolled his eyes, heading to the door. “I better get that lazy ass to start doin’ his job instead of wastin’ time chit chattin’.”

Madison watched him go, raising a brow. “Isn’t that exactly what we’re doing?”

Bo was halfway out the door, leaning back in, grinning. “Hey, us wastin’ time had a point to it.”

“Which was?!” Madison called after him but he was already out the door.

“Hey idiot! Quite playin’ lover boy and git’ to work!”

Madison smiled wistfully.

A radio on the shelf blared to life, Gabriel’s voice speaking through.

“Don’t tell me you actually like that asshole…”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t… but he was nice to talk to…”

She did find Bo incredibly attractive but Madison didn’t think she was ready for romance, especially after everything she’d been through.

Sydney ducked into the gas station, Madison noticing how behind her Bo and Lester seemed to be having a private conversation.

“Ugh! Cockblocked by another big brother and- HEY! You’re hoarding sodas? Gimme!” Sydney exclaimed, diving forward.

Madison smirked, allowing Gabriel control.

Gabriel with deft movements, swiped the bottle out of Sydney’s reach, shoving her back.

“Cockblocked? What I did was for your own good brat,” Gabriel chuckled, voice still coming from the radio.

Sydney jumped and grabbed in futile, scowling. “Gabriel, you embarrassed me and went totally overboard with the threats!”

“I only threatened him an adequate amount…”

“You said, and I quote; ‘Put a hand on her and I will shove your teeth so far down your throat you’ll have to stick your toothbrush up your ass to clean them’! Like, what the shit?! Who even says stuff like that?”

Madison laughed, watching the two bicker with each other.

Outside, Bo and Lester finished their talk.

Lester, gave one last guilty look Sydney’s way before hopping in his truck and driving away.

Bo turned his attention back to the station, watching the girls laugh and fool around inside.

He supposed maybe he could keep the girls around for awhile, especially keep around the blondie for Lester since his brother had clearly gotten too attached to their prey. Then again, Bo had to admit he got a little attached himself.

This Emily character was entertaining, a good conversationalist and overall a real cutie.

It’ll be a shame once they kill them but the brothers couldn’t just spare every pretty face that came by.

Bo took out his phone, calling a number.

“Hey Vince, ya got company comin’ your way…”

———————————

(One more Sinclair brother to go~)

[everythingeverywheresblog]

Stars and Migraines - Chapter six

Chapter six

I haven't posted here in MONTHS so here's Chapter One for those who have no idea what is going on.

Sydney's POV

Red. All I ever see is red. Red shirts, red caps, red flags with the prancing horse on them. Italy is quite a thing.

Imola, round four of the Championship with a whopping 100% success rate for Daniel and a car that's been giving a headache to the other teams in every Free Practice session of the weekend.

Everyone is walking around the garages and motorhome with a smile on their faces, myself included. Even if my fingers shake every time I see Zak Brown, or if my heart rate picks up when he looks over Daniel and I--with whom I have kept the contact very minimal.

Yet there's a smile on my face. Because the team is first in the Constructors standings and our drivers occupy the first and third place in the Drivers standings.

Imola is the last race before F1 takes a semi-break of a relaxing three weeks. It’s also the first time in the five years I’ve been working in this field that I honestly cannot wait to get back home.

The situation with Daniel is calmer. He doesn’t lash out on me anymore. Well, we barely even talk outside of work-related stuff, so he doesn’t really get the chance to. But we have ridded Zac’s and the media’s attention away from us, something that eases me up a bit.

“Mr. Ricciar—”

“Daniel. Please.” His interruption startles me, certainly not expecting him to still be so caught on with that.

“Alright...Well, Media’s supposed to be more chill, I guess, with us this weekend, so you’ll probably get a breather.”

Daniel nods, but the way his eyes hold no life in them makes me believe he’s not actually paying attention to what I am saying—he is really testing me right now. But I have four days left. Then the Californian sun will beam down on me, and the stress will just be a distant memory. “Anyways, you and Lan will do the Fan Zone after the Ferrari boys and then we have to film some bits for Unboxed and a…”

MOM: Don’t get worried but dad had a mild heart attack last night. Everything is good now, he’s just staying in the hospital for a couple of days.

My breath gets caught in my throat. Air stops going in and out of my lungs. My head gets foggy and just for a second, I swear I will pass out.

Dad?

“Sydney?” I can hear his voice. “Sydney? You okay?” Yeah, he’s here, he’s talking but I can’t really lookup from my phone and no words are coming out of my open mouth.

I keep reading, and reading, and reading the text I just got from my mother.

He’s in the hospital.

Heart attack.

My dad had a heart attack.

Suddenly I feel contact on my jaw and in half a second, I am looking into Daniel’s honey-brown eyes.

“Did you get lost?”

His tone is somehow soft and concerned at the same time, but a chuckle at the end of the question shows me the joking element in his question.

And then suddenly, it dawns on me that I am at work. I rip my face off from Daniel’s fingers and check the time on my phone’s screen. My eyes widen and in a flash I grab the work phone, my notebook and Daniel’s hand and attempt to run towards the Fan Zone.

“Woah, woah. Where are we going? You didn’t answer my question!”

I try to drag him through the motorhome’s hallways, but he’s way too strong, and I am so not, so we don’t move very far.

“We’re late. Work first, questions after.”

“You promise?”

- - - - - - -

He felt the impact from behind. He saw the wall coming. He anticipated the hit. But when it came to it, the pain shocked the air out of his lungs.

He couldn’t move for a while—hours it felt like. Daniel could hear the mechanics roaring in his ear but it seemed impossible to hit the radio button and speak to them.

His body buzzed in complain, it felt like his head would explode and he could barely keep his eyes open.

And the only thing that played like a broken record in rhythm with his speeding heart was simple.

There go 25 points off the Championship.

- - - - - - -

Sydney’s POV

He was leading the race, very comfortably. Charles who was about fifteen seconds behind him on second place was too busy trying to fend off Lando to even think about trying to get to Daniel. The race had about five laps to go, and everything seemed to be doing idyllically for the papaya boys.

Until Sergeant decided to fight Daniel off turn seven. He decided to ignore the blue flags waving at him and instead of letting the McLaren pass, Logan took it upon himself to be the first backmarker to fight for P1.

And with both drivers not letting up, the contact was inevitable.

Only Logan managed to shake it off and finish his race on a wonderful last place, after the ten-second-stop-go penalty he received for ignoring blue flags and causing a collision.

Seeing Daniel walk away from the car was a heavenly relief. My heart could barely cope with witnessing the crash. I don’t know how I’d react if he didn’t make it out on his two feet. The two minutes of pure, terrifying silence on his end before he answered to his engineer were torturous for everyone, including me.

After he made it to the pits after the necessary medical check-ups and talked a bit with everyone, he was dismissed to his driver’s room. I was advised not to approach him any time soon, as his media duties were minimized after such incident.

So I watched Charles win the race in front of the tifosi, Lando take second and Max come third, filmed some content with Lando and head straight to my hotel.

I was not used to seeing such crashes. And knowing that someone I…well, kind of cared about was involved in something like that, just, scared the shit out of me. My thoughts could only go to my brother who was fighting to get where Daniel and everyone in the grid are right now and…

I texted my brother and let him know I loved him. He replied with a thumbs up. It was enough for me.

Then my eyes lingered over another contact I only had because of my job, and only used for my job.

Daniel McLaren

Of course I wanted to text him. Especially after I didn’t see him at all after the crash. He might cause me multiple migraines over the week, but it was still Daniel.

Sorry if I’m bothering. I just wanted to see if you’re alright after today.

It’s Sydney, by the way.

The double text made me cringe, but I rather have that than a “Who is this?” sent my way.

But his answer was way worse than that.

No. Can you come to my hotel?

- - - - - - -

Hope you enjoyed!

[j4xotto]

Melbourne, 2014.

The first time Jax kissed Ash, he was deadly sober.

Well, mostly sober. He remembered his skin was sticky-sweet with champagne, most of the spray having dribbled down his chin, pornographic in a way he was sure would be giffed on Tumblr and later reblogged by a hundred horny, queer Formula One fans. Everything he ever did was put under a microscope, but in that moment, he was too euphoric to care. Let me celebrate tonight, he thought. Let me throw myself into the arms of my teammate, roar with the crowd. Today, he was on the podium, he was first fucking place.

Bodies pressed in on him from every side, clapping his back and clutching onto his race suit. Pure adrenaline coarsed through him, his heart still jackhammering with the thrum of the engine. Amongst the throng of people, Jax was vaguely aware of the team principal ruffling his hair, his eyes clapping on his Mum, beaming with pride. His Dad was crying, fat tears of pride spilling down his cheeks, his baby niece propped up on his shoulders. Little Paige, who Jax remembered holding in the delivery room, wearing a bright smile for him, a number four painted in glitter on her cheek. Jax wished he could say it didn’t all pale in comparison to seeing Ash.

Because when Ash hurtled toward him in the crowd, God, his heart clenched in his chest. It felt as though he was moving in slow motion to get to him, the end goal to be eveloped in his arms. Pride beamed out from Ash’s features, eyes glittering from beneath his dark brow. Those full, pretty lips Jax had fantasised about kissing one too many times were pulled into a bright smile. And then suddenly, Ash’s arms were around him, pulling him into a hug so tight the rest of the world fell away.

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, Jaxxy.” he breathed, the words hot against Jax’s ear, his honeycoated Boston accent curling around the praise. It made Jax's stomach twist every time.

For just a second, Jax can live in this daydream. That Ash is his, and that he's allowed to want him. That he’s allowed to celebrate his win with the man he loves, in front of his team, at his home race. Breathing in in the slick smell of sweat against Ash’s skin, Jax knocked his Haas cap clean off his head. It fell to the ground, forgotten and probably crushed, as Jax pushed his fingers into Ash’s dark locks.

He forgot himself. In hindsight, he can admit that. When Ash pulled back, bright and blazing and beautiful, Jax moved to press his lips to the other man’s cheek.

Cameras everywhere flashed as Jax missed by half an inch, catching Ash full on the mouth. A closed mouth press of lips that leaves his trainer startled, Ash whipping his head back with wide eyes, no regard for Jax’s hurt feelings as he plastered a scowl on his face. What should’ve been the best day of his life took a sudden, steep drop off the edge of a cliff.

When Jax disentangled from his friend, his Ash, the first thing he saw was Kelly. Her blonde hair had been swept off her shoulders and fastened in a tight top knot, a precaution against the stuffy Melbourne heat. She'd pressed herself against Jax in a bright hug and a flurry of nerves moments before he stepped in the car, looking so proud she might burst. Now, when Jax's eyes met hers, they found her blue eyes brimming with rage and unshed tears. From where she was standing, Jax was sure it looked pretty bad. After all, wasn't he supposed to be her friend?

Sorry, Kelly, he remembered thinking, but I did love him first.

In the the end, Jax found himself on the doorstep to his family home. A week spent in Sydney, crying bitterly in the arms of his Mum. Jax was all too certain that his racing career was over, a sting not even Mila Otto could soothe. This horrible, hyper-masculine sport he loved so fiercely had turned its back on him for the final time. The photo was splashed over every major news outlet, and Jax was called every hateful name under the sun by every sports commentator, journalist and motor sports fan. The few times Jax dared to log into Twitter, there’s a few sweet girls with the Australian flag in their display name who tweet him a string of hearts, a reminder that he is loved and even supported. Each night involves Jax trying and failing to read a few thinkpieces on the importance of queer athletes in male dominated sports, but they just hurt his head.

There was talk about dropping him from Haas. The consolation is a stern telling off for his behaviour and a string of press conferences. Jax sitting shoulder to shoulder with other drivers as he made jokes, denied everything, no homo’d his way through it all.

If you were to ask about Jax Otto's racing season in 2014, most people would tell you about his wins. How he was consistently at pole position, how he finished P1, P2, P3 most races. How the crowd would light up with him, chanting his name as he stepped out of the car, bright, vibrant and alive.

If you were to google Jax Otto now, the picture of him kissing another man isn't even the first thing that comes up.

[longlivebatart]

Van Vliet's Interor of the Oude Kerk, Delft

Wow. 15 episodes and eight months. This episode is the season finale. I hope you’ve had as much fun listening as I’ve had talking to you. I really appreciate you spending your time with me and taking this tour. 

Welcome to Long Live Bat Art, the podcast for art lovers who don’t see art as much as they want to. My name is Sydney and thank you for taking this slow tour through an art gallery with a casual art lover. Today, I’ll be talking about Interior of the Oude Kerk, Delft by Hendrick van Vliet. I hope you enjoy. 

Hendrick Corneliszoon van Vliet was born in either 1611 or 1612 in Delft. He studied under his uncle Willem van der Vliet, and was admitted to the Painter’s Guild in Delft in 1632. That painter’s guild, as I’m sure you’ve been able to guess by now, was known as the St. Luke’s Guild. Van Vliet was adept at perspectives in his interiors, mainly of churches, and later started portrait painting with Michiel Jansz van Mierevelt. 

Van Vliet married Cornelia van der Plaat in 1643. They had three children, two sons and a daughter. The sons’ names were Marinus and Cornelis, and they became painters. I couldn’t find the daughter’s name, but she apparently took care of her parents when they got older. 

Van Vliet died in 1675 in apparent poverty, and ended up being buried in the same church he painted that features in today’s episode, Oude Kerk or Old Church. Twenty-three of his works survive. 

On to the painting.

The painting is of the interior of a high-ceilinged building, most likely a church. The building is mostly white- columns, walls, and doorways. There is brown wood in the image, almost rosy in color. On the right of the image, in the foreground, is a wood object. It looks almost like a pew. The back, which is what the viewer can see, has what may be a place to kneel, but it isn’t cushioned like any of the churches I’ve ever been in. The top of the possible-pew is angled, stretching into the space of the painting and then dropping into the front of the pew. You can see what looks like a footrest for whoever would sit in the pew. In front of the pew are two columns, spaced a little farther apart than the length of the pew. 

The columns are white stone with no other color in the material. The base of the columns are octagonal in shape- the sides are white and angled around the bottom. The very base of the columns are black. Above the base is a rounded band with two slimmer, flatter bands above it, each bringing the column in and making it slimmer. Above those is a shorter octagonal part, with the same bands capping it. These bands are casting shadows on the angled stones below it. The column continues upward smoothly, and is topped by an elaborately-carved capital. The carving broadens the column until it’s the same width of the base once more. The top is angled the same way as the lower part, as well. The carving is graceful and almost leaf-like or floral, with curved lines. The carving is gently split in half horizontally, with the lower half the same width as the column and the top the same width as the base. The carving’s transition is smooth, then it takes a sharp angle to the bands that top it.

Above the bands, the stones continue into a tall arch. You can see on other columns that the arch is slightly pointed, but you can’t see the top of this arch or the one to the left of the painting. 

At the top of the wall, just before it curves to form the arch, is a wooden support beam. You can barely see the bottom, but you can see more of one on the support of the archway to the right. It extends up, probably to the ceiling or near to it, but it’s unclear because the painting cuts off before the end. Just before the very top of the painting, you can see the wood extends at an angle from the main part and the ceiling is wooden. You can’t actually tell that from the ceiling in the foreground are supporting, but in the midground there’s an opening that has the same columns and wooden supports. The ceiling is ribbed to provide further support.

Against the first column is a broom. Between the columns bracketing the pew are wooden boards and a pie of dirt that the cleaner had swept together. On the closest column, there’s a diamond design on the left side, angled so the viewer can see it. The outside is possibly a dark wood. The strip is wide and comes into the design. The inner part is deep red with gold details. It almost looks like it could be a representation of one of the Stations of the Cross, though I can’t tell which one it depicts if that’s even what it is. There’s a similar diamond design or sign on the column in the midground at an angle to the first one, and another one on the column behind that one.

The column to the right of the pew has a metal bracket on the shorter octagonal part above the base octagon. The bracket is swirled, almost like an ‘S’ if the letter had more swirls on either end before it ended. On the right of that column is a short wooden barrier with posts, almost like a wide ladder with unusually-close rungs. The barrier is around a column, but it takes a sharp turn deeper into the space of the painting and joins a wooden structure. 

The structure is large, wider than the columns. It’s attached to the column the barrier is also protecting. The wooden structure is split almost halfway up the column. The top part isn’t connected to the base. The top part starts with a wide-bottomed angled shape. I can see at least seven sides, but it’s connected to the column so there’s room for another side if it was free standing. Set into and on top of the brim of the top part is a dome supported by arches. The dome has a tower in the center, with thin supports. Above the supports is a smaller part of the structure, more thin supports, then a similar part. These parts look like, since I promised myself I would be honest with you, cartoon hamburgers. The bottom is flat, the middle has a slightly wider part where the burger would go, then the top is rounded. Above the smaller ‘hamburger’ are two ovals, the top one smaller than the one below it. The very top of the design is a disk topped by a small, thin protrusion. Think a toy top.

In the center of the room is another dark wood structure. This one is short, only about two people high. The base is solid, then there’s an empty space, then it continues to a flat top. It looks like a ticket booth for parking lots or carnivals. In front of that is a man. He’s in profile and his face isn’t discernible. He’s wearing a long tan coat, the color of a classic trench coat. You can barely see a strip of white above it where his shirt shows. He’s wearing a flat black hat, almost a beret. His pants are also black. Above the ticket booth is a brass chandelier, with two levels of arms for candles. The arms are curved- extending out from the center, coming down, then swooping up half the dropped distance into the resting area for the candle.

Further into the background and at the left of the painting, the room opens up into a brighter area. It’s similar to the closer room, with the same columns and a chandelier. There are two men talking, one swearing a brown coat and the other a black. Both are wearing hats that match their coats. Further into the room is another figure you can barely see. He’s walking towards a doorway.

In the midground on the right of the image is an open wooden gate. The gate doesn’t extend to the ceiling. There are two men past the gate, and a woman and child walking towards the foreground. The men are almost identically dressed with brown coats, white shirts, and dark hats. Makes me wonder if they’re debating who should go home and change. The woman is wearing a deep red skirt with a blue shirt. She has a white bonnet on her head. The child barely comes up to her hip and is wearing a brown coat. 

Beyond the gate is a similar structure as the one in the midground- the one topped with hamburgers, not the ticket booth. This one doesn’t have the spindle, however. 

The area above the columns look like walls. The walls form a right angle with the left side being further into the painting. The right side comes closer to the viewer and is then hidden by the columns in the midground. The wall continues between the columns into the background. Above the walls are what look like stone barriers as if there’s a second floor. But the barriers are below windows- there’s no space between them for a balcony. The floor is dark gray square tiles, probably of stone.

Now for my thoughts.

The details in the painting- the white striand of shirts, the hats, the color of the faces even though features can’t be made out. It’s all so recognizable for exactly what it is. Van Vliet executed his vision. I chose this piece, which was right next to a similar painting of the same church from a slightly different angle. The other one seemed a bit more…dull, for lack of a better word. Not in subject matter, but muted in colors. It was just as detailed, and just as realistic, but I liked van Vliet’s better. It’s brighter and it’s more interesting to me. I don’t know why I was drawn to this painting, like most of the ones I chose. 

I thought it was interesting that the people in this painting are off in the distance. The focus is on the space, and there isn’t even a ceremony or celebration or other event going on. It’s just the interior of a church. It’s beautiful, but when I was in the exhibit people walked by this painting or only stopped for a moment or two. There were other pieces in the exhibit, of course, but this one just…captured me. Maybe it’s because of the almost-emptiness of the space. It’s peaceful and light, and you can almost miss seeing the people entirely. It seems like a good place to pray or gather your thoughts. 

The paintings I tend to like have a certain presence to them. It doesn’t have to be large in size or fantastic in terms of subject matter or even how famous the artist is- I actually chose The Milkmaid before I realized it was a Vermeer, after all. The painting can be simple, but I think there has to be an emotion I connect with. I don’t always know what emotion it is, but I think I need to see myself reflected back for me to enjoy a piece. It could be an experience I’ve never had, or in a place I’ve never been to, but there’s a common humanity that I can see. Some human experience or emotion- talking, doing chores, or longing, loneliness, pleasure. Just something I can easily see and identify. It often takes some time for me to realize why I chose a particular painting for you all. Sometimes I still don’t know after thinking for some time, and as I said in episode thirteen, that’s alright. You can’t dissect enjoyment, otherwise you can overthink it to death. You’re allowed to just be. 

My final challenge for you this season is this: create. I don’t care if it’s a painting, or a poem, or a short story, or a clay bowl. Just create. Creation is both human and divine, but sharing that creation in uniquely human. Creating and sharing is something that we all do, something that no matter what we intend we show our hand of whoever we are. Everything is a statement, and everything you do shows another facet of yourself. And every facet of yours is beautiful. 

If there’s one thing I want you to take away from this whole season it’s that people have always been people. They had fun and laughed and mourned and prepared food and did chores and played music and slept and worked and made mistakes just like people do today. Like I said- there’s a common humanity threaded throughout time and space. I’ve never been to any country where these artists came from. But they saw the same things I do today, and they decided to memorialize it. And the fact that they did means that they’re still reaching across time, showing me what they saw and what they loved. And I don’t know about you, but I’ll gladly take that guiding hand. 

If you liked this episode of Long Live Bat Art, please consider telling a friend and reviewing to help the podcast grow. A link to the transcript of this episode is available in the show notes below. And you can follow me on Twitter at Long Live Bat Art and tumblr at tumblr dot com forward slash Long Live Bat Art. That’s Long Live B-A-T Art. Thank you for listening to this episode, and I will see you in July. 

[preciserestumping]

Pier and Brick Foundation Repair

In older homes where the original steel piers or brick piers are located beneath the floor of the home, these can over time become unstable and require a major rectification to restore structural integrity to the house. This can be identified by a number of factors including cracking in walls and cornices, sinking floors, gaps under skirting boards or doors jamming. If left unattended the problem can deteriorate further, resulting in further movement of the floor and even the entire house. Whether it’s brick pier replacement on concrete pads in key areas, or a full re-construction of the house BillCorp have the skills to assist with resolving this type of issue.

The most common method of repairing a floor pier in an old pier and beam home is to lift the floors using hydraulic jacks and wedges. This is a very temporary solution and is only really used by renovators to give them more space under the floor of the house. It will not stop the continual sinking of the floor piers and it is also likely to cause further damage to the foundation. Unless the underlying problem is fixed it will continue to occur, in the long run a better and more permanent solution is to do a complete re-leveling of the house including a full pier replacement and repairs Sydney.

If a pier is being removed and replaced the whole process can be a long and difficult job. First the pier is removed and any debris including bricks and cement is removed from around it. Then a hole is dug in the ground and the new pier is placed into it. Concrete is then poured around the new pier to give it strength and the floor of the house can be dropped back down onto the new pier. It is important that a professional is used for this type of work as it can be extremely dangerous to lift and lower the floor of a house without being properly trained.

It is also a good idea to get a qualified professional in to assess your house if you think you may need to replace or repair your piers. They can provide you with a detailed report and costing to carry out the necessary work. It is best to do this before any remodeling or renovations are undertaken as it will save you a lot of headache and money in the long run.

It is worth noting that if your piers have caps on them you should remove these and replace them with galvinised metal ones. The reason for these caps is to force termites to build a gallery up around the cap which will stop them from reaching the wood in your house. However, this is not a foolproof method as it can still allow them to reach the wood in your house through gaps and crevices around these caps. It is far more effective to use a system such as the Uni-Pier adjustable pier which provides a very strong and stable support for all off-ground floor houses.

Precise Restumping & Underpinning successfully maintains a reputation for delivering quality, reliable and sound services to clients all over New South Wales, with a licensed builder that personally oversee all work.

[deckingcentralcoast]

Add Value to Your Property With Decks and Pergolas

There are few exterior home additions that add value to your property like a deck. These structures transform unused spaces into gorgeous outdoor living areas that enhance the transition between indoors and out.

A good design will have plenty of sun protection to keep your space cool and comfortable in summer. Consider including lighting in your design to extend use of the space after sunset.

Pergolas

A pergola is a great way to add some extra shade and style to your backyard. They come in many different designs and can be installed quickly and easily. They are also a more affordable option than building an addition or adding on a sunroom.

Pergolas are usually made from timber, and can be painted or stained to match your home. They can be used to support climbing plants or simply as a structure that provides shade. They can even be screened in to create privacy and shelter from the elements.

A pergola is a beautiful addition to your outdoor living space and can be used for entertaining or relaxing. Pergolas can also be built together with a custom patio and pool to create the perfect gathering place for your family and friends. Pergolas can be constructed from a variety of materials, including hard woods like ironbark and spotted gum, and softwoods such as pine.

Composite decking

Composite decking has taken the outdoor living world by storm, offering a range of benefits over traditional wood decking. Made from a combination of timber fibres and plastic, these products resist weathering, pests, and rotting far better than natural wood.

Composites are also usually eco-friendly, since the wood fibres may be recycled from plastic bottles or from waste lumber. And some manufacturers offer capped composites, which have wood-fiber cores wrapped in synthetic caps to prolong their service life and allow for richer color selections.

Capped boards are more expensive, but the added durability pays for itself in lower maintenance costs. Most composites don’t need stain or sealer, and only a periodic scrubbing with soap and water is needed to keep them looking good. Moving furniture and frisky dogs can scuff new composites, and the wood fibers in some mixes cause uneven brownish tannin stains that fade over time. Like other decking materials, composites can be fastened to joists by driving screws through their faces or into clips inserted along the edges. Many manufacturers create “hidden” fasteners that disappear under the boards for a cleaner finished look.

Lighting

Lighting is a key element in any outdoor living space. It not only provides illumination but can also create a mood and make your patio or pergola a place where you want to spend more time.

Often, pergolas are used in combination with other types of outdoor spaces, like seating areas and barbeque pits. In these cases, it makes sense to add a path light that helps guests safely navigate the space after dark.

For an aesthetically pleasing touch, consider using lights that are mounted on or around the posts of your pergola. These are easy to install and can come in a variety of design options. You can even use them to highlight the structural details of your deck.

Privacy

There’s hardly any other home improvement that adds as much function and value to a property as a well designed deck. At VDS Carpentry we’re renowned for building beautiful decks of distinction. Our reputation is built on a simple set of good old-fashioned values: superior workmanship and exceptional results at a fair price.

A pergola is a shaded walkway or passageway built from large vertical beams that support crisscrossed wooden slats. These are ideal for growing creepers, vines and other shade-providing plants. A pergola can be a standalone structure or attached to a patio, deck, or house.

Verandah decks, decks and pergola designs in Sydney and the Central Coast are perfect if you’re looking for a place to relax and entertain with friends and family. They provide a multi-purpose outdoor living area that can be used year-round, and offer protection from the sun, rain, or snow. And they can be customised to suit your personal style and budget.

source https://deckingcentralcoast.wordpress.com/2023/07/19/add-value-to-your-property-with-decks-and-pergolas/

[leejungchans]

— made with love...i mean telepathy.

word count: 1.4k words

content warnings: mentions of food

notes: words in [ ] represent the editors’ comments added in post-production; words in bold represent those spoken in english!! i added an additional ingredient because there’s an extra member!!

summary: ateez plays the telepathy relay cooking challenge on ateez treasure film.

a/n: my semester just ended and it feels really nice to finally be able to relax a bit and watch some going seventeen (ahhsjajs i just started stanning them and i love them so much😭🥺)!! i still have some assignments due later this month, but it’ll still be a lot nicer than the last two weeks bc they were hectic💀 i hope you’ve been well, the fourth wave of the pandemic is hitting where i live, so please stay safe!! happy reading and let me know what you think!!

you can watch the episode here!

Juliet paces around her single bedroom, waiting for her cue. She has no clue what the group challenge involves, nor why each member has to take turns playing.

She flops onto the bed, looking every bit like a starfish, and turns her head to look at the camera situated in the top corner of her room. “I’m so sleepy,” she whines, simply lying there for a few moments. [Are you going to fall asleep~]

As Juliet stares up the ceiling, eyes unfocused and lazy, the surreality of being back in Sydney sinks into her slowly. It felt like forever ago when she left home, not being able to see her family in person for years because of her trainee years and their conflicting schedules after her debut. It feels like a dream to finally not be in separate hemispheres with her home. Even better, she came back with her second family, eight boys who looked after her better than she did with herself.

Her vision blurs from a combination of tears and drowsiness, and she could feel her eyelids start to droop. She sits up with a jolt. “Wah, I almost fell asleep!” she says to the camera. “I can’t keep lying down here or I’ll really fall asleep, seriously!”

To keep herself awake, she gets up and plays “Wave” on her phone, occasionally singing along or dancing to the music while listening for her cue. [Let’s enjoy Juliet’s mini performance~]

Moments later, she hears Jongho yell from the base of the stairs, “If you’re the prettiest member in ATEEZ, come on out!”

“Oh! That must be me!” Juliet turns to the camera and cups her face with her hands to resemble a flower. [Blooming flower Juliet shows off her shining visuals~] “Wish me luck!” she says excitedly before leaving her room and skipping down the stairs.

Upon walking into the kitchen, her attention is immediately drawn by the lack of people in the adjoining living room. [Juliet enters prettily~]

“Hm? There’s no one here...” She pads over to the kitchen island and silently reads the instruction card. “Is that supposed to be Hongjoongie-oppa?” she giggles, asking no one in particular as she points at the cartoon version of their leader on the card.

She turns her attention to the ingredients, consisting of rice cakes, fish cakes, water, gochujang, chilli powder, soy sauce, sugar, diced green onions and peeled hard-boiled eggs.

“Oh my God, wah...I’m really stupid,” she admits after a while of pondering, turning to the camera in the living room behind her briefly. [So suddenly?] “I thought you weren’t going to refill the cups, but then if you didn’t, there wouldn’t be a point in this game because then we’d know which ones the others already added...” [A delayed realisation for Juliet ㅋㅋㅋㅋ]

“Okay, okay, okay, let’s think about this...” Juliet sighs and closes her eyes. [*programming noises* She is deep in thought...] “Hongjoongie-oppa, Seonghwa-oppa, Wooyoungie-oppa and Jongho-oppa already went, so one of them definitely added the water already, and I think the gochujang and rice cakes are in there too...”

Another sigh leaves her lips. “But if they all had this thought process also, would that mean they added in the more unexpected ingredients? Or should I just keep it simple and trust my gut?” [Lol, she’s so serious about this] Juliet playfully wriggles around like a petulant child. “Ah, I just want this tteokbokki to taste good! I’m getting kind of hungry...”

After a few more seconds, she picks up the cup with the eggs. [Juliet picks the hard-boiled eggs] “I like eggs,” she muses to herself as she moves towards the pot, and starts laughing when a hilarious thought crosses her mind. “Imagine if I lifted the lid and it was all just eggs in the pot. That’d be really funny.” [Luckily, ATEEZ will not be eating just eggs ♡]

To Juliet’s pleasant surprise, she lifts the lid to discover rice cakes cooking in a boiling red sauce, topped with the diced onions. “Oh, someone already added in the rice cakes! Good job!” Humming happily, she drops two eggs into the pot and puts the lid back on. [She made a good choice~ the tteokbokki is cooking well so far~] Off-camera, staff members guide her to a room just a few paces away from the kitchen where the four members are waiting. But before she enters, she shouts for the next person.

“Come on down if you’re the tall member who resembles a puppy!”

“Yah, great job!” Wooyoung says when she enters the room, and he high-fives the youngest member. Juliet beams from the praise.

“I did well, didn’t I?” she asks teasingly, high-fiving Jongho as well, obviously fishing for more compliments.

“You did, it’s going well so far,” Seonghwa replies, excitement clear in his tone. Next to him, Hongjoong nods in agreement as he readjusts his cap over his muted pink hair, faded from the bright red it was dyed months ago for their comeback. Juliet sits on one of the sofa’s armrests next to the oldest, as the other was occupied by Jongho.

The five of them watch the rest of game on the TV, squealing in happiness when Yunho and Mingi added the sugar and chilli powder respectively. [So far, each member chose different ingredients!!! Will they succeed?]

“PD-nim,” Wooyoung cheekily addresses the director behind the cameras in the room, “isn’t it going too well?” He bursts into his signature giggle as the others laugh along. [Who are you guys...?]

Juliet grins when she sees the matching smiles on the staffs’ faces. “Isn’t it boring? Aren’t you bored with this?” she cutely taunts, but almost immediately stops. “Oh, wait...I hope I didn’t just jinx us,” she adds sheepishly. [Master of foreshadowing...?]

She really should’ve seen it coming, because nothing is ever too good to be true. The group, now joined by Mingi, watch in shock and exasperation when Yeosang decides to add sugar like Yunho already did. [The tteokbokki’s already been messed up...]

Hongjoong whimpers, “We already added the sugar...”

“No! No!” they whisper-yell when Yeosang starts spooning the sugar, desperately trying to send telepathic signals. [Their telepathy fails for the first time] Their efforts are futile as the oblivious member happily skips over to the pot with the cup of sugar in his hand. [If you’re happy, that’s all that matters, Yeosang...] Juliet collapses to the floor and hits it with her fists as she wails.

Before he adds the sugar, Yeosang turns to the camera and gives a thumbs-up twice. [Hey guys! Aren’t I the best? Did I do well?] At this, Juliet’s expressions immediately sobers and she sits up on the floor. “Why is he giving us a thumbs-up?” she half-heartedly deadpans, “he’s the only one so far who chose the wrong thing.” [She hits Yeosang with a cold fact]

Her members and the staff laugh silently at her pouty face. “Yah, she’s really starting to get mad,” Yunho jokes, pointing to her face so the cameras can film it. [The tteokbokki is ruined, oppa...ㅠㅠ]

Things take a turn for the worst when San adds even more sugar while the other eight members can only watch helplessly through the screen. [Bitter smiles] “Is it supposed to be this sticky?” he asks innocently as he stirs the sugar into the pot.

“Not if you added something else!” Juliet whines, tossing away the cushion in her lap from mock frustration as the others cackle at her outburst. [Get ready to face the wrath of the maknae]

Wooyoung wraps his arms around her from behind. “Don’t get mad, don’t get mad!”

“Let’s eat!” San shouts, [The relay cooking is over] and the eight members instantly pile out of the room, loudly complaining as they curiously make their way over to the pot while Mingi chases San around the living room.

Juliet grabs a fork and spears it into a rice cake. Right away, the overwhelming sweetness attacks her taste buds and becomes the only thing she tastes. She winces, glancing at her members who have equally pained smiles on their faces. Yunho even saying it tastes like spicy red bean porridge.

She discreetly cranes her neck to find the camera, quickly realising she is mostly obscured by the others from it. She creeps to the other side of the island to grab the soy sauce and gochujang before sneakily dumping a good amount of both into the pot, stirring briskly in an attempt to disguise her actions, but they don’t go unnoticed by the members around her and the editors. [Juliet...what are you doing..? ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ] Jongho and Hongjoong watch her and snicker, the former pouring more water into their snack to mellow out the sickly sweetness of the sauce.

The game ends with everyone rinsing out the taste of the tteokbokki with, ironically, more sugary soda, and Juliet makes a mental reminder that the best course of action is to simply order takeout when it comes to ATEEZ.

[This is it for the telepathy relay cooking. The challenge is complete!]

a/n: ahshjahs i had no idea how to end this💀💀thank you so much for reading🥺💗

[bathtubjohnny]

Chapter 1: Rough draft (Edited once for spelling/grammar)

TW: Bloody noses, descriptions of a corpse, mild gore and swearing, spooky zombie lady, bad formatting, rushed writing

Note: Please give me your sweet sweet feedback. Oh how I crave honest and good-hearted criticism.

*Thanks to a handful of members from a group chat for convincing me to post this*

The forest was dense enough to blot out the sun, almost completely plunging the path in darkness. It didn’t bother Sydney though; he was too focused on the building at the end of it. It was a church, and he stood in front of it, staring up at the grey steeple protruding from what was left of the roof. It was a miracle that it was still standing. The walls had been scorched by fire, and the once-beautiful stained glass windows had melted into colourful, wax-like puddles. He could still smell smoke even though the church burned an impossibly long time ago. It never occurred to Sydney that the surrounding woods were completely untouched by the fire, as if it had never happened in the first place.

The inside was different as Sydney pushed the double doors open. He didn’t recognize the inside. It was more spacious than what he remembered, but like the forest, untouched by the blaze. Instead of red carpeting there was a wooden floor; instead of oil paintings depicting the trial of Jesus, tapestries with horrific, indescribable images decorated the walls. The interior had an ancient feel to it, making Sydney feel insignificant as he stood before the rows of pews. He could tell that it wasn’t a Catholic church anymore. It was a haven for a religion that existed long before the concept of Christianity.

Across from Sydney and past the pews was a stone table where the altar should have been. There was a white sheet covering something laying across it. As he padded down the aisle towards it, he could see symbols etched into the stone, characters he couldn’t recognize. The closer he got the louder his ears rang, his sinuses becoming so congested that soon fluid began leaking down his chin. It wasn’t until he reached the table and saw the bright red droplets fall onto the stark white sheet covering it that he realized his nose was bleeding.

Ignoring his instinct to wipe away the blood, Sydney reached for the edge of the sheet and pulled it back. Underneath was a girl, or at least the body of one. Her skin was ashen and waxy, a greenish-blue in colour. Small blisters had begun to form on her cheeks and forehead, as if she had been sunburnt recently. Even though they were closed, Sydney could tell that her eyes were sunken into her skull.

“Syd?”

Pulling the sheet down further, Sydney saw that the girl’s arms had been placed palms facing up, leaving the undersides of her forearms exposed. On both of them were deep gashes, starting from her wrists and ending in the crooks of her elbows. The rest of her had begun to decay, but her wounds appeared recent, oozing thicker, darker blood than what was dripping from Sydney’s nose.

“Syd, are you awake?”

The sound of her inhaling made Sydney’s attention turn sharply back to her face as her jaw creaked open, sucking in air. He stumbled away as her eyes, covered in a watery blue film, flew open. Her head turned towards him with a snap, sending him falling backwards in shock. He hit the floor hard as she sat up, bones creaking and popping as she threw the sheet off her bloated body-

“Mr.Patrick!”

Sydney bolted up from his desk as the shout tore through his dream, nearly sending him toppling to the floor. Mrs. Bray was sitting on her desk glaring directly at Sydney, arms folded. A snort of laughter to his left made him blush as he realized he’d dozed off...again. “Uh, sorry.” He mumbled, slowly sitting back down and trying to ignore the eyes on him. Although Mrs. Bray had a stern look in her eyes, Syd was somewhat comforted by the fact that she was obviously trying not to smile.

“I get that there’s ten minutes left, but let’s try to stay awake, alright?” She sighed. “To those of you who may have dozed off, I’m not repeating myself about the assignment. You can ask your group. Now,” She side-eyed the room. ‘Is there anyone who isn’t in a group of three yet?”

Syd sneaked a quick glance across the room over at his close friend Lizzie Abrams. She caught his eye and shrugged apologetically, motioning to two other girls sitting near her. Feeling his cheeks heat up, Syd averted his eyes, staring down at his desk in embarrassment.

“We don’t have a third person in our group.” The voice to Syd’s left spoke up, making him turn. It was a girl in a worn, blue and white baseball cap, someone who Sydney unfortunately recognized. Her name was Morette Woodward, better known as Mo, and Syd knew her as being the one who broke his nose during dodgeball back in fifth grade.

She had one elbow propped up on her desk and was leaning her head against her hand while picking at her braces with the other. When she caught Sydney’s eye, she flashed him a toothy smirk.

Mrs. Bray glanced between the two and shrugged. “Perfect, evens out the groups. Now,” she turned to address the rest of the class. “I’m giving the last couple minutes of class to organize your chapters, so use your time wisely. Remember your book and your portfolio should be in at least six sections!”

Portfolio? Sydney rubbed his eyes and groaned, wondering what else he’d missed. Falling asleep at random times wasn’t a problem before, but lately he'd been feeling lethargic and finding himself unable to keep his eyes open for long periods of time.

“Hey, scooch your butt over next to us so we can talk better.” Mo nodded at a tall boy sitting beside her. Sydney didn’t know who it was, but thought he looked familiar. “Yeah hold on,” he turned his chair to face them before leaning forward. “So… what’re we doing exactly?”

“Man, you were really out, huh?” The tall boy said, giving Sydney a sympathetic grin. “You were pretty twitchy too. Were you dreaming or something?”

Syd blinked. “‘Twitchy’? What do you mean?”

“Like...mumbling and tensing up a lot,” He clenched his fists in emphasis. “It was kinda creepy. What were you dreaming about?” He was already talking again before Syd could reply. “Oh shit, you don’t know me. Sorry, I’m Henry Kaminer.”

Kaminer. Sydney didn’t know Henry, but definitely recognized the last name. He remembered reading about the Kaminers in the newspaper, and made a mental note not to bring it up.

“Oh. I’m Sydney. I don’t really remember what I dreamed of.” Sydney lied. Henry laughed. “Yeah, I heard. Isn't Sydney a girl's...? Whatever, nice to meet you Sydney."

Morette handed Sydney a sheet of paper. “I had an uncle Sid so no, it's not 'a girl's name'. Anyway, literally all we have to do is split the book up to read for a week, then do some fun little questions and activities at the end of each week." She flipped through her copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. "It's like the same stuff we did in grade 5, but with racism."

So she does remember. Sydney looked over his sheet of paper. "Oh."

"Yeah, it'll be easy." Morette leaned back in her chair and scrunched her nose up. "There's 31 chapters, but they're not too long. Let's just do five chapters each week and read whatever's left when we get to the last week." She tossed a stack of pink sticky notes at Sydney. "Use those as a bookmark."

Sydney looked down at the sticky notes. “...Thanks.”

___

“Hey Syd!”

Sydney paused at the front doors of the school just as he was about to walk through them. Henry hurried over to him, lime green beanie clutched in one hand, messenger bag in the other. The tall boy stopped beside him, huffing. “Man, I jumped down the stairs to catch up to you. Sorry, anyway. Walking home?”

Sydney pushed open the doors, nodding. “Yep. What about you?”

“Same here, but uh...which way are you going?”

“To the left.”

“Sweet! Mind if I tag along?”

“Sure,” As they made their way past groups of students waiting for their buses, they started walking down the sidewalk towards the nearby neighbourhoods. Syd, who barely made it to Henry’s elbows, couldn’t help but feel self-conscious with the giant beside him. “Do you live close to the school?” He asked. Henry shrugged. “Well, not really. To be honest I’m just tagging along to avoid my older brother, Marvin.” He chuckled a bit, but it sounded forced. “He’s got his driver’s licence and all, but…”

“But what?” Syd asked. Henry sighed. “He’s an asshole. I don’t feel like dealing with his anger issues today. So I’m here with you instead, little man. If that’s cool with you,”

“I’m not that little! But yeah, it’s cool.”

“Yeah you are, shortstack!!” Henry guffawed and rubbed the top of Sydney’s head with one hand. Syd swatted at his arm, but joined in the laughter. The two boys continued talking and joking around as they continued trekking down the street towards a crosswalk. The weather was warm for being early September, the sun beaming down on them helping to keep Sydney in high spirits.

The first week of school had been rough for him; being as timid as he was, making friends was hard enough in elementary school, never mind being in a new environment. For the longest time he’d considered Lizzie to be his closest friend, but they’d drifted apart over the summer, making him feel even more isolated than ever. As he listened to Henry telling him about his pet cat, Bowie, he felt a ray of hope that maybe he wouldn’t have to be so lonely after all.

“...he’s a really sweet boy, but he’s pretty ugly,” Henry was telling Syd. “He’s got this weird skin condition though so there’s like almost no hair on his body. I think it’s kinda hilarious, but every time he sits down his butthole sticks to our table.”

Syd snorted. “Gross.” He stopped at the edge of the crosswalk as the traffic light turned red, Henry following suit. “I don’t have any pets. My mom’s allergic to animal hair. It makes her sneeze.”

“Damn. No siblings either? Sounds quiet.” Henry leaned against a pole covered in colourful flyers and shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand. Sydney took a couple steps back so he was standing in Henry’s shadow and decided that tall people weren’t that bad. “Hey,” he said. “My house is just up ahead, what about you?”

Henry shrugged and shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets. “Not me little man, I’m heading to the right but maybe I can come over and wreak havoc at your place sometime.” He flashed Sydney a grin and straightened up, a couple flyers sticking to him before fluttering to the ground. “Whoops, those seemed important.”

Syd rolled his eyes and laughed as Henry stooped down to scoop them off the sidewalk. “Nice going there, big guy.” He joked. “Careful you don’t bring the pole down too.” Henry didn’t respond; instead he slowly stood up, clutching a white flyer and staring down at it. Sydney felt his smile fade when he saw the dismayed expression on Henry’s face.

“...What is it?”

Henry swallowed hard before handing Sydney the poster. The white paper was crumpled and soft from being left outside, showing signs that it had been there a while. A photo of a man with a goofy grin and a buzzcut holding a balding cat was in the center. The words were in bright red at the top of the page as he read them.

MISSING PERSON

Jeremiah Lee Kaminer

Also goes by ‘Jerry’

19 years old, blue eyes, blonde, slim build, 6’0”

Last seen November 27th wearing a leather jacket, blue jeans, and brown hiking boots. If you have seen him or have any information of his whereabouts, please contact the Denville City Police.

“Henry,” Sydney glanced up from the page. Henry was fidgeting in place, avoiding making eye contact. “Is he...?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, staring at the ground. “It’s our oldest brother. He’s been missing for over a year. Went into a bar one night for a drink, and just…. Never came out.” A cold gust of wind sent the remaining flyers drifting down the sidewalk as they caught the breeze. Henry’s hands tightened around the poster, creasing the paper before he folded it into a square. “Whatever. I gotta go.” He turned and started heading down the street, leaving Sydney alone.

Syd watched him walk away, wondering whether he should call out or not. Deciding not to, Sydney went home, ignoring the icy loneliness that had begun to creep back.

[vaultscoring]

BEAMSCORING’S CODE OF POINTS - BEAM

And here is the final piece of my changes to the code of points, my current namesake - the balance beam. Reminder that I am always open to questions, both about this changes I made and about the code in general - I never considered myself that knowledgeable but I am always willing to share what I do know if you feel like I could help! I am saying this now because beam is the longest section in my file, which I just noticed lol, so if it seems hard to follow (because I ramble and also assume people are smarter than me), let me know!

FLOOR / VAULT / BARS

CV:

all CV can include mount (except holds) and dismount

Flight Acro: 0.1 for C+C, forward B+C, and D+B in this order, 0.2 for forward B+D (dismount ineligible) and C+D, 0.3 for C+F and D+D (both elements must be salto or aerial for 0.3)

all connections must be rebounding in one direction

examples: side aerial + back handspring = D+B in order = 0.1 CV / front handspring + front 2/1 dismount = forward B+D, dismount = 0.1 CV (ineligible for 0.2) / layout stepout + tucked arabian = C+F, both saltos = 0.3

Dance: 0.1 for C+C and 0.2 for D+D

Turns: 0.1 for A+C

Mixed Connections: non-flight acro elements are eligible for mixed connections with both dance and flight acro elements

0.1 for B+D and C+C, 0.2 for C+E and D+D

example = valdez + sheep jump = non-flight acro B + dance D = 0.1 CV

Series Bonus: SB can include mount and dismount; 0.1 for B+B+C and 0.2 for B+B+F, C+C+D and B+B+C+C

only two series per routine can be awarded SB; series are awarded SB in order of performance even if not in the gymnast's best interest

CR and Routine Composition:

Routines count the 8 most difficult elements for the D-score and must fulfill composition requirements, which are worth 0.5 D each

CR 1: one full turn element

CR 2: one backward flight acro element and one forward/sideward flight acro element, at least one of which without hand support (salto or aerial)

CR 3: one connection of two flight acro elements, with rebounding action in one direction, one of which of at least C value (hand support allowed) [Commentary: yes, this means the acro series does not require a salto anymore. I don’t mind conceding that as long as acro series are always rebounding instead of, like, the two side aerials crap we still get even from beloved angels like Sanne.]

CR 4: one connection of two leap or jump elements

not showing a cross split and one other different leap or jump shape is a 0.3 D penalty

the dismount is always one of the eight counting elements in routine composition regardless of its value

at least three counting elements must be acro, and at least three counting elements must be dance

Rules and Observations:

no element can be repeated in different connections for CV, including round-offs and handsprings; however, any element can be repeated up to three times in the same connection for CV

examples: a back handspring can only be used in one connection for CV; three layout stepouts can be connected to each other and each connection will receive CV

Mount restriction: an element cannot be performed twice, once as the mount and once on the beam, for DV, CR and CV/SB, except the back handspring mount; does not apply to mounts with no clear on-beam counterpart

example: front tuck mount is performed; a front tuck cannot be performed on beam for value / side aerial over beam to front support mount is performed; a side aerial can still be performed on beam for value, as the mount is not a true counterpart

Shapes in Leaps/Jumps: any element that fulfills more than one shape only counts as one shape for the requirement, but either shape presented can be counted for the benefit of the gymnast

example: switch ring + split jump 1/2 = ring + cross split = requirement fulfilled; switch ring + straddle jump = cross split + side split = requirement fulfilled

Leaps and jumps with cross or side split and/or ring are now only allowed to have twists before the split and/or the ring shape is achieved

Leaps and jumps with the same shape are no longer distinct elements and cannot both be performed in the same routine for DV, CR and CV

example: split leap and split jump are now the same element

Removal of the E cap on the DV of dance elements

Element Upgrades, Downgrades, Removals and (Re)introductions:

Leaps and Jumps

arch jump added as A [Commentary: I added this one back solely so there is something to downgrade the sheep jump to. Currently, judges are supposed to not recognize it as an element when it's bad, but that never happens, so they just made it a C. Why be like that when you can reasonably threaten bad sheeps with an A?]

split leap/jump from B to A [Commentary: I was convinced by @cut-catches to put the split leap/jump below the switch leap on beam basically one hour before posting this. I actually don’t know how routines would be composed without the split jump as a B, since that was so convenient and I didn’t try to actually compose a routine without it . But I am sure it’s manageable. There are 9 other B dance elements, not even counting the switch leap itself lol]

switch wolf hop/jump from A to B

switch leap from C to B

double stag jump added as B

stag ring jump from B to C

L hop 1/2 from B to C

straddle jump in side position to front support added as C [Commentary: You know this one! It’s the one Ekaterina Lobaznyuk fell on in the Sydney TF!! We need it back]

sheep jump from C to D

switch ring from E to D

straddle jump 1/2 in side position to front support added as D

yang bo from D to E

split jump 1/1 from D to E (same element as split leap 1/1)

straddle jump 1/1 from D to E

straddle jump 1/1 in side position to front support added as E

Turns

wolf turn from B to A

1.5 wolf turn from C to B

prone turn from B to C

double wolf turn from D to C

1.5 prone turn from B to D

triple turn from E to F

wolf and tuck turns now considered the same element

Non-Flight Acrobatic

scales can be performed in balance stand for a one letter increase; this is not a different element (but all different scales - needle scale, scale forward and scale with leg upward - are now each a different element rather than the same element)

rise up body wave to toe balance stand from A to B

standing body waves added, to both legs as A and to one leg as B

one-arm cartwheel from A to B

scale backward with leg extended added as C

side split sit to side split roll from C to D

front walkover in side position from C to D

back walkover in side position from C to D

Flight Acro

front handspring stepout, one arm front handspring and one arm front handspring stepout added as B (differentiated from front handspring)

one arm round-off added as B (differentiated from round-off)

one arm back handspring added as B (differentiated from back handspring)

one arm back handspring stepout added as B (differentiated from back handspring stepout)

one arm gainer back handspring added as B (differentiated from gainer back handspring)

[Commentary: All of this handspring differentation has to do with the whole “you can’t use an element in more than one connection rule” I made up. If people need back handsprings so much, they can do them with one arm now. But really, I could have not done this and just let them manage just having three bhs options. I am open to suggestions here. I just want to do something about people tacking back handsprings after like every element lol.]

back pike (and gainer) from C to D

back handspring with 1/2 twist after flight from C to D

yurchenko loop from C to D

tucked aerial round-off removed from code

one-arm onodi from D to E

rulfova (and gainer) from D to E

back handspring 1/1 (and gainer) from D to E (twisting must be fully completed before hand support)

back handspring in side position from D to E

kolesnikova (back handspring 1/2 to handstand in side position) from D to E

back layout from E to F

teza loop from E to F

front tuck 1/2 added as F

front pike 1/2 added as G

side aerial in side position from E to G

back layout 1/1 from G to H

all acro elements that have the same amount of twists in the same shape (example: front tuck 1/2 and 1/2 twist to back tuck) are now merged in the same element

Mounts

All mount versions of of elements on the beam are valued one letter above the on-beam counterpart; some of the changes below follow the changes to the elements above

front handspring over beam to rear support from B to C

switch leap from D to C

rear jump to candle from D to C

back handspring from D to C

baitova mount (two flanks one flare) from C to D

neck stand 1.5 to chest stand from C to D

press handstand 1.5 from C to D

pike handstand to front handspring from C to D

reverse planche from C to D

front/side aerial over beam to rear/front support from C to D

layout stepout from E to D

back tuck from E to D

onodi from F to E

phillips (side handstand to front walkover) from D to E

front tuck from D to E

front pike from E to F

zamolodchikova (round-off, back handspring 1/1 to hip circle backward) from E to F

back handspring 1/1 from E to F (twisting must be fully completed before hand support)

rulfova from D to F

back tuck 1/1 from F to G

back layout from F to G

front tuck 1/2 from F to G

front pike 1/2 from F to H

back layout 1/1 from G to I

Dismounts

cartwheel to stand (and 1/2) added as A

cartwheel to 1/1 and 1.5 twist added as B

front aerial (and 1/2) from A to B

back tuck 1.5 from C to B

front aerial 1/1 from B to C

cartwheel to back tuck added as C

cartwheel to back pike added as D

front aerial 1.5 from C to D

gainer back 2/1 to side of beam from C to D

gainer pike 1/1 to end of beam added as D [Commentary: Currently, the code explicitly tells judges to recognize piked attempts at the layout 1/1 as a layout and deduct for shape, which... no. That was a pike 1/1, the end]

front 1.5 from C to D

front 2/1 from D to E

back 2.5 from D to E

gainer layout 1/1 to end of beam from D to E

side aerial to back tuck from E to F

double tuck 1/1 from G to F

gainer back 3/1 to side of beam from F to G

tucked double front from F to G [Commentary: Maybe an H?]

gainer layout 2/1 to end of beam from E to G

[larzy]

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[cilliansaccent]

The Peaky Designer - Cillian Fanfic, Chapter 8

Hello, welcome back. Below is the next instalment of my fanfiction!

Leave a like or a comment if you liked it, or if I can do anything better! Please, it would mean the world and to understand if anyone is enjoying my writing. Also, sharing/reblogging would be even better.

PLEASE READ:

I will not be including Cillian’s family as it’s kinda weird since he has children lmao. Just a mention of his parents and a previous lover.

I will indicate in a chapter if there is smut in the beginning and before the actual scene!!

I will add trigger warnings if there is any!!

There is a variety of levels of swearing during a chapter, I will not hold back, everyone swears.

The timestamp for the Fic is now 2016 and onwards!! 

——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——-

Background: Gabrijela Babic is a Croatian girl from Sydney, Australia. She is born in the year 1991 on the 24th of December. She studies a Fashion degree in a University with a major in Game Design as well. Her teacher in the fashion designer class managed to nail an Internship on the set of Peaky Blinders with the shows very own Costume Designer, Allison McCosh. There, she travels to London for under a year to learn how to be one, working alongside the actors as well the man she admires, Cillian Murphy. But, her platonic feelings for the man begins to grow into something more, and she wonders whether she should pursue them or let him go for fear of her strict parents and her three older brothers…

Characters:

Swantje Paulina as Gabrijela Babic (swalina on Instagram)

Cillian Murphy

Word Count: 1,860

!!Warnings!!: None.

Date: End of July, Early August 2016

Chapter Name: Bestfriends are Forever... 

Brief Chapter Outline: Gabrijela says goodbye to the Cast and Crew as her last day as an intern before she gets an interesting surprise at the end of the day... 

——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——-

Since the day out in Bath and the kiss Gabrijela shared with Cillian, working with him was strange. There was this unspoken thing between them, they both wanted each other but they had no idea what to do with that thought. 

The fact that she was a worker and he was her employer, it was not right to dwell on those feelings. But it was so hard. 

And then there was Logan, who was making it even harder. He was proving himself to be a wonderful man, he treated her kindly, took her out for dinners whenever they were free. The sex was magical, he made sure she was feeling fine during each session as she had come clean about her hell with her ex. Logan had been understanding and kissed her long into the night and worshipped her body. 

She started to like Logan a lot, he had bought her little gifts such as books or music for her to listen to since she had a CD Player in her apartment thanks to Logan. 

Gabrijela found herself smiling whenever he texted her, checking in if she was okay after her trip back home. Or even after a very stressful day, he would call her up. 

Now that filming was at its halfway point, there were times where she would have to travel further and spend the night at a motel, sharing a room with Logan. And somehow word got out they were a couple, Gabrijela blushed when her friends teased and poked at her. And yet, the pair seemed to just... go along with it. 

And not too long they ended up calling it official. They celebrated the day with a night out with the group, spending it at a local pub as their weekends began to be clogged up with filming and preparing major scenes. 

Cillian found out one morning when he had overheard some girls chatting about Logan and Gabrijela being a thing now. It broke his heart, or well, made him upset... No, it broke his heart. But what was he honestly supposed to do? He should be happy she was with someone closer to her age. He had caught the pair behind low traffic areas on set all over each other, kissing and touching... 

He kept on walking, away from it. But when she was close to him, helping him put on his shoes or vest or jacket and fixing up anything out of place... He couldn't help but touch her hip. 

And she didn't back away or push his hand. She looked up at him and saw the desperation in her eyes. The want and need she had for him, but the moment Logan's voice filtered in, she turned away and all that emotion for him was gone. As if she didn't want to let him see it anymore, as if it was a sin. 

Cillian cherished the small moments they had together, she had still managed to keep their friendship strong. When she had time, she made sure she had time for him and invited him to her apartment so they could listen to a new song or old songs from their favourite bands. Or go out of her way to buy lunch for him or she bought it for most of the cast with the help of some friends of hers when the day became terribly busy. 

Her kindness and care for him remained, it never wavered. Cillian never felt so drawn to someone as fiercely as ever, Gabrijela had shown genuine interest and love, there was no faking it. She was tentative to his needs and was always there when he wanted a good chat when things became stressful. And he reciprocated the feelings back and he always loved the look on her face. 

The worst was whenever they spent a day or a few hours together, even during lunchtime she had come over, his feelings for her grew each and every day. 

All he wanted was to gather her in his arms, kiss her and whisper sweet words that would make her freckled cheeks blush and bring upon that goddess of a smile that would light up her eyes. 

He wanted to lay with her, on their sides and facing each other, staring longingly before he would kiss her and take her gently. He'd drag out a moan from her, pulling their bodies in and be locked with her. 

He wanted to wake up every morning with her at his side, turn over and whisper the words that seemed to settle deep within his heart. 

He wanted to take her on an adventure around the globe, spend every waking moment with her. 

He wanted a life with her, despite the age gap and every other possibility that could hinder their relationship. 

But Cillian would appreciate the small moments he had with Gabrijela even when another man made love to her body and made her smile in a way no one would. Not even him now. 

He would work with her, be as close as friends in the months that passed. He would do whatever it takes to make her the best person through this internship of hers. There were some days where she did not show up, he had learned she was to take some online exams and she had been studying full out while she was here. 

Gabrijela had not just worked on the set of Peaky Blinders either, there were times where Allison had trusted her enough to handle smaller projects for small plays and send her off to other parts of London to work with other people. It was fantastic, she would be working another four months after she would leave Peaky Blinders. She had to extend her stay here, her parents seemed iffy but they saw how happy she was. So they let her stay. 

Even began to pay for her rent despite she was being paid for the four months she was at this play. Even the extra month and a week for free time for herself. 

But it came the time for Gabrijela to say goodbye to the cast she had called family. It was a crazy madhouse but she enjoyed every moment of it. 

The cast all gave their farewells to her, hugging and giving her a large poster of all the cast before and now and it was all signed. The back of it had a heartfelt message. Gabrijela would cherish it, she wasn't the type to be annoyed. She loved anything that was given to her, but just no food. That was something she didn't like. 

They had even taken a group photo all dressed up and in the famous street, Watery Lane. 

Once the goodbyes were said and last hugs, she finally left with the giant poster and a cap signed by Cillian. She smiled as she sat on the train and hugged the cap to her chest, Logan beside her and playing on his phone. 

She hoped she would see Cillian sometime during the next few months, especially before she'd leave. He really had an impact on her, soul, body and heart. She realised, despite being with Logan, she would always love Cillian. And not just as a friend. 

Once they got off the train, they walked down the street together, hand in hand. "Have a good day?" Logan asked her. 

"Yeah, I did. I'm gonna miss it." She said, looking up at her boyfriend. 

"I'm gonna miss you and our fun." He nudged her, she giggled. 

"I'll come by and visit." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. 

As they neared her apartment, someone was sitting at the stairs. 

Gabrijela squinted and saw the familiar wild black curly hair and the pink fluffy jumper.

"Oh, my god. Lucia?!" Gabrijela gasped. 

The black girl turned and beamed, "GABBIE!" She cried and ran to her, the two girls clutching each other and laughing. 

"Oh my god!! Lucia!" Gab cried again and hugged her tightly. 

"Hello! Finally! Oh my god, am I glad to see you!" Lucia cupped her face and giggling. 

"Oh, its good to see you too, beautiful." Gab was almost in tears. 

Lucia spotted Logan walking over, carrying the things Gab had dropped. 

"Damn, who is this hunk of a man?" Lucia smirked and pulled away, holding her hand out. "Lucia, nice to meet you..." She trailed off. 

"Logan." He laughed and shook her hand, "Gab's boyfriend." 

Lucia gasped and looked at Gab, "Boyfriend?!" 

"Oh god, Logan." Gab pouted, "Yeah. We clicked." 

"Oh my, lucky girl." Lucia giggled. 

It started to rain, "Let's go inside. I'll make us tea or something." Gabrijela said. 

"Oh, no. I better head home. It's another long day tomorrow." Logan shook his head, handing Gab her stuff. 

"Aw, come on. I need to hear the details." Lucia said. 

Gabrijela sighed and gave a look to Logan and it convinced him. 

"Only for a bit, then I gotta get going." He said. 

The trio got into the apartment and got comfy. Gabrijela made tea for them all as Lucia began to shoot questions left, right and centre. Lucia explained how she wanted to surprise Gabrijela by coming here for two weeks and to travel around with her since she was now free. But then it came to how Logan became Gabrijela's boyfriend soon enough. 

Gabrijela answered briefly when it came to the sex and Logans... size downstairs. 

Logan seemed to not want to answer to much about it either, "I don't find that appropriate." He said to Lucia who looked pouty. 

"Why not? It shouldn't be too shameful." Lucia said sipping her tea. 

Gabrijela sat beside Logan, a hand on his thigh. 

"Well, I don't like to talk about it." Logan quipped, scowling a little. 

"Fine, how long have you two been dating then?" Lucia asked, scoffing. 

"Almost a month now," Gabrijela replied, not really liking how Lucia was behaving childishly. 

"Nice. Let's hope it lasts." She said with a hint of annoyance. 

"What did you say?" Gabrijela glared at her. 

"I just said let's hope it lasts." She shrugged and put her empty cup down. 

"Lucia, what's wrong, huh? I thought you'd be happy." Gabrijela seemed upset. 

"Hey, okay. I think uh you best be going, Lucia." Logan said, keeping an arm around Gabrijela. 

"Why? Am I bothering you?" She stared at him with a hard look. 

"No, but you are making your best friend here clearly upset." Logan shot back. 

She sighed and stood, "Fine. I'll go." She said and just... left like that. 

Gabrijela sighed heavily, "She does this all the time. And not just with you, with my other friends." She said, looking up at him. 

"Doesn't seem healthy. Or good behaviour." He kissed her forehead. 

"I'll see what's up tomorrow." She said and stood up with him. "You don't want to stay?" She wrapped her arms around his waist. 

"I'd love to, but I got an early start tomorrow." He leaned down and kissed her deeply, "I'll stay tomorrow night." 

She smiled, "Okay. You take care." She murmured and kissed him once more before he also left as well. 

[concretingbyranda-blog]

What is Slab?

Slab is an important structural element which is constructed to create buildings, houses, flats and useful surface such as raft slab, roof coverings. Slab is two dimensional or planar element

Types of slab:-

1.Conventional solid slab: - the slab which are supported with beams and columns is called conventional slab this kind of slab is small whereas depth of beam is large and load is transferred to beams and from beams to columns.These type of slabs are used in constructing Floors of multi stored building

It is two type:-

a) ONE WAY SLAB

b)TWO WAY SLAB

2.Flat slab:- Flat slab is a reinforced concrete suspended slabs supported directly by concrete columns or caps .flat slab don’t have beams. They are supported on column itself. Loads are directly transferred to columns, in this type of construction a plain ceiling is obtained thus giving Attractive appearance from architectural point of view.

3 Waffle slab:-Waffle slab is a reinforced concrete roof or floor containing square grids with deep sides. This kind of slab is majorly used at entrance hotels, malls, restaurants for good pictorial view and install artificial lighting.

If you are in need of professional concrete services, Concreting by R&A can help you with that. Concreting by R&A is one of the leading Concrete Companies in Sydney. We provide Concrete suspended slabs, raft slab and cove concrete finish services in Sydney. Connect with Concreting by R&A and add value to your house.

[professortennant]

lifetimes (a jean/lucien, tdbm secret santa fic)

@lorelaigilmore​ became my adopted secret santa! em prompted “jean/lucien + i have waited for you for such a long time” and below is what i came up with. happy holidays, em and thanks for being such a huge part of our tiny fandom! your enthusiasm and energy keeps us all going!

3450 words; soulmate AU

Perhaps it sounded romantic: walking the world alone, forever twenty-five, and waiting, waiting, waiting for your soulmate. The legend went that the gods of old took pity upon the agony and suffering of mankind and promised them a soulmate, the perfect person with whom your life could be lived out and shared. So, while the humans slept, the gods descended upon them and like a warm whisper, simultaneously cursed and blessed them and every generation that followed.

You would simply turn twenty-five and stop aging until you met your soulmate. And then, as the stories told, you would feel the crackle and tingle of electricity as your lips touched theirs and your cells would come bursting to life with activity once more. Your skin cells would shed, your hair grow, cells would die and regenerate and you would age and live out the rest of your lives together: aging and in tandem.

Most found their soulmates within a few years. Soulmates, after all, were those you cried out for, the ones you grew up with, the ones you longed for. The longest someone had ever waited was fifty-three years. When Alice Harvey finally–finally–met Matthew Lawson, she just knew. As she later confessed to the reporters who hounded them, desperate for a story to lift the spirits of lonely souls everywhere: He was waiting for me and I was waiting for him. Someone had to stop waiting and go looking. 

She had traveled from New York to London to Sydney to Melbourne to Ballarat, simply following her heart straight to him. Alice, on the arm of a beaming and shellshocked Matthew, had joked, “I had all the time in the world. I could afford a little walking, a little adventure.” She held the record for “Longest Soulmate Wait” but she preferred the accolade of Matthew Lawson’s soulmate best.  

And then, stealing her record and baffling the world, Lucien Blake turned twenty-five and the world stopped turning for him for eighty-seven years.

At first, Lucien was confident, cocky. He was a good looking bloke, twenty-five, indestructible, cocky, and from a privileged home. Surely, surely his soulmate was simply around the corner, waiting for him, waiting for the best parts of their lives to being.

On the day of his twenty-fifth birthday, he kissed Monica Parker through a sure grin, confident he would feel the tingle of bursting cells, his mother’s engagement ring sat heavy in his pocket, waiting to be lifted and placed on her finger.

But the kiss, while as warm and wet and pleasurable as he could ask for, was just that: a kiss.

No tingle. No crackle. No electricity. 

He pulled away, frowning. “I’m so sorry, Monica. But I–you’re–we’re not–”

But she had put a finger to his lips, a sad smile on her face and shook her head at him. “No, we’re not.” It was the first of many disappointments in Lucien’s life, a soulmate just out of reach.

When he returned home, his father–looking older than he had in some time–simply put a heavy, comforting hand on his shoulder, eyes sad and distant. “Perhaps it’s better this way, son. Perhaps it’s better to not find her.”

Lucien stared at his father. Thomas, who had lost his soulmate so soon after finding her, who had waited and waited for years only to spend a fraction of his life with her. Perhaps his father was right–a soulmate was something that stopped you from living. You could live forever, travel everywhere, do everything. He didn’t need love, didn’t need a soulmate. 

He nodded at his father, thinking. “Perhaps.”

Upstairs in the quiet comfort of his bedroom, he slipped his mother’s engagement ring into his bedside drawer where it would remain for the next eighty-seven years. The soft click of the drawer, encasing the ring in darkness, echoed the closing of his heart. A soulmate was not for him, but life–life–was. 

The next day, he traveled to Edinburgh and began his formal medical training. Life was waiting.

For eighty-six years and six months, Lucien Blake walked the world alone. Medical school in Edinburgh, residency in London, fellowship in France. Then, onto the military, enlisting in the Army and fighting beside his fellow countrymen. At each stop along the way, he saw man after man, woman after woman, find their soulmate. 

He watched as sleek brown and blonde hair turned frizzy and gray, smooth skin turn wrinkly, and unadorned left ring fingers become encircled with bands of gold and silver and diamond and emeralds and sapphires.

But he, Lucien, remained free and young and youthful. There had been moments in which he was sure–so sure–that he had found her. Mei Lin had filled his heart with wonder and adventure and excitement. Her kisses were hot and searching and left him gasping for air, wanting nothing more than to lean back in and drink her up.

But his face remained smooth and ageless and Mei Lin kissed him soundly, murmuring against his lips that just because they weren’t soulmates didn’t mean they couldn’t have a good time.

When he made love to her, it took on a desperation that had never been there before–as if he could fuck his way into making her his soulmate. For the first time in his long, long life Lucien felt desperate and lonely. He wanted to move on to the next chapter of his life.

But that aching, hollow, empty feeling that loneliness sometimes leaves sat in his chest and his father’s words from long ago echoed in his mind: Perhaps it’s better this way. Perhaps it’s better to not find her.

And when he received the note the next morning that his father had passed away, he took it as a sign that he needed to come home, that his father had reached out and reminded him with his last breath that soulmates were for suckers.

He kissed Mei Lin goodbye and wished her good luck as he gathered his pants and shirt and shoes and headed for the airport–only his wallet and clothes in hand. The flight home had never felt so long.

Jean Beazley, his father’s housekeeper, was shockingly beautiful. A young, smooth face, curled hair, and stunning eyes that seemed to pierce through you, see into your heart and size you up before you had time to utter your name.

Her eyes were narrowed as she took in his disheveled appearance and she ignored his outstretched hand of introduction and simply stepped aside to let him in. “I know who you are,” she said, simply. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like she did know who he was–perhaps better than he knew himself.

They stood in the hallway of his childhood home, the ghost of his father hovering in the walls, and Lucien felt his heart pick up speed. Was this her? He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this pull towards someone before–as if an invisible golden thread connected them. 

As they walked to the kitchen, exchanging introductions and pleasantries, Lucien couldn’t help but notice the way they orbited one another, balanced each other. For each flick of his eyes towards her, she would turn away. For each furtive glance she snuck, he would avert his gaze. Yin and yang.

Lucien was getting ready to take a chance–one last chance–to ask if she had been waiting, too. Had she felt the pull between them? Had she been waiting as long as he had? 

The words were rising up in his throat, sticking against his tongue, about to drop from his lips, his heart beating wildly, when he saw it: a wedding ring, glinting off her finger in the dim yellow light of the Blake kitchen.

The words dried up immediately, the hope dying in his chest. 

Married.

Was he so lonely, so desperate, he was sensing connection where there wasn’t one?

He accepted the slightly shaking teacup and saucer she offered him with a smile and winked at her as he pulled out a flask from his coat pocket and added a splash of whiskey. He laughed at her shocked look and tucked the flash back in. 

“You get to be my age and you learn to enjoy the consolations of life–however few they may be.”

Jean snorted into her cup before reaching over and plucking the flask from his coat, shaking it slightly and hearing the liquid slosh about. She quirked an eyebrow at him. “There seems to be rather a lot of consolation here.” Then, to his surprise, she unscrewed the cap and added a generous splash to her own cup before handing it back to him.

They clinked their teacups together and drank deeply, Jean grimacing at the burn of whiskey. Lucien hid a smile behind his cup. 

Jean Beazley may just made it worth his while to stay in Ballarat. At least, he told himself, until he could understand this thread, this connection between them–wedding ring or no.

In the ensuing months, Lucien had never felt so frustrated, so challenged, so enamored by another human being before as he did with Jean Beazley. 

Jean–who offered nothing of her personal life–but was was there pick and hover and thread herself into his own life. Jean–who wore a wedding ring–but never spoke of her husband. Jean–who learned how he liked his tea and who woke him with a gentle touch on the back of his neck when he fell asleep over a case file. Jean–who he was starting to lean on more and more, who he was falling in love with more and more each day. Jean–who agreed to be not his housekeeper, but his partner.

It was driving him crazy. She was driving him crazy. For almost eighty-seven years, he had accepted his fate of loneliness. That perhaps there was simply no one for him. And now, with the woman he felt he could hand his heart over to, the woman who he wanted to see sprout age lines around her eyes and see her curling brown hair streaked with grey–this woman was married.

He had dared to hope and that hope had been wadded up and thrown back in his face.

So he did what he had done for his entire life: he drank it all away.

Whiskey after whiskey at the club, he downed each one of them as if the burn from the alcohol could burn away his feelings. If he could forget her, he could move on. He could continue roaming the Earth alone, forget what it felt like to want a soulmate, to want her. 

But then he remembered Jean’s soft confession from a few weeks ago, that she and her husband had wanted to travel before he fell ill; that she wanted to see the world. He would travel alone and see the wonders of the world, yes, but he would forever think of her, of Jean, and wish she was at his side, hand in his, seeing the wonder right alongside him.

The whiskey, he decided, wasn’t working. The tab paid, his vision blurring, his head fuzzy, and his heart aching in the way only alcohol could make it do, he stumbled home. Lucien wanted to fall into bed and wake up and have the strength to leave Ballarat, leave Jean.

Except, upon his rather loud and clumsy entrance into his home, he found himself face to face with an irate Jean Beazley.

He squinted at her, as if unable to believe she was there, standing in his hallway. But there she was, hands on her hips, and a glower firmly in place.

He groaned and slumped against the wall, sliding down it and looking up at her through blurry eyes. “Jean, please, just go. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

She squatted down in front of him, hand on his arm. There it was again–that hot, electric jolt all across his skin, as if he was coming back to life after a long, long sleep. Her hand crept over his arm and up to his face, tilting his head back so she could look at him. Her fingers pushed the stray curl of hair off his forehead and she shook her head at him. 

“Oh, Lucien,” she sighed. There was something there–a sadness–to her voice that made Lucien keen, made him want to roll over and beg and plead and promise that he would do anything to make her happy again.

“What happened that you needed this?” She stood and tried to lift him, slinging his arm over her shoulders and behind her neck, and he went willingly, allowing her to lead him to the bedroom. 

His brain whirled as he processed her question and he thought how he could tell her everything, even as he tumbled into bed and she pulled his shoes off and tucked him in. It came to him then and he grabbed her arm, stopping her from leaving.

The light from the hallway cut across her face, leaving her in half shadow and Lucien wished he could see her.

“I have waited,” he started, the words thick in his throat. “Such a long time for you. Almost eighty-seven years. And then I find you and you’re–” He broke off, chuckling in that dry, flat way when all you can do is laugh in the face of misery. “And you’re married. I have waited for you and you aren’t for me at all. I just wanted you.” 

The alcohol caught up to him, then, and his eyes flickered closed and he turned over, mumbling into the pillow, “I just wanted you.”

With his back to her and his eyes closed, Lucien missed the way Jean’s face contorted, the way her fingers twisted at the thick gold band on her finger. All he knew was the heavy weight of a confession, of a burden, leaving his shoulders as he fell into a deep, alcohol-induced sleep. 

The next morning, Lucien stumbled down the hallway, the events of the previous night flooding into his mind. He half-expected to see a note of resignation from Jean on the kitchen table. Perhaps this was the sign he needed: it was time to move on. There was nothing here for him. He had ruined the one good thing he did have.

However, instead of a note, he found Jean herself at his table, the tea kettle still gently steaming on the stove and two fresh cups of tea spread out on the surface of the table. Next to his cup stood a tall glass of water and a handful of white Bex tablets. 

He took his seat beside Jean, sneaking glances at her over the rim of his teacup. With a contented sigh at the feel of the smooth tea soothing his throat and the Bex already working their magic, he slumped back in his chair, nervously tracing the rim of his cup with the tip of his finger.

Before his apology could bubble up from his lips and escape, Jean slid her wedding ring off her finger and placed it on the table between them. Lucien stared at the ring and then at Jean, mouth parted slightly.

Jean swallowed and began her tale. “I have hidden behind this ring for far too long, Lucien. I was married, yes, long ago. When Christopher and I met, he was my first love. I had never kissed another boy, had barely even touched one. My mother was old-fashioned–believed in saving myself, every part of myself–for my soulmate. When Christopher kissed me at twenty-five and slid his ring on my finger, it felt like he was my soulmate. Kissing was so nice and kissing Christopher felt right.”

Jean looked up at him then, tears stinging her eyes. “But I was so wrong, Lucien. We married and the years passed, but we never got older.”

Understanding dawned on Lucien’s face, the hope in his chest blooming once more and he leaned forward, covering Jean’s hand with his own. The crackle, the heat, of their combined touch slid up their arms and this time, like a veil had been lifted from his eyes, Lucien saw that Jean felt it, too. Jean shuddered and he tightened his grip on her. 

Jean licked her lips and continued, eyes fixed on their joined hands. “We realized we had made a mistake–that we weren’t each other’s soulmates at all. We agreed to part ways and start over. But Lucien, I felt so, so ashamed. I had been so wrong. I thought about what my soulmate–my real soulmate–would say when he learned I hadn’t waited; when he learned that I couldn’t tell the difference between a nice kiss and a soulmate’s kiss.”

She shook her head at herself, wiping a tear from beneath her eye. She gave him a watery smile. “So I moved here and pretended that my soulmate had died. It was easier this way–to just pretend. It stopped the whispers and stares and speculations. But then,” she laughed. “Then I met you.”

She peered at him from beneath damp eyelashes. “I thought maybe it was just me. But then last night…”

Jean trailed off and Lucien scooted forward, his chair scraping against the linoleum floor and his large, calloused hand cupped her cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear. “It wasn’t just you. Oh, Jean. It wasn’t just you at all.”

He wanted to tell her about how long he had walked the world, the things he had seen, the number of times he had given up hope of ever finding her. He wanted to tell her sometimes he felt like a scared little boy, afraid to be alone in the dark and desperately wishing for a hand to hold. 

But his chest was tight and eighty-seven years of loneliness and longing seemed to be charged and electric within him and he lifted their joined hands to his lips, pressing a single solitary kiss to the place where their fingers entwined.

At the touch of his lips to her skin, both jolted as warmth and heat flooded through them. If this was what a simple kiss on the hand felt like…

Lucien traced her lips with his finger and Jean shuddered at his touch. “Please,” he croaked out. “Please let me kiss you. Please. I have waited–we–have waited so long, love.”

The endearment, the desperation, years of waiting all culminated into a single gesture: a nod. 

Lucien seemed to sink against her–into her–their joined lips a point of contact as their bodies and souls cried out together. His lips covered hers and they drowned in the feel of light and life and a new beginning crashing over them.

She gasped at the sheer electricity his touch elicited and he took the opportunity to lick into her mouth, tasting tea and honey and lemon and Jean. 

Jean’s hands anchored themselves on either side of his face, holding him to her and drinking from his lips, each kiss a fresh sip, each lave of her tongue quenching her thirst for him.

For the first time, they felt complete. For the first time, they were home.

Pulling away, breathless and happier than he had ever been in his entire life, laughter and happiness and love bubbling up from his chest, expressing itself as peppered kisses across Jean’s lips and cheeks and forehead and nose, Lucien felt everything click into place.

He pulled away, forehead resting on hers, and teased, “Do you think that was a soulmate’s kiss?”

She swatted his shoulder before grinning and pulling him closer to her by his robe’s lapel, lips slanting over his and laughing into his mouth. “Prat,” she murmured. 

Their kisses were tinged with the taste of tea, the sunlight filtered in through the kitchen window and bathed them in a warmth of light that equaled the warmth of their union. 

His father, Lucien decided was wrong. It wasn’t better to never have this, to never find this. Jean was his. 

And she was worth every second, every year, of waiting.

[mariaawilliams]

Wall Removal Sydney - Adding Value to Your Property

Are you looking forward to making some significant alternations and additions to your property's living space without investing too much? If so, then it is recommended that you consider wall removal Sydney.

Your preferences and plan will determine whether you need to remove just one wall or multiple walls, which can be quite cumbersome. Such a task requires the involvement of an experienced wall removal professional.

Why Hire Professionals for This Job?

Removing a wall in your property can completely change the square footage, lighting, and look of your space. A wall, especially a load-bearing wall, carries your property's weight, so it's crucial to have someone with knowledge and experience remove it correctly. Particularly in older properties, identifying a load-bearing wall is not an easy task. Historically, properties built decades ago were often designed with continuous and multiple beams across the property, relying on support from flooring and walls. A professional wall removal contractor will perform an on-site inspection to confirm which walls offer structural support and then create a plan to efficiently and successfully remove them to build the space you desire.

How it Works

Working with a wall removal Sydney is straightforward and hassle-free. Throughout the process, the contractor will make sure to cover/move furniture carefully and appropriately and lay down protective sheets so that the project is completed with confidence. These professionals also minimize dust migration via portable dust screens and extract systems if required and hence, minimize the impact of the work on the surrounding rooms. Following are the steps involved in a typical wall removal project:

• You request a free no-obligation quote.

• If required, you apply for building approval.

• Once approved, the wall removal contractor will order all the required materials to be delivered to your site and prepare the area to start the project.

• The contractor will complete all scoped works while ensuring structural integrity and compliance with state standards.

• Finally, the contractor will make sure that the affected areas are cleaned.

Services Offered

Wall removal contractors specialize in many services. The services offered vary from one contractor to another. Generally, these are the most common wall removal services offered:

• Free wall inspection and quote

• Removal of load-bearing stud walls

• Garage wall removal

• Removal of indoor and outdoor brick walls

• Removal of plasterboard walls with timber and steel studs

• Creating a large window and door openings

• Floor patching to create a seamless finish

• Finishing and capping walls for repaint

• Site cleaning and debris removal.

Whether you are removing a wall in your primary residence or an investment property, a house is a valuable investment and projects like these will directly affect its overall market value. Therefore, when you look for a wall removal Sydney, be sure to put stakes on a familiar name with all the project's ins and outs and have access to the latest tools to have the wall removal done correctly and safely.

[footballghana]

FEATURE: It is now 25 years and counting since South Africa tasted Africa Cup of Nations glory

The 3 February 1996 is date etched into South Africa's sporting history - it is the day Bafana Bafana lifted the Africa Cup of Nations for the first time.

A quarter of a century later that win remains their only success in the tournament despite the country's status as a continental superpower.

South African football expert Mark Gleeson looks back at what has now become a reference point for South African football as well as a nostalgic throwback and at why the current South Africa teams looks a long way from repeating the feat.

Tournament memories

The South African football community now increasingly harks back to that Saturday 25 years ago when substitute Mark Williams scored twice in the second half against Tunisia at Soccer City.

His goals set off frenzied home celebrations at the end of a tournament that South Africa hurriedly put together, after Kenya had been stripped as hosts.

Their path to victory had been made somewhat easier by Nigeria pulling out on the eve of the tournament because of a diplomatic spat with South Africa after Nelson Mandela criticised the judicial killing of Ken Saro-Wiwa by the Sani Abacha regime.

Nigeria were holders and their powerful team would later that year go onto win the gold medal at the Olympic Games in Atlanta, but winning coach Clive Barker says his Bafana Bafana side were "the right team at the right place and time".

They started the tournament in ominous style by beating Cameroon 3-0 and played the game of their career to beat Ghana by the same score in the semi-finals.

South Africa's consecration as champions - at their first attempt tin the finals - by beating Tunisia proved an emotive affair, highlighted by a beaming Nelson Mandela pumping his fists in delight as he stood on the presentation podium in a South African team jersey.

Stuck in gear

But while South Africa have since gone onto compete at nine subsequent Nations Cup tournaments, they only other time they have reached the final was two years later in in Burkina Faso.

Hosting the 2010 World Cup handed the country a massive infrastructure boost but any improvement hoped for on the field never materialised.

On the anniversary of their Nations Cup win Bafana Bafana are the 13th best team in Africa and 71st overall, according to the latest Fifa rankings.

When they won the 96 Nations Cup, they went up to 19th in the world and have never been that high in the rankings since.

Much of the lustre around the team has gone and as a result commercial connections are proving harder to find.

Sponsors were once queuing to associate themselves with the team, but now the South African Football Association has to make barter deals and get municipalities to cover the costs of hosting their fixtures.

The last time the team played in a front of a crowd - before the Covid-19 pandemic, was a Nations Cup qualifier against Sudan at Soweto's Orlando Stadium in November 2019, where just over 10 000 came to watch.

Solving the problems

Just why Bafana Bafana have not been able to repeat their title winning feat is a question that perplexes, particularly given the facilities South African has in comparison to most other countries on the continent.

The 1996 winning captain Neil Tovey reckons it comes down to leadership and mental strength.

"There have been some good teams and some good players since but I think mentally we were strong; we were all captains on the field, we knew our responsibilities," he told BBC Sport Africa

"We knew how to solve problems on the pitch and identify situations a lot quicker than perhaps teams since could. I don't think the sides since have had the required leadership on the field."

In 2000 a shock win over Brazil for South Africa's under-23 team earned at the Sydney Olympics leading to hope and expectation that when the team progressed to senior level that they could be the next to conquer the continent.

But it never happened, something that Stanton Fredericks, a prominent member of that generation who played in Greece, Switzerland and Russia, says "haunts me"

"The association have to take some of the the blame for their structures not having consistency. They never had a plan to filter us into the senior team, and there was no succession plan," Fredericks, now a television analyst, explained.

"But the 1996 team was a special one, naturally gifted, we were then a nation hungry for success.

"You can do it over one tournament… look at Senegal in the 2002 World Cup. But after that it fell flat.

"You can't cheat in football. This is where the foundations come in and if you haven't mastered the basics, what you will be able to achieve is limite.,"

The president's thoughts

For the South Africa Football Association president Danny Jordaan, who has held a variety of different roles in the organisation since 1992, says the key is to have more players based at clubs outside of South Africa.

"You can only have a Bafana team compete effectively on the continent when the mainstream flow of talent into the team is battle-hardened players from the Champions League," he explained.

"We need players who come into the side having already won considerable caps at junior level.

"It means that your under-17s and under-20s must compete regularly at both the African championship and the World Cups and the under-23 must get to the Olympics."

He says eliminating hosts Egypt at the last Nations Cup showed there is some potential.

"It was a huge disappointment for them but a glorious moment for South Africa. It was very emotional and intense match but a great success," he said.

"But good teams win now and then but great teams win repeatedly and that is what we want."

Source: bbc.com

source: https://footballghana.com/