#dutch city station

[huariqueje]

Utrecht Station - Wim Bettenhausen , 2007.

Dutch , b. 1942 -

Acrylic on panel , 50 x 60 cm.

[uitzinnigmp3]

why you hate amsterdam?

i guess hate is a strong word, but i find amsterdam a very overrated part of the netherlands. theres sooo many other beautiful places here, i get very annoyed when tourists act like amsterdam = the netherlands. plus i just don't love big cities in general and i don't like huge crowds of people and busy places lmao but thats my own problem

[despacito-uwu16]

PRETTY PLEASE

(Pining! Kenji Sato x Reader)

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

"pretty please come on over and ruin my life" - Pretty Please by Dutch Melrose

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

Kenji woke up in his room with a pounding headache and a wave of nausea hitting him like a ton of bricks. Mina held the trashcan as Kenji threw up the contents from last night’s party. After he was done, Mina set down a sandwich, along with some water and painkillers. “Thanks, Mina”. He said as he took a bite of the sandwich. Before she left his bedroom, she closed the curtains, making the room dark again. Kenji put the sandwich back on the plate and lied back down on the bed. He closed his eyes again, and the events of last night came flooding back. The techno music blasting, the alcohol, the girl…

The girl… she was all alone at the after party so Kenji approached her. It went from small talk and flirting to long, deep conversations. The next thing he knew, they were dancing on the dance floor. He remembers her angelic laugh, her strong lavender perfume, the way she would look at him while he held her as they danced. They were perfect for each other.

“She was so pretty”…

“Fuck what was her name again”?

Kenji looked through his contacts, trying to see if there was a name or a phone number he wasn’t familiar with. But alas, nothing. As he sinks further down into the soft pillows, his hands fell onto his face. Of all the things he didn’t do, he didn’t think to ask for her phone number.

He couldn’t stop daydreaming about the girl. Everywhere he went, he thought he saw her. But he always ends up mistaking her for another random lady. 

His pining got to the point where it annoyed his baseball team. Every time Kenji would bring up the mystery girl, his teammates would groan, yelling at him to shut the fuck up.  Even his coach had enough of the mystery girl nonsense.

“If you don’t get your head out of the gutter, i’m trading you to the tigers. That’s a promise”. His coach threatened.

Even Mina noticed how distracted Kenji was. Every time Kenji came back from battle, he would show up with more bruises and injuries. 

“Kenji, what’s going on with you? You keep loosing your focus”. Mina asked. 

“I’m fine Mina, really I am”. Kenji puts an ice pack on his shoulder, the cold stinging his skin. 

“This is about the girl from your dreams, isn’t it”? Mina pressed on.

Kenji sighs. “She isn’t some girl I made up! She’s real Mina, and the thought of her is driving me crazy. What’s even worse is I never got her phone number”. 

“I’m sure you’ll see her again”. Mina reassures him. 

“In a city like Tokyo? I doubt it”. He pouts. 

Everyone around him is well aware of how down bad he is for the girl. The thought of her is ruining him, but he didn’t care. He wants to see her again. Scratch that, he NEEDS to see her again. 

But a few weeks go by, an the thought of the mystery girl eventually died down. His focus came back and Kenji can properly function again. 

He was filling up the water coolers for his team, minding his own business when all of a sudden, he heard a familiar laugh. He turned around and saw a (hair color) haired girl talking on the phone while filling up her water bottle at the same water station. 

“It’s you”. He muttered out loud.

The girl turned around and looked at him. Kenji panicked, he finally found the mystery girl that had been plaguing his mind for weeks, and now he couldn’t form a single sentence.

“Hey, can I call you back? Okay bye”. The girl hung up her phone and approached Kenji. 

“Well, if it isn’t Ken Sato”. She smirked

“I can’t believe it’s you”. Said Kenji.

“In the flesh. I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried when you blacked out”. She said.

Kenji looks at her in confusion. “I blacked out? But Ken Sato never passes out”. 

“Well, you did. It was during our dance. My guess is the soju finally caught up to you”. She chuckled. 

He finally remembered now. He had two soju bottles and the next thing he knew, he saw stars. Talk about embarrassment.

“Anyways, my brother and I took you home”. She added. 

“Damn… I’m sorry, I really wanted to see you again, but I never got your number”. He said.

“I slipped my phone number in your jacket, hoping you would find it. But then I waited and then realized you probably didn’t want to talk to me”. She looked down at the ground. 

Kenji’s mentally face palmed himself. He didn’t think to look through his clothes before laundering them.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it! God I’m such an idiot”. He scratched his head. 

“It’s okay Ken. Here, give me your phone”. She gestured for it. 

He gave her his phone and she added her number on his notes app. 

“Text me and we can get dinner sometime”. She hands his phone back.

“I would like that”. He smiled at her. 

Suddenly, they hear the crowds cheering loudly from the stadium

“I guess that’s my cue to head back in. Can’t wait to see you play Ken”. She winks and turns to leave. 

He walked away, feeling incredibly lucky and lovestruck. But he snapped out of it when he realized…

“WAIT I DIDN’T GET YOUR”- 

But as he turned around, she was gone again. Lost in the crowd full of people.

“Name”…

“Well, at least I got your number”. Kenji thought

He looked down at his phone and saw the number she just put in, along with her name: 

“Y/N”

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

Likes, Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated!!

FYI: Requests are open so feel free to send me some ideas for future one shots!

[dalekofchaos]

There was never a rat in the Van Der Linde Gang

I'm gonna be honest. Micah is a conniving snake. But there was never a rat.

Why did Blackwater fail? Dutch killed a mother in cold blood and then a massacre happened. The money was a set up and Dutch took the bait. Pinkertons swarmed the area and even Landon Rickets was there.

How did they find them at Horseshoe? By chance the Pinkertons found Arthur and Jack fishing, but was it really by chance? What happens in chapter 2?

A bar fight where fucking everyone in town is there, which afterwords Dutch is there

You sprang Sean free and there are bounty hunters who flee, you seriously don't think they talked??

Oh yeah, ARTHUR AND MICAH SHOOT UP A FUCKING TOWN

John killing Micah led to Ross and Fordham finding him. Any of the missions I mentioned practically led Milton and Ross to finding Arthur near Horseshoe.

How did the Gray/Braithewaite scheme fail?

The Grays knew what they were doing and so did the Braithewaites. They played both families instead of just one and instead of LYING LOW. Dutch's vanity, ego and sense of wanting petty revenge against Confederate white trash caused Sean to be killed and Jack to be abducted.

How did Saint Denis fail?

Dutch played Bronte in his own city, refused a favor(you do NOT refuse the Mob asking a favor) which caused the set up, then Bronte's murder and finally the Bank Robbery which they knew they were there.

The common theory is someone from the gang snitched and talked to the Pinkertons. Who exactly ? Micah ? Well, Agent Milton said they picked up Micah AFTER they came back from Guarma, so it could not have been him. Molly ? Again, Milton said they did pick her up (not mentioned when), but she did not say anything. I have also read theories that it might have been Agibail who snitched to which my response is - pure BS.

The truth is, nobody snitched, nobody talked. Yes. Yet the reaction of the Pinkertons was insanely fast, as if they knew the robbery was going to go down. How you wonder ? Well, it's simple. It's a long one, but have a read.

From the very beginning of the game, Dutch has been claiming that they are a few steps ahead of everyone else, but his arrogance proved to be the downfall. You see, the Pinkertons are not as dull and foolish as Dutch claim them to be, they are extremely efficient as a detective agency proven by the fact that they tracked down Arthur in Valentine. Now, when the gang moved to Clemens Point near Rhodes, the Pinkertons lost their trail for a while. However the gang contradicted their own plan of staying low by creating a huge chaos in Rhodes after killing both the Gray's and the Braithwaite's (best mission in the game btw). As soon as the word spread of the massacre of both the families in Rhodes all over the place, the Pinkertons connected the dots and knew that it could be the Van Der Lind gang who created the fuss and if so, they must be camping somewhere near Rhodes. Nonetheless, they found the gang hideout after sniffing around, a day or two after the Braithwaite massacre. At this point Agent Milton knew these bunch of people would not be too hard to find as all you need to do is to sniff around an area where there has been murder and madness.

Now to Saint Denis, Dutch dismissed Hosea's idea and went after Angelo Bronte just after the failed trolley station robbery. If he listened to Hosea, hit the bank at once, then vanished, the Pinkertons would have never caught on and they would be harvesting mango's in Tahiti. But a failed trolley station robbery followed by a huge shootout in the city killing dozens of cops then followed by a kidnapping and murder of the most powerful man in the city was enough chaos for the Pinkertons to realize it's the Van Der Lind gang. So they knew the gang is around this city and increased security in Saint Denis hoping that the next time they attempt a robbery, it would be the endgame. That is why as soon as the bank robbery started, the Pinkertons were all over the place.

It is also easy to explain why Hosea was captured and Abigail escaped. While causing the distraction, both of them did not realise how fast the response is going to be. The Pinkertons caught Hosea as his face along with other male members of the gang was known to them, specially Hosea, Dutch and Arthur as they have been the oldest members of the gang. But Abigail at this point was unknown to them so it was easy for her to walk right past them without them realizing.

Why did the gang fell?

Micah got into Dutch's ear, Hosea died and Arthur got sick.

Micah promised him riches and the glorious scores that appealed to Dutch's ego and vanity. But he wasn't the rat.

If he did rat, he was playing Dutch and the Pinkertons to get the Blackwater money and the money for turning in Dutch.

However.

It was all Dutch.

Dutch. killed Cornwall in broad fucking daylight. Arthur sprung John out of prison, they blew up a fucking bridge, Dutch led the Natives to their doom, Colm's execution turned into a bloodbath, an attack on the Oil Refinery which led to the deaths of Colonel Favors and Eagle Flies and to top it all with robbing the military. It's no fucking wonder the Pinkertons found them.

There was no rat. The Pinkerton’s were actually just good at their jobs. Micah being a rat makes no sense if you actually think about it. There’s NO WAY the pinkertons would have been ok with the death of Leviticus Cornwall as he was paying their wages. Micah and Dutch planned to kill him together. There’s also the fact that Micah straight up killed Pinkertons in the firefight that ensued cornwall’s death. Micah was an asshole but not a rat. Watch that scene with Milton and Arthur again…Milton would have most likely let Arthur go with that false information but Arthur decided to attack him. There was never a rat, they got played.

It's a combination of things on why they all failed.

Reason 1. Dutch's vanity and ego. Dutch desperately needed to be seen as this great American hero. He cares more of the thrill of “one last score” it’s all about his ego and how he has to be seen as this Evelyn Millerian figure. This great American Literature hero when he’s really as bad as the greed that he says poisons America. He never cared about the people in the gang. It was the prestige of the name "The VAN DER LINDE Gang" HIM. He wanted to be seen as this infamous outlaw and righteous leader. He didn't care about the people in the gang. Arthur? He was dying and he didn't care. John? He wanted him to hang. Abigail? He left her behind the first chance he got. Micah killed Susan RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM and Dutch didn't care. He considerd Mary-Beth, Pearson and Uncle leaving as a betrayal. Dutch never cared for the people within the VDL Gang. He cared what they could do for him and the glory they could bring him. It was never of settling down to become farmers, it was always about the thrill of being an outlaw the that great big score.

There are a lot of people who think if Hosea never died, then Dutch never would've lost it. He was always bad. He just had good ways of masking it. Hosea failed at every venture to talk out of getting Dutch to see sense and avoid bloodshed. If Hosea lived, there is a very good chance that Dutch would've lost it and had Hosea killed. Either it would've been an accidental death like he tried by leaving Arthur behind, he would've went into full paranoid mode "You're trying to undermine me and take the group from me" and order Hosea to draw his gun and then shoot him. Like Hosea said "You'll damn us all" and he did.

Reason 2. Loyalty to a fault.

Loyalty held the gang together. Loyalty was what Dutch valued - blind, obedient loyalty. “He had a plan,” after all.

Doubt broke the gang apart. Dutch became suspicious, uncertain of the faith of even his most dedicated friends. This undermined the entire operation and caused its eventual downfall.

“You’ll betray me, Arthur,” Dutch says, “You’re the type.” Dutch couldn’t be more wrong on that account.

Micah is named by the Pinkertons as a rat, but according to them, he wasn’t approached until after they’d returned from Guarma. So, by that timeline, the Pinkerton’s hadn’t needed a rat to foil their plans in Blackwater, or to find Arthur fishing by the side of a stream, or for the bank robbery in Saint Denis.

The Pinkertons always knew where Dutch was and what he was up to. They didn’t need a rat, especially not after their return from Guarma. So, why drop Micah’s name?

Well, the Pinkertons knew the gang was scrambling, that they were on the run, and that it was damn near impossible to arrest one of them at a time without a successful rescue of said gang member, ie Micah, John, Abigail and Sean. They are not the local sheriff’s office, after all. They are the federals and they want Dutch Vander Linde done in for good.

Staring down the barrel of a gun, why would a Pinkerton agent spill their collateral to the enemy? Arthur wasn’t even asking for any information at the time. Why would this agent, in his dying moments, tell Arthur that Micah was the rat?

Unless the agent knew the gang was on thin ice, and that loyalty was all that was keeping it together. He introduced what he hoped would be a final blow to the gang, accomplishing post-huminously what had been his career goal in life.

Also, why would Micah become an informant after Guarma? What were the promising him? After all, he stuck with Dutch and formed a new gang after Arthur died. He never took a big cut from the government and ran. He was a brown-noser and an asshole, but stood nothing to gain from becoming a rat.

Arthur hated Micah, so he took the bait. He wanted a reason to hate him, to have him kicked out of the gang. Micah was pragmatic and greedy and he hardened Dutch’s humanitarian side - the side that Arthur valued. But, Micah being a rat wasn’t the truth.

After all, we know who became a rat - John Marston.

Arthur’s readiness to believe a Pinkerton’s dying words proved the point of the narrative - the gang fell apart because they lost faith in Dutch, and because Dutch grew jealous and fearful as their doubts became apparent.

Loyalty kept the gang together, and its absence tore the gang apart.

Reason 3. "We didn't need a rat. We got sloppier than the town drunk."

The gang was careless. It got sloppy and their overconfidence and ego was their downfall.

Micah wasn’t the cause of their downfall he simply hastened it. The game tells you from the opening titles how it’s going to end and why. It mentions that the remaining gangs are being hunted down and destroyed with the word underlined for emphasis. It was always going to end in their demise, it just happened quicker than it would have because they got sloppy, careless, conceited, and arrogant.

[blackcatwriter]

Linger Part 2 (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

a/n: Part 2 is finally here! I stayed up a little late for a few days to push this one out because I wanted to get it done before my classes started. Thank you to the lovely @scumscumpooties47 for helping to edit all that I write. Literally none of these would be posted if I didn't have your encouragement. Happy reading!

warnings: typical canon violence, no use of Y/N, angst if you squint, happy ending, fluff, possibly some grammatical mistakes, slight spoilers to Ch. 4 but once again creative liberties are taken

wc: 3.1k

tags: @warmsideofthepillow03

summary: You make up your mind, Arthur struggles to keep his promise once more.

divider by @plum98

The ride out of St. Denis grew quiet as the cobblestoned streets faded to dirt roads leading back to the Largras swamps. In place of the bustling streets were the croaks and cries of the animals that resided there. Arthur’s mind was in a haze, reeling from the amount of emotions he felt from seeing you again.

Nervousness. Relief. Desperation. Longing. Love.

The moment he saw you at that damned party he instantly forgot what his purpose of being there was for. Arthur disappeared from Dutch’s side to find you. He didn’t even know what he’d say to you much less if you’d be willing to hear him out.

But god–being away from you for months without a clue of your wellbeing just to see you all dressed up at a party shot a bullet straight through his heart. He knew he wouldn’t be able to leave that party without talking to you, but he hadn’t expected everything that proceeded after.

Following a lady home after clearly upsetting her? Asking her to run away with you again? Here you had him acting like a damn teenage boy with a crush.

“What the hell am I doing, girl?” Arthur muttered to his steed. As if understanding his frustration, Bodicea huffed in response, earning a sigh from him. “I’m a fool for thinking she’d want to show up after everything.” As he reached the gang’s hideout, Arthur left his horse to graze while he readied himself for what Dutch would have to say.

Dutch wouldn’t take too kindly to Arthur disappearing from helping the gang look for leads, especially if it was for the lost love Dutch told him to leave in the past. “Distractions cost the gang. Let her go,” Dutch would remind Arthur while his heartbreak was still fresh from leaving you.

“Arthur! Get in here!” Dutch yelled from the front porch of the creaky manor, crushing his cigar into the ground with his boat before striding inside. Complying to his orders, Arthur followed behind him quickly.

“I have a plan. We’re going to rob the trolley station tomorrow. Micah claims he heard Pinkertons not too far behind us so we’ll need to act–”

“Tomorrow?” Arthur’s face paled. “We ain’t never robbed something in a city before. The law is gonna be all over the place! We need more time than just a day’s notice.” Arthur looked down at the map Dutch had on the table. “We’ll be backed into a corner by the law before the Pinkertons catch news and come for the rest of us–if we ain’t dead by then!” 

“Are you doubting me, son? There’s already been enough of that amongst the gang. I don’t need to hear anymore of that, especially from my best gun.” Dutch scowled. “What I need to hear is that you have my back. Do you have my back, Arthur?” 

Pushing you to the back of his mind, he answered, “Always, Dutch.” 

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Dutch walked upstairs to his makeshift room. Sighing, Arthur sat down with his head in his hands. He felt torn in half. On one hand, he had his loyalties to the gang. He had been with them, with Dutch, for practically his whole life. He owed Dutch his life, but lately he couldn’t help but feel as if Dutch wasn’t thinking his plans through. 

On the other hand, there was you. You, who had held him when he could no longer bear the weight of the guilt he kept inside. You, who would listen to him talk about the few precious memories he had with his mother. You, who Arthur loved dearly. Too distracted by the conflicting feelings in his head, Arthur didn’t notice Hosea sitting down by him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so thoughtful, Arthur.” The old man chuckled to himself. “What’s on your mind, son?” Sighing, Arthur raised his face. Some things might slip by Dutch, but Hosea seemed to always know when something was wrong. 

“You ever regret it? Coming back to this shit hole?” From what Arthur picked up when Hosea mentioned his life with Bessie, he had it pretty damn good. The pair lived in a cabin up in the Grizzlies until Hosea was roped back into their life of crime. Bessie had come along with him until she tragically died.

“I regret bringing Bessie with me.” He paused, his voice growing solemn. “Maybe she’d still be alive if I left her behind.” The grief ridden man’s words hit Arthur deeply. Bessie unfortunately already met her end, but you hadn’t. You still had a chance to live your life unafraid of the people that might come after you. 

“It’s that woman again, isn’t it?” A small smile grew on Hosea’s face. “She’s why you disappeared from us.”

“It ain’t like that.” Vulnerable at the mention of you, Arthur stood from his seat practically storming away from Hosea until he put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Son, even as bad as it is for us now…you still have a chance to do right by your woman. Take what you’ve got and don’t look back.” Loosening his grip on Arthur’s arm, Hosea disappeared up the stairs. 

Hearing Hosea telling him he had his blessing to walk out on the gang left Arthur feeling more unsure than ever. While he loved the people in the gang he had come to know as family, you had become his home away from home (as much as the gang’s ever changing campgrounds can be called “home”.)

Needless to say Arthur didn’t get much sleep that night.

The following morning you were awake as soon as the sun had risen, pacing in your room. You were sure the servants would be annoyed by the constant creak your floorboards made with each step, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The suitcase you had packed in a frenzy last night poked out from under the bed. You had no idea what came over you when you packed it. It was a blur of grabbing random items you thought might be worth selling and as many snacks you could steal from the kitchen without raising suspicion.

Picking at your sleeves you pondered all the possibilities that could occur. 

1)One of the servants finds out and stops you before you can leave. 2) Arthur gets caught by a bounty hunter for whatever bounty he has over his head because he’s Arthur and always seems to be in some kind of trouble. 3) Arthur is killed by anyone else he might’ve wronged from being with Dutch (You hated that man. You always had a bad feeling about him.) 4) Arthur and you manage to leave the city and live in a hidden cabin somewhere in the mountains 5) Arthur doesn’t show up.

Somehow even the possibilities of Arthur’s death seemed better than him abandoning you all over again. Death would mean he left you against his will. Your better judgment told you not to take him for his word. The two of you had already tried this once–look where it got you– but even now the love you still felt for him won you over.

So now here you were, endlessly treading back and forth your room. This was it. You were going to trust that he would be standing at the bridge he said he would and run away with him. 

Suddenly a quiet knock was heard from your door followed by a light voice, “Ma’am? Is everything alright?” Recognizing the voice as your maid, Nora, you quickly opened the door and plastered a smile on your face. “Of course it is. Why are you asking?” You huffed, blowing your hair out of your face.

Oh god, she sees right through you. She can probably tell what’s going through your mind just by the frantic look in your eyes. She’ll alert the other servants and soon enough your husband will cut his business trip short to deal with you. Maybe she’ll keep it a secret if you bribe her.

“Not to be nosy, but the other maids and I heard ye’ pacing since the sun came up. Would ye’ like me to make some tea?” Your stiffness eased at her efforts to offer you some comfort in the form of tea. Since you first arrived at your fiance’s residence Nora had been the only person who made you feel welcomed. She might be the only person you’d miss once you’d left.

Thanking her, you walked downstairs to the drawing room and waited for the tea. You definitely had to calm down. Your nerves were causing you to look like a mess in front of everyone, but the urge to just race out the front door to Arthur’s arms was too strong. The love of your life was so close to you yet so far.

Soon what felt like eons passed and noon was just half an hour away. It would be easy to make up an excuse to get out of the house, but how does one explain carrying a suitcase? Nonsense, you’re their employer (engaged to their employer but nonetheless), and they had no authority to question what you do in a day.

“Nora, I’ll be taking my afternoon walk earlier today. Don’t worry if I take longer than usual. I plan on running some errands while I’m out.” You called out while you dashed to the front door as fast as you could without tripping over yourself.

“But ma’am what about Mr. Finch?” Nora chimed, noticing the suitcase you held in your hand. Stopping in your tracks you turned around to face her. “What about my fiance?” Confusion evident in your voice. Did you forget something?

“He’s coming home early, remember?” Nora reminded you. Ah, there it is. You had forgotten he was going to come home early, but you’ll be long gone by the time he turns up. “I’m sure I’ll be home before he arrives.” You gave a tight lipped smile.

“Oh ma’am, you needn’t hold your own suitcase. That’s why ye’ have the help.” She gestured for one of the nearby servants to take the suitcase from you. 

“Nonsense, I can carry my own belongings. You all do enough as it is.” You flinched and held the suitcase closer to yourself. 

If she was suspicious of you, she didn’t show it. With a hesitant nod she let the matter go and returned to her duties. Having nothing else that needed tending to, you left. You walked out the door with your heart beating out of your chest.

The walk to the bridge was only a few short minutes. No one had bothered you once you were out the door, which you were glad about. You didn’t want anything to do with your pretentious neighbors anymore or their weekly tea gatherings to discuss the latest gossip of high-society. 

No, you wanted to be with Arthur and spend the rest of your life exploring the country by his side. Who knew where you’d go first? Obviously you’d have to lay low until his face was no longer on wanted posters–perhaps the Grizzlies?

You were abruptly pulled from your thoughts when a lawman bumped into you as he ran by causing you to fall. “Excuse you–” You had started to reprimand him as you reached for your suitcase when you looked up and realized all the policemen were running from their posted stations.

“What the hell?” You mumbled under your breath, furrowing your eyebrows at the commotion going on around you. Lifting yourself off the ground you ran to the nearest policeman. “What’s going on? Why are people running?” In the back of your mind you had an idea of who might be behind the uproar, but you desperately wished it wasn’t him.

“Dutch! The damn brakes are broken!” Arthur yelled, racing to get to the back of the trolley. Maybe if he was lucky he’d die on impact. Going far too fast for the tracks to handle, the trolley was thrown to its side on the street. The outlaw was hurled forward before falling to his side. “Jesus…” He groaned, crawling out of the streetcar.

Dutch remained where he had been tossed,  holding his head in his hands. “Dutch?” Arthur yelled as he reloaded his gun, firing back at the police as they swarmed them from all sides. 

Dutch moaned something intelligible to the gunners. “We need to get him out of here. You still alive, Lenny?” Switching to his rifle, Arthur began aiming for the lawmen on the balconies and roofs of the buildings.

“I’m here! I’m okay, but we got to move fast. Pinkertons are definitely gonna catch wind of this,” Lenny shouted from behind some crates. Spitting out a string of curse words, Arthur angrily pushed forward while Lenny helped Dutch.

He should’ve never gone with Dutch on this job. Dutch had trusted Angelo Bronte was telling the truth when in reality he had been stringing them along. They were idiots to think the Italian man would let them take money from the city he owned. Most of all, he was angry with himself. 

It must’ve been noon by then. If you had completely lost your sanity, you would’ve been waiting for him where he told you he’d be. If you hadn’t already been mad as hell with him before, you had to be now. He should’ve listened to Hosea when he had the chance.

“There’s a wagon up over there. If you cover us I think I can get Dutch in the back,” Lenny suggested, to which Arthur quickly agreed. Arthur proceeded to fire back at the police, allowing Lenny the chance to move a groggy Dutch into the wagon. Briskly following behind, Arthur jumped onto the wagon. The horses were quickly startled into pulling them forward while the police scurried to catch up to them.

They maneuvered the wagon as efficiently as they could with all the obstacles in their way, leading Arthur to wonder if word had gotten to you by now. He would rather you unleash your anger on him than be disappointed in him. God, your disappointment killed him. Arthur hated to be anything less than the man you deserved, but time and time again he seemed to always fall short.

“Arthur! They shot off our wheel!” Lenny held a tight grip on the reins, struggling to keep control before ultimately crashing into an alley. Dutch thankfully hadn’t been too affected by the crash, but was definitely unfit to fight off anyone. 

“Take him and get out of here. I’m gonna lead em’ away.” Arthur placed a hand on Lenny’s shoulder. “Keep him safe.” 

Giving a quick nod, Lenny dragged Dutch away until they were out of sight. Arthur ran the opposite way, taking the attention of the few lawmen that remained on their tail. He eventually killed them off one by one until he was left aching on the floor clutching his side. 

“Ah, shit,” He hissed, hunching over as he got up. A bullet had grazed his side at some point in his long fight with the law and the adrenaline coursing through his veins hadn’t allowed him to notice until that point.

Huffing, Arthur leaned against the wall staring down at the men he had killed. Was it realistic to believe they could actually make it out alive to Tahiti? As much as Arthur wanted to believe him, he saw no reality where Dutch would be happy as a mango farmer. The outlaws’ quick tempers would inevitably lead to someone dead in the street. 

“Take what you’ve got and don’t look back.”

He hadn’t gotten much money from the heist, but he did have a few trinkets in his satchel that were worth good money. It might be enough to help the pair of you get away while the police were still searching. God, with you he could try to be a better man. He could find a real job, one that wouldn’t leave a target on your backs. Or you could go off into the woods and let your only company be the deers–he’d go anywhere, do anything, if it meant he would be by your side. 

Breaking his heart from knowing who he’d be leaving behind, Arthur made the decision to be loyal to what truly mattered to him. 

Stumbling away, Arthur forced himself to fight the ache in his bones to get to you. It was no guarantee you’d still be there–if you were ever there at all. No, he didn’t have time to let himself doubt. Weaving through the backstreets full of passing immigrants until he was forcibly grabbed and pulled to the side. Before he could whip out his pistol, your voice stopped him.

“Arthur! Oh, thank god you’re alright! You stupid man, I had no idea where you were and I was looking all over–”

Before you could ramble any further he pulled you against him and embraced you tightly, ignoring the pain. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, letting your suitcase fall to your feet as you took him in. He was alive. Your Arthur was alive–seemingly hurt–but alive nonetheless.

“You stupid man.” You murmured into his chest, earning a low chuckle from your lover. “S’fine. We’re gonna be okay.” Arthur pressed a shaky kiss to your temple. He could finally breathe again.

“We need to get out of here. You’re hurt–you need help.” You pulled back to examine him, a worried look spreading across your face. “Arthur–” He stopped you with a kiss, taking you by shock.

“M’sorry. I’ve been waiting for so long I didn’t know when I’d get to do that again.” If he’d ever get to do that again. Resting your forehead against his, you let a moment of silence pass. You were together again.

Despite his struggle, Arthur picked up your suitcase and led you to the outskirts of the city, dodging the policemen as best as he could. He had to do his best to avoid trouble now because he held his entire world in his hand. Arthur was responsible for taking care of you now and he’d damn well shoot himself in the foot before he let anything happen to you.

“Is this really happening? I can’t even believe it…I love you Arthur. I’m still mad you were dumb enough to try shooting your way out of the city, but I’ll be mad at you later.” You squeezed his hand with a giddy smile on your face.

“I’ll do better. I…I want to do better for you. I love you.” He gave you a small smile. You spent the rest of the walk to his horse out of the city telling him all the things you wanted to do now that you were starting your lives together.

He could spend the rest of his life listening to you talk. Hanging his hat on the wall, leaving his criminal lifestyle would be hard to leave behind, but for you he’d do it a million times over. He’d do anything to make you happy and now he finally could.

[cognitivejustice]

Paris plants its first "urban forest" on a busy roundabout as part of a plan to turn the French capital into a garden city

The city will plant 478 trees on the Place de Catalogne near the Gare Montparnasse train station as a flagship project in Socialist Mayor Anne Hidalgo's drive to cut noise, pollution and tackle global warming.

The Place de Catalogne roundabout - designed by the late Spanish architect Ricardo Bofill in the 1980s - had for decades been a busy thoroughfare for cars. In recent years it has been transformed into a Dutch-style, bicycle-friendly junction that is also the start of a "voie verte" or greenway bike lane to the southern suburbs.

Paris City Hall aims to have planted 170,000 more trees between 2020 and 2026, and more than 63,000 trees have already been planted, opens new tab since November 2020.

Hidalgo's leftist-green coalition has also reduced the space for cars in the city, increased parking fees and is phasing out diesel cars from the city centre.

The city's latest plan is to drive large sports utility vehicles (SUVs) from its centre

[kundst]

Willem de Haan (Dutch)

Metro station Eekteweg

The work is made out of 1:1 scale replicas of metrostations from the countries biggest cities Amsterdam and Rotterdam. The project was presented in various places that all were hard to reach from those cities that form the country’s populous center. These photo’s are from a 2018 presentation in Haarle, Overijssel.

[ilovetomatoesbro]

I finally decided to create my own OC

In short, I couldn't come up with a name for my character, but let's call her "THE PHOTOGRAPHER". She can mostly meet in crowded places (for example, parks, courtyards, embankments, shopping malls, and so on; sometimes she can meet at gas stations (where she took money from Nyon a couple of times; she managed to earn about $ 10 from him that day. She saw him in the car with Luther, Randall and the others a couple of times when they went camping, so she realized what was what, and began to say that his family would REALLY like the photo she took.♡)) to take pictures of people and get money from it, because photos "keep memories" and this is "a great reminder of yourself." Most of her photos cost no more than $1, but at large events, for example, like City Day or something like that, she took large sums from people for photos. More often she approached drunk people or families during those events. She is an investigator by profession, but a photographer on weekends and holidays. A "professional" photographer. As a kid, she would have been the head of the school media club, lol.

So, why would she need so much money? She spends them on cigarettes and books, perhaps…

As for her traits of character, she’s rather calm, yet will never let herself be offended by someone; she is determined and mature, but sometimes silly.

(I know she’s boring as hell, but this is my first time creating OC; sorry)

_____________________________________

THE PHOTOGRAPHER

Type: Human

Age: ???

Known skills: photographing, painting, investigating; has a higher chance of surviving in danger (cameramen/photographers never die first), knows a lot of languages (English, Russian (her native language), Dutch, German)

Likes: brainrot jokes, riddles, music, marmalade eyes, space, photos, books (classics, detective novels, prose, dystopia, etc), money, affection.

Dislikes: playing “Hot Potato” (childhood trauma; in this game people line up in a circle and toss an object from neighbor to neighbor as fast as they can. At some point in the game, the action stops, and the person, who still has an object (a potato) in his hands, drops out of the circle, but one day she used to be a potato…), being bullied, paying rent.

Danger level: low

______________________________________

As for animation I created, I tried to voice her herself💔💔💔

English is not my native language, I’m sorry if I have some mistakes

[huariqueje]

Amsterdam , Church    -   Alice Brasser , 2021.

Dutch, b.1965 -

Oil on perspex on wood  , 20 x 17 cm.

[verdemoun]

rdr3 set in 1883 but it's just horses, hunting, crafting and fishing. you play as an unnamed adult orphan protagonist, travelling with fellow street urchin Kieran Duffy as you do the most lawfully good things you have to to survive: catching fish, selling treasures you find by chance, collecting pelts. whenever you point your gun at a human or horse the character goes 'what am i thinking?' and forces you to lower it.

you can bump into the vdls and do stranger missions for them eg finding a young arthur morgan drunk in a bar and him offering you a whole $10 if you can catch him 3 smallmouth bass. you can save the recent runaway john marston from drowning in a stream and take him to a hospital, only for him to jump out the window and take off down an alley never to be seen again. bill williamson occasionally spawns as an npc at poker tables and flirts with you. if you pay for a deluxe bath the radiant susan grimshaw appears. you do some basic animal tending for the deeply suspicious mrs summers, who frankly needs the help keeping up with her clever little 3 year old lenny summers who follows you around asking 'why' at every goddamned thing you do. a random npc encounter has a gorgeous young woman come running up to asking for directions, and if you follow her you will find out it is annabelle, trying to yet again tell dutch van der linde he is going the wrong way while he refuses to listen (dutch van der linde, dis-respecter of women).

if you go to a specific train station at night it cuts to a young hosea matthews pacing around before asking if you have any gunoil, which he uses to fretfully polish his pocketwatch and despair the train is running late: he was meant to be collecting his wife so they could catch a show at the theatre, and they'll be late but he's entirely terrified something has happened to cause the delay. he proceeds to talk about his wife for so long and so lovingly the player almost looks uncomfortable, going on about her being the most incredible woman to ever grace the earth, only for the train to arrive and hosea to immediately dart off to bessie, who was standing on the small rickety platform between carriages already waving to him as the train stopped. hosea pleads with her not to be so reckless, her health is already so frail, and she turns her nose up and lovingly shoves him before they walk off into the city.

and then, after a long peaceful game of non-consequential missions, a random gang of bandits walk into your camp and shoot you dead after you tell kieran to run. the end C:

[jokeroutsubs]

[ENG translation] Joker Out at Eurosonic 2024: an interview with Kris for Val 202 radio station

Today, 22.01.2024, Slovenian radio station Val 202 broadcasted an episode of their 'Glasbena zgodba' ('Musical Story') podcast about the Eurosonic 2024 festival that happened last week. Eurosonic is an annual showcase festival and music conference in Groningen, The Netherlands, where emerging European acts perform for industry professionals and festival scouts. Joker Out performed there this year, so today's podcast featured a short interview with Kris Guštin. You can find the original post here or listen to the original audio in Slovenian in the embed above. Here is the translation of the interview, translated by a member of Joker Out Subs and proof read by @flowerlotus8.

Host: The first group we mentioned, Joker Out, performed twice during the festival. First on Wednesday on the MAAS main stage, and the next day, on Thursday, in the Platosonic record shop, where The Strokes also performed in the past. I invited Kris Guštin, who talked to the fans there in Dutch, in front of the microphone.

Kris: Well, my great-grandma and my grandpa's entire side of the family, who are from Indonesia, live in a place called Assen, which is 30 minutes out of Groningen. It's actually the closest big city for them.

Host: Joker Out haven't performed at many showcase festivals, Kris counts Eurovision and the PIN festival in Skopje among them.

Kris: Showcase festivals are maybe not that important or necessary for us anymore, but we still liked doing one or two, to experience it. It is, however… For performers who are really still looking for an international audience, and especially those who would like to present themselves to industry people from abroad, it's a pretty great chance. It's the same with MENT¹, for Slovenia, of course.

Host: Were you thinking about, or were you under any pressure, considering that there were many music professionals in the audience?

Kris: Not really. It's… We were aware that it would be harder to make a good show, because people wouldn't be that oriented towards us and our music, which is totally understandable. I have to say, however, that I was honestly surprised and happy that we had the first three rows or so of our fans, who really made the atmosphere more lively, otherwise it would've been pretty hard. I did, however, also see... The best kind of validation is to see these people who, at the beginning, are standing in the back and not participating in the concert, who are then bobbing their heads by the end. That's always a good sign of a good concert.

Host: The members of Joker Out, who will release a new single in February and go on another European tour soon after that, are currently living in London, where they are getting used to life there and, as Kris says, creating new music outside of their comfort zone.

Kris: But just as a fun fact, well, I will say that now that we are in London, we've made a song that is the most Balkan song we've ever made, so it's… it might have a completely opposite effect. We don't really have any idea yet where it will take us.

Host: In Slovenia, you made a living with music. Now that you've gone abroad and have all these concerts, is it as profitable as laypeople imagine?

Kris: I'll say it like this: if we stayed only in Slovenia, we would be making more money right now than we actually do. But we have, I don't know, some kind of a chronic flaw where we never know how to stop investing in ourselves, well, how to say it. Which is actually a great thing, but such... touring abroad is definitely not a profitable thing for a band at our level, but I will say that it is less of a financial burden than I thought it would be. We are lucky to have so many listeners that in the previous season, the previous tour, we sold out almost everything, which means that it did bring us some money, but with all the... plane tickets, accommodation, transport, it amounts to so much that in the end, we just managed to nicely finance all of it, plus maybe get some money for the album this year. Otherwise, it's not like we're making big money. If we had stayed in Slovenia, we would've just pocketed all that.

¹MENT Ljubljana is one of the leading showcase festivals and music conferences in Central and Eastern Europe and the largest event of its kind in the region.

[copperbadge]

I feel like I could write roughly ten thousand words about my newly formed and extremely complex relationship with Amsterdam, given I only spent six hours there and two of those were in the train station. I have three or four posts in my head about it, from "Why is every indoor space in this city kept at roughly the boiling point of Tungsten" to "The Nice Things That Happened To Me In Amsterdam" to "That Time Someone Stole My Stroopwafel" but I think you all will be most entertained by the fact that I have a new feud, and it is with the entire Rijksmuseum.

I've been in museums that were a bit crap and museums that didn't interest me and even museums like today's that were physically uncomfortable, but I have never so hated a museum as I hated the Rijksmuseum by the time I left it.

And it's not the Rijksmuseum's fault! Yes, there are issues with the museum's physical structure -- the insane number of stairs and lack of lifts, the fact that the thermostat could be turned down from "temperature of the sun" to "next door to hell" if they wanted, the bizarrely poor lighting -- but not all of those can be fixed, and they're clearly doing their best. Plus it was mad crowded. But I've been in crowded, poorly-designed spaces before and always found something to love. There was nothing for me in the Rijksmuseum.

So I don't think it's the museum itself. I think that museum and I have some kind of spiritual feud. I think the museum feels actively malevolent to me in a way few buildings ever have because it hates me, personally. I don't know why -- could be to do with my Dutch ancestor who left Amsterdam (the infamous Mennonite Pirate) or perhaps it knows my heart truly belongs to the Art Institute and this is spite. In any case, it may think it has won, but I'm retreating strategically. Someday I will come back to Amsterdam and I will fight the Rijksmuseum and we will settle this once and for all. Bicycles will undoubtedly be involved.

I will eventually do a post about the lovely things I did in Amsterdam, including the grocery store (also kept at the melting point of steel, unfortunately) and Albert Cuyp Market, where I got the stroopwafel (eventually) and bought a nice new bag, and even the genuinely best part of the day, where I walked down a side street to Sarphatipark and discovered that Amsterdam is really very beautiful and quiet if you step off the main roads. @rumtastique I have to apologize for being mortal enemies with the Rijksmuseum but as mentioned in comments you did absolutely save my life when I consulted my notes from talks we'd had about Amsterdam and took advantage of all your good advice (particularly the advice about having cash on hand). (Josh, I didn't get to the bakery you recommended but I really wanted to. I'm keeping it in my notes for next time.)

Still, while I will make those posts, I have been awake since 3am and that's part of the problem, so I'm going to set an alarm to wake me before we reach Paris, and sleep until then.

This isn't over, Rijksmuseum. And next time I'll come prepared: I'll wear a tank top.

[black-arcana]

WITHIN TEMPTATION's SHARON DEN ADEL Guests On 'Labyrinth' Single From Ukraine's BLIND8

Ukrainian band BLIND8 has released a new song, "Labyrinth", featuring Sharon Den Adel of Dutch symphonic metallers WITHIN TEMPTATION.

This collaboration is a landmark moment for BLIND8, which formed just before the Russian invasion of Ukraine and has become a leading light for rock music in its homeland whenever circumstances allow. They will be joining WITHIN TEMPTATION as the opening act on their "Bleed Out 2024" European tour this autumn, playing arenas across mainland Europe and the U.K.

The song is also being released worldwide via WITHIN TEMPTATION's own record label Force Music Recordings.

Sharon comments: "'Labyrinth' is not just a song; it's a testament to the enduring power of music. And even with Roman, the singer, and Ihor, the bass player, currently having been mobilized and in training for the war, BLIND8 continue to defy the odds, proving that even in the most challenging times, art can shine a light in the darkness."

BLIND8 remain committed and hopeful of spreading their message of solidarity, perseverance and defiance across Europe at the end of this year, playing to their largest audiences yet in huge arenas, when they support WITHIN TEMPTATION. The musicians have said that this song is their testament to the fact that even in the darkest times, music has the power to inspire and unite people.

WITHIN TEMPTATION will embark on a huge arena tour of Europe in the autumn of 2024. Joining them on this tour will be both WITHIN TEMPTATION's recent collaborative artists and longtime friends: singer Tarja Turunen (on select dates),German metalcore band ANNISOKAY, BLIND8, GREEN LIZARD and Ukrainian producer and vocalist Alex Yarmak.

The tour starts in September with two shows in The Netherlands (that sold out within days) and will continue throughout Europe in an array of impressive arenas. A number of dates have already sold out, with tickets running low across Europe.

Last fall, WITHIN TEMPTATION co-sponsored the Ukraine Aid Operations boat fundraiser for the Ukrainian Marines. They donated 6,000 euros for 30 patches, which they packaged with a limited-edition box of their latest album, "Bleed Out"

Four months ago, Den Adel spoke to Metal Musikast about WITHIN TEMPTATION's music video for the band's "A Fool's Parade" single, featuring Ukrainian producer and vocalist Alex Yarmak. Recorded amidst the streets of Kyiv with renowned Ukrainian video director Indy Hait, the clip captures Sharon at important Ukrainian landmarks. Asked what it was like to make a music video in the capital city of a country at war, Den Adel said: "Well, I was never scared to go there, because I was in good hands, to my opinion. We were helped to do this video and to organize everything, what we wanted to do in Kyiv, by the organization called Music Saves Ukraine. And they told us about the app that you had need to have. For instance, if you go into Kiev, which we did by night train from Poland, because there's no commercial flights from Amsterdam to Kyiv anymore. So we had to go by night train from Poland to Kyiv. And they told us to download an air-alerts app because everyone in Ukraine has that, and you can select a region that you are in and any incoming dangerous drones or airplanes, like MiGs, who are carrying a supersonic bomb or anything, they will put that in the app and you know what the danger is and how much time you have to go to a shelter. And there's shelters everywhere, even in the hotel that I was. And we once had to go underneath the metro station, because there was a MiG on their way. And sometimes it has a bomb, sometimes it doesn't. It's sometimes just looking and scouting where they can do something with the next airplane. And this time it wasn't wearing any supersonic bomb, which was good for us because it can wipe out a complete area in a matter of seconds."

In March 2022, WITHIN TEMPTATION was one of the artists who took part in a telethon concert in support of Ukraine. "Save Ukraine - #StopWar" united more than 20 countries and bring together more than 50 participants. The marathon was broadcast from Warsaw on the Polish TV channel TVP. In addition, broadcasters from many countries around the world rebroadcasted the marathon on their local channels.The "Bleed Out" album was released last October.

[jsprnt]

Healing Hearts PT. 13 | Virgil van Dijk

Would a fresh start bring you more than just a new job?

WC: 3.050

Summary: Y/N L/N is a very skilled and praised physiotherapist. A certain event pushing her for a fresh start, as a physiotherapist for Liverpool FC. One question always being in the back of her mind: Will she be able to let go of her past and allow herself to experience new things?

I walk into the kitchen, my eyes shooting up to the clock on the wall. I felt like absolute shit, my outside clothes still uncomfortably clinging onto my body from the previous night, not to forget the full face of make up I was wearing- well whatever was left that wasn't smudged on my pillowcases.

I groan as I notice it is almost noon. From the text messages I was sent early this morning by Virgil, I knew that it was several hours before he'd be done with training and until he would be in Amsterdam. I couldn't wait to finally visit him in his apartment he owned there.

I squint due to the light emitting from the widows, at least it was fall now and the sun wouldn't be this bright for long. The dark clouds already alluding to a rainy and cold day.

I realize the house is empty, with no sound or sign of my parents still being at home. It was a Tuesday, so they must've already left for work.

Thankfully, the dining table was still full of food. My stomach grumbling at the thought of having some delicious food as I grab the leftovers I had to heat up, knowing I would devour my mom's cooking in a minute.

I close my eyes and furrow my brows at the slight commotion in the front of the train. I loved and missed the Dutch transportation system, or at least it was better than other countries I had visited, but damn teenagers loved to be loud when coming back from school.

I grab the water bottle that was resting on my lap. Chugging it down, hoping it would relieve some of the pain in my head. The entire speech of "I'm never drinking again." running through my mind.

Why did we as humans love making promises to ourselves, then fall into the same cycle again? It would always baffle me over and over again.

I sigh to myself as I hear my station being announced through the train speakers, getting up and grabbing my mom's transportation card and checking out as the train stops. My medium-sized suitcase rolling behind me.

At first, I felt embarrassed of needing that many things for a couple of days at Virgil's place, but then I remembered that I was just a girl and if I needed something, I needed it.

I had thought of driving, but with this headache I didn't have the energy to, besides it wouldn't have been a hundred percent safe either.

I step out of the train, discarding the water bottle, and grabbing my phone to text Virgil for the exact address of his home. I stare at my screen for a moment as he types and-

I blink multiple times, wondering if I was hallucinating or genuinely seeing that address on my screen.

Did every man have to live in the same apartment complex? Was it really the only option the both of them had in the expensive ass city of Amsterdam? Both of them were practically swimming in money, but this was the place they both lived in?

I resist the urge to get back on the train again, walking in the same route I knew all too well. Hoping luck would be on my side today, or at least for a moment. The dark trees were slowly turning brown, the occasional leave crunching beneath my shoes.

The familiar building I called home once not even a couple years ago coming into my vision. No doubt there were some good memories attached to it, though this time being here they definitely left a bittersweet taste in my mouth.

I approach the front desk, thankfully the receptionist wasn't the same lady as in the past. That would have been quite the interaction if I would literally ask her for directions to another apartment. "Gold-digging-whore" it would not be a new insult thrown behind my back.

I look around me cautiously, the interior of the lobby was still the same. The marble and wood accents still very timeless looking, accentuating the contemporary design, taking me back to the time this entire place was way too intimidating and grand when I came here for the first time.

Sometimes I do wander how life would've been without my young naivety, but damn it was the reason I had gotten myself away from all that was negative in my life. Allowing me to form a much better and healthy work environment and new relationship. And I was grateful, immeasurably grateful.

I ask the receptionist for Virgil's place and how I would even get there, her eyebrows raising for a moment before she grabs the telephone to, what I assume, call up to him. The call is very short, and she walks away for a moment. She comes back with a key card in her hand, the biggest customer service smile on her face, as she hands me the key card.

"Is it your first name here miss?" She asks, handing the keycard to me.

"It is." I answer half lying, grabbing the card out of her hand, it looked way different than a year ago for some reason.

"Number fifty-three is the penthouse as you know, which requires you to use the elevator on the left." She points, the sickly sweet smile lingering on her lips.

Penthouse?

I felt my headache get worse, then a shooting pain through my temples.

Virgil was the penthouse owner Theo had always complained about? The one who barely lived there but still owned the most expensive place in the entire building? Theo had always complained he wanted to purchase the penthouse, but Virgil being the stubborn owner he was talking about? I don’t know if my ego should be boosted or if I should feel horrified.

I snap out of it quickly, hoping I didn't look crazy, redirecting my attention to the receptionist.

"Oh right, thank you." I say quickly, stepping away and walking towards the elevator, dragging my suitcase behind me.

The world is insanely small, practically mushed together at this point, and the fact that I could have a run in with Theo here was probably making it much worse.

I did everything to get away from him, even until recently deciding to never pick up anonymous calls again, to installing an expensive security system, but still, the universe managed to find a way for us to be in the same building, just like all those years ago was absolutely mind boggling.

I press the elevator button, hoping those numbers above wouldn't flash Theo's apartment level, fifty. 

Sighing in relief as the elevator arrives empty as I quickly get on it, pressing the close button repeatedly.

I scan the key card, pressing the fifty-third button. The fancy button lighting up, as I fold my arms and lean against the elevator wall. Practically sweating at the thought of ever running into Theo. I would say this was a mistake, coming back home was a disastrous mistake. Of course, I would run into him somehow and now I'm back at the place we used to live together, the universe hated me and the urge to hate it back was never this grand before.

I feel my headache get worse at the thoughts running through my mind, this would definitely take at least five years off of my lifespan.

The elevator announcing the fifty-third level takes y/n out of her thoughts. The elevator doors swiftly opening to reveal a smiling Virgil, dressed in dark jeans and a very soft looking gray sweater.

She gasps at the sight of him, her negative thoughts melting away by a mere glimpse of his face.

She practically leaps forward, latching onto him, his warm hands coming up to steady her frame. Her suitcase nearly toppling over by how fast she'd let it go. Heat radiation off of his body, washing a warm feeling over her cold one, even when she was wearing a thick jacket.

"Hello, to you too." He mumbles, his hand coming to cradle the back of her head. His fingers playing with the fabric of the white scarf around her neck. He plants a tender kiss on her forehead as she hides her face into his chest, the dull ache in her forehead getting slightly worse. Her fingers digging into the soft fabric of his sweater.

"Missed you so much." she mutters, her muffled words barely being heard. She pulls away, taking his features in for a moment before wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing him into a longing kiss.

His lips are warm, his minty breath entangling with hers as their lips are pressed together. It felt like ages since they'd last seen each other, reality being only a couple of days. A breathless, deep groan leaving his throat as she presses her body further into him. Her fingers clawing at his arm, coming to squeeze his bicep with a tender touch.

Just like the days physically apart, the kiss feels like ages, only pulling away as y/n decides to. His lips automatically following hers to savor her taste longer. Though, he freezes at the sight of her scrunched brows and a hand on her temple, his eyes softening in concern. The breathlessness of their kiss shooting pain through her head.

"You still hangover from yesterday?" He asks, his hand coming to remove hers, instead softly massaging her temples himself.

"Yeah.." she groans, leaning into his touch with her eyes shut.

"I'm sorry." She goes, thinking that she should've greeted him with more enthusiasm and love, and no depressive, sad, stupid headache.

"It's alright, no need apologize to me." He soothes, his other hand coming to the small of her back, running his hands down her back gently.

"Let's take this jacket off and get comfy, yeah? You must've been freezing outside." He beams, kissing her temple repeatedly, wanting to transfer some of the love he felt into her pretty head.

"Here's some soup. It'll help before taking any medication." He whispers softly, removing the blanket off of his girlfriends face. The rain was clattering heavily on the windows outside, the dark clouds totally engulfing the surrounding view. She opens her eyes, blinking repeatedly before sitting up fully.

"Didn't have time to have groceries delivered, so I ordered some of the best and highest quality soup for my girl." He mutters, picking up a spoonful.

"You know I can feed myself right. I still have working arms and hands." She chuckles, trying to snatch the spoon out of his hands. He ignores her protest, urging her to take the mouthful of soup on the spoon.

"Wow- this is really nice- is this restaurant owned by another one of your beloved grandma's?" She teases, still aware of her pounding head but choosing to ignore the ache.

"Come on- no one cooks like grandma- except my own mother, obviously." He says, moving his spoon to grab another spoonful.

"Just give me the spoon already." She requests, the sass in her voice undeniable. He cocks an eyebrow, handing her the spoon without further ado.

"Okay- just wanted to take care of you miss independent." He teases back, watching her mix the soup.

"I'm fine- not incapable of drinking soup on my own. Just a headache I'll be fine after I take some medication." She retorts, humming to herself as the warm soup soothes her throat and warms her body temperature.

"Want some?"

He shakes his head, his hand adjusting some of the blanket.

"Besides, we haven't seen each other in days. I don't want this day to be ruined by you worrying about a silly headache." She says, sipping on the last bits of the soup.

"Babe-"

She cuts him off, grabbing the bottle of ibuprofen off of the table and shaking it.

"I'll take this and you'll tell me about you- things you wanted to tell me the past days or things that happened during training. Nothing about me- Deal?"

"So you had an open training today? Were there a lot of people there?" She asks, her cheeks squished against his chest as she lays against him. His arm coming to cradle her back.

"Yeah, those kids were so cute and happy to see us, it was so sweet." Her replies, looking down at her, taking in the cozy atmosphere.

He had turned on the heater a little higher, the warm blanket now wrapped around the both of them as they both relished the feeling of the soft sofa against them. The clattering of raindrops creating a calming sound that almost put them both to sleep. The sun had set already, a conformation of the seasons changing already. The soft and low melody of a song by Brent Faiyaz coming out of the TV speakers.

"So what? You showed those kids how to tackle your teammates?" She laughs, the vibrations of it connecting with the thump of his heartbeat.

"Got show them how to do it best obviously." He retorts, a chuckle escaping his plump lips.

"Are you ready for the match against France. Though opponents, no?" She asks, sitting up and lifting her head to check his facial expression.

"We've trained a lot, it all comes down to performance now." He answers, sinking his eyes into the beauty of her face, a small smile on her lips as she nods.

"Any injuries? Are you feeling alright?" She asks, her eyebrows knotting, small wrinkles forming in between them. Being on leave never made her stop worrying about the teams injuries, always texting and calling the other physio's for updates and improvements of injured players.

"I'm alright, a hundred percent. I promise." He reassures, bringing her into his chest again, kissing the top of her ear. "Stop thinking about work or anything related to it. You're on leave, you've got to enjoy it baby." He mumbles, his deep voice vibrating against her ears.

"Tell me about you. How are your parents and friends hm?"

"They're fine, working and everything keeps them busy. My friends are just happy to see me. As you know, we had girls night yesterday." She chuckles, the flashback of her drunk friends popping into her mind.

"What did you girls do? Gossip?" He wonders, a smile tugging at his lips.

"How'd you know?" She gasps, her eyes widening.

"I've been around my mom and her friends. When that conversation opens, those doors never close up." He laughs. "What did you guys talk about? Me?" He says, cocky expression on his face.

She pulls away again, guilty expression on her face. "I told them about you, yeah.."

"That's good. Why so solemn? Do they hate me?" He asks.

"No! They're okay with us- they’re just teasing me. They think it's funny I- uhm moved to Liverpool to forget you know who. Then I met you." She explains, fidgeting with her newly done nails.

"That's fate love." He replies, running his thumb on her jawline. "They like me at least- what about your parents?"

Fate was either a bitch or it was the best thing that ever could happen to you.

Her eyes widen at the mention of her parents. They didn't know she had a new boyfriend, let alone who he was. She didn't know if her parents would be happy or lose their mind if she told them she was with someone else other than her 'useful' ex. She couldn't fully blame them if they got mad, she told them a bit of how their relationship went. Nothing about him making someone break into her apartment and the rest of the things he had done. Not how he treated her- which was definitely not how she should've been treated.

"Uh.." she trails off, the heat of embarrassment climbing up to her face. Virgil raises his brows, his thumb coming to a halt, letting his hand rest on her jaw, cupping her face.

"They don't know about us." She mumbles, avoiding eye contact and looking away.

"What?"

"They don't know about us." She repeats, a little louder. The temperature drops for a moment, his hand moving her head towards him again.

"y/n? Look at me." He says, his deep voice stern, though there is a soft edge to it.

She sighs, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, then reluctantly making eye contact.

"You don't have to tell them. I understand, but you don't look- something is up. Am I right?"

She nods, taking her bottom lip in between her teeth, chewing nervously.

"They barely know about the things that happened in between me and- my ex. Not even what happened in my apartment." She breathes out.

"They still think we have a chance of getting back together. Since our parents are in the same industry- they thought, you know that they would merge their companies- umh later on." She explains, goosebumps covering her body. Nervously checking Virgil's face for a change of expression.

A sigh leaves his lips, pulling her into another hug. His arms wrapping around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry you can't be honest with your parents."

"No, don't apologize. It's my fault for not telling them everything."

"You know that they shouldn't have pushed you so far you're hiding important thing from them, right?"

She doesn't reply, basking into his body heat, her nose rubbing against the fabric of his sweater.

He sighs at her unwillingness to speak, deciding to change the topic.

"Let talk about something else- you're coming to the match on Friday, right?" He asks, hoping it would change her mood.

"Of course." She replies, fidgeting with the fabric of his sweater. "It's a very important one, you said I could invite my friends right?"

"Yeah of course, you ready to cheer me on with my shirt on, love?"

"I don't know- thought of wearing Frenkie's or Memphis' but since they're injured I guess your shirt is alright too." She teases, a smile tugging at her lips. The jealousy was evident on his face, and it was undeniably hot. His hands letting go of her, turning away from her.

"Alright- I'm just joking. I'll wear a number four- stop looking at me like that. It was a joke!"

[acti-veg]

“I really thought I’d seen it all,” said Kees Moeliker, director of the Natural History Museum Rotterdam, who studied the crow’s nest found during tree maintenance near the city’s main railway station. “I didn’t expect this. These anti-bird spikes are meant to deter birds, they are supposed to scare them off, but on the contrary, the birds just utilise them.”

[girlactionfigure]

Frank Meisler (above) died in March 2018 at the age of 92. An internationally renowned architect and sculptor he enriched the world with his buildings and his works of art. Yet had others had their way his life would have been savagely curtailed in his teens.  Meisler never forgot how he escaped death, those who made the journey with him and those who made it possible. He left behind a remarkable legacy so that we might remember too.

Image Credit Wikimedia In August 1939 Frank Meisler was a frightened 13 year old boy.  As a Jew he was no longer safe in his home town, the Free City of Danzig (now Gdańsk in Poland), a German enclave which had embraced Nazism.  There had been anti-Jewish riots and the city’s Great Synagogue had been taken over and demolished.  Desperate, his parents requested his evacuation from the city by the Kindertrasport (German, Children’s Transport) an organised rescue that took place just before the outbreak of the Second World War.  Frank Meisler escaped to the UK.  Seventy years later in 2009 he would return to his birthplace with his memorial dedicated to the children of the Kindertransport and those who had made their salvation possible.

Image Credit Wikimedia In August 1939 Frank Meisler was a frightened 13 year old boy.  As a Jew he was no longer safe in his home town, the Free City of Danzig (now Gdańsk in Poland), a German enclave which had embraced Nazism.  There had been anti-Jewish riots and the city’s Great Synagogue had been taken over and demolished.  Desperate, his parents requested his evacuation from the city by the Kindertrasport (German, Children’s Transport) an organised rescue that took place just before the outbreak of the Second World War.  Frank Meisler escaped to the UK.  Seventy years later in 2009 he would return to his birthplace with his memorial dedicated to the children of the Kindertransport and those who had made their salvation possible.

Image credit Wikimedia The railway station at Danzig was the start of a train journey which would take Frank, along with 14 other Jewish children, from their home town to the heart of Nazi Germany, Berlin.  From there they would journey through Germany and on to the Dutch port city of Rotterdam. Thence a boat to freedom in England where another train would take them to London’s Liverpool Street Station and their new life would begin.  Meisler would create monuments for all four places, plus Hamburg (as you will see below).

Read More: Here