#ive been thinking about style and realised that if my vision were better my style would probably be really different the like impressionist

[rimeah]

Hi! just to say i love your art and your style! i wish i could do this, it's so cool!!! i hope you will do more in the future!

Hi!!! ♡♡♡ thank you so much!!! I'm sure that with practice you can too!!! I promised a tutorial way back I'm sorry I still haven't gotten to it ORZ ive been a little too tired to make things...neat? I've been painting on my commute but a little shakily LOL I think with love and practice anyone can draw any style, it just takes time!!!

I'll definitely post more!!! Thank you again!!! ♡♡♡

[svampira]

🎯✂️🧠 per eden elias e brooklyn tripla combo

ask game

🎯 -What do they do best?

Elias, in spite of his horrible rancid personality, can be extremely charming when he needs to be, and his presence powers are op enough to be basically mind control at that point. <this does get him in trouble just as much as it gets him out of it. Physically he's very strong, but he only has 3 dots of melee and no combat disciplines, so he's kind of a flop for a vampire. When it comes to human abilities that carried off into his unlife, he's a great musician but that barely comes up and it's not why he was embraced.

Brooke can see the future👍🙏 she has way more control over her visions than the average malkavian, and her auspex in general is op as well because i love to cheat. Physically she's an extremely skilled acrobat, she was a gymnast her whole life and had just started teaching gymnastics before she died. She kills you then cartwheels out of the room🤸‍♀️

Eden's a sneaky guy👍 he can sneak in and out of somewhere without anyone noticing, eavesdrop on anyone and sneak out of most dangerous situations without having to resort to a fight (which he probably wouldn't win). He can hack anything 90s movies style but i literally don't know anything about that so im going to shut up

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

Elias' worst memory is his "first" day on this green beautiful earth👍i have a lot of thoughts on memory loss in general i don't think he just blacked out and instantly knew he had no memories it was more of a gradual panicking. Not recognising who the man in front of him was even though it felt like he should have, to slowly realising he doesnt remember his own name and all of his memories are gone > and not even getting 5 minutes to deal with it before the stranger forces him to drink his blood then subsequently drains him. Just a shitty first night😔 hes not the kind of guy that dwells on things though by the time he woke up his sire had been executed so he just pretends he's fine with the whole thing

[This got way too long so im putting the second part under the cut. Read my oc's villain origin story👇👇]

For Brooke i think it was a specific moment when she was around 16 and realised she had no shot of making it as a professional athlete, both because she was being overlooked by her coaches and because she kind of shot up to 1.75m all of a sudden (now idk a lot about gymnastics. But ive never seen anyone in the olympics that was taller than 1.50m). That's genuinely her villain origin story just a chaotic ball of repressed anger, bitterness and dissatisfaction that she carried over into her adult life and turned her into the gotham villain she's now. Her real name isn't even (obv) brooklyn it's literally her villain name LMFAO i just realised

For Eden i think it was the moment he realised Brooklyn WAS real. She spent the better part of the first year they were turned trying to convince him they had a fight club situation going on. I think he found the idea of brooke being a fragment of his imagination more comforting than anything else, especially since it's not very uncommon for the type of vampire him and brooke are to have delusions/strange manifestations of their powers. He found out he was 90% less insane than he initially thought he was but it still made him trust himself way less + he was "forced" into hating brooklyn now for what she'd done even though she's his only link to his human life and still cared about her. Now im just feeling bad MAN im drawing him a better girlfriend

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

Elias is my fave i cant even lie at this point... i love that he's so pretty i love drawing him💖 writing wise I've talked about this before but i love evil characters that still kind of feel innocent in a way. Like he has no lived experiences before turning into a blood sucking monster and even though he can be cruel and horrible to both humans and people he actually cares about, it's almost like he's never really had a chance to be anything else. Your honour he's just like that. I also like that out of all my characters he's the silliest ^^ he doesn't take things too seriously he loves slacking off and doesn't know how to hold a grudge. Also boobs

When it comes to brooke I loooove evil characters all my ocs fucking SUCK and she's the absolute worst. She kicks puppies for fun she steals candy from babies she engages in emotional terrorism she loves scheming and plotting. Yet deep deep down even though she links Eden back to her bitterness and dissatisfaction with her old life she does genuinely love him, and does her best to look out for him even when she's tormenting him. Also i looove drawing her with new hair every time she's so fun + i have lots of horror illustration ideas when it comes to her and eden (brain courtesy of a STELLAR gift art i got during artfight)

For Eden I like that he's the only one who's trying to rise above his nature out of all my ocs (this obviouslydoesn't work out, but there was an attempt). He has the highest humanity out of all of them, he tries to avoid feeding directly from humans most of the time, and he's the only anarch (which means in the la of my oc canon he's basically opposed to every one of my ocs) . I loove that despite everything she puts him through he still loves brooklyn, but i also love love love that later on as the war between the camarilla and the anarchs worsens he starts legit trying to kill her (while she NEVER would. She did straight up torture him a couple times tho so there's no moral high ground). I love horribly dysfunctional relationships I'm weak for fucked up heterosexuals

[yespolkadotkitty]

The Angel’s Share, pt 5

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV

Eddie owed her Friday nights off for a month. Maybe two, depending on how this visit went.

Her train to the countryside the following Friday afternoon was just pulling out of the station when her phone had vibrated. She reread the text message again, hoping that maybe it would change upon second glance: Sorry, Kate, still dealing with half the staff getting over being sick. It was go in or close the pub for the weekend. Try not to kill him; there’s a lot of paperwork involved if you want to employ criminals.

Another text followed five minutes later: Let me live, too. Please? I’ve got kids.

“If by kids, you mean cats, then I guess,” Kate muttered, rolling her eyes and letting her head fall against the sun-warmed glass of the window, wondering how staunchly she would have to follow that last command. Eddie had probably purposefully waited until after the train had left before he sent the text so that she had no choice but to go on the journey, alone. She could turn back around once the train stopped, head back to London and pretend this weird arrangement never happened.

But that was the coward’s way out, and she wasn’t going to let the thought of spending the weekend at a stuffy, unbearably stiff country estate and distillery - if indeed there was one and Sharpe wasn’t bluffing - send her running scared with her tail tucked between her legs.

Two hours later, she stopped reading her book - a tight Swedish thrilled tipped for the Booker prize - on her phone as the scenery outside slowed, the gently rolling green hills stretching for as far as the eye could see. For someone born and raised in London, it was odd to see so much open space. Even the air smelled better, crisp and pure, as she stepped out onto the open-air platform. It was warm, clean, the faint smell of grass that had been freshly cut mingling with the less-than-pleasant smells of the station.

Hoisting her duffel bag over her shoulder and her large black purse over the other, she set off toward the taxi line. Just before the exit, though, stood several groups waiting for the arrivals of their loved ones. And one man, dressed elegantly in a fine black suit with a flat cap to boot - seriously?! - held a sign with her name on it.

“Just couldn’t help but show off, could he?” she grumbled at the man, strolling up to him. “I’m Katherine Adams. I’m assuming you’re taking me to the Sharpe Estate?”

It was hard to tell his age behind his sunglasses, but the driver’s smile was kind when he offered his hand to take her luggage from her. She only adjusted it on her shoulder more resolutely, waving in the direction of where she assumed the waiting car was parked.

“Yes ma’am. They are very much looking forward to receiving you. If you’ll just pop your baggage in the boot, we can get going.”

She followed him up to a sleek black car, clearly expensive at one point, although even her less-than-knowledgeable eye could see that it was a few years old. But the leather seat that she slid onto was comfortable and had clearly been well-maintained, cushioning and supporting her curves nicely.

The driver didn’t offer any conversation, which was just as well, as she was too busy attempting to enjoy the beauty of the passing trees and greenery despite the nerves rolling in her stomach. She knew nothing about the Baronet beside what she had learned from the occasional bit of gossip: he had an older sister, Lucille - unmarried the last anyone knew, he was the head of the business, and his father had squandered away a great deal of their fortune on his dreadful alcoholism. He hadn’t added much to it until recently, choosing to spend several years gallivanting around the world with demure debutantes and stunning socialites.

Kate was neither. But, that was besides the point.

So when the car rolled down the fine white avenue of gravel, shadowed by massive oak trees on either side, anticipation and anxiety manifested themselves in one hand rubbing lightly over the tight blue jeans on her thigh, the other tugging on the collar of her simple blue and black flannel she had left open over a black tank top. She hadn’t known what to expect for the tours, so her scuffed black boots sounded quietly on the floor of the car as she tapped her feet.

The house - if she could call it that - was massive, bigger than anything she’d ever seen in person excluding Buckingham Palace. Light brown stone comprised the outer walls, combining with the ivy that crept along some of the walls to suggest just a hint of wildness, and an age to the building beyond her lifetime. She caught what looked to be a few balconies interspersed on the second floor, along with many tall, thin windows peppered over the facade that hinted at the great number of rooms found within. Some windows shone, others looked untended.

She briefly caught sight of the great wooden front door opening before the driver stepped into view, opening her door and stepping wide to allow her to get out. She did so, smoothing her hands over non-existent wrinkles on her jeans, feeling like she wasn’t dressed nicely enough to even look at the home.

Surely they’ll realise I’m an imposter here. I’ll be back on the train in a hot minute.

Out of nowhere, a little boy ran up to her, face flushed and light eyes bright. He tugged on the pants leg of the driver urgently. “AndyAndyAndy,” he sang out. “Is that the lady Uncle Thomas was talking about?” he asked, pointing unabashedly at Kate.

Uncle Thomas? That was an interesting development. She got down on one knee, smiling at the fair-skinned boy. “I probably am. Is your Uncle Thomas around anywhere?”

“Gideon Sharpe! You cannot just run off when I’m talking to you!”

Kate lifted her gaze to the house to see a woman who could be nothing other than Thomas’ sister -  the similarities were just uncanny - striding towards them purposefully, her finger pointed at the little boy. Her tall frame suited her knee-length leather boots, navy barbour and jeans perfectly. About an acre of midnight dark hair was piled atop her head in a haphazard style that managed to look perfectly chic.

Opposite her, Kate felt like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. 

Thomas’ sister scooped up the boy - Gideon. Her cool, assessing gaze swept over Kate, not unkindly, but without a smile. “Welcome to Allerdale Hall.”

“Thank you,” Kate replied, trying to inject some warmth into her tone.

“My brother’s no doubt at the stables. I’ll take you. That’ll be all thank you, Andy.”

“Yes ma’am.” Andy dug in his pocket and produced a small sherbet lollipop.

Gideon looked up at his mother from his position in her arms. “Can I? Pleeeeaaasssseeeee.”

Lucille rolled her eyes - and the typical long-suffering mother expression made Kate thaw to her a bit. “Go on, then.”

Gideon took the candy and thanked Andy. The employee got back in the car and drove off to goodness knew where. Another rich family? A huge garage for rich-people cars? 

Kate dutifully grabbed her duffle bag and followed in Lucille’s wake as she and Gideon proceeded around the back of the enigmatic house - if a house could be called that. Kate imagined it as the star of some glossy period drama; the pretty facade with a hint of wild, the sprawling ivy alluding to both love and disrepair.

*******

God, Kate would be fit to be tied when Andy picked her up, Thomas thought, shaking his head with a smile as he mucked out stables.

They had a stable man for this job normally, but Thomas liked the hard manual work some days. It stopped him thinking of what his life had been like for those few dark years before he’d finally turned the family fortunes around. How he and Lucille had begged, borrowed and stole to keep from starving. When Lucille had worried that Gideon wouldn’t have a roof over his curly little head.

He wiped his forearm over his brow and pulled off the henley he wore, tossing it over his shoulder like a rag as he continued to work, shovelling the straw into the wheelbarrow. His muscles begged for mercy, but he preferred this labour to running on a treadmill in a gym. The circulated air in those places made him feel stifled; trapped.

“Uncle Thomaaaaasssssss!”

He recognised that urchin’s voice. Thomas turned just in time to scoop up his nephew with one arm as the boy barrelled towards him, all speed and no stealth. Gideon hugged him tightly and then grimaced. “Ew! You’re wet!”

“I’ve been doing sweaty work.” He lifted his gaze to see Lucille and Kate - a vision in a sleek black tank top and an open plaid shirt, the female lumberjack fantasy come to life in a very vivid way - walking towards him. He set Gideon down and leaned on the shovel he’d been working with.

“Your guest is here, Thomas,” Lucille said shortly. “Come on Gideon. Let’s go see what’s happening for dinner.”

“Bye Missus Kate!” Gideon called as he scrambled to run after his mother, grabbing her hand as they disappeared into the looming house.

Thomas tossed the shovel aside. “I’d have cleaned up if I knew you’d be early.” He used the henley to wipe his face and dab at the hollow of his throat where sweat habitually pooled when he worked. 

Kate looked at him for a long moment. Once again he had the sense that she saw every part of him, who he’d been and who he might be in the future. She had an arresting gaze, and he liked it. “I didn’t know you did…. This.” She gestured up and down his long frame with a lax wave of her hand.

“Didn’t know I shovelled horse shit?” he asked quietly, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. 

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[h-styles-babes]

No Control | Chapter Thirty-Nine

Summary: 

Micky Bennett: college student, loyal friend, aspiring nurse, One Direction fan, Harry Styles enthusiast. Her best friend, Trevor, wins tickets to a show in New Jersey with meet and greet passes. Micky expects a quick photo op with the boys and a great night at the concert with her best friend. What she gets a whole lot more than she bargained for.

To read precious chapters, you can go here. 

*Please feel free to reblog and send feedback. It’s much appreciated :)*

*Gif is not mine.*

THIRTY-NINE

I’m not sure how long it’s been, but when I wake up, it’s to the sound of hospital monitors and some quiet muttering at the edge of my consciousness. My eyelids feel heavy as I blink them open, and my throat is really dry. I clear my throat and swallow to try to alleviate the scratch, and that causes someone to enter my field of vision in a flash, though I can’t really tell who it is right away.

“Girl, you gave all of us quite the scare,” a familiar voice chastises as a bright light flashes in my eyes. I squeeze them shut and she tuts at me. “Gotta let me see your pupils, Micky.”

“Joy?” I ask, my voice a little rough. I clear my throat, desperate for some water or ice chips or something. I don’t know how long I’ve been out, but it feels like it’s been forever. 

“What other beautiful Southern black woman do you know?”

I feel my lips pull up into a small smile at her sass. “That I work with? Just you.” “Exactly. Now open those eyes, or else I’ll pry them open.”

Not really wanting her to follow through on that threat, I peel my eyes open, happy to see that my vision’s cleared and there’s no longer a bright light shining into them. I can make out Joy’s face now, a small smile pulling on her lips, though there’s concern evident in her eyes. 

“There we are,” she tuts happily. “How’re you feeling?”

“Can I get some water?”

She turns to a small table and pours me a cup, setting a straw in it. I realize for the first time that I’m lying in a hospital bed, a heart rate monitor attached to my finger and an IV stuck in my arm. I turn to look at the monitor beside my bed and read my stats. Everything’s normal, though my blood pressure is very slightly elevated, but that’s normal for how late into my pregnancy that I am. 

“What happened?” I ask once I’ve taken a few sips. My throat feels better and when I clear it it doesn’t feel like sandpaper rubbing together anymore. 

“You passed out when you stood up. We got you into a room and took your stats. Your blood pressure was really elevated. Harry got on the phone with your OB as soon as we made sure you were stable.”

“Where is he?” I ask, realizing he’s not in the room with me. I figured he’d be here, but maybe he’s still on the phone? “How long have I been out?”

“Just about ten minutes,” she assures. “And he’s out in the hall making a few phone calls. Your OB wants you transferred to another hospital so he can run some tests to determine what’s going on. Harry’s freaking out.”

I snicker. “The only time I’ve ever seen that man have a proper freak out is when it concerns the pregnancy.”

“Can you blame him?” she asks, flipping through my charts. “He’s got you and his baby to worry about. Two most important people in the world to him.”

Harry comes into the room, then, looking at his phone with a puzzled expression, before realising I’m awake. When he sees me conscious and speaking with Joy, a relieved sigh sags his shoulders and makes a small smile quirk at the corners of his lips. “Micky,” he breathes, rushing to my side. “How’re you feeling, love?”

“I’m alright,” I nod. “Heard you spoke to the doctor?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna take you over to the hospital his office is associated with as soon as you’re up for it.”

I turn to look at Joy for her input. She’s my caregiver right now. She just raises her eyebrows at me. “You’re technically not admitted. I think you’re good to go any time. I just wanted to get some fluids in you and make sure your vitals stayed steady.”

“Alright, get me unhooked from these things, then. Time to get this show on the road,” I announce, motioning to the IV poked into my arm. Joy goes about getting me unhooked with ease, slapping a plaster on my arm for the IV prick, even though I feel it’s unnecessary. She rolls her eyes at me, though, making me chuckle. 

“Take care of her,” Joy tells Harry, lightly patting at his stomach. “We like her around here, and that baby of yours needs her mama healthy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry answers with a succinct nod, which I snicker at before heading to my locker to gather my things. The hospital’s already been made aware of my need to leave and go to the hospital to get myself and Waverly checked out, so I walk out with Harry’s hand in my own with ease. We still haven’t talked about what happened in the days previous, but I think my little health crisis takes center stage at the moment. Plus, I’m just glad to have his support with me and know he’s going to be here, even if I have been a bit of a bitch recently. But a bitch with a good reason, at least. 

Harry keeps his hand on my bump on the way over, smiling every time Waverly gives a little nudge. I rest my own hand over his, lacing our fingers together. I think he’s comforted by her movements, a sign that she’s doing well, even though she’s running out of room, slowly but surely. I can’t imagine she’s too comfy in there anymore, so I’m anticipating her arrival more than I ever have before. 

“Gave me quite a scare, love,” he admits, looking over at me at a red light. “Glad I was there, though. Would’ve hit your head if I wasn’t. Feeling alright?”

“Still a little woozy,” I admit. Whenever we hit a bump in the road, I feel my head swim a bit, and it’s making me a little nauseas. “And thank you for making sure I didn’t crack my skull on anything.”

“I’ll always be there to catch you,” he offers nonchalantly while watching the road, though I can hear the underlying seriousness of his statement. “You know that.” 

When we get to the hospital, it looks like the reception desk is waiting for us, and the man standing there smiles when I give him my name. Harry’s pulled a beanie on over his head and pushed his hair up into it to try and prevent anyone recognizing him, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s looking at him anyway. We’re told to go straight to the OB unit where my doctor should be with me pretty much as soon as I arrive.

Sure thing, Dr. Lorenz is there at the nurse station when we step out of the lift. He smiles when he sees me and grabs a nurse’s attention. I still feel a little woozy as I walk over to him, and Harry notices, wrapping an arm around my waist to keep me steady and shooting me a concerned look. 

“Micky, how are you doing? Feeling okay?” Dr. Lorenz asks. 

“I’m alright,” I shrug. 

He frowns as he sees Harry’s tight hold on me. “Let’s get you in a bed and I’ll start running some tests, okay?”

Harry helps me change into a gown, doing up the ties in the back for me after Dr. Lorenz leaves the room to give me a bit of privacy. We’re alone for the first time since I was at his house a few days ago. Once he’s done tying the little strings, hr places his hands on my hips and gently pulls me back into his chest. He’s warm and comforting, and his scent washes over me. I let my eyes fall closed as he presses chaste kisses to my shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, princess. Don’t like not speaking to or seeing you. I understand why, though.” He nuzzles his nose into my neck and runs his hands to my stomach. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t know she’d show up. And I know you probably overheard our conversation while you were in the loo. I never wanted you to hear any of that. It’s the past. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It was quite a slap in the face,” I agree, remembering her words about her and Harry’s sex life before we reconnected. While it’s not necessarily any of my business, since Harry and I weren’t together, it’s still not something that I ever wanted to hear. 

“I know. I never meant for a discussion about her to come about like this. I’d honestly forgotten about it until she showed up at my home.” Harry turns me so we’re face to face, his eyes holding a sincerity and anguish that I’ve never seen before in him. My not seeing him or properly speaking to him seems to have a bigger effect on him than I was anticipating. 

“I had, too,” I admit. “Everything was going so well, I had pushed that information from my mind. Her showing up when I was with you was just a harsh reality, and I wasn’t prepared for it.”

“She’s sorry, by the way,” he adds, pushing back a piece of my hair that’s fallen from my ponytail. “Right after you left, she was kinda panicking and apologized before she left. She didn’t mean to stir anything up. She didn’t know we were together.”

I sigh, realising that I trust Harry if he trusts her word. She was right when she said she couldn’t believe what gossip rags post about her mates. How was she to know that Harry and I are really together and having a baby when she’s only seen it splashed across TMZ? Especially if she hasn’t actually been speaking to Harry in recent months? I wanted so badly to make her out as the bad guy, but all she really is is the catalyst for something that Harry and I have never talked about and really need to talk about. 

“It’s alright,” I nod. “I still want to have a conversation with you, but I don’t think my hospital room is the best place to have it.”

Harry nods. “I agree. But you’re not gonna shut me out anymore, right?” His brows furrow together, giving him that wounded puppy look that absolutely guts me. I never like seeing Harry downtrodden. 

“No, H, I promise.” I raise my hand to cup his jaw, pulling him gently towards me. I place a soft kiss to his pouty lips, something I’ve missed greatly in the days that I haven’t seen him. I only got to see him shortly after his weeks away, and I’d already been missing touching him and kissing him. Our little tiff had only further put a wedge in that. 

“Good.” He presses another, slightly harder kiss to my lips, holding me by the waist. The belly definitely gets in the way of how close we can be, but it doesn’t stop him from pressing against me as much as he can. “Now lets get you on the bed. Reckon the doctor will be back soon.”

No sooner than he says that, there’s a tap on the door before it slowly creaks open, Dr. Lorenz poking his head in. Harry’s helping to sit me on the edge of the bed at this point, so the doctor smiles and fully enters into the room, a nurse trailing behind him with a cart full of medical supplies that I recognize. I’m in for another IV and some urine samples, it looks like. 

Sure enough, Dr. Lorenz explains that he wants to take a blood sample, as well as a urine sample, and get me set up on an IV to keep me hydrated. I got to the loo to get the urine sample before they hook me up to the IV and their monitors. Harry’ on the phone in the corner as they do this, talking in hushed voices to whoever’s on the other end. I can only imagine it’s Jeff or something, working out schedules. He’s getting back into the swing of working, so I’m sure there’s lots of details to work out.

“Alright,” Dr. Lorenz starts once he’s finished getting everything he needs. “We’ll get these to the labs and see what’s going on. We should have results back in about an hour or so, so just hang tight for now. Watch some TV, call your parents, call some friends. Shouldn’t be too long before we have some answers.”

“I’m thinking a nap is a good idea,” I suggest, feeling drowsy from laying on the bed. It’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, but I haven’t been sleeping well in recent days, so any time I’m laying down is prime time for a nap, in my eyes. “I’m knackered.”

“Nap,” Harry suggests, reentering the conversation. “I’ll call Trev and tell him what’s going on.” He turns to the doctor. “Can she eat?”

“Yeah, she’s okay. I don’t foresee her needing to fast for anything,” he confirms. “Then I’ll get some lunch for when you wake up,” Harry addresses me. 

“Sounds good,” I agree, already letting my eyes drift closed. 

I hear the doctor chuckle and I feel Harry’s lips on my forehead just before I let myself slip into sleep.

Trev is in the room when I wake up, talking with Harry quietly. My heartbeat being reflected by the monitor sounds steady and normal, so I’m relieved that nothing else has happened while I’ve been out. I stretch my limbs, wincing a bit at the tug of my IV that I forgot about momentarily. Trev notices that I’m awake first, and smiles softly at me before coming closer.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” he greets, grabbing my hand. “Doctor should be in soon. Nurse just came in a few minutes ago to say your labs were back.”

“What time is it?” I ask, pushing myself to sit up. I’ve got a headache, I notice, but it’s only dull, so I don’t pay it much mind. 

“Just after two,” Harry answers, pocketing his phone. He moves to sit in the chair next to my bed, grabbing my other hand. “Had Trev pick up some sandwiches on his way over so you can eat if you’re hungry.”

“I’m fucking starving,” I admit, spying the bag on the little wheel-y table beside me. Trev pushes it over for me, helping me open the wrapping so I don’t pull on my IV too much. Harry doles out a few napkins and pours me a cup of water. I thank them before shoving the sandwich in my mouth, humming at the food. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I’m proper hungry. A sub has never tasted so good. 

Trev and Harry chat away about Trev’s finals while I eat my food. It seems that they’ve already eaten, two crumpled up wrappers in the bag that my sub came from. I’m nearly finished by the time there’s a knock on my door, Dr. Lorenz entering immediately after.

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” he smiles, closing the door behind him. “Trevor, haven’t seen you in awhile.”

“Yeah, well, I got replaced by Harry at appointments recently,” he shrugs, shooting a mock glare at the man. Harry sticks his tongue out at him, making me grin. They may be adults, supporting themselves and getting things done, but they still act like they’re ten. 

“I think the dad trumps the best friend, unfortunately,” Dr. Lorenz teases. He turns to me then, waving my chart at me. “I’ve got your results.”

I swallow the bite I’ve been chewing. “How’s it looking?” I have a feeling I know what’s wrong with me, just from my knowledge and the information I’ve been given at my past doctor’s appointments, but I don’t want to jump to any conclusions without all the details. I’m sure he won’t beat around the bush, knowing that I’m in the medical field, as well. 

“Given your elevated blood pressure, the fainting spell, and protein in your urine…” he trails off, looking through my chart.

“I’ve got preeclampsia, haven’t I?” I answer, posing it more as a statement than a question. I hadn’t really noticed the signs before, but given all that’s happened in the last few hours, I’ve been able to deduce the answer on my own. 

“I’m afraid so,” he nods, pursing his lips at me.

“What’s that mean? Like, I know what preeclampsia is, but what’s that mean for the rest of the pregnancy?” Harry asks, looking back and forth between the doctor and me. His hand that’s holding mine tightens it’s grip slightly, and the strokes his thumb has been making against the back of my hand speed up. I can tell that he’s a bit stressed and nervous, so I give him a squeeze back to try to reassure him that everything’s going to be fine. 

“It means she’ll have to be on mild bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy, which, thankfully, isn’t long. Nothing too stressful, no heavy lifting, no exercise. Basically, anything that can raise her heart rate is out of the question.”

“So no work?” Harry asks. 

“No work. I know you were planning your leave already, but it just came early,” the doctor tells me.

“That’s alright,” I shrug. “Don’t mind leaving work as long as it means Waverly will be alright.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Dr. Lorenz smiles. “Now, in the case that your condition worsens, I’m alright with doing a C-section pretty much from this point onward. Luckily, you’re far enough along in our pregnancy that I don’t foresee any complications where the baby’s concerned. If we have to deliver her in the next week, she’ll probably be kept in the NICU for a few days, just to make sure she’s doing well on her own. But any later than the coming week, you should be able to take her home as soon as your well enough.”

“Is a vaginal birth still an option?” Harry asks. We both don’t want to have a C-section if it can be helped.

“Definitely. I’m just giving you the C-section scenario in case it comes to that. I think Micky knows how to take care of herself, though. I don’t see why she wouldn’t be able to have a vaginal birth when she goes into labor naturally.”

Harry’s shoulders sag with relief at the news, though he’s still stroking my hand pretty obsessively. I can tell he’s still nervous about these turn of events, but I know we’re going to be okay. 

“As long as you’re feeling okay, you can be discharged now, Micky,” Dr. Lorenz tells me. You know the protocol for bed rest?”

“Mild bed rest,” I remind him. “I can still go about my daily life, just take it easy, basically.”

“Good, and don’t stress yourself out too much.”

“My boyfriend is an international pop star,” I deadpan. “I can’t avoid stress.”

“Just no run-ins with a horde of paparazzi, alright?”

“No promises.”

The next day, I’m holed up in Harry’s house on the couch, watching endless hours of Chopped while Harry does basically everything for me. He even got Jeff to bring us lunch on his way over, since him and Harry needed to sit and talk about business stuff anyway. Apparently Harry’s got some things planned for April and May that need to be nailed down sooner rather than later, and it’s all kind of colliding with the impending arrival of Baby Styles, which seems to be stressing Jeff out a little bit. Harry’s had these things lined up since the beginning of the year, so it’s not like he can back out—not that I’d ever want him to—and they’re trying to get everything worked out as best as they can. Harry still hasn’t told me exactly what’s going on, but he’s promised that he definitely will soon, once he’s able to, legally.

We also haven’t talked anymore about the Kendall thing, but I’m alright with that for now. I’m just sort of coming to grips with the fact that I’m to be on bed rest for the rest of my pregnancy, and while it’s no more than a few weeks, I’m still not all that pleased about it. I don’t like just sitting around, but there’s not much else I can do that won’t put stress on my body. 

It’s just at the end of an episode, when the house sounds with that chime that I’ve come to learn means someone���s pulling up to the driveway. It doesn’t seem that Harry’s heard it, since I can still hear him talking with Jeff in the kitchen, so I call out for him. 

“Yes, love?” he calls back, his conversation pausing.

“Someone’s at the gate,” I tell him. 

I hear his socked footsteps coming toward me, pattering against the hardwood floor. He’s got his phone open, and I’m assuming he’s checking his app to look at the cameras at the front gate. His face lights with a smile before he looks up at me. 

“What?” I ask.

“Got a surprise for you,” he tells me before walking toward the front door. “C’mon, pet.”

“Wait, Harry!” I huff, pushing myself up from the couch. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see,” he calls, opening the door just as a black Range Rover pulls up, the windows tinted dark. It looks like Harry’s own car, but since he’s not the one driving it, I realize it must be the driving service he uses. 

I’m just waddling into the foyer when the doors of the Range open and two women step out.

“Micky, darling!”

“Mum?”

FORTY

[namjoonchronicles]

Tumbleweed, Her #14 - [BAP] Noir!Au

[A/N] Jongup basically invented breathing. /breathe yall/ 

The Decision; Moon Jongup.

In his state, the last thing he should have been bothered is anything apart from his current pain. But living with an abusive set of childhood for as long as he lives, there’s no pain greater than watching the girl he loves, with someone else. And not just ‘someone else’, her ex. The sight kills him.

The way he never thought he could have been killed. If only he wasn’t cast, if only he had the ability to walk without having to drag IV drips, he would have carried you in his arms and away from Yongguk. “I need to apologize,” Yongguk dropped his gaze to Jongup’s feet and a smirk is playing on his lips, as he proceeds, “... but I don’t want to.” His eyes dragged back up to meet Jongup’s. “By the word ‘need’, you acknowledge that she belongs to me, right?” Jongup replied smartly.

Yongguk’s smile swept away in seconds. “Despite all that,” Yongguk ran his eyes, scanning through Jongup’s body, “She still finds my shoulder’s comfortable enough to sleep on.”

“She had a long day, let her sleep in my bed,” Jongup pointed his palm outward, and continued, “...In a totally non possessive way, just. Let her take a rest on my bed, it looks like she could use some actual rest.” Yongguk didn’t protest and carried you bridal-style and laid you on Jongup’s bed, before Jongup dimmed the light for Junhong to sleep well as well. Then he and Yongguk proceeds to walk outside to the park they have in the hospital, to stare at the moonlight.

Jongup sat on the bench at the same time Yongguk was about to seat. “She had many scars.” Yongguk started. “More than what meets the eye.” Jongup added.

“There are wounds in her that still hasn’t heal.” “And she’s hurting although she pretends she’s not.”

“Being with you, makes her happy.” Yongguk’s voice slowed down. “Being with you, makes her safe.” Jongup glances at Yongguk’s side profile, short.

Yongguk dropped his head and kicked the air, one hand in the pocket. “I don’t want to let go of her.” He finally said. “So do I.”

You flutter your eyes open, awakened by the overwhelming heat from the comforter. The sound of footsteps from the hallways was dimmed, and as you blink your eyes a few times, your vision clarifies to two heads on each side. One holding your thighs, another held your hand. Both were still asleep. “Good morning,” said another husky voice from across the room. Junhong sat up, reading newspapers with one glass of orange juice in his hand. “I can’t read a thing on this, but they do it all the time on the TV so I thought, why not.” He shrugged. You try to seat up, but at the small movements you make, Yongguk, who had his face nuzzled on your hand, moans softly. Jongup’s grip on your thigh strengthens.

You looked to Junhong.

And he was amused.  

“Attractiveness does run in the family.” He shrugged, he excused himself to leave for the toilet. And both Jongup and Yongguk inhales deeply, awakening from their serene sleep. “Morning.” You darted your eyes to each one and sighed. “We need to talk about something.” Jongup started. “We think it’s better if you just listen first.” Yongguk added.

They explained things. Things you don’t understand. Things that shouldn’t have been the core of everything  at the moment, since there are more important things. “I can’t be with both of you, what are you talking about!” You exclaimed. Already getting off the bed, and they tailed you like two pairs of lost puppies seeking a home. “Just, listen. This is our idea. And you won’t be considered cheating.” Jongup brazenly said.

You gawked at him. “And it will give you more time to decide.” Yongguk added. “Not you too.” You sighed at him.

The wind is blowing softly, that the leaves drifted a little. The breeze is refreshing, and you realized that it has been awhile since you’ve really looked at the sky. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” you heard Jongup say, “It’s going to rain soon.” The you looked up, even more, “I’m not afraid of the rain.” Jongup let out a small smile. He was reminiscing. He found you in the rain and the first time he saw you, were waking in the heavy rain. And unlike all the other pedestrian, who was avoiding the rain like it’s toxic, you were the only one in the rain, smiling. Everyone’s avoiding the drizzle, stepping away from the puddle, but you. But you.

But you went over and embraced the rain. You were the only finding the comfort in the rain. And Jongup remembered that face so well, it became embedded in his heart and it was only then, he realized that you were worth saving.

“Do you know why I like the rain, Jongup?” You glanced at him. But without for his answers, you blinked, and Jongup was again reminded, how beautiful you are. “...Because in the rain, no one could tell if you’re crying or not. That’s why I love being in the rain.”

“That’s not the only thing you did in the rain.” Jongup added, with a strange look on his face. A face of a man in love. He knew you remembered when you pressed your lips together.

If you remembered correctly. It was…

Almost evening, when it started to downpour. A few days after Jongup could finally walk after being treated by you. He went for a walk with you, wearing a face mask and a hoodie. Everyone around was walking leisurely, with ice cream cones, kids playing with bubbles making guns, couples linking arms around. It was a very lively evening.

Jongup spoke for the first time, after his illness subsides, and the first thing he said to you was, “ Why did you save me?”

“And then it got to you. Why did you save a stranger?

“Because your body is wrecked and you had no one else to turn to, because if you did, you wouldn’t have collapsed on my doorstep.” You simply answered. The skies didn’t show any signs of darkening. “...Because you needed help.” You added. And you opened your mouth to say something but close them again, but then, you decided, that if you don’t say it now, no one in this world would know what kind of person you are. With your live in danger, someone should know. “...Because I know someone who shared similar fate as you. And...I was once in that state and could find anyone to help me. Because I know how it feels to have nowhere else to go.” You nodded to yourself. You puffed your cheeks as you felt jongup’s eyes studying your face.

“Because if you’ve have had a destination in mind, you wouldn’t have knocked on a stranger’s door.”

There’s so many things about the world that Jongup is mad about. So many things. He should have been angry about a loot of things and people. About his fate. About the life he had be chosen for but never really had an option to say no, to. “I realised that you have a lovely smile, why don’t you do it more often?” You told him. But before Jongup got to answer, he felt a drop of rain on his shoulder, wetting them. And before he could even say the word ‘rain’, it started to downpour so heavily. He thought about grabbing your wrist and pull you the closest shade there, just a few metres where.

He thought of pulling you to safety, away from the open sky. But he didn’t, and instead, he went off to save himself, screaming at you, “Get over here, it’s raining!” He said from the shade, shared by other pedestrians who barely got there in time. You on the other hand, held both your palms upward. , enjoying the feeling of the rain hitting your face. It felt like you’ve been showered with blessings from the skies.

In a  lot of part in the world, rain is considered a gift from God. The drying soil will soon find their much needed moisture, and plants will grow and have you heard the sound of rain?Don’t it soothe in ways you never thought possible?

Jongup kept watching, kept calling or you to be away from the place he’s in. But you ignored him and kept on smiling. You spun in the rain, your face held facing the skies. You smiled. “Why be afraid of the rain when there’s so little to be happy about.

You opened your eyes and darted straight at him with that angelic smile, “You can’t tell apart the tears from the rain, can you?” You giggled sadly. And he noticed the little teardrop that escaped your eyes. “Please don’t cry.” Jongup whispered, looking at you. He looked around where families started to gather their childrens around, some of the kids are crying because of the rain, some almost running towards the falling rain.

Lovers cuddled together closer, cooing each other from the sudden weather and how it ruined their date. And Jongup saw you in the rain alone, enjoying everything in the moment and he was suddenly envious of it. “Oh fuck it.” He blew hot air to his forehead and marched through the pouring rain to where you are. He had one palm on side of your face, thumbing your cheek, cupping your face with both hands next and presses his lips on yours, tilting your head back a  little so he could kiss you properly.

He opens your mouth with his own, and sliding his tongue into you so lovingly, you forgot that you were in public, in the park, with people watching everything. But his lips were too good, and the moment had already happened, so you decided to let it go with the flow. And before Jongup knew anything about the fate he tried to change and the life he was about to lead, he knew one thing for sure. That he is helplessly, madly, and stupidly…

...In love with you.

And many days, weeks and months after that first kiss happened.

He looks at you today, with that same strange look on his face and he is convinced that the feelings never changed, nor has it wavered an inch. But at the back of his mind, reality strikes, and his smile was gone along with the future he dreamt of having.

Jongup glances behind his shoulder and he saw Yongguk walking out of the hospital with a sullen face. He probably needed to head back to his headquarters now. He had a very tiring night, and barely rested. Would he be okay?

Daehyun was watching out from his car, together Youngjae. He observed the scene with a playful smirk on his face. “What do you think will happen now?” Youngjae asked, out of curiosity. Daehyun tend to have a great mind that is able to predict, and if he wrote a book, Youngjae would be the first to buy, because he’s very calculative and precise in his prophecy, it is almost frightening. Daehyun, with his infamous know-it-all smile, he ran his thumb on his bottom lips, averting his eyes to the steering wheel for a short while, and he said, “To what extent would you sacrifice, in the name of love? How much would you be willing to lose?”

Youngjae pursed his lips, laying his head back to the car seat. “Enough of this philosophy shit and tell me where this story is heading…” He whined.

“You’re impatient.” Daehyun hissed. “When a girl loves, she loves unconditionally. And when she hates, she hates unconditionally. She gives her everything, and leave out nothing. It’s going to take everything in him, to make her come back if he ever let her go.”

“Your point is?” Youngjae rolled his eyes.

“What happens when a man, loves?” Daehyun gave his words a much needed pause. It gave Daehyun some time to think. “Would you love a girl and give her everything she wanted, spoil her?” Daehyun asked.

“Of course.” Youngjae nodded. But Daehyun shook his head, disagreeing. “That’s not love.”

“You give her what she needs. Even if it means…” Daehyun trailed his voice, and from the distance, he and Youngjae witnessed you marched straight to Jongup and slapped him across his pretty face, “Even if it means, breaking her heart.”

You threw Jongup a disgusted face and he did nothing when you walked away. You were so angry, you couldn’t even cry. You brushed shoulders with Yongguk and Yongguk did nothing more than call your name softly, but you didn’t stop to hear what he has to say. Yongguk averted his eyes at your smalling back and then glances at the back of Jongup’s head.

“What did you do.” Yongguk sounded annoyed. “What I’m supposed to do, a long time ago.” Jongup hung his head low, “Like I said, she’s safer with you.”

“What did you tell her?” Yongguk tilted his head to one side. “What she needs to hear in order to hate me.” Jongup mercilessly answered.

It’s not easy, breaking your heart.

And Jongup knows that too much.

Next : Part 15

[toussainttomove]

#WOD AKA Windows Of Displacement. (update)

Greetings to whoever is reading this blog. It is starting to feel like an echo chamber as I haven’t been approached by a kind stranger commenting on my poor use of grammer. Let us put that aside as there has been much positive developments surrounding one self at the moment and it feels good. 

Let’s see. So last we spoke I was going into my week @Pure Heart Centre with Zodwa Nyoni. We worked tirelessly- *(not really). To be honest we piped down a lot compared to my anxious expectations, which made me chill out. 

I went in head first....... 

And was brought to my senses by sitting down and reading the script. The act of reflection, is most powerful when reached through a seemless state. Then the concious refelction can begin.

Looking at the script, disecting it, feeling it, saying it, moving it, keeping it still. All of this allowed myself and Zodwa to write the gaps in the script which helped me bring the piece into moving. This was met actully with a hesitation to fully dance as I didn’t know the new bits fully. However by the time we got to Thursday I felt more with it, more confident and more tired haha.  Outside the studio I write demos of what can be parts of the piece. The time with Zodwa on Monday and Tuesday was spent cleaning what I previously wrote and cleaning the new parts I wrote. It was also spent bringing ourselves back up to speed with the piece.

(Zodwa likes pink I think)

The sharing @Pure Heart Centre was purely to spark conversation and that we did. We could have spoken all night. The participants had so much to challenge and expand on the piece. They also confirmed the use of some elements and decisions I made. This put a smile in my heart as I begun to feel that I am on the right road. 

The sharing also showed me that I do get nervous and I do know how it feels to be nervous and completely forget what you’re doing in a room filled with some new and old faces. One does crumble when one is feeling nervous, yes one does. I only say this as for the past year and a bit ive toured around the country performing in a company of 11 and in all the nervous moments we styled it out, we backed each other up, our eyes met and all was saved. 

For this I am alone, all I have is what myself and others will be creating, there is no safety net. There is only knowing your shit and executing it to the truest of yourself in that moment. For this I base my mishaps on Saturday on the truth that the piece is not finished and will not be fully within it until it is finished. 

Slowly though I feel this happening as today I was quoting parts of the piece. I am also realising this work is more than just a dance or theatre piece. It is in a way a manifesto for humanity, a manifesto on how to make small shifts in creating a better world. It is a manuel explaining that it is hard, so hard to change the world but easier yet very hard to make the changes in yourself which will impact the world.

Heres a link to a summary of the sharing filmed and edited by Tom Bosley

After sharing the piece I then lead my regular workshop @Pure Heart Centre. Never Alone was participated by two amazing invididuals on Sunday 15th of Jan 2017. It was a blast seriously, it was weird going from being in a room with 10-15 people watching me and adding thoughts. To then leading a workshop for two people the next day. Did I promote the workshop? yes Did I tell people the cost? yes Maybe that did it. haha 

Anyways it was amazing and I relearned how to do my workshops again. As it has been a while since I last lead people in the Never Alone journey but when I do it is always something quite transformational for me and for them. I get face to face with my fear of leading and they come face to face with their fears; to be seen, or not to be seen, am I funny, does this look good?, why am I doing this? From childhood recollections to adulthood realisations. So much comes up in these workshops so I am feeling it is my duty to take this work furthor.

Leeds is Awesome!!!!

I seriously love this city. I love it so much I am making a film around it. This brings me to today. I did the first day shooting for my Random Acts Comission. The portrait shots of people being people. This entailed people from different walks of life, existing on camera together or alone in some cases and maybe saying a word or two of my poem to the camera. This was fun like super fun. I got to be bossy and not feel guilty about it because time was going andthe clouds were brewing. I felt the day went very well despite the unplanned happenings of seemingly negative nature. There were a lot of positive unplanned stuff too. 

I will tell you a moment now but it maybe won’t do justice. We walked up Briggate and I seemlessly stopped behind one of the volunteers without realising. Turns out he was hungry and wanted falafel too on his way to meeting us as we were on our way to meet him. Thing is I forgot he was in the film until I saw him and then it all clicked. I was just happy to see him. Super happy!!!!

We did 3 locations in the space of 4 hours all in this beautiful City. We went to Leeds Bridge, Market Wall and Town Hall. All monumental parts of the city encapsulating the beauty and diversity of the landscape and people in the city. 

I cannot wait to film the other parts and get the fim edited and sent to channel 4. Then I can be nervous again haha feels like im goingthrough a series of nervousness and confidence.

It also seems like ive been making a lot of films. I spent 6 hours this week rehearsing and creating for Zodwa Nyoni’s first screen play “Notes on Being A Lady”. This is an independent project which we are doing to keep the ball rolling on a collaborative relationship. My role this time around was movement director and the mover I was directing was Pariss Electra. Musical genius, with a stunning voice (when she sings all the heavens stop and put one fist in the air) and amazing personality, she is definately a soul sister.  

Working on Zodwa’s project as a movement director gave me such a rush again because I could be bossy. Deeper than that I was seeing visions in the moment and had the space to bring them to reality, my creative input was valued as I have valued so many in the past. I feel working the way I am working now will allow myself to grow as an artist. No safety net, no director above me. True clear collaboration to sustain this upward motion within and without one self.

I leave you now with this beautiful image taken by Jamal Gerald.... 

[viralhottopics]

Wilmer Cabrera, loyal lieutenant in Colombia’s dream team, thriving in MLS

Houstons new head coach was a stable presence in the maverick Colombian team of the 1990s and hes brought calm and clarity to the MLS pacesetters

Glory and brutality were companions in Colombian football during the 1990s as the national team reached three World Cups amid a bloody drug war that did not spare sport. If Carlos Valderrama, Rene Higuita and Tino Asprilla were the maverick stars, Wilmer Cabrera was a more stable and less erratic presence.

Cabrera has brought calmness and a clarity of vision to his post-playing careers, first in a role where those qualities are indispensable as a helicopter pilot then in a febrile sphere where they are less common. In a measured rise over 14 years he has progressed from coaching youth teams in New York to his current role in charge of an MLS pacesetter in the embryonic 2017 season.

The Houston Dynamo have two wins from two games, like their opponents this Saturday, the Portland Timbers. Its the style as much as the results that have drawn attention: Cabrera deployed a rambunctious 4-3-3 in a 2-1 opening-weekend win over last years MLS Cup champions, the Seattle Sounders, and a 3-1 victory over the Columbus Crew.

There were handsome goals from the Honduran winger, Romell Quioto, and the Mexican striker Erick Torres, who arrived as a costly Designated Player in 2015 and finally found the net against Seattle after 22 fruitless MLS appearances. He also scored against Columbus.

Talking this week at the Dynamos training ground, Cabrera painted himself as above all a pragmatist, ready to adapt his tactics to his resources. Under a predecessor, the former Bolton and Burnley manager, Owen Coyle, the reverse seemed true.

I dont want to force our players to play the possession, team-oriented [approach] that I used to play because they dont feel that way, the personalities are different, Cabrera said. They like to run, they have speed and they want to attack. Our transition is quick from defending to attacking so whyre we going to change? The players are the ones that are dictating what is the best for them and right now, so far, this is the way were going to play because this is the type of player that we have.

Born in Cartagena, on the Caribbean coast, Cabrera spent most of his 20s with Amrica de Cali and won 48 caps for Colombia. The defender was an unused squad member in Italia 90, missed USA 94 through injury but played in every minute of all three of his countrys matches in France four years later.

Before 1990, Colombia had only once reached a World Cup in 1962. But their 1990s sides had personalities as big as their hair, little turnover of key players, technical excellence, an inspired creator in Valderrama and an effervescent style that lifted the nation. The team had a carefree quality despite the bloody unrest being wreaked by drug lords such as Pablo Escobar, which seeped into soccer.

We were very naive in a lot of aspects. It was just playing soccer the way we felt how to play soccer, Cabrera said. Rene Higuitas scorpion kick famously illuminated a dull goalless draw with England in a friendly at Wembley in 1995.

Less well remembered, at least in England: the goalkeeper was released the year before after seven months in prison when he was accused of acting as a go-between to help arrange the release of a girl kidnapped in a drug cartel feud. Asprilla, the gun-toting former Newcastle forward, reportedly moved to Europe after death threats.

Cabrera said that it was not until he moved to the US and saw outside media narratives about his countrys troubles that he fully understood the turbulence. Definitely it was an unbelievable time. When I talk with my kids about it, when I talk with people about it, they are amazed, Cabrera said. We didnt realise until now, when you start looking back, and you realise that it was a very rough, very tough moment and a very dangerous environment to be playing soccer.

The defender Andres Escobar was murdered outside a Medellin nightclub 10 days after scoring an own goal in a 2-1 defeat by the US in the 1994 tournament, perhaps because of the result and his blunder.

It just changed your perspective in all aspects because you never imagine that playing soccer brings you into a threatening environment, Cabrera said. For us it was fun, for us it was the way we used to live it was our lifestyle. It became a little bit difficult, it became complicated.

Wilmer Cabrera takes on Michael Owen during the Colombia-England game in 1998. Photograph: Olivier Morin/EPA

Cabrera hoped to follow Valderrama into MLS but a move never materialised. He finally arrived in New York in 2003 with a view to working as a helicopter pilot, a skill he had learned in Colombia and one that aligns with the seemingly-contradictory parts of his character and coaching strategy: cool rationality with a spirit of adventure.

He was sucked back into football, joined the Long Island Rough Riders, took coaching qualifications and rose through the ranks of the American game, including a stint as a fan development manager for MLS. I started to work on soccer from the moment I arrived, tried to learn the language, start from the bottom, and its been quite a long journey but its been very positive for me because Ive been able to work at all the levels here in the United States, he said.

In 2012-13 he was an assistant at the Colorado Rapids under his friend and former international teammate, Oscar Pareja, who is now at FC Dallas. In 2014 the 49-year-old won plaudits for the exercise in damage limitation that was life as head coach of Chivas USA in their final MLS season, which included coaxing a 15-goal campaign from Torres.

Last year, he worked for a Dynamo affiliate, the Rio Grande Valley FC Toros. They reached the United Soccer League playoffs, going a league-record 758 minutes without conceding a goal.

He was picked by Houston ahead of their interim head coach, Wade Barrett, who lifted the team to levels of obduracy and organisation reminiscent of Dominic Kinnear, Coyles long-tenured predecessor, without notably improving results. In 2016 the Dynamo finished bottom of the Western Conference.

Amid the cooing over Houstons exciting debut it has been overlooked that in their first two MLS fixtures last year they drew 3-3 with the New England Revolution then battered Dallas, 5-0. But Coyle left in May (soon surfacing in Blackburn, albeit fleetingly) during a second season of muddled performances and mixed results.

A real strength of Wilmers is that hes very clear with what he expects from the guys positionally and within the framework of the team and he knows that those points need to be reinforced on a very regular basis. I think what stands out with Wilmer is hes just as much a teacher as a coach and thats something that is really important in our league, said Matt Jordan, the Dynamo vice-president/general manager.

Cabreras bilingualism and background was a plus for US Soccer when it appointed him in 2007 to be the first Hispanic head coach of a male American national side the under-17s. The obvious influence of South American is something that weighed into our decision, Sunil Gulati, the US Soccer Federation president, told Soccer America.

It also helps in Houston, where the Dynamo play in a city that is roughly 40% Hispanic and have a roster that features eleven players born in South or Central America.

Guys from England are always, I guess, going to bring in the most money and earn the most money, but if you want to win youve got to look elsewhere. You can only have three DPs on a team so its about finding the other role players, said AJ DeLaGarza, an off-season signing from the Los Angeles Galaxy.

First of all, you want to look for good players whose characteristics translate to Major League Soccer and historically, players from countries like Honduras and Colombia and Argentina and Costa Rica and Panama, those are markets that the players transition well to our league, Jordan said.

Its an added bonus that those profiles fit the demographics of our city. On top of that, when you look at the climate here, the conditions that we have to play in here, we want players to embrace that and feel very comfortable here.

Like Parejas Dallas, Houston aim to be devastating on the counter-attack. Still, when fatigue and summer heat bite, theres the question of how an aging back line will cope against fast, incisive opponents, especially since a three-man midfield offers limited protection down the flanks. The back four against Seattle was DeLaGarza (29), Adolfo Machado (32), Leonardo (29) and DaMarcus Beasley (34). The only starters under 28 were the three forwards: Alberth Elis (21), Torres (24) and Quioto (25). But the Sounders XI was no younger.

The Dynamo had only 36% of possession against Seattle and 40% against Columbus, according to league statistics. Broken down into five-minute intervals, Houston had more of the ball than their opponents for just 25 minutes of those 180.

The bright side is were winning and were still not playing, I would say, very well. Were very dynamic going forward but defending and keeping the ball we know we have to get better, and playing a full 90-plus minutes, said DeLaGarza.

Coyle made energetic and sincere attempts to embrace MLS but ended up as another statistic confirming the truism that the leagues idiosyncratic some might say arcane nature makes it all but impregnable to outsiders.

If Cabrera thrives in Texas it will be as much a tribute to the American development system as to the legacy of the experiences he absorbed in his native land. Im a local coach like any other coach, he said. Ive lived here in the United States for 14 years, so now my lifestyle is American style. Im an American coach.

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