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pugoata · 5 years ago

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Day 2 of Bumbleby Week - Meeting the Parents

(Quick shout-out to the user @rwby-party, who made the post I got the idea from.)

The humidity would dry up the further west they got. Landing in Vale, however, the summer was hot and the moisture in the air bogged them down. Yang had already ditched her bomber jacket on the airship; even in Atlas, she’d started wearing it less and less. Hot days weren’t completely unheard of in Solitas, she’d come to find out. She sighed and pressed her water bottle against her throat, grateful for its coolness.

“It’s hot,” Blake agreed, sidling up to her. She tucked her hair behind her hair, a habit that had popped up with its new length. Yang grinned at her.

“I am.”

Blake tilted her head, wry amusement twisting her smile. “I can’t tell if you’re being suggestive on purpose or not.”

“Yes.”

Blake’s laughter rang out, the sound a tickle to Yang’s ears. In spite of all the challenges that Atlas had presented, the heavy burden that Blake had carried had visibly lightened. That ever-present shadow of a madman no longer weighed her down. Laughter came more easily, smiles were wider.

They were closer than ever before, and Yang soaked up every minute of it. She slid an arm around Blake’s waist, giving her a quick peck on the lips as she did so.

“Did the pilot say how long we’ll be here?” she asked. Blake’s body brought additional warmth to the hot day, but when it was Blake, Yang didn’t mind so much. Blake shrugged.

“Maybe a couple hours. Just long enough to refuel and pick up the huntsmen.”

Their last week in Atlas had ended with a call to arms. Vacuo needed them, as well as all the huntsmen and huntresses who were able to come along. While the bulk of the Atlas military was making a straight shot for Shade Academy, Team RWBY had opted to take the more roundabout route, helping to recruit every able-bodied huntsman or student along the way. Not that they needed to beg; so many of them had rallied to Vale at the first notice, quickly filling up the airships.

It was heartening, that after so many setbacks, people were finally cooperating with them.

While Ruby and Weiss had run off to get a view of Beacon, Blake and Yang had opted to remain behind. It would have been interesting to see Ruby’s stone wyvern, but the Beacon that loomed over the shambles of Vale wasn’t the Beacon that had brought them together. The school was still a ruin, and looking at it would have reawakened too many memories that Yang would rather remain buried.

Instead, they stayed at the airship’s landing site. Atlesian military personnel were doing the quick intakes of licensed huntsmen, more for their own records than an actual vetting process. With what was going on in Vacuo, they couldn’t afford to be picky. Yang had looked through the crowd at first, hoping to catch the eye of any old teachers or classmates she might have recognized. There was Oobleck, and Port, both eager and ready to come along. Goodwitch, however, felt bound to her school, empty as it was, and chose to remain in Vale. But for the most part, the faces in the line were unknown to her. Most of these huntsmen and huntresses were strangers.

It was probably for the best. She wasn’t sure how many of them would make it out alive. She couldn’t even be certain that her own team would make it through. She bit her lip.

“Come back to me, Yang,” Blake murmured, sensing she was no longer mentally with her. Yang snapped to attention, looking at Blake with wide eyes. “I can tell you’re worrying again.”

“Oh.” Yang shrugged it off, not wanting her own fears to drag them down. She had to live in the moment, she reminded herself. She couldn’t afford to fear for an unknown future. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Blake found her hand, squeezed it. “We’ll get through this.”

Yang nodded, and for a moment, they watched in silence as the queue steadily moved. The professional huntsmen, the ones who had been at it for years, were easy to pick out. Their packs were small and light, weapons within easy reach. The newer ones and the out-of-practice ones had more luggage than was probably wise. More than once, someone would protest as they were told to leave luggage behind. There was limited space on the airships, and there was a strict limit as to how much baggage someone could bring.

“But they only brought one bag. Surely that means I can have just one extra one!” someone complained. Yang rolled her eyes.

“If I’m ever like that, shoot me,” she told Blake in a low voice. Blake snorted.

“Yang? Is that you?!”

She nearly jumped at the recognition of that voice. She whirled, staring as a tall blonde man approached. His blue eyes were wide in disbelief, mirroring her own. “Dad?!”

Blake let her go, backing off as Yang and Taiyang embraced. It was so surprising, but it shouldn’t have been, not really. Taiyang Xiao Long was a huntsman in his own right, a teacher, and someone who would always leap headfirst into a fight.

Of course he would sign himself up to go to Vacuo.

“I’m surprised to see you back in Vale,” he remarked. “The last I heard from Qrow, you were trying to get to Atlas.”

“And we made it. We’re just laying over here for a bit to pick up some more huntsmen.” Yang jutted her head to the line. “Ruby’s here, too, but she and Weiss ran off to try and see the school.”

“I see.” Only now did Taiyang’s gaze flicker to Blake, and Yang was dismayed to see the way it hardened. “So this must be…”

“Blake.” Defensively, Yang lifted a beckoning arm to Blake. After a moment’s brief hesitation, she approached, allowing Yang to hold her close. “My girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend,” Taiyang repeated, almost as if the word was foreign to him. Still, he didn’t let whatever his own impression of her overrule his courtesy. He extended a hand. “Taiyang Xiao Long.”

“It’s… nice to meet you,” Blake replied, a slight shake to her voice as she gripped his hand. His manner wasn’t lost on her, either. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Yang looked from Blake to her father, trying to figure out the unevenness of the interaction. Taiyang was friendly to a fault, and the fact that he could be so cold toward someone made absolutely no sense. She frowned at him. There were pieces that weren’t fitting together, and it made her uneasy.

“So have I,” he replied to Blake, and there it was. His demeanor suddenly made sense. Yang’s gaze softened.

“Dad… Things are cool now,” she told him, grip tightening on Blake’s waist. “We met back up in Mistral, and we… figured things out.”

Taiyang raised one eyebrow, the hairs oddly pale against his tanned skin. “Figured things out?” he asked, voice suspiciously light. Yang sighed.

After the Fall of Beacon, she had returned to Patch a wreck, only a shell of the girl she’d been. It hadn’t just been her missing arm, though losing it had presented its own challenges. Her biggest wound had been one that couldn’t be replaced by fancy Atlesian technology. Her last memory of Blake had been seeing her sprawled on the floor, a man in a mask standing over her with a sword in hand. When she had woken up, it wasn’t just her arm that was missing.

Blake was gone, too.

Yang had supposed Ruby had filled him in on the murky details of that last night in Vale, probably putting words to the hurt, grief, and the rage that vied for dominance in Yang’s heart. She’d never spoken Blake’s name to her father, nor the intensity of their bond, nor the constant ache she’d felt since that bond had snapped. But Ruby had told him enough to make the connection, and as a man who’d been broken by love before, he could understand.

So, too, could she understand his wariness now that Blake was with her again.

“Dad,” she said, determined to right this before it had a chance to warp further. “So much has happened since I left. Both of us… me and Blake… we’ve made mistakes. But we’re moving past them.”

Blake turned to her quizzically, and Yang flashed her a reassuring smile. Still, Taiyang didn’t seem convinced. He looked from Yang, to Blake, and then back to his daughter. He sighed. “Sure thing, kiddo. But listen, I need to get in line. We can talk more on the airship.”

“Right,” Yang replied, heart sinking. What he gave her then couldn’t exactly be called a hug-- it was closer to a headlock, full of the warmth that he hadn’t spared for Blake-- and then he was darting off, duffel bag in hand. Yang frowned after him, watching him go as he joined the line and clapped another huntsman on the shoulder.

“What was that about?” Blake finally asked. This was what finally broke Yang’s reverie, and she turned back to her partner, guilty.

“I think Dad might be a little… jaded.”

“You don’t say,” Blake commented dryly. Yang laughed, the sound unexpected, but she was grateful that Blake had managed to pull it out of her. It cleared her head a little. “About what?”

“Well…” She paused, trying to figure out exactly how to put it into words that wouldn’t make Blake spiral into guilt. Blake tilted her head, which always looked so cute with her haircut that it almost distracted Yang from her thoughts. Almost. “I guess… Most of what he knows about you is what he found out after everything at Beacon… happened.” Were there any words on this subject that wouldn’t hurt her? She bit her lip, and forced herself to go on. It was better to be honest. “And… I was kinda… not doing so hot. Not just the arm, but when you…”

Her courage faltered, but Blake’s golden eyes widened. She didn’t have to finish.

“Oh,” Blake said, cheeks blooming with color at her past shame. She looked down.

“Hey.” Yang stepped closer to her, resting her metal fingers on Blake’s forearm. “We’re fine. We’re more than fine, okay?” She smiled at Blake, soft and encouraging and full of the love that was the undeniable current of their relationship. “Dad’ll come around. He’s not a bad guy. He’s just… maybe a little protective, I guess. But he’ll come around. Don’t waste your time worrying about him.”

“I don’t know,” Blake replied uncertainly, still looking off after Taiyang. “I never really imagined what it would be like to meet him, but this definitely isn’t what I would’ve expected.” Her ears flattened sadly as she went on. “Maybe I should have, though.”

“Don’t even think that,” Yang said firmly, dragging her fingers down to Blake’s wrist. She caught it, and held loosely. “What’s done is done. We got through it, and now things are even better than before. It’s okay.”

She saw Blake’s gulp before she nodded. For further reassurance, she pressed a light kiss against Blake’s mouth, The important things were clear between them. They didn’t need guilt sullying their path again. So Yang was heartened when Blake returned the kiss, slightly harder than Yang’s own.

Between them, things were still okay. That was all that mattered.

Not that it prevented awkwardness later on, however, when they ran into Taiyang again on the airship. At seeing Yang, his smile was bright. Blake, he outright ignored.

“Ruby brought me up to speed,” he told Yang warmly. “And I’m telling you the same thing I told her: you need to remember to think before you jump in and do whatever this new incarnation of Ozpin tells you to do. He--”

“I know,” Yang interrupted. “We’ve figured that out already.”

“You’ve always been smart girls,” he replied with a sigh. “I suppose you already know, too, that you need to be careful.”

“Well, we’re as careful as we’ve always been… which probably isn’t saying much.” Her grin was full of humor, but it seemed to be the wrong thing to say to Taiyang, who scowled.

“And that’s what I’m afraid of.”

It wasn’t like Yang didn’t try to bring Blake into the conversation, but each time, Taiyang would find a way to interrupt, or, at worst, not even respond when she did manage to slip a comment in. It frustrated Yang, and she could see Blake’s resolve begin to crumble before her eyes. This wouldn’t do, Yang thought. Something had to give.

“Dad,” she finally said, voice wearing thin. “Enough.”

“Huh?” He had settled onto the seat across from them, and Yang leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees to look him straight-on. Even Blake looked startled; her ears pricked up at Yang’s tone.

“You’ve been ignoring Blake. For a while now.”

Taiyang blinked, caught off-guard. Maybe he hadn’t expected to be called out, or maybe his treatment of Blake had been completely unconscious. Now, though, his eyes darted back over to her.

“I haven’t been--” he began, his protest weak, but Yang cut him off. She had no time for that.

“Dad,” she said again. “I know things were… rough, after… after I came back to Patch.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. It still hurt, to think about those long, lonely months. Things could have been so different, she knew, but what was done was done. As she’d told Blake, things were okay now. Things had been fixed, hearts had been repaired. “But… it wasn’t Blake’s fault. She had… some things of her own to deal with. And we went through hell to deal with them. Together.”

She felt light pressure on her knee. Yang didn’t need to look to know it was Blake’s hand, a calm touch that spurred her on.

“So if you’re, like… holding it over her head, or something… don’t. I told you before: we’ve figured this out.” Yang held her stare, gratified when he broke it first. She let the look soften. “Dad… I trust her. Can you trust me in this?”

His astonishment almost hurt. Yang was grateful for Blake’s firm hand. It held her steady in the wake of her father’s reaction, his wide eyes and the soundless opening and closing of his mouth. She tried to imagine it from his perspective; when she’d left Patch, she’d still been so emotionally fragile. Of course he would have trouble reconciling that version of her with the woman who sat in front of him today.

“Yang,” he finally said, sounding, for once, like the aging man he was. He opened his mouth, reconsidered, and grimaced. “I suppose… I haven’t been fair,” he conceded at last, turning back to Blake. He attempted a smile, which looked even worse than the grimace.

“You haven’t,” Yang replied, voice flat.

“Mr. Xiao Long?” Blake’s words were hesitant, as if uncertain he would actually listen to her this time. To Yang’s relief, he met her in the eye as she spoke. “When I… ran away. After Beacon. It was… a mistake. I thought I… I thought I was protecting her, by doing that. The man, the one that cut off her…” Even now, months after they’d sent Adam to his grave, Blake still struggled to say the words. “The man that cut off her arm. He promised to destroy everything I loved, and I knew he wouldn’t stop till he’d finished the job. So I left and thought it would be the end of it.”

Blake inhaled, the sound ragged. “I messed up,” she added, voice softer. “And I wish I could go back and change that. Neither of us deserved that, least of all Yang.”

“And now it’s done,” Yang finished, steel in her voice. She slid a hand onto the small of Blake’s back, registering the dampness of sweat against her palm. “We’ve paid our price, it’s over, and we’re good.”

Taiyang frowned. A change had come over his face while Blake spoke, and while Yang’s words alone hadn’t seemed to hit home, Blake’s had. His brows furrowed, concern crossing over his face.

“It’s done?” he repeated, looking from Blake to Yang. “What’s done?”

At this, Blake looked away.

“We killed him.” Yang wouldn’t run away from that statement. She could own it, and she knew Blake could, as well, though perhaps not to the complete stranger that was Taiyang. “Blake… was right. He followed us, and he would have killed her. He would have killed us.”

She felt Blake shift against her, moving slightly closer on the bench. Yang let her hand drift to her waist, not out of protection, but in solidarity.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Dad, but I don’t need it.” Yang forced a smile. “I’m not asking you to adopt her, or anything. But, at least… give her a chance? That’s literally all we’re asking.”

Taiyang leaned back, letting out a long breath of air. It was… a lot of information, dumped all at once, but he was sensible. If he had thought Yang was trusting blindly, of course he would have had something to say about it. But she wasn’t, so he wouldn’t. He nodded, the movement miniscule, but as his confidence grew, the nod became more decisive. He leaned forward.

“Thank you,” he told Blake quietly. “For telling me this.” He paused. “I’m… sorry for being rude.”

Blake’s ears sagged in relief. “It’s… okay, Mr. Xiao Long. I get it.”

Taiyang smiled weakly, his eyes crinkling with the effort. “Tai, please.”

They spoke for a little while longer, with Yang telling him about her visit to the Branwen tribe and filling in any gaps Ruby had left out. To her surprise, he only nodded when she spoke of Raven. He’d already heard.

“She visited me, y’know,” he told them, stretching out against the wall. “She had some pretty interesting things to say.”

“Really?” Yang’s eyes widened. Blake must have felt her twitch, for she ran a soothing hand up her back. “What’d she say?”

“What you told me, for one,” he replied, one eyebrow raised. “But the rest… I should probably tell you guys tonight, when we’re all together. Oz will want to hear it.”

Yang groaned. “Figures,” she muttered, and she heard the huff of Blake’s laughter.

“Speaking of, I’ve wanted to see how Oz looks these days,” Taiyang remarked, smiling slightly. He stood up and shrugged, rolling his shoulders. “But I’ll see you all in a little bit. It was wonderful to meet you, Blake.”

“You too,” Blake replied with a nod up at him.

“See you soon.” Yang nodded at her father as he strode away, maneuvering through the sweaty crowd of people on the airship. She sighed, and flopped her head onto Blake’s shoulder, hair slipping into her eyes. “Well, that was stressful.”

“Parents, right?” Blake asked, amused. She kissed the top of Yang’s head.

“Y’know, you… didn’t have to tell him all of that, if you didn’t want to,” Yang told her, lifting her head back up to meet Blake’s eyes. They stared levelly back at her, the gold looking only brighter in the dim glow of the airship.

“I’m not ashamed of what we had to do,” she replied quietly. She leaned her head in, forehead resting against Yang’s. “I’m only ashamed of what I’ve done. And I wanted him to know... that I still live with that. Every day, I still live with knowing that I’ve hurt you. I know there’s nothing we can do about it now… but I wish I hadn’t left you.” Her breath was heavy, choppy, and Yang could feel its edges on her face. “Out of everything I’ve ever done… that’s been my biggest regret.”

“Blake,” Yang murmured, closing the gap with her lips on Blake’s. They were still so smooth, even after living in the chill of Atlas for months. “We’ve all done things we regret. Dad probably knows that better than anyone. But we still keep going on. We’ve picked up what we can, and we’re okay.”

“You keep saying that,” Blake said, her laugh fragile, and Yang could hear her tears in the sound.

“Because it’s true.” Yang kissed her again, now feeling Blake’s tears on her cheeks. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you,” Blake replied, a ghost of a smile curling on her lips.

“See?” Yang said, pulling her in again. “As long as we’ve got that, we’ll be okay.”

#rwby #rwby fic #bumbleby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #taiyang xiao long #bumbleby week #bmblbweek

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allthephils · 6 years ago

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You Were Only Waiting

Word Count: 8510 Rated T (language, mental health mentions, strangers to lovers) Read on AO3

This is my fic based on this art by the amazing and talented @lovelydeps for the @phandomreversebang. Huge thank you to @wolfstarphan for betaing. You were immeasurably helpful! This was such a lovely and fun team to work with!

Summary: Dan is stranded at the airport and stuck in his head, Phil is just looking for some company. A fic about delayed flights and delayed connections.

Dan’s flight is delayed just enough that he’s uncharacteristically on time. It has improved his mood from incredibly irritable to very annoyed but still, this trip was exhausting. New York is cool but there are just so many people and he’s drained. He’d rather be alone with the friends coming through his headphones than fielding questions from his Uber driver. Apparently, he didn’t get the memo that headphones mean no talking. Janelle and Kevin and Troye understand, they don’t ask anything of Dan.

He’s never been so relieved to step out of a car. The ground is covered in a thick blanket of snow, bringing a magical beauty to this decidedly mundane setting. Unfortunately, inside it’s still an airport. He watches his feet as they carry him across the ugly airport carpet to the end of the security queue. It’s a mess, a labyrinth of twists and turns that feels unending. It does end though and Dan goes through the motions by rote. Laptop out, shoes off, little baggie of travel toiletries into the tray. He stands in the scanner, arms above his head and the TSA agent nods and waves him through. It’s the same every trip. He’s come to accept that the time lost in airports is just a necessary evil, something to get through.

At least he doesn’t have to run. He should get to the gate just in time for boarding. It’s quite a hike though, the airport is huge. This is far more exercise than he’d like to be getting today and the constant drone of voices rushing past in all directions is doing nothing for his mood. It feels like a big American mall in here. Dan hates malls, they’re just big monuments to capitalism. So much wasted space filled with useless plastic junk and cheaply made decadence. He passes a Victoria’s Secret and a store that just sells massage chairs. There’s a very posh jewelry store and a shop filled with designer bags and key fobs. He wonders who drops two grand on a handbag at the airport until he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the glass case and remembers what he paid for his jumper. He picks up his pace, choosing to ignore the voice in his head that says he’s part of the problem.

The gate is purgatory. Close quarters packed with people who would rather be somewhere else and bright unnatural lighting. It’s stifling and Dan wants nothing more than to move on. In a few minutes, the flight will board and he can finally relax. He’s got a guided meditation all queue up and some chamomile tea in his bag, ready to brew. With a deep sigh, he pulls out his phone to get his boarding pass ready. Just then, a notification from the airline pops up. Before he can read the whole thing, the announcement booms out all around him, a long list of cancelled flights, his included. Shit.

Cancelled due to inclement weather. That’s what the notification said, no follow up information, no instructions on what to do next. The website isn’t any help either. He glances around at the crowded room but everyone looks just as lost as he feels. He’s going to have to do the adult thing and actually ask for help. He’ll have to physically walk up to the counter and talk to a real human being, like its fucking 1985 or something. He flicks his hair from his eyes and takes his place in yet another queue.

Soon he’s listening while the guy in front of him demands to know why they didn’t predict it would snow so much and how come they can’t just fly around the storm. The agent shows far more patience than Dan would have, repeating her well worn speech, “We are so sorry for the inconvenience but it is very difficult to predict at this time. You’ll receive notification as soon as we know more.”

The man throws his hands up and Dan softens a bit, knowing the agent is having a much worse day than he is.

“What a twat.” He says as he approaches the counter and she spares a thin smile. “I realize you can’t control or predict the weather but I’m wondering if this likely to be an overnight thing or a booked on another flight in a few hours thing?”

She gives Dan the same answer she gives everyone but he leans forward on his elbows. “Yeah I know, but like, if you had to predict how long we’ll be here...Like just between us.” He musters a sweet smile and an awkward wink that he wishes he could take back almost immediately. Before she can repeat herself again, he apologizes and slinks away.

Dan is stood near the desk, hoping to catch any snippets of news that might come up. There’s nowhere to sit and crawling into a hole isn’t an option so standing will have to do for now. That’s when fate smiles upon him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees movement, someone gathering their things. Thrilled by the prospect of actually getting to sit down while he waits an undetermined amount of time, Dan makes a b line for the soon to be vacated seat. The previous occupant has barely stepped away when he swoops in, nearly colliding with someone who had the exact same plan.

“Oi, sorry mate, I was eyeing this seat.” Dan says, standing his ground.

“Yeah so was I, mate.” He’s pale and lanky, his shoulders hunched over in a painful display of poor posture. He looks like he’s trying to be shorter. If he wants to blend in, he probably shouldn’t have worn a jumper that looks like a lady bird. Dan supposes he’s kinda cute, maybe a little hot, but sarcasm doesn’t look good on anyone. He’s not the least bit intimidating but he’s trying, lips curled up from the snark, wild brows raised. Those blue eyes are too dreamy to be shooting daggers like that.

Dan should look away, he should square his shoulders and pretend he is not to be messed with. This is a snowed in airport, the wild west, he should claim his territory. He doesn’t look away though, he can’t or he doesn’t want to. Whatever the case, his defenses are weakened along with his knees.

“Actually, you take it.” He concedes, “I have too much nervous energy anyway.”

The guy drops the totally ineffective tough guy act. “No, no, it was a draw. Rock, paper, scissors?”

Dan truly believes there are few conflicts in life that can’t be solved with rock, paper, scissors. They draw again and again, both of them laughing at how completely this strategy has failed. On the next 1, 2, 3, the guy pauses and his eyes wander to Dan’s left, his whole face softening. Dan turns to see what brought on such a change and damn. There goes his chance at a restful wait. Just behind Dan is a mum with a very heavy looking toddler crashed out on her shoulder.

“Would you like to sit down?” The guy says sweetly, tripping over his luggage as he moves out of the way. Dan steps aside too and forces a smile though he’s pretty resentful.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Thank you so much!” She looks about his age, like someone he could be friends with. He can’t imagine being stuck here with a child to care for. “Sorry, It’s been a long day.” She says and sits down with a sigh. Dan catches a glimpse of the angelic sleeping face on her shoulder and he’s over it.

Resigned, he walks to the corner of the room and plops down on an empty patch of carpet, facing a big window overlooking the snowy runway. He searches for a hotel and is unsurprised to find every room in the vicinity booked. Headphones back in, he leans forward on the glass and watches the snow fall.

Time doesn’t follow the rules in airports, not when all the flights are delayed and most are cancelled and it’s late afternoon but people are curled up, asleep in chairs. Dan has changed positions roughly 43 times but his restless legs are still nagging him. Funny how being lazy only comes easy when it’s entirely inappropriate.

Standing takes some work, his hips don’t want to straighten up and do the job they were built to do. He’s partially hunched, one hand on his lower back when he sees himself in the window. He looks like an old man, groaning as he pulls himself to stand and he makes a mental note to find a personal trainer when he gets home, and to stop standing near reflective surfaces.

Hoisting his bag onto his shoulder, he shuffles toward the main corridor. The floor is dotted with people who have accepted the long wait ahead, setting up makeshift camps with laptops out and backpacks for pillows. Dan steps carefully through and heads in the opposite direction from how he came, hoping for something better and more interesting than what he found on his way in.

He’s been poised precariously at the edge of an emotional pit all day. Social exhaustion left him vulnerable and in need of time alone in his own space to refuel. That’s not something he’s gonna get right now so the best he can do is to keep busy, try to stave off boredom and loneliness before they spiral into something darker.

This side of the terminal has nearly the exact same upscale nonsense as the other side. Just when he thinks he might scream if he sees one more mannequin in resort wear, a beacon of hope appears. A bookstore, and not an Amazon store, or an airport newsstand but a real, honest to god book store. To be honest, he doesn’t really read much, but he wants to. A place like this is only going to attract certain people, people who think, who want more than the few best sellers available at the newsstand.

It’s small in here, an airport version of a larger, local bookseller, but there are real shelves to walk through and quiet jazz playing. He wanders through the classics, pausing in poetry to pick something up and read a few lines to himself. ...roused up from hole to itching head. Bodies locked shuddering naked, hot lips and buttocks screwed into each other.

Well, he wasn’t expecting that. He finishes that one and pages through to read a little more.

“Hello again.”

Dan nearly jumps out of his skin. He slams the book shut, shoving it onto the shelf haphazardly. Fighting the blush rushing to his face, he folds his arms, defensive. Ready to glare at whoever is to his left, to send a clear signal that he is not in the mood to chat. His head snaps around, eyes narrowed, then he sees him.

“Allen Ginsberg, huh? Just a little light airport reading?” It’s him, the hot guy who gave up their seat for a tired mum. He laughs at his own joke before continuing. “He was always a little dark for me. Have you read D.A. Powell?”

Dan’s eyes are wide as he stammers out a thought. “No, I haven’t read anybody really. I just grabbed a random book. Not really a reader.” Shut up Dan. He knows he sounds like a dick.

“Well, fancy meeting you in a book store then.” This guy doesn’t seemed fazed by Dan’s weird outburst. “I hate these crowds, don’t you? Also hate being alone though. Just trying to find a happy medium I guess. You want some company?” He’s fidgeting now, nervous, but still doing it, still asking a complete stranger to hang out.

“Oh um no. Thanks, I’m good, busy. Sorry.” The words stutter out even as Dan is arguing with himself internally. The guy looks a little deflated but he manages a smile before walking off. Dan has no idea why he said no, why he defeats himself like this again and again, why he’s not kinder to himself, even now.

He’s tired, from residual jet lag and from just living in his head all day. If he doesn’t get some caffeine soon, exhaustion will set in, adding to the dark cloud currently floating above his head. Anyway, if the caffeine doesn’t lift his spirits, coffee shops have a long and storied history for being great places to be sad and alone.

***

There’s one free table. Dan sets his backpack on one of the chairs, ignoring the warning he’s been hearing all day to not leave his bags unattended. He pulls his reusable mug out and soon it’s filled with a steaming hot, mediocre latte. He puts his feet up, headphones in, and searches for an anime to catch up on. As the end credits roll on his third episode, he cracks his neck and looks around, stretching his arms above his head. There’s a long daunting line of people and behind, towering above everyone, a flash of jet black hair.

Dan thinks maybe he was wrong about how big this terminal is because this guy just keeps popping up. He’s shivering, his hands wrapped tight around the coffee he just picked up and he’s scanning the room. God, he’s really good looking, and tall, no one is ever tall enough. There are no tables left, Dan knows that but he looks over his shoulder anyway. He should talk to him. How often in life do you get a second chance, much less a third? The guy’s eyes move from table to table until they land squarely on Dan.

Dan wears a a thin, nervous smile but there’s some good solid eye contact. He is really proud of himself for that eye contact. He lifts his feet off the chair opposite him and sits up straight in his chair, gesturing an offer to sit.

The guy looks the room over one more time and Dan doesn’t blame him. He couldn’t have made the best impression. He doesn’t try to hide his heavy, resigned sigh before weaving through the maze of tables to where Dan sits.

“This is prime real estate. You sure you don’t want to sell it to the highest bidder?” His teeth are practically chattering as he speaks.

“I’m a socialist.” Dan says, sipping his latte.

“You’re in a Starbucks, mate.”

“I’m at an airport, I’m doing my best.” Dan watches him sit, searching his mind for something to say. It’s been ages since he flirted. Does he even want to flirt? All he knows is this guy is so cute and he’s the sort of person who gives up his seat to a tired mum. Dan’s not sure he even would have noticed her, lost as he’s been in his own mind. And he’s already proven himself patient with Dan’s bullshit.

“Um, Phil.” Dan says, reading the name written on Phil’s cup. “Your lips are a tad blue. Are you feeling ok?”

Phil takes a long drink from his cup, wincing because it’s still too hot. He rubs his lips together then cups his hands over his mouth and breathes into them, warming himself. “How do you know my name?”

Dan reaches over and taps the side of Phil’s cup. “Don’t change the subject. I’m genuinely concerned about your lips.”

“I have that effect on people. The moment you meet me, you start thinking about my lips.” Phil’s smirk hides behind his cup as he attempts to breathe in the warmth.

It takes Dan a moment to catch up. He sits staring for a solid three seconds before his eyes crinkle with surprised laughter. It’s the first laugh he’s heard from himself today, the first genuine laugh he’s heard in a while. He’s not totally aware of the way his shoulders drop but he arches his back, stretching again, surprised how much better it feels this time.

“Also, it’s very cold outside.” Phil sits back in his chair now that the shivering has passed.

“Outside?” Dan can’t fathom what he means but that but Phil just keeps drinking with a barely discernible nod.

“Like outside outside? Like where the snow is coming down and blowing sideways?” There is genuine concern in Dan’s voice.

“Yeah that’s the one.”

“Why did you have to go outside?”

“I didn’t have to. I had some time to kill so I made some snow angels.”

“Why?” Dan’s lip is curled in something that looks more like disgust than he intended.

“I like snow.” Phil says, unaffected.

It’s mildly annoying the way he doesn’t see anything unusual about this scenario. Dan sits up abruptly and leans forward. “Ok, so your stranded in the airport for god knows how long and instead of getting a hotel or going to the bar, you went all the way outside, through security, to play in the snow?”

”I mean, I actually just went to be in the snow. Catch some flakes on my tongue, see the lights reflect off the white. It’s really settled out there. You can hardly tell it’s an airport loading zone, it’s looks so pretty.” Phil tilts his head as he speaks, looks to the window, even though it only looks out on the ugly airport corridor.

“There were these little kids watching the snow through the window, they waved at me and I waved back. They had their noses pressed right up to the glass. I was pretending to slip and fall and all that and they were laughing. But then I actually fell, right on my bum. So I made a snow angel for them.” He stands and takes his jacket off, must be warming up a bit. “Just putting it out there, snow angels are the least fun thing to do. I got snow all up inside my jacket and my hands are frozen. Might not be dressed ideally for literally laying in the snow, my ass is soaked to the bone.” He laughs a little to himself as he sits and goes back to sipping.

Dan’s mouth has dropped open a bit and he stares. He’s pretty sure Phil is the good kind of weird but he studies his features looking for signs to the contrary. All he finds are the prettiest lips and something oddly comforting in the dark centers of his eyes.

Phil’s watching him too, just drinking his coffee and watching, wearing a coy little smile. It’s a reaction to his staring, either judgement or flirting or just a smug acknowledgment that Dan can’t or won’t look away.

The quiet should be unnerving. Dan has conditioned himself to fill every moment, with sound or image or information. It prevents him from ever really feeling alone, from being alone with his thoughts. It’s not unnerving though, he just feels, calm. He wonders what sort of break through he could have if he wasn’t so afraid of being in his head, if he let his mind wander. It’s then he realizes his mind is wandering now and maybe this is some sort of gentle breakthrough of it’s own.

“Where’d you go?” Phil asks.

He hopes his expression hasn’t given away the micro crisis he’s having in his head. Pulled from his introspection, he smiles thinly.

“Sorry. I tend to drift off during awkward silences.”

“Awkward? I didn’t think it was awkward,” Phil says. “How often do you get to do nothing like this?”

Dan shrugs, a little guilty. So much of what he spends his time on feels like nothing.

“You know, you didn’t have to invite me to sit down. If I’m bothering you…”

“No, no. I’m sorry.” And he is sorry, really sorry. He wants to be friendly and flirty and easy to talk to. This guy is really sweet and cute and it’s not awkward, not even a little. Dan can’t explain why he always goes on the defense.

“You aren’t bothering me. I’m just kind of a dick sometimes.” Dan heaves a breath, dredging up some courage and mumbles, “I’m actually really glad you showed up.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Phil says with his hand to ear.

Dan rolls his eyes and quickly spits out, “I’m glad you showed up cuz I was really bored and we’ll probably be here all night and you’re really nice so thanks for not writing me off when I acted like a twat.”

“Which time?” Phil asks but he’s smiling. “You’re welcome.”

It goes quiet again and Phil stands suddenly. “Alright, we need sugar.” He walks off before Dan can protest. Normally, Dan would pick up his phone, cycle quickly through all his social media so he doesn’t miss anything. He gets as far as picking it up but it just sits in his hand unattended. His eyes are otherwise occupied, following Phil’s long legs as they carry him to the pastry case. They’re good legs, pretty legs that end in wide hips and a nice round ass. His lip has somehow found it’s way between his teeth when Phil glances back. There’s a beat before he realizes and looks away, rather conspicuously.

When Phil returns, he hands Dan a snowman shaped cookie and makes a toast to snow.

Dan taps his cookie to Phil’s, “we’re toasting to snow? But that’s why we’re stuck here.”

“Exactly.” Phil says like it’s obvious. Dan savagely rips the head off of his snowman then thanks Phil around his mouthful.

Phil laughs softly. “Ok, Dan. Snog, marry, avoid. Mario, Link, and… um, the king of all cosmos.”

“Excuse me, the king of what now?”

Phil’s eye grow wide, his mouth open in genuine shock. “The king of all cosmos? Do you even video game? Katamari Damacy?”

“Yeah I know, obviously.” Dan sinks down in his chair a bit. “Kill Mario, marry Link, fuck the king.”

“Really? You’d kill Mario. I could never do that after everything he’s done for me. Also he’s handy.” Phil takes another bite, speaking through crumbs that he wipes away with his fingers. “He’s literally a plumber. He could fix stuff around the house, total husband material.”

“Ok fair.” Dan says, “but Link is brave and humble, he’d be a great life partner. And I grew up with him. Also he’s left handed so we could both use the same scissors.”

“Wow. Nerd alert.”

Dan sticks his leg out under the table to gently kick Phil’s leg. “Shut up, look who’s talking.” Dan’s voice goes high pitched, mocking. “Oh, Mario’s done so much for me.”

Phil laughs out loud, a proper laugh, head tipped back, hands clapped together. It’s a good, warm laugh that wraps Dan up like a blanket. Any remaining angst hanging on to the edges of his psyche lose their grip and all that’s left is an unfamiliar contentment.

“Ok, ok, I think we’ve established we’re both massive nerds.” Phil says, popping the lid off his coffee and dipping his cookie in what’s left.

Dan is a man of extremes. When his guard comes down, it comes all the way down.

“And who would you fuck Phil?” He’s hears his own voice in exaggerated slow motion as heat spreads across his cheeks. His palms are sweaty now, his stomach in his throat. What the hell did he just say? This is why we can’t have nice things, Dan.

Phil seems to be considering his response, slowly sipping from his cup, his lips clearly fighting off a smirk. He catches Dan’s eyes and sucks his bottom lip for a drawn out moment before showing him mercy and moving on.

“Link, obvs.”

Dan clears his throat and tries to act natural. “But the king...that package.”

“I don’t know, I like someone a little younger, not so beefy.” Phil takes a moment then quickly adds, “I’m talking about like, young adult link. Of course.”

“Of course.”

If Phil was trying to break the ice, it worked. The conversation flows easy after that. Dan could talk about video games all day, a topic just impersonal enough to loosen him up. Eventually he’s sharing some of his most embarrassing stories, stupid shit he did at uni and the time he got sacked from a DIY shop for selling an axe to a little kid. Phil laughs at every story and Dan is prepared to dig deep into the repressed corners of his mind if he can keep hearing that laugh. And it seems every story he tells earns him an equally embarrassing and far more amusing story from Phil. Dan is literally wiping away tears as Phil tells him all about a squirrel that bit him right in the Florida.

They both catch their breath when the laughter finally fades and they slip back into quiet. With nothing left to drink, it is a little awkward this time. Dan’s not sure what to do with his hands or where to rest his eyes. He checks his phone.

“No news?” Phil says to a quick shake of Dan’s head. “You want another round?”

“I think I’d better switch to herbal tea.”

Phil moves to grab Dan’s mug but Dan stops him. “Let me. What’s your poison?”

“Caramel macchiato?” Phil says, a little sheepish and with a nod and as kind a smile as he can muster, Dan walks away.

“Sweets for the sweet.” Dan says as he sits down and hands Phil his drink. Their fingers brush as Phil takes the cup, his eyes looking softly into Dan’s. It seems Dan isn’t the only one who’s let his guard down.

The table is small. They’ve both had their legs tucked back this whole time. As he scoots his chair in, Dan’s knees bump Phil’s and it’s clear he’s unfurled them into a more relaxed position. His instinct is to pull back but his body has proven to ignore his better judgement when it comes to this new variable. He lets his foot slide between Phil’s so their legs are slotted perfectly together. Neither of them acknowledge it, holding still to keep from touching more than incidentally.

The conversation continues and they both open up more than makes sense for strangers in an airport. Nothing feels real anymore, time is suspended with no end in sight. Maybe it’s that or maybe it’s the relief of letting go a little bit or maybe it’s just Phil. Whatever the catalyst, Dan feels safe, not something he feels often.

Phil talks about his grandma, his brother, his failed attempts at heterosexuality. Dan’s topics are broader but the political is personal to Dan, and Phil seems to understand that. Time stretches and the nods turn thoughtful, the laughter sweeter. Moments of empathy are punctuated with bumps and nudges under the table. When the next lull comes, Phil shifts his weight. Dan watches as he lets his head lean to the wall next to his chair. His eyes look heavy.

“How can you be tired after all that sugary coffee?” Dan asks, shaking his head.

“Not tired,” Phil says, “just relaxed.” His legs follow the lean of his body, taking one of Dan’s with him. He hooks a foot around Dan’s ankle, coming to rest there.

Dan let’s one dimple peek out but he doesn’t move his gaze from Phil. “Comfy?” He asks, with a hint of mirth.

Phil nods, his crooked lips soft. “This is nice. And I’m enjoying the view.”

Dan looks over his shoulder. Yep, hideous airport corridor, lots of grumpy people he’d forgotten about entirely. “What view? What are you on about? Are you aware that you often speak in riddles?”

“I don’t know.” Phil moves Dan’s leg under the table. “I feel like I’ve been pretty clear.”

Dan’s heart does a somersault and he huffs a nervous laugh. Nervous again after such an easy talk, but it’s a good nervous. The kind that comes from the promise of something good.

Phil isn’t subtle, he wears a cocky grin that says he knows exactly what effect he’s having. Dan’s feels an urgent need to kiss the smile right off of that smug little mouth. He wants to grab the tip of Phil’s tongue that’s poking through his teeth and pull it. He imagines he’d taste like a coffee milkshake and his mouth waters at the thought. He could spring right across the table, charged as he is. Now they’ve stopped chatting, the energy between them just sits, an electric tether holding them there.

Dan can’t help his mind going to the physical first, it’s not often he’s this open with anyone, much less someone he just met. Some piece of him wants to grab ahold of that hint of intimacy lest it get away. What he really wants is to just get closer, to wrap his arms around the beautiful friend he’s found and not let go.

Phil’s phone is vibrating on the table but he doesn’t notice, his focus is on Dan, gaze moving from his eyes to his mouth and back again.

“Brah, you’re blowing up.” Dan says in far too smitten a tone.

“Hmm? Oh!” Phil takes a quick peek and puts the phone to his ear. “Hi love. Nah, still here.” He stands, points to the exit to let Dan now he has to take the call, and walks out to lean against a wall of lockers.

To Dan’s credit, he doesn’t spiral right away. He starts silently rehearsing ways to ask for Phil’s number. He doesn’t even know where he lives, as deep as they got, they kinda bypassed the everyday stuff. Maybe he should just write his own number down and hand it to him. Except he definitely doesn’t have a pen because who carries a pen anymore? He could ask the barista but then they’d know and they’d be watching and it’s hard enough to be bold without an audience much less with one.

He looks over his shoulder, trying to appear casual. Phil looks so cool leaning like that, beaming and chatting. Dan wonders who he’s talking to, someone close enough to call ‘love.’ It’s taking a while and he looks really happy. Dan realizes Phil never actually said he was single. Sure, he seemed interested but he was just looking to find some company for the wait. This is probably just what friendship looks like to Phil, socially awkward but strangely confident Phil. Of course he’s taken, he’s funny and smart and he listens. He probably has someone waiting for him, someone cool and quirky who reads poetry and plays Katamari Damacy with him. Someone who doesn’t wear plain black jumpers that cost hundreds of pounds even though they were made in China. They probably know he’s a flirt but they don’t care because he’s coming home to them.

“Sir,” There’s a barista standing at the table. Dan has no idea how long he was lost in thought, ignoring her. “So sorry but we will be closing up in about 5 minutes.”

“Yeah, ok.” Dan stammers, embarrassed as always. “We’ll, I’ll clear out. Sorry. Thanks.”

She takes the trash from the table and Dan pulls on his hoodie and backpack. He throws Phil’s jacket over his arm and grabs the handle of his suitcase, rolling it behind him. Phil is humming affirmative responses to whoever is on the line but not talking much. He takes his jacket from Dan with a smile of thanks and a roll of his eyes. He mouths the word sorry.

Dan waves the word away. He mumbles something about needing to find a place to get some rest though he knows Phil can’t hear. The only thing worse than walking away from this well of potential would be to stand here and fidget, listening while Phil talks with his boyfriend only to have to say an awkward goodbye afterward. He points over Phil’s shoulder at nothing in particular and Phil sort of nods though he looks confused. Dan’s heart has no right to crack like this. He barely knows Phil. That tether though, it’s got some strength to it. He swallows hard and walks past Phil then just keeps walking. He just keeps walking, waiting for the tether to snap.

He turns the first corner he comes to and finds a lounge. People are curled up asleep on the benches. The sound on the tv is muted. He moves to the far back corner and lays down on the floor, resting his head on his back pack. His headphones are in, a movie queued up on his phone, he’s right back where he started. At least he got to pass the time with someone. It was a nice moment out of reality. So he was attracted to him, it’s not a big deal. He’s attracted to people all the time, it never goes anywhere. There’s no reason it should be different this time, no reason he should feel a dull ache in his chest. It’s totally irrational and unrealistic to think that anything could come of a random meeting like that. It was just a few hours with a friendly stranger.

Twenty minutes later, just when he’s settled into a position that is almost comfortable, the movie pauses and notification pops up. Dan has been booked on a new flight and if he wants the seat he needs to check in at the gate, like now.

The waiting area is still full but the settled resignation of earlier in the day has turned to frustrated exhaustion. Blurry eyed travelers stand, gripping their phones, close to the counter, watching for some glimmer of hope that they’ll get home soon. The paper boarding pass in Dan’s hand feel like a winning lottery ticket and he tightens his hold, imagining the vultures who would swoop in if he were to drop it. He knows it’s irrational, he’s booked, the seat is his but he feels undeserving in light of all these folks waiting. He’s looking down, embarrassed at his good fortune, as he turns to find a place to waiting for boarding.

Two steps forward and he hears him, “Are you kidding me? You’re on this flight?” It’s Phil and he sounds none too pleased to have run into Dan once again.

“Oh hey Phil.”

“Hey Phil?!” Phil sounds angry now, his voice low and controlled, “Hey Phil?! Are you mental?”

That stings. He could deflect, point out the problematic nature of Phil’s choice of language, but he stays quiet.

“That was bloody rude. I thought you’d gone to find a place to sit but I turned around and you were gone. You could have said a proper goodbye.”

“You were on the phone.” Dan’s stomach feels sour at the sound of his own voice, his own immature, cowardly voice.

“Yeah. I was.” Phil’s eyes are right on Dan but he doesn’t meet his gaze, he’s staring at Phil’s shoes. His voice softens, “I was really excited Dan. We have a lot in common and I was gonna get your number and like, you just left.”

“Well, it’s not like you came to find me.” Dan really wishes he would shut up and stop sabotaging every good thing that happens to him.

“Came to find you!” It comes out loud, clearly louder than Phil intended as he looks around and clears his throat before speaking again, this time in a loud whisper. “You chatted me up for hours, flirting with me, letting me flirt with you and then left when I was on the phone so you didn’t have to deal with rejecting me!”

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet then.” Dan says, defeated, “So why bother confronting me?”

“Because I had a good time, Dan. I really did. A better time than I had any right to with a total stranger.” Phil runs a hand through his hair.

He does that when he’s frustrated or nervous. He fidgets, he can’t stand still. Dan knows this about him, he learned it along with the fact like he likes his coffee unreasonably sweet and has a stupidly high tolerance for caffeine. He learned that he sticks his tongue between his teeth when he’s delighted and that he’s delighted a lot. He knows that he’s flirty and confident even though he’s clumsy and messy and has a really weird sense of humor. He knows that his weird brand of conversation meshes with Dan’s uncommonly well. He knows he’s unashamed. He’s a lot of things Dan isn’t and the lump in Dan’s throat is rudely pushing him to face the fact that Phil never would have ditched Dan like that.

Dan swallows hard. “Ok yeah, you’re right. It was really fucking rude of me to leave. I’m sorry. But I wasn’t avoiding rejecting you.” He heaves a sigh, hoping the force of it will push the words out. “I was avoiding being rejected by you.”

“What? I was so into you. How was that not obvious, Dan?”

Dan shrugs and mumbles something about a boyfriend on the phone.

Phil laughs a laugh that’s not at all amused. “That phone call was my friend Louise.” He says flatly, “She literally had a baby today. A fucking baby, Dan. I couldn’t bloody well cut her off in the middle of her birth story.” He flicks fingers through his quiff, laying it down and then picking it back up. “Stomach churning as it was.”

Dan feels sick. He wonders how long he’s going to let his negative self talk make him miserable. He knows there are things he has to forgive in himself, that he can’t help some of it. But he also know the parts of him he hides behind and he wonders how much his low self esteem would improve if he stopped leaning on it like a crutch. His eyes sting, embarrassment and exhaustion are making all of this seem insurmountable.

“I’m really sorry Phil.” He tries to look at Phil but turns his head, too aware of his wet eyes. “I got scared and I didn’t think I had a chance with you. I fuck these things up, I told you.”

With a moment of static, first class boarding is announced.

“That’s me, Dan. I have to board.” Phil doesn’t sound angry anymore, just tired. “This has been a weird day. We were strangers yesterday. But I know a few things about you now and since we’re standing here, fighting like boyfriends, I’m gonna go ahead and overstep one more time.” He reaches a hand to lay it on Dan’s arm. “It’s a heavy weight you carry around with you. I know how that is, Dan. And I’m telling you from experience, life is so much more enjoyable if you let someone else help you carry it once in a while.”

With that, he turns and walks to the doors, hands his boarding pass to the attendant, and disappears down the jetway.

Dan wipes his eyes before they can betray him with actual tears.

***

Sipping his subpar whisky sour, Dan let’s the soothing voice in his ears guide him through step by step relaxation. His legs are heavy and relaxed, the only thing he has to do right now is breathe. In for a count of 5, out for a count of 8, in for a count of 5, out for a count of 8. With every inhale, soft blue healing light spreads through your body. What color is your blue? The color of the sky? The sea? Phil’s eyes. Definitely Phil’s eyes. Dan shifts in his seat, shaking his head as if to dislodge the image from his mind. He takes a long drink of his cocktail, heaves a breath and tries again.

It’s time to get over it. Soon, he’ll be home and settled back to his routine, alone in his flat, back to real life. He tries to do to follow the voice, to do the breathing thing. When a thought enters your mind, acknowledge it, without judgement and let it go. There are a million thoughts in his mind and a million judgements. That was a dick move. He was really great and you just ditched him. Why are you such a coward? You can stop thinking about him now.

With a rather violent jab of his finger, he quits the app, switching to music. He shoots back the rest of his drink and closes his eyes but regret gnaws at him until his stomach is an empty pit, twisting a constant reminder that he’s lost something.

He’d walked past Phil’s row on his way to his seat, carefully avoiding eye contact. He looked sad, this would be easier if he’d stayed angry. At the risk of looking like a dejected lover in a romantic comedy, he makes the rash decision to go talk to Phil. Before he thinks too deeply, he throws off his seatbelt and moves to stand, only to find himself face to face with a stern looking flight attendant.

“I’m sorry sir, but I’ll need you to take your seat. With this turbulence, we have to ask that you stay seated and buckled for the duration of the flight or until the safety light is switched off.”

“Oh, um. My friend is in first class and he gets really frightened on planes.” He searches his mind for a story that will elicit some sympathy. “I’m really worried about him with this turbulence. Can I just go check on him please?”

“I’m afraid not, sir. I apologize but it’s for everyone’s safety.”

Dan presses his lips together, accepting his fate but just as she walks away, he speaks up again, “Oh, excuse me.” She turns with a forced hospitable grin and looks at Dan expectantly. “What about a drink? Can I buy him a drink? Send it to his seat. His name’s Phil, third row window seat, handsome, black hair.”

“If he’s in first class, his drinks are complimentary, sir.”

“Oh.” Dan looks down at his hands. “Then can you just bring him one? Say it’s from Dan?”

There’s a long exhale that reveals just how long her night has been before she nods gently and says, “What sort of drink did you have in mind?”

“Do you have hot chocolate?” Dan smiles up at her, grateful for her patience. His dimples really do come in handy at moments like this.

A tiny smile blooms on her overworked face and she leans in a bit closer, “Ok, hot chocolate from Dan. I’ll bring him an extra blanket too.”

With his hand to his heart, he thanks her, it means it more than she could know. The next thing he’s aware of is the same flight attendant’s hand on his shoulder, waking him up. The flight is descending and he needs to turn off his electronics.

By the time he’s shuffling down the aisle, first class has long since departed. Dan walks quickly, ready to be done with airports and travel and new people and places. He’ll get a car, headphones in, and soon he’ll be curled up in bed. He can sleep all day. There’s nothing he’s late for, no one waiting for him.

It’s terribly bright outside and Dan is personally insulted. He was counting on London gloom to validate his mood. He pauses next to the taxi queue, eyes on his phone, music in his ears, calculating the benefit of getting an Uber over jumping into one of these waiting cabs.

“Dan!”

“What the fuck!” Dan jumps, his heart races off down the road without him and he pulls his headphones off.

Phil giggles behind his hand. His other, on Dan’s shoulder, is warm and heavy and works wonders to calm Dan’s flight or flight freak out.

“Sorry. I said hi like three times.” Phil says, trying to curb his laughter. “Maybe you should turn your music down, mate.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t sneak up on people.” He’s reeling from exhaustion and emotional whiplash.

“Thanks for the hot chocolate. And the blanket.” He moves to rub the back of his neck in a classic display of Phil nerves.

“No problem. Hope it made your first class seat tolerable, you poor soul.”

“Hey.” Phil’s smile is so subtle it’s barely there, his eyes fixed on Dan’s, “I like nice things.”

They stay like that, inches apart, just looking at one another. It’s freezing out here but neither of them can feel it.

“You wanna share a car? I’m in north London.” Phil hasn’t looked away, he sounds like he’s talking to himself, his voice quiet and directed nowhere in particular. Dan nods and they both turn. The guy managing the line ushers them into a cab, taking Phil’s luggage and Phil gives the driver his address. It makes sense for Dan to be dropped off first but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to be the one walking away this time.

“Did you have a good flight?” Phil asks, small talk seems the only way out of this tension.

“It was ok. You?”

“Yeah. I mean, first class.” Phil worries his lip and Dan can’t take it anymore. He can’t take the unknowns and the regret and the stupid magnetic attraction he feels toward this person. He’s looking right at Phil’s mouth, it must be so obvious, and he’s telling himself, do it, just do it. His heart is in his throat, his stomach in knots, sensations that usually elicit a firm nope from Dan. His stock reaction to this fear is to run but he can’t run, they’re in the back of a taxi right now. If Phil pushes him away, he’ll just get out and take a bus. Dan’s breath is coming out in huffs, still watching Phil’s pink mouth as his lip slips free of his teeth.

A hand comes to rest on Dan’s leg, just above his knee. He startles a little and his eyes jerk quickly down to make sure he didn’t imagine it. The tether is taught, it’s either gonna break or he needs to grab hold of it and pull, hard.

So he does.

He leans forward too fast, his lips collide with Phil’s too forcefully, but Phil slides his hand behind Dan’s neck and leans into him till they find a perfect balance. Soft but urgent, they push against each other, Phil’s tongue dipping in between Dan’s teeth. Just enough to connect them but with room for so much more. They move with each other, unhurried until they feel the car pull to the curb and hear the driver clear his throat.

“One second.” Phil says as they pull apart, “let me get my bag.” He hands the driver his card and opens his door, climbing out to wait for his luggage to be retrieved from the boot. Dan gets his phone out and sets up a contact for Phil to fill in. He leans into the open door but before he can speak, Phil crouches down.

“You coming?”

“Sorry?” Dan replies.

“Are you coming up?” Phil always seem to think people just know what he’s talking about.

“Up? To your flat?”

Phil nods, “Everytime I lose sight of you, you run off. I think I’d like to keep you close if it’s all the same to you.”

“Don’t you need to sleep?”

“Yeah, and so do you.” Phil says, matter factly, “So come sleep. With me.”

Dan could honestly say that nothing has ever sound better.

*****

It’s been a long time since he woke up next to a stranger. It’s been a long time since he woke up next to anyone, unless you count Colin, Dan’s family’s dog who shared his bed when he went home for Christmas. It’s a little alarming at first, feeling an arm draped over his middle as he makes the slow climb to consciousness. Reality sets in as his eyes blink open and survey unfamiliar surroundings. The room is unmistakably Phil, the plants, the books, the sentimental trinkets. It’s welcoming and homey, this is exactly how Dan would have pictured Phil’s room. It is odd to feel like he knows this stranger so well. He’s not a stranger though, not really.

Gently, Dan lays his hand over the one resting against his belly. The body behind him is solid, pressed up tight. There’s so much intimacy in spooning. He closes his eyes, willfully rejecting any evidence of daytime that might be streaming through the window. He wishes it would snow now, right here in London; a wild, never before seen blizzard that would strand him here in this flat. The whole city would shut down, lives would be disrupted, but it all sounds worth it if it meant he could stay here just a little while longer. Maybe if he’s very still, his big spoon won’t wake up. He really hopes he doesn’t. If he wakes up, they’ll both be thrust out of the liminal space where they found each other and into purpose and schedules and wretched real life.

There’s a sleepy huff of a breath against his neck, and the arm around him pulls tighter for a moment. It might just be his dire need for human connection but this feels so good, being held like this. He wants to turn over so he can look at his face, nuzzle into his neck, wrap his arms around him, but he won’t risk bringing all of this to an end.

“You’re warm.” Phil’s voice is a low rumble against Dan’s back. It reminds him of the furnace coming on in the early mornings when he was kid, the promise of comfort that would stay even when he threw the blankets off. “What time is it?”

“Almost 2.” Dan says after reaching to the bedside to tip his phone into view.

Phil hums his acknowledgment and snuggles in closer, inhaling deeply with his nose tucked into the short hairs at the back of Dan’s head. “You smell like my shampoo.”

Dan is still but for his fingers. They push between the one’s underneath them and curl around to ensure that hand is staying put.

“Do you need to get up?” There’s a squeeze in his heart as he asks until he senses Phil shaking his head no behind him.

“Don’t go.” Phil says, so quietly it takes Dan a second to register. “It’s not enough yet.”

“Not enough sleep?” Dan asks.

“Just not enough.” Phil says and Dan feels a quick, soft kiss on the back of his neck.

“Go back to sleep, Phil,” Dan replies, calm spreading over him, a lightness he hasn’t experienced in so many years. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Soon, the embrace isn’t quite so tight and the breathing behind Dan is slow and steady. Sleep won’t come back so quickly for Dan, it’s just not how he operates. The sound of Phil breathing becomes a meditative soundtrack and he replays the last 24 hours, finding the moments, committing the details to a deeper place in his memory. There’s a small voice in his head that says he’ll want to tell this story later.

End.

#phanfic #PRB #myfic #You Were Only Waiting

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chrysaliseuro2019 · 5 years ago

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The Boat was Rocking

It was time to leave the Peloponnese and head to the island of Folegandros. Prior to that we wanted to look at the archeological museum in Nafplio and we also had to return the car to Piraeus the port of Athens from where all the ferries leave. Liz had timed it to all fit together. Car due back in Piraeus at 1.30 with a half hour leeway and ferry leaves for Folegandros at 3.45pm. Two hour drive to Piraeus so we wanted to be on the road by 11.15. We headed for breakfast at 8.30 and had a very pleasant one in the main square with just a few people around at that time. Headed for the museum post that and we were the only visitors in there. It is a really attractive building dating from 1713 in the Venetian style. It was very imposing. The first thing we saw which had been the real drawcard was a midden which was 32000 years old (you don't get a chance to see something that old very often) used by hunter gathererer cave dwellers in the region. Looking up the word midden it appears to be some sort of dump for all sorts of domestic waste which might be human excrement, animal bones, shells, molluscs, charcoal could be anything. Presumably the archaeologists gave it the once over and found all sorts of goodies or possibly baddies in there. In truth it looked like some flattened clay so imagination required. Though not too much. I didn't want to contemplate some ancient cave dweller squatting over the midden (though now I am). The rest of the exhibits were very interesting with a lot of artefacts which had been placed in the tombs of eminent people. Also examples of tools and weapons which showed the transition from hunters to other forms of "economy" and survival. Exhibits ranged mostly in age from 6000 BC to around 400 AD but some much older and covered everything from ornate urns and jugs (which were fantastically reconstructed), figurines, jewellery, tools and a suit of armour from 1500 BC which did not look very manoeuvrable. You felt that anyone inside it would be a sitting duck though it would have taken some penetration. Had a touch of the Monty Pythons. We stayed for around an hour and I think someone else rolled up to visit in that time which was just as we all as the 6/7 staff needed something to do given the museum was only on two not huge floors. We headed back and scurried around packing. Liz keeping a very watchful eye on the time and my intricate packing and ablution procedures. The time was called out at 5 minute intervals. It seemed to work as we head off in the car at 11.19 (precisely). Four minutes late, not bad, in fact in my book that's early. The journey was uneventful with a mix of freeway and standard roads. You can do 130km/hr on some stretches of the freeway so that was handy to keep on schedule. You have to stop for tolls every 20/30kms or so which is usually around 2 euros which slow things down a little. The biggest deal at the end was finding a petrol station. I had bypassed the last one so was not popular. We had to roll up at thrifty/hertz and ask for directions - very handy as station was around the corner. Interestingly when we picked the car up it had been left on half full as they said they had not had time to fill it up. We dubiously wondered if this was another lurk as it's pretty hard to return a car on half full. You are bound to go over. We pondered the various ways that dosh could be made on this but perhaps it was genuine. When you believe there's a conspiracy it's usually incompetence. Never ever happened before though in other countries. We handed the car back around 1.45 as close to half full as we could manage so all good and I must say the staff were very friendly and helpful. Now for the ferry. Piraeus is a pretty large passenger ferry port. There seemed to be around 10 or more quays and perhaps more that we couldn't see and they are spread out around a sort of horseshoe bay with a distance of a kilometre or two (hard to tell) covering them. We set off wheeling our bags with back packs on and it was pretty warm but we weren't 100% sure which quay we had to go to though had an idea. Anyway after about 20 mins of wheeling with a few stops including to buy some savoury pastries we entered a gate and were directed to the kiosk of the shipping line we were using. Now around 2.15. Ferry due to leave at 3.45. Of course we had walked past the kiosk on our way so were now doubling back through the heat but had found where we needed to be so didn't care. Not good news, ferry was running late. They weren't sure why but later said it was the weather and certainly the wind was very strong which wasn't filling us with joyous anticipation for the trip. It would be arriving at around 5.00pm. Leaving, some time after that, typically a half hour turn around so we were told. Nothing to do but head for some covered shelters to get out of the sun, eat our pastries and settle down for a long wait. 5.00pm became 6.10 and the ferry finally rolled up around then. Around that time proceedings descended into farce as another ferry from the same shipping line came in first at a slightly different dock nearby. All those waiting for the Folegandros ferry including us scooted over to that ferry, watched cars and people unload only to be told that we needed to go back to the original spot and wait - it wasn't ours. There was scurrying as everyone tried to get good positions to be on early. This presumably was because some did not have reserved seats and wanted to find the pick of the unreserved seats. We had reserved a couple of seats though our last experience on a ferry to Sardinia had been that reserved seats were not reserved seats and people commandeered them. So we were playing it sort of safe and trying to make sure we were not at the rear end of the line. As our ferry approached people moved from side to side 30 or 40 metres trying to anticipate and partly as directed by staff as to where the ramp would actually be. Imagine a couple of hundred people moving back and forth with suitcases, kids and various holiday paraphernalia all in still warm sun. It was quite something and we for our part were trying to stay reasonably at the front too. To add to the confusion a large petrol tanker was right in the midst of us presumably ready to refuel the ferry and had to reverse causing more chaos. We chatted to an amusing guy from New York and his wife who was good naturedly bemoaning the fact that as we stood in the queue he was supposed to be at a beach birthday party on one of the earlier island stops for this ferry. He and his wife had flown from America to specifically make this event. The best laid plans. Still he said the party would still be going when he got there. Finally around 6.30 the ferry started to unload people followed by cars while some onboarders rushed up the ramp against the flow of offboarders trying to stake their spots. This sent the officials into minor apoplexy and these people were stopped at the top of the ramp while disembarkation finished. We all then put our heads down and rushed up. Elbows weren't quite out but there were no beg pardons. Luckily I was with someone who can handle herself in the clinches and Liz beat me up the ramp hands down. One good reason to be up the ramp relatively early was that the formal storage racks for bags soon ran out though in truth people then just stored their bags alongside them and it didn't seem to be a problem. Also the ferry had several stops at different islands and theoretically each island had a separate storage section. We ignored that as clearly did plenty of others and chucked ours where there was a space. All worked well. Finally we had to negotiate the narrow doorway where tickets were checked with a couple of hundred people trying to be first through but from there the bedlam ceased. Our reserved seats were very comfortable. In a separate section with a hundred or so others though the seating was not full. An attendant checked tickets so no one could take your spot. I immediately shot to the bar and they actually did vodka and tonic which Liz was v pleased about after 4 frustrating hours of sitting on our hands preceded by a 2 hour + drive. I enjoyed a couple of cleansing ales too of course and we settled back to await departure. Of course the boat took another hour and a quarter to depart so finally left around 7.45pm - 4 hours late. Thems the travel breaks sometimes. A bit aggravating apart from the boredom of hanging around. It meant we lost the latter part of the evening and a decent dinner in town in Folegandros. Also we were paying essentially for a bed for a night and Folegandros prices not that cheap. If you knew that you would be arriving so late you would stay at the $50 a night job at the port, assuming it existed, though we reconciled ourselves that with a 1.45 am ferry arrival finding a hotel would have been impossible. Anyway, very efficiently, staff at the apartments where we were staying pick you up from the port and much to our relief after a 6 hour journey due to the rocky weather one was there to transfer us to our digs. The boat trip because of the strong wind did cause a bit of seasickness. There was a lot of side to side rocking. I managed to stay OK though felt a tad uncomfortable from time to time but Liz felt a bit queasy though through a mix of sleep and willpower managed to hold things off and we arrived without any technicolor events. You get these days from time to time. Not much you can do but go into some waiting zone, google, write blogs, go for walks, chat. We had left our hotel in Napflio at 11.20 am and arrived at our new one just after 2.00am. 15 hours. The ferry mob were apologetic and free cokes came round and we were told we could all claim a free ferry ride in the future. Do they do Tasmania? We crawled into bed.

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vvallflower-things · 6 years ago

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04.06.18

Today class was pretty dull. And pretty dull as in it-takes-395729-hours-for-her-to-explain-one-slide kind of dull.

In short, my day was not great today. It did not even start well to begin with. For that reason, I decided to turn things around by doing something... quite different. But it was not a conscious decision to just steer the wheel to a differ current of the road.

So after class, James (he’s one of my closest guy friends) asked me to support him in registering himself in a Student Council poll-day. I immediately agree to that for some reason. Which is very unlike me, especially when I have another restless night. But for some reason, I was feeling strangely energetic. Besides that, I wanted to be there for my friend. Story cut short, I agree and I helped him out.

I needed a ride to get to the other block (which is where James needs us to be). One of our course-mate (Ash) was nice enough to give us a lift. I have done some assignments with him but he is just acquaintance, or what Malaysians like to call it, a ‘hi-bye friend. So he is that. We have conversations like hi, thanks for the ride, bye, see you in class, et cetera.

So we went and support dear ol’ James. He was really happy most of us showed up. We will be there for him during polling day too. He signed up for a chairman position. I am proud of him that he volunteered for this. I think he has potential to hold up an important post.

After that, Ash took a few of us (supporters) back to our respective blocks, as others still have classes. As for me and Ash, we are done for the day. So we decided to go for lunch after he did some of his errands (which took a long while).

We needed to queue up to get his campus car sticker. He offered me a ride home first but I decided to accompany him through the long queue. Since it is taking a long long while, we have to make conversation. Like a real conversation, not the ‘hi-bye’ kind.

I found out that there are SO MUCH things in common between us two. This started off when he asked, “Do you read?”. Then I told him I have not for a long while but used to be a real book geek. And before you know it, he starts gushing about his obsession with books and writing.

FYI, it is not easy to find somebody who loves to read from my country. Malaysians are not readers. They are eaters (LMAO).

It gives me a lot of thoughts about how much we do not know about people. We rather not talk to those who are not close to us because we kinda assumed that they will not have a certain click with us. That’s a brand new perspective to me.

I also found out that he is an extreme introvert. Believe it or not, I carried the conversation mostly. But in the middle of our lunch, he started becoming comfortable and asked me some things too.

This is a complete eye-opener for me. I guess I should really come out from my shell and really meet new people. Sure it does take effort, but I think it is pretty worth it.

Though I think I might have to slow it down a little as I have been for most of the days. I think I needed some time alone in my room to refuel my introvert tank.

Side note: This is written on the date stated itself. It is up the day after because I spend the ENTIRE afternoon dyeing my hair. It’s full purple now! Fun fact, hair bleaching is hell. If I would curse anyone, I would curse that they have their head bleached. (NOT EXAGGERATING)

Here is the result ♡

Do-It List

write down flaws of your loved ones ( eg: a friend, your lover, your mother, your cat, et cetera);

and why you should love them anyway.

let conversations be about them, not you.

p.s Currently finding more great bujo/booklr/studylr accounts to follow. Comment/like and follow and I’ll be sure to check you out and follow back ♡

#journals #bujo #bullet journal #booklr #studylr #intoverts #writers on tumblr #do it list #mkae #burgundy hair #coloured hair #hairstyle #purple hair

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juniorformulamotorsport · 6 years ago

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Monday, May 21st – Day 17, Pau, Gan, Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, Larrabetzu, Amorebieta

I was woken up early by the sound of the street cleaning machines trundling around the Place Gourmande site on Place Georges Clemenceau, so between the noisy revellers the night before and the local council’s street cleaning department, I’d managed about 5 hours sleep. Thanks a lot, guys! It did look lovely and clean though…

The overnight rain had cleared away and it looked like it was going to be another lovely day. I was happy enough with that because there was quite a lot of driving to do. Actually there was slightly more than I thought, because R was leaving by bus from the University bus stop to get to the airport. Sensibly he’d ordered a taxi well in advance, which simply didn’t turn up, or at least hadn’t turned up 10 minutes after it was expected, and which meant he was starting to run out of time to make the coach. We threw his bag into the car and hared across town, hampered at every stage by closed roads, red traffic lights and the apparent sudden incompetence of my SatNav system. However, we eventually got there and the bus he was supposed to be catching was still there, with a queue of people waiting to get on. I dropped him off, went back to the hotel, and then loaded up the car as neatly as I could.

That done we pointed the car towards Gan again, and les Caves de Gan where we planned to buy some local wine, including a case of Jurancon doux, and some reds for everyday drinking. The Pyrenees were looking very attractive despite the ominous clouds lowering in the distance. However, apart from the Caves pretty much nothing in Gan was open, and we needed to refuel if we were going to make it all the way to Bilbao by the end of the day. I knew the Carrefour supermarket to the north of Pau was open despite it being a bank holiday, so we headed that way, and discovered that the Leclerc on the Rocade was also open. We pulled in, picked up some sweets and biscuits to take home to our colleagues, some creme de mure, and some local food specialities, and filled up with diesel.

Setting our next destination for Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, we made our way to our next way stop, driving into some lovely open country, all the while with the mountains getting ever closer. On getting close we saw some signs for vineyards open to the public, but closer inspection proved that because it was a public holiday, they were closed. Eventually we gave up and decided to drive into the centre of the town, given that we could do with a coffee and a break by then.

Apparently Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port means Saint John at the foot of the pass, which makes sense when I think about it. It is, of course, a stopping point for the Camino Francés, one of the most popular options for walking the Camino de Santiago if you have taken the routes that run from Paris, Vézelay or Le Puy-en-Velay, as they all meet here prior to the mountain crossing. We certainly saw a lot of people laden with rucksacks with scallop shells, the traditional badge for pilgrims on the Camino, hanging from them.

The original town was razed to the ground in 1177 by Richard the Lionheart after a siege, and the new town was built on the current site by the King of Navarre, shortly afterwards. The town has a delightful medieval centre with houses overlooking the river Nive, as well as a citadel revamped in the 17th Century by Vauban, but unfortunately we didn’t have time to do it justice.

We did have time to buy more wine though, Saint Jean sitting right in the Irouléguy appellation, a much underrated and under-known source of some very good wine. I have a suspicion that it’s partly because they are keeping the wines to themselves, and partly that unless you’re born in those parts, most of the names are bordering on the unpronounceable what with all the Xs and Zs in them! We were beginning to wonder if we would find anywhere to sell us any when we stumbled upon the Caves des Etats de Navarre where they were not only prepared to let us try and buy some wines, but were also serving food.

It was now 14:00 and we were getting hungry so we ordered a plate of the local cheese (Ossau-Iraty of course) and another of Bayonne ham. What we got was massive and delicious and it went very nicely with a white Irouléguy.

We added the final two cases of wine to the car, and set off towards our final destination, the scenery becoming ever more dramatic as we hit the motorway again and crossed the border into Spain. It’s gloriously mountainous just back from the coast towards Santander and then on to Bilbao, and I think we now want to come back and have a closer look at this part of the world. We really don’t know Spain apart from the bits around the two race circuits we have been to, Jerez and Valencia. The rest of it’s a bit of a mystery to us. That may be a mistake, we’re starting to feel.

We were booked to stay in an agriturismo that was described as being close to the motorway. The street name wasn’t showing up in the SatNav whatever I tried, so we headed for the town named in the address, Larrabetzu. After we’d been round the place twice we stopped and wrestled the SatNav one more time, only for it to tell us we were around 3 miles away from where we wanted to be. We followed the instructions only to find ourselves on the roughest of rough roads, going up a massive hill and past a disused golf centre, going at around 8 mph for fear of breaking our wine bottles, or falling off the precipitous edge of the road. Cursing and sweating we eventually located the gate for the Casa Miamendi, and hauled ourselves up a ludicrously steep drive, coming to a stop outside a house that matched the photos on Booking.com but that seemed to be completely deserted. Eventually someone appeared, and led us to our room, which was very nice indeed, especially for €70. Sadly communication was almost impossible, because I don’t speak any Spanish or for that matter Catalan or Basque, and she didn’t speak English, French or German. We resorted to gestures, which seemed to work on both sides.

Settled in the room, we discovered that if we’d gone on to the next exit from the motorway, we’d have been around 200 yards from the gate. Grrr! Our route to the restaurant I’d booked us into for the night took us straight down that way and meant it took 10 minutes to get to for dinner. Getting back was another matter, but first the food and drink. This area of Spain is festooned with Michelin stars, including the 3-star Azurmendi that we could see from the hotel, though on a Monday night it’s not so much a matter of choosing where to go, but of finding somewhere that will actually be open on a Monday. We had opted, after an exchange in somewhat awkward English, for one-starred Boroa Jatetxea in nearby Amorebieta–Etxano. Apparently they only do a “limited” menu on a Monday. We were more than happy to settle for that actually, because what we got was superb. We didn’t feel in any way short-changed, that’s for sure.

First, however, the place itself. We drove up a well-kept drive way and parked to find ourselves in front of a somewhat rambling building, very much in the local architectural vernacular, low, set in a massive garden with lots of outdoor seating areas, some occupied by people who looked like they might be taking advantage of the weather to call in to the Taverna part of the establishment to have a leisurely Monday night drink with friends or colleagues. With a large, modern business park just down the road, I suspect that is where a lot of their custom comes from. We were greeted promptly on our arrival and were walked through the tavern and into the restaurant proper, a large room, divided up with screens, low ceilinged and with lovely large windows overlooking the gardens.

We opted to have the Bizkargi menu (possibly named after a local mountain peak) and settled in to enjoy the ride. We were still having problems with our lack of Spanish language skills, which was a shame, because our waitress was lovely and very keen to explain things to us. Sadly, she was pretty much wasting her efforts, though we did appreciate the sentiment. We started with a glass of cava, as seemed appropriate, and some lovely home-made potato crisps came to accompany them. We had to try and stop ourselves from scarfing the lot, knowing we had a tasting menu to get through.

Some very fine, very rustic bread came along too, dotted with seeds, with a beautiful crust and with a small dish of olive oil to dunk it in.

As an amuse bouche we were served a lovely soft ham and potato croqueta, with a gorgeous crisp shell.

The sommelier brought the wine we’d ordered, to the approval of the waitress who obviously considered this a good option with the next few courses, all of which were fishy. I’d not got too much idea what I was doing but what I’d understood of the description suggested that a bottle of the Itsas Mendi Artizar might be a very good thing.

It was certainly very well matched to the first course of Bermeo anchovy fillets (or loins, as the menu had it, though I can’t help but feel anchovies are too small to have loins!) served on a very delicate tapenade toast with a smooth, creamy, cool ajoblanco garlic soup.

The next course was described somewhat prosaically as parmentier potatoes, mushroom cake, sautéed garlic shrimp and sauce Americaine. It was rich and spicy and the prawns were redolent of garlic, rich with it. It was a glorious little plate of sheer pleasure if I’m honest. More would have been nice, but equally there were further goodies to come.

Next up was a portion of piper gurnard, again the loin which seems to be a popular cut here, an odd looking fish but very good eating. It’s quite meaty, a bit like monkfish (another weirdly prehistoric looking thing) with a suquet sauce, croutons and molluscs (which were actually mussels). Suquet is a Catalan word for sauce, and it’s a traditional dish, the fish-based sauce thickened with potato, and flavoured with peppers. It was also very good. So far, the chef hadn’t put a foot wrong, and didn’t look likely too either. I’d love to go back some time when they’re not doing their “restricted” menu to see what they are really capable of.

The white wine was now done and it was time for the meat course, so we were about to swap to a red. Like the white it was pretty local, and again the waitress seemed to think it was a good choice, so I was more confident now. We tasted it and liked it very much, it being a Bosque de Matasnos 2016 Ribera del Duero.

We reckoned it worked with the meat, a fillet steak burger, with red onions and a goat cheese spongecake.It was a very simple dish and that meant there was no place to hide, the meat had to be brilliant quality or it would not have worked. This was, cooked to still be slightly rare and juicy, with the lightest of goats cheese in the sponge cake. It was cleverer than it looked, and very, very good.

The dessert was upon us, and it too was clever, classy and tasted fabulous. It was curd with spiced parsnip sponge cake, sticking with the cake theme from the meat course, with a multi-fruit sorbet that had us identifying all sorts of different flavours and never being quite sure if we were right. It was lovely and elegant and it rounded off the meal very well.

There just remained the petit fours, which were thankfully very tiny, because by now we were flagging. Still, we’d be eating on the ferry for the rest of the trip and as we were putting ourselves in the hands of Brittany Ferries for the first time ever, we’d no idea what to expect. It wouldn’t matter because our last actual holiday meal had lived up to expectations and made us both very happy.

There was enough wine in the bottle for us to have another glass each, so we asked them to stopper it for us, and put it in my bag to drink back at the hotel, just in case we ended up having to go back over that accursed mountain if we failed to find the short cut. And that’s precisely what happened, to my utter frustration. Two attempts to locate the correct turn off failed completely and so instead of 10 minutes (which was how long it had taken from the hotel to the restaurant) it took 30 minutes to get back! A friend who lives in Spain has suggested that SatNavs do not tend to work especially well in Spain. I was just hoping it was going to be easier to get to the ferry in the morning… we’d be leaving in plenty of time, that was for sure.

Travel/Food 2018 – French Road Trip, Day 17, Pau, Gan, Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, Larrabetzu, Amorebieta Monday, May 21st – Day 17, Pau, Gan, Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, Larrabetzu, Amorebieta I was woken up early by the sound of the street cleaning machines trundling around the Place Gourmande site on Place Georges Clemenceau, so between the noisy revellers the night before and the local council's street cleaning department, I'd managed about 5 hours sleep.

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wraithreviewsgames · 7 years ago

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Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. (Spoilers)

Let me start this with, it’s a Zelda game. The plot is the same as always, Ganon’s back, and he’s still bad, Zelda’s there doing her thing behind the scenes, and Link hyaah’s his way to victory. The End. Thats the plot. However the way you proceed is somewhat different. The game is open world. How you clear the main plot points is up to you. The order is all yours. You can leave the start area and book it to Ganon, or you can explore everything without out touching the plot til you max out health and stamina.

Breath of the Wild drops in some nice new mechanics. Climbing is a fun way to get around. Unless it’s raining, in which case you’re stuck. It makes surfaces slippery causing you to slide down them. Shield surfing is a fun way to get around as it’s fast and lets you just shred. There’s even a side quest for shield surfing. You get some nice shields and rupees for clearing it. The paraglider lets you fall long distance and travel far quickly, provided you can start a fire under you to start an updraft or climb something tall.

There are no dungeons. Well not conventional dungeons, they did away with them and replaced them with the Divine Beasts: Naboris (Robot Humpy Camel), Ruta (Shotgun Marriage), Medoh (Birdo), and Rudania (Lizardo). These beasts are actually named after characters from other Zelda games, Nabooru (OoT), Ruto (OoT), Medli (WW) and Darunia (OoT) respectively. There are also 120 shrines, thats before adding the DLC shrines. The Divine Beasts are huge puzzles that you manipulate by causing certain parts to move allowing you to solve puzzles. Then you fight a blight. These blights are part of Ganon. They’re also harder to fight than Ganon. Once you kill the blight you get a heart container, and a special ability. The shrines are small puzzles that take a couple of minutes to beat and always provide a bit of loot. There are some shrines that are exceptions. Some require you to drop a certain item onto a pedestal or fulfill certain criteria, like standing naked on a pedestal during a blood moon. Seriously that one hurt, I left the game running for 7 hours to get a blood moon to occur. 7 HOURS THAT I COULD HAVE SPENT PLAYING MARIO KART 8 OR COMPLETING FINDING KOROK SEEDS. The DLC added 16 more shrines and the ultimate test of not dying. Once you beat the 16 DLC shrines you get another Divine Beast. This one is more like a conventional Zelda dungeon. Then you fight Maz Koshia. He’s kinda easy to beat. you just have to watch where he’s attacking from. Then you get a motorbike. I’m not even joking here, it’s called the Master Cycle. It’s fast and turns well but you have to refuel it often. Just use a horse. The test of not dying requires you to return the master sword to the pedestal you grabbed it from and clear 45 levels of enemies, and you can’t save unless you clear certain levels. On the upside it makes the master sword do 60 damage at all times rather than in the presence of Ganon and Guardians. Only issue is you have nothing. Just the runes on your slate, and weapons dropped by enemies.

Breath of the Wild ditches the traditional items that you pick up. Gone are the iron boots and the power bracelet, instead you have the bomb runes, magnesis, stasis and cryosis. These let you summon bombs, lift metal objects, freeze an object in time, and make pillars of ice in bodies of water. To get the runes you have to complete 4 shrines on the Great Plateau, netting you the paraglider, an item so useful that you can’t leave the plateau without it as you’d fall to your death. You still have your normal arrows and stuff though, ice, fire, electric, bomb and regular arrows, you can hold as many arrows as you can find. Breath of the Wild also forces you to switch up which weapons you use as they break. Often. Spears, hammers, swords, axes, bows and shields all break, except the Master Sword, that can’t be broken, but it does run out of energy, meaning you cant use it, though I’m sure it could still be used as a sword. Shields take damage if you block attacks with them, deflect guardian lasers or shield surf on anything that isn’t snow. As you progress further and collect more heart containers and korok seeds and stamina vessels weapons get more powerful to let you deal damage to enemies, this means you can find a hylian shield (base defense of 90) that has a massive defense boost making you hard to kill. The Master Sword doesn’t get these bonuses.

I mentioned that in each Divine beast you get a heart container, this would take you to 7 hearts, to get the maximum 30 you have to beat 92 shrines as you must collect 4 spirit orbs to be able to trade for a heart piece. There are 120 shrines with these orbs, meaning the rest can be used to increase your stamina. The problem is that you max out at 30 hearts or 3 wheels of stamina, which is fine because you can over fill both of these with the correct ingredients when cooking, unless you pixked the 30 hearts in which case you can’t you can just recover all of them at once, if you eat a “hearty” meal. You can always over fill your stamina even if you have 3 wheels by eating meals that contain ingredients that boost stamina when cooked. I took the 3 wheels of stamina because I climb and swim more than I fight. Also because finding Korok seeds is easier when you can climb longer. Oh, and if you find all 120 shrines and beat them you get the Tunic, hat and shorts of the wild. These are Links traditional green garments. Pretty cool and useful.

I’ve brought Korok seeds up several times now. Korok seeds are the bane of my existence. You collect them and trade them to Hestu, the most hipster Korok, to expand your inventory. You need 441 to be able to carry the maximum number of weapons, bows and shields. That’s fine. I understand making it harder to upgrade stuff towards the end of the game. Whats not fine is the fact that there are 900 seeds around the map. NINE HUNDRED LITTLE TURDS HIDDEN IN OBSCURE NOOKS AND CRANNIES. Once you collect all 900? You get “Hestu’s Gift”. This “gift” is literally a golden turd. A GOLDEN TURD. The worst part? It was hinted at. The flavour text literally reads “ This small seed was given to you by a Korok. It has a distinct smell. If you gather a bunch of them, you never know what may happen...” IT HAS A DISTINCT SMELL YOU SAY? YOU FIND ALL 900 AND GET THE GIFT. Want to know what the flavour text reads? It reads “A gift of friendship given to you by Hestu. It smells pretty bad.” IT SMELLS PRETTY BAD. HESTU LITERALLY HANDS YOU HIS OWN SHIT AS A GIFT. AND YOU CAN’T EVEN FUCKING SELL IT. WHY NINTENDO? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO US?!

Speaking of useless quest rewards, theres a compendium that you can fill by taking pictures using the sheikah slate. It’s simple, see an item and snap a picture and it’ll get added to the compendium. A nice little sidequest really. Until you complete it and get nothing worth while. Just an envelope with a picture you can’t see in it. Nintendo is just screwing with us with some of these rewards.

The soundtrack for the game is just incredible Kataoka did an incredible job, all the tracks blend seamlessly. The music will queue you into whats going on, certain tracks play at night, or while riding horses (or both), while in combat, when in specific places. It’s incredible, but no transition feels forced at all. It’s just a good time when you listen to it.

I give this game 9.5 “gifts” out of 10. It rains too much.

#breath of the wild #legend of zelda #legend of zelda breath of the #review #gaming #video games #korok seeds #nintendo #zelda #link #ganon

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insecwrites · 7 years ago

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Undeserved Loyalties chapter 2

> READ CHAPTER 2 ON AO3 < Summary: Jetfire and Jetstorm are very loyal soldiers, but thinking is not their strongest point. When Longarm begins to give them secret missions, they enthusiastically agree, thinking they are going to be drafted into Spec Ops. When Autobot command puts a bounty on their heads for the assassination of vital Autobot agents, they are left on their own. How do two ex-Autobots survive when they are unwilling to join the Decepticons, but banned from the Autobots? Chapter 2: Red Alert inspects Project Safeguard and learns something unexpected.

There were days that Red Alert wished there were more medics of her skill. With her right hand still aching from a long operation, and driving over an annoyingly busy road, the last thing she wanted to do was check in on Perceptor and Wheeljack with their ‘project’. As far as she was concerned, both parts of ‘operation Safeguard’ were healthy, and no longer in need of medical assistance. Perceptor disagreed. Perceptor was in the Council, and Perceptor felt no shame in using his influence for his own gain. So, every day, around the time when most mecha would be having their midday refuel, Red Alert had to leave Iacon hospital to check the same unchanging charts over and over again.

Back when Wheeljack and Perceptor had been constantly ‘updating’ the twins and reloading modded version of Decepticon code into their brainmodules, her expertise had been necessary. The both of them were more scientist than they were medical experts, and their original drafts for Project Safeguard would have killed any mech stupid enough to volunteer. What kind of things were misfiring in Wheeljack’s brain to come up with a concept like combining two mecha into one? Who mentioned the idea of then adding Decepticon coding into them on top of that?!

The two scientists had proven their skill though – Project Safeguard had been finished, and it was doing better than anyone had expected. Red Alert had thought that the twins would perhaps need some form of councelling after their near-death experience, but the two mecha fell into their new role as if it had been forged for them. Perhaps that was why Perceptor was so intent on keeping her tied to the project? Maybe he was still expecting it to go wrong somehow, and he wanted her to keep an eye her parts of the project.

Red Alert would have found his trust in her endearing, if he also trusted her when she told him that NOTHING was wrong! These solar cycles the check ups were mundane enough that nurses could do them with their eyes closed, but Perceptor refused to let her step off the project. His iron will had become an Ununtrium will after his little ‘self-improvement’.

The only silver lining to that acid stormcloud was that Red Alert no longer had to keep a check on her words around him. There was no longer anything that could be said to hurt him.

She rolled to a stop outside of Perceptor’s lab, and marched her way to the entrance. Perceptor’s lab was probably the best-funded building on Cybertron to unofficially belong to a singular mech, and it showed. A frame scan and a deeper protoform-scan washed over her before the entrance doors opened, and a single commlink message dropped into her queue to inform her about everything that Perceptor felt she needed to know.

// Duties expected from [RED ALERT] on this date (SolC 65, Q 13, StelC 3.002.89 ) in order; // //Common health check-up on compartments J1 and J2 of Pr. Safeguard. – Room 23 // //Reviewing request of patient [PERCEPTOR] to change prognosis and treatment – Room 3/Commlink communication //

Business as usual. Red Alert offlined her optics and walked towards Room 23, already deleting the second message. She was fairly certain that at least half of her deleted files were just from Perceptor, and his attempts to weasel out of his therapy. After what Perceptor had knowingly done to himself it was going to take more than a simple request before Red Alert would let him ditch therapy, but that was evidently not stopping him from trying. It probably wouldn’t be long before he succeeded. His therapist, or rather his third therapist, was reporting a dead end in the treatment.

There was simply nothing to work with – not even a starting point. Perceptor didn’t have a problem. The Perceptor that had had a deep psychological problem had forcibly deleted parts of his personality, and now there was just this blank slate of a mech borrowing his life and face.

Already feeling weary, Red Alert sighed and entered the first of three protective layers around room 23. The tingle of an ID scan opened the first door, giving access to a small recording-office where carefully picked and edited footage of the ‘project Safeguard’ was stored. The second door had a size/shape/weight assessment tied to it, matching Red Alert’s ID to her frame with decimal precision. A security measure made necessary by war and paranoia. Rumours of Decepticon triple changers taking a second root mode instead of a second alt.

With a ping, the second set of doors opened. The third door, made out of heavy duty steel and more layers than any Autobot could break through, opened automatically. In the early days of the project, it had been programmed to be impossible to open from the inside. Just in case the Decepticon coding in the twins took a turn for the worst.

These days, only thing keeping the twins here instead of at the Elite Guard barracks was Perceptor and whatever plan he had for the project.

Red Alert reached the last door, and braced herself. The twins had a tendency of trying to cheer her up if she appeared too haggard, and she did not feel like wasting her time.

The heavy blast doors slid open, and Red Alert entered the twin’s living space. An immediate scent of heated paint and slag assaulted her senses, and her feet kicked through a thin layer of discarded toys and garbage as she marched into the room. The twins themselves were wrestling with each other in the middle of the room, their flight engines ( or simply Jetstorm’s added abilities ) kicking up a lacklustre whirlwind of garbage around the room.

“Jetstorm, Jetfire. At attention! It is time for your bi-solar check up.” Red Alert barked.

“AH! It is being good morning, Alert of Red!” Jetstorm said. He was currently on top in battling his twin, muffling Jetfire’s greeting in a cushion. “No need for check up is what me is thinking- I am being in top of the condition wi-” An orange hand cut him off midsentence, and in a flurry of movement Jetfire had reversed their positions.

“-being my turn to say hello’s to the Red of Alert!” Jetfire admonished his brother, and he threw a cheerful smile in Red Alert’s direction, before immediately going back to subduing his struggling split spark. “I does -oomfp!- agree that, conditioning has been being okay for us! And testing always being so boring.”

“Whe Sstronk-.” Jetstorm added, even as he tried to spit out his twin’s fingers. “Dhon’t be nheeding sscheck-ahp.”

If these had been regular Autobot younglings, Red Alert would have intervened by simply grabbing them by the scruff of their backplating and giving them a quick scodling, but the Jettwins were nothing like regular younglings. Whether it was just the way they had come online, or the way that the Decepticon coding had nestled into their brainmodules, the twins simply couldn’t seem to listen to orders until someone brought in some manner of physical punishment.

Well, that was not completely fair. They listened to Sentinel Prime of all mecha, but if Red Alert had to call in Sentinel Prime for every time the twins ignored her, she was going to drive herself into an early offlining. At the very least, the twins made her feel better about her choice to keep her left arm as an EMP gun.

With an ominous snap of electricity she fired it up, preparing herself to jab it at the wrestling twins. “At attention, NOW!” She barked out, and the two mecha immediately scrambled into a salute. “I am just as tired of these check-ups as you are but they WILL be performed and you will not waste time.

“Yes, sir Red Alert sir.” They said in unison.

Red Alert watched them for a moment, and then let the energy from her EMP gun disperse. “Now then, take your positions and copy your self-diagnostic results onto these datapads. And if I catch you throwing the datapads I will both shock you AND bring in Sentinel Prime for your punishment!”

“Red Alert sir is beings in bad moods.” Jetfire jibed, even as he took the datapad she offered him and plugged himself in. “Me and brother are always the behaving!”

Jetstorm bit off a chuckle.

Red Alert didn’t deign to reply to them, and instead focused on running through the routine she had built up. The faster she was done, the faster she could return to her midday fuel and dealing with Perceptor. As she had expected, there were no changes of any significance. Their reprogrammed coding looked stable, just as it had looked in the last three decacycles, and all of their new body parts had integrated a long time ago. She had them combine into Safeguard, who was similarly unchanged and in perfect shape. Well, as perfect as an amalgamation of two mecha could be, she supposed. For how loud and noisy Jetfire and Jetstorm were, Safeguard was mostly antsy and quiet. Red Alert always felt like the combiner was having an injoke with the way he giggled to himself, but he was healthy and coherent.

If it wasn’t for the lack of knowledge surrounding Decepticon coding, the twins likely would have been brought to the public already. At a glance they passed very well for regular Autobots, but they were impossible to keep out of the air – with or without the use of heavy weaponry.

“Does Red Alert knowings if we will be having a mission again soon?” Jetstorm asked. “This place is being boring to be in for long times.”

Red Alert frowned, and met Jetstorm’s visor. “I was not aware that you had gone on any missions, outside of accompanying Sentinel Prime.”

“Oh yes!” Jetstorm beamed. “Longarm Prime be requesting our help for the spyinks and Secret things! Sentinel Prime has been doing busy – and he no longer being answering to his commlinks.”

“Mission was not being very fun.” Jetfire added sullenly. “Very boring, too much talkings and walkings and waiting…. But me and brother could fly back to base all the way! Very fun, and I won race!”

“Brother is lying, I won race very easily.” Jetstorm said. “And mission was better than staying in room. We was being helpful Autobots for Cybertron!”

“Is that what he said?” Red Alert mumbled to herself. She had no dislike or like for Longarm Prime, but she did have a history with his department. The mecha that were chosen to work in Spec Ops were either damaged in their empathy modules, or had it forcibly trained into them. Unless Longarm was thinking to make the twins into literal weapons or part of his division, there was no reason for him to get his servos on the,

“Did he mention wanting you to work for his department more?”

“He be very vague. It is being a spy thing.” Jetstorm said. “Important job was done, that is all that ‘publical mecha’ need to know.”

“It is said as ‘the generalistic public’, stupid.” Jetfire replied. “And Longarm is not tell us because Brother cannot keep secrets.”

“Oh? I cannot be keeping secrets?” Jetstorm grinned. “I guess I cannot be helping but tell Red of the Alert about the thing you is keeping un-“

“SUSSH!” Jetfire jumped on top of Jetstorm in the blink of an eye, and Red Alert watched tiredly as the two continued their wrestling.

Would it be worth interrupting them again to pry a little more information from them…? She knew better than to start asking Longarm what kind of mission he’d sent them on. Spec Ops had an annoying habit of supplying very convincing fibs whenever someone asked them what they were up to. Secret missions were ‘patrols’. Assasinations were ‘tests’. And, of course, the only person that his department answered to was the Magnus.

Distractedly she sent a redacted copy of the test results to the twins for their safekeeping, and headed out of the room. The distracted and well-meant goodbye of the twins was cut off halfway as the door slid shut behind her.

Did Perceptor know that the twins had been sent out on a Spec Ops mission? If he did, she doubted that Longarm let him know exactly what the mission was about. And if it had been a regular training mission, why would Longarm Prime have gotten the lead? What was his stake in testing the abilities of the twins? Why would Perceptor agree? It just didn’t fit – there was something wrong, something off-… She had to dig to the bottom of this. Contact Perceptor, Wheeljack, the Magnus- she would have to pick the right order to assure the least amounts of suspicion from Longarm, while also keeping an optic out for possible reprogramming on Perceptor-…

She paused in the hallway, and carefully massaged her forehead with the unwieldy bulk of her EMP gun. It was trembling. “No.” She said softly to herself. “It’s not my job nor my responsibility to conduct intense research. I have my responsibilities, and my colleagues have their responsibilities. I can trust them to do their job.”

She took a long invent, and then let it seep out of her. Continuing her trek down the hallway, she shortened the length of her ‘dig-to-the-bottom’ plan. She would talk to Percy, and see what he knew about Longarm’s little ‘borrowing’ of Project Safeguard. If that conversation rang some alarm bells, she would contact the Magnus, and further discuss things with Wheeljack and Perceptor. If she was still worried after that, she would contact her therapist Analyse, and ask her for the next step.

A few more calming invents later, Red Alert felt calm enough to continue on her way out. She had her patients waiting on her back at the hospital, and she had to hurry if she wanted to grab a quick cube before the first appointment. Nobody was going to be helped if she ran herself into the ground looking into some slightly suspicios happenings.

Most likely, there was nothing to be worried about.

#transformers fanfic #poll winner #undeserved loyalties #jetstorm #jettwins #jetfire #Red alert #Transformers animated

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chaletnz · 7 years ago

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Italy Day Four: Florence/Rome

Since I killed my feet yesterday with all the walking to, from, and around the city centre I treated myself to a little sleep in. Still, I was checked out long before 10 anyway and left the hostel in search of a nearby breakfast. Not an easy feat since it was Sunday and the one supermarket was closed - along with everything else in the area. On my journey I discovered a huge market that seemed to have just popped up as it certainly wasn't there earlier or I would've noticed. It took me an hour to walk around all of it and I bought a small moka pot for €5 which is the cheapest I've ever seen one. It was a difficult market to walk through though, the Italians are very into pushing and shoving their way through and they don't know how to keep right so they're coming from all directions! Once I emerged in the other side of the market I spotted a small coffeeshop that was in prime position for making a mint by being open today! I lined up with many others to get my cappuccino and croissant (also known as an Italian breakfast), had a little break to refuel and then braved the crowds once more to get back to the hostel. I sat around for a while writing notes for my blog then I decided to go back to the market and get lunch there since I didn't have a lot of options in the neighborhood. On my first lap I'd spotted some nice looking Argentinian smoked pork paninos so I decided to go for one of those and a bottle of water - I managed to successfully order in Italian so when I later asked for a bag to takeaway the other half of my sandwich he was a bit confused that I'd switched to English. I made the walk back to the hostel again slowly, packed up my bag and took the 1.30 train to Rome. It must've been the slow train because it took about three hours to get there! Although I had paid the cheapest fare so that would be right! After riding all the trains in Venice without ever being checked I was surprised that there was an attendant on this train checking them all with a QR code scanner. Once I arrived I saw a Flixbus kiosk advertising cheap tickets to Naples which is my next destination so I picked up my onward ticket while I was here then walked briskly uphill to my hostel for the evening. I checked in, locked away my bag and then gunned it on the metro to the Colosseum since I wanted to arrive before sunset. I opted for the day ticket for all the transport in Rome because it would be valid right up until my bus to Naples tomorrow and since Rome is huge I knew I'd need to utilize the public transport. It was quite a strange phenomenon to walk out of a subway station onto the street and look up to see this centuries old structure in the middle of the sprawling metropolis. Of course the area was very crowded and I'd arrived a little too late to get good photos but it was nice to see it in real life at least! Since I was in the area I went for a stroll around in the gardens and climbed up to a church but it was getting quite dark by then, and the gates had all been closed for the evening. I thought tonight might be aperativo buffet night and I had read about a place called La Zanzara. I took the bus (of course I had to wait about half an hour for it because the public transport in Italy as a whole seems to be pretty pathetic - I don't know how people can get around) and with quiet streets I was optimistic that it wouldn't be crowded and I could go in, ask questions and taste as I pleased. But no, I rounded the corner and found the place bursting at the seams with a queue in front of the door too. I didn't even stop, my mind was already made up about waiting around more today! Instead I walked a short distance to the Vatican City and after some initial confusion as to how to get inside the walled state I found myself following some other tourist-looking types through the gates to St Peter's Square which is, of course, a circle. It was probably the grandest sight of the trip so far - and there have certainly been a few! The St Peter's Basilica was huge and lit up, but to make it more dramatic there were semicircles of pillars stretching round the "square". The space inside was filled with rows and rows of pews from today's Sunday sermon from the Pope. There was also one lone police car in the centre to keep the peace. I walked on, past Sant'Angelo castle and over a decorative bridge then I took a bus back to the hostel as I didn't want to be making my bed in the dark! On the way I checked out all that Rome had to offer and made a list of places to look up tomorrow that looked interesting from my window seat on the bus.

#Italy #Florence #Rome

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19margaret93 · 6 years ago

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Marathon (This Post and Other Lengthy Experiences)

Yesterday, I did the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I guess that shows how lucky I am in life, that running a simple marathon was seriously the most I’ve ever been challenged. This is something that I’ve been working towards for over 2 years, something that I’ve always dreamed of doing, and let me tell you, the actual experience was the furthest I’ve ever been from my dreams.

I was a complete idiot and decided to get Mum and Dad involved. Sure, it was nice to vent to them about running things throughout the training, but honestly, that's as far as the niceties of that stretched. I got up at 4:40 so that we could leave by 5. Dad had only gotten about 3 hours of sleep, so of course he was pretty tired and angry, as only Dad could be. Mum slept through all of her alarms and Dad nearly left without her, so it was certainly a joyous ride down to D.C. There I was, sitting in the front seat, Waze propped open on my lap, nervously gnawing at a peanut butter roll, fending off Brodie, and just wanting to be at the start line to get all of this over with. I can’t remember, the last time I felt that nervous. Seriously. Probably when I interviewed at Freedom, but even then, it was kind of my last shot, so I just kind of winged it, and hoped for the best.

Anyway, we get to Crystal City (not before Dad legitimately loses his mind about all of the roads being shut, and actually convinced me at some point that I wouldn’t make it to the start line), and we start standing in line for the bus to come and get us. Despite this large, elaborate queue that had been set up, people were just ignoring it and jumping on any available bus. This meant that we were basically standing in line for nothing. I finally got on a bus around 7:40, and I started getting pretty nervous because I still wasn’t at the start line, and the race was starting in 15 minutes. We saw the opening antics happen while we were on the 5 minute bus ride, that ended up dropping us off right outside the Pentagon. This was still over a mile from the start line. This meant that even if we walked, we wouldn’t make the start of the race. I knew that my corral wasn’t supposed to start until 8:20, so I knew I had a little bit of time. I went to the bathroom and then started jogging to the start, as it was already past 8:10 by this point. I was so frustrated to have gotten up at fucking 4 am and still missed the start of the race. I kept walking on through until I reached the official start line, and then just like that, I was off.

This hectic start made me realise that I had no clue about who was around me and what their pacing would be. I was able to stick to my walk/run routine pretty early though, as it was nice and spaced out by the time I finally started. I was nervous though for sure, as I had no idea of my pacing and if I was keeping under the required 14 minutes. So I just kept running at a pace that felt right. The first few miles being up hills kind of sucked, by mile 4 was legit the best. It was mostly downhill and the first time that the crowd kind of spread out a little more. I also saw a bunch of guys peeing, so that kind of relaxed me in a weird way. Miles 3-5 were actually pretty fast, as there was a lot going on, and a good amount of spectators. Then Rock Creek Parkway came about.

Although, not hilly or mountainous, Rock Creek Parkway was an absolute bore to run. You run ever so slightly downhill for two miles, and then run the other way that is obviously slightly uphill. I just hate when race courses do that, as it just makes the first part seem so pointless. It was at this wrap around point that I saw a couple of important things. One, I saw the “Beat the Bridge” Pacer. I knew that as long as I kept a good distance from her, then I would be able to finish the race. I wasn’t feeling too tired yet, but it was certainly difficult to get to mile 6 of a race, and still know that I had over 20 miles left. That was when the obstacles in my brain started crowding in. Another thing that I noticed was that I saw the last girl who was running the race. There were two marines with her to try and help her through it, but there was a look of pure agony on her face, and a line of traffic directly behind her. Many aplauded her, but I honestly just felt so bad for her. She was the woman I was terrifed to be. Anyway, I kept plugging along, and thankfully my right foot didn’t have any pain whatsoever. That was the part that I think, upon reflection, that was hardest part. Most of my physical body held up, it was really just my mind.

Around mile 10, I started to have some doubts. My body was certainly starting to feel tired, and my legs were starting to get sore. Now, this had happened in trainign, so I was ready for that, but I was just nervous. I thought, I could do 10 more miles for sure, but 16...that’s asking a lot. So on I plodded. I tried to make sure that I didn’t walk to much (unless I just completely fucked up refueling, which did happen at a few points), and tried to stay as positive as possible. I went through the blue mile, and it started to become more of an effort to stop the walking and start the running. I got to the halfway point, and after that, every mile seemed like a fucking battle. I’m not joking at all. It’s so weird to sit and casually think about this, as in the moment, I genuinely thoguth I was going to die. Then of course, I started to panic again. How was I feeling this shitty at mile 14?? I had 12 to go, and I couldn’t think like this. Trouble was, I couldn’t think of anything else either. I’ve never felt more trapped while running before in my life. I felt my pace begin to fall, and each step became a little bit harder. By mile 15, I was ready for the whole thing to be done. And I still had over 10 miles to go. I started panicking.

I eventually started telling myself that if I could just make it to mile 20, and beat the bridge, then I would allow myself to walk a little more. I was desperate. I needed something to look forward to. I walked a little bit more before each water station, and actually started taking the Gatorade they were handing out. That really helped. I think I needed more salt to stop my legs from seizing up so much. Anyway, I was getting desperate by mile 16. And that’s when I saw them. Mum, Dad, Maddy, Brodie, Becca, and Ellie. I was so happy and near tears; I couldn’t let them down. These poor people had given up their days for this. I could’t let them down. As I ran past them, I wanted to throw up so bad. I wanted to get the anxiety out of my body once and for all. Dad, who had 3 hours of sleep, had a plane to catch, had a meeting bright and early the next morning, who wanted to run this so bad, but couldn’t because of an injury was standing there, trying not to look as pissed as he was about the parking clusterfuck and how the whole thing had gone so far. Maddy, who had driven all the way up from Charlottesville that morning just to see this race. She’s got an extra 4 hours of her life taken away, plus all the time she spent with my family, and next to Becca who she knows isn’t super fond of her. Then there’s Mum, who’s been putting up with Dad all morning, and still not feeling great as she was woken up that morning with Dad just straight yelling at her. She gave me a blue, knitted ear warmer to wear at the race. As it was pure wool, it was pretty much too hot to wear from the very beginning, but let me tell you, as those miles continued to increase, so did my firm grasp on that blue knitwear. I couldn’t let it go. I just kept thinking, “I need to get back to the woman who made this”. And then Becca. Becca who had no real reason to come down at all, woke up bright and early on a Sunday morning, drove down to DC with Ellie, on a very cold and near rainy day to legit camp out Mile 16 to cheer me on. I can’t believe she did that, and I won’t ever forget it. No matter what happens in the future, I will never, ever forget she did that for me. Ian would have joined her had he gotten the messages, and it was the thought that counts on that one. They were all there at mile 16 cheering me on, and I knew I couldn’t disappoint them.

The next mile was the gauntlet, and I had to get to that point by 12:30; I got there by 12. I knew that I had 30 minutes up my sleeve, but I knew that wasn’t enough to walk as I had planned after mile 20. It had been what was keeping me going the last 3 miles, I couldn’t give up now. As I passed through the gauntlet, I breathed a small sigh of relief. And so I kept going. Every mile was another reason to stop, to just walk the rest of it, to give up, to turn around and run another way, to go to a medic tent and have them cart me back. Finally I found mile 20, but I was near the end of my mental ability. I refilled my pack on the bridge, and knew that even if I walked the rest, I would make it. I started walking a lot more, which I hated every step of. I knew that my time would be atrocious, I felt as though I hadn’t trained a day in my life and I was so angry at myself. How could I have let this happen? How could I be this badly bruised? I was in so much pain, and was so emotionally tired, that I couldn’t even dwell on these thoughts. I just kept going. As I crossed through mile 21, my legs had completely seized up, I was just trudging through now. My walk was actually slower than my run. I felt like I was jogging in place and everything was on fire.

At mile 22, I found the “Beat the Bridge” pacer and tried to keep to her pace. Strangely enough, I wasn’t physically tired. I had enough in the tank to actually keep running straight miles with no walking. Honestly, it was just the pain in my legs and the mental problem that I had. I didn’t think I could do it. That was what plagued my run from the very start. I never thought I could actually do it. I couldn’t keep pace with that group for more than a mile, and I was back to walking. I reached mile 24 and the tears were coming free and fast. I know that they weren’t actually from running the marathon and having that dream come true, but the pure desire “Please let this end. Please let this end soon. I can’t keep doing this. I need this to end.” I couldn’t have tried a positive mantra even if I had wanted to.

When mile 25 came I started running without stopping. I had walked so much that I was so slow even as a jog. I was clocking in at 14 miles, but I didn’t care. I knew relief was soo close and I couldn’t stop. I could hear the booming from the finish line’s microphone, the bands that were planning at the finish coral. I knew it was close. I was going to make it. Even if I had to crawl over the line, I was going to make it. I didn’t care about pace or appearance, I just didn’t want to die; it was survival mode. I looked at my watch, disabled the interval timer, and saw that I had already passed the 26.2 mark on my watch. I was so angry to know that I had ran all of these extra miles and I just kept pushing. I walked a little bit more in mile 25, and then I saw it. I saw the hill. The hill that we had to run to get our medal. This is the hill I heard about, talked about, read about since day one of this race. I knew this is what I had to do. I started my slow jog again for the last time. I put every piece of physical energy, I was going to run it. That was the promise I had made to myself. No matter what happened throughout the entire race, I was going to run this bitch. As I’m getting to the top, I see my dad, and I yell to say hi. He’s angry because he coudln’t take a picture and he told me to stop. I yelled, “Are you serious?” I mean I was at the end of my rope here. I had gone through 6 hours of horrific stress and now when I’ve found the last bit of strength, you’re going to ask me to stop to pose for a picture. I honestly didn’t trust myself if I had to stop. Dad was so angry that he couldn’t get a picture at the finish line. I think this was my favourite part of the race. It was personal. It was just for me. Dad couldn’t embarass me with a picture, no one could get mad at me. It was just me and the marine handing me the medal.

I continued to walk through the line of marines, who were just shoving things into my hands. This started to drive me crazy, I just wanted to sit and go home and rest. That’s all I wanted. I called Mum and Dad to link up with them, but found that Dad was very angry after the whole event, and when he told me that they were near the family link up spot, I thought I should head over there. This led to me sitting on a curb, shivering for about 20 minutes waiting for them to find me. When they told me that the walk to the car was another hour away, I genuinely nearly cried. I was in so much pain, I just wanted to stop. Dad just wanted to tell me that:

1. The whole day was the most frustrating thing he had ever experienced.

2. It was a huge let down from the very beginning.

3. Why was my pace so off? I had trained for this so why couldn’t I deliver. What had gone wrong?

4. This was the last one that I’m ever doing and that it wasn’t worth everything. It was so stressful and horrible that nothing worked.

He was mad about the fact that he had ran up to the start line (NO ONE ASKED HIM TO DO THIS AND I TEXTED HIM TO TELL HIM I HAD ALREADY CROSSED) and he had missed me. That he had to keep moving the car, and that by moving the car, he had to sit in traffic for 2 hours. That he never got a picture of me. And that everything was horrible. Mum confirmed this, and Maddy was equally stressed. She asked, “What did you walk the whole thing? You took forever”. So with a crushed and bruised ego, I took the car ride home.

I had all of these plans to post about my marathon. I had the picture ready to go with my great jacket (which everyone basically judges me for), I had the inspirational post ready to go. I was so excited. After yesterday, I don’t want to ever talk about it again. I had a really rough run, and everyone had the worst day of their lives. The disappointment in me and the race was real, and I regretted getting them involved at all. It was nice what they did for me, it really was. But, it pretty much ruined the whole thing. So this will be the only post I do. I don’t want to talk about it with my kids or colleagues, my friends, or family. I just want to forget about it. It really wasn’t worth talking about. I underperformed MASSIVELY and basically ruined everyone’s day. There’s no reason to talk about it. People do much harder things everyday, and I guess I’m glad that I know I’m not cut out for the longer runs. I’ll just focus on the half marathon battle, if only to avoid the stress of the morning alone. That was one of the worst parts by far. So, like most things, I hyped it up in my head and it let everyone down. Back to work tomorrow, back to reality.

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