#you've been trying to run since you could crawl. [ v: modern. ]

[freedomhasfangsa]

    “If you’re boring, just say that.”

[freedomhasfangsa]

Mischief had always been in her nature. It had always gone, almost exclusively, hand-in-hand with the uncontrollable impulsivity that she’d had little success in squashing. Not as though she had really tried, and it showed in the two pieces of pie she’d smuggled out of the kitchen when grandma hadn’t been looking. She’d told her no, that she would ruin her dinner and that had been the end of that, until her dog had started digging in her flowerbeds as though the hound was convinced it owed him money. She had been in and out, silent as a mouse. 

The ascent to Caleb had been a natural one, and with him having visited for the first time in what felt like one million years in a ten year old mind, it felt natural so share.

“Psssst, uncle Caleb, open up! My hands are full and I need in before Grandma sees me.”

//   @cagedchoice.

[freedomhasfangsa]

@tornsavior​ asked:  15.     🇧​🇴​🇴​🇰​🇨​🇦​🇸​🇪​. ↳   A PEEK AT WHAT’S INSIDE THEIR . . .

    Anne has always been a dreamer. From the moment she has learned how to read, she has bought books, and her bookcase is laden with many titles, ranging from non-fiction and whimsical interests, right through to fiction and horror. Everything has been read once, but the most well-loved ones are dog-eared and crinkled with how many times she has revisited them. There are always paperbacks because they are on the fly decisions when she has ventured out for an afternoon and hadn’t wanted to pay an extra tenner for the hardbacks. She almost always regrets this when she finds she really enjoys them. Her top 5 favourites are as follows:

01. The Notebook. 02. The Time Traveller’s Wife. 03. Cold Mountain. 04. P.S. I Love You 05. Valiant.

[freedomhasfangsa]

Anger burned like hellfire within her. It always had. Right from when she was old enough to recognise her anger for what it was  ( all consuming, and scorching everything soft within her ), she had chosen to nurture over smother. This, perhaps was how she came to be outside of the bar that Jack had hidden himself in, taking a baseball bat to each and every one of the windows. As she moved to raise the bat again, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. For a long moment, Anne stared at her, and she stared back, and she turned the bat around to offer it to her.

“You want a go? Fantasic stress relief.”   

   //   @mamoriitai​.

[freedomhasfangsa]

Anne had always liked Andrea. She was no nonsense kind of woman with a low tolerance for shitbaggery that Anne had admired from afar, especially all those times she had been snuck into John’s bedroom all those years ago. Anne, herself, had insisted to her mother that whatever had happened between her and John would not affect the business the two shared when it came to Dolores’ work events. Every year, on her birthday, she woke up to a courier delivering a box of her cupcakes. They were always delicious. There was a part of Anne that felt a tug of sadness when they’d returned to the town, and Anne knew it would be mostly impossible to ever set food in her mom’s house again.

John had offered to let her stay at his, and she had accepted. What she hadn’t expected was the sharp slap he’d gotten upside the head and the warning that he’d better not hurt her again. Anne had giggled at that, and after a little bit of chit chat, moved to help tug their bags up into his room. The room was largely unchanged. A few sports posters, the same clutter she remembered from their year in high school, but covered in a fine layer of dust. It felt untouched, and she noted that everything would be the same save for the absence of water bottles tucked and stacked against the far end of his desk, and a packet of half-eaten crisps she remembered him having.

“Wow,” Anne said with a grin, “Feels like I’ve stepped into a time machine. This ain’t changed at all.”     //     @copiesofme​ .

[freedomhasfangsa]

“What about the other guy? Gettin’ beaten in a fight is still gettin’ into a fight.”

[freedomhasfangsa]

“You’ve dedicated your entire life to being a massive wanker, you might as well start gettin’ paid for it.”

[freedomhasfangsa]

One thing Anne had learned about John over these past few months was that he was an early riser. Up with the dawn when Anne was still clinging to her pillow and chasing little sheep in her dreams. He sang in the shower, sometimes, too. Occasionally Anne would stir, crawl to the edge of the bed and just listen. Sometimes it was Motley Crue, others, some rap tune that was familiar yet completely alien to her all at once. This particular morning, she didn’t rush to pretend like she was still asleep, but rather laid there and watched as he crept in from the bathroom. 

“Good morning,” she greeted brightly, eyes roving over his still-damp chest, stomach and settling on the lines of his hips that disappeared into the towel around his waist. “... I gotta get up more often, what a lovely sight to wake up to.”    /  @copiesofme​.

[freedomhasfangsa]

“Mate, that ain’t food. That’s a war crime.”

[freedomhasfangsa]

Anne had a spiteful streak longer than she was wall. She prided herself on it, really, and with the notion that the weird PTA bitch at school had her eye on John, the two had all but tumbled into bed with their middle fingers raised at her from where they had basked in the afterglow of it all. What she hadn’t expected, really, was how quickly she grew to like him over the few weeks they had been sneaking in and out of each other’s beds, and with her own kid staying over at his grandmas, Anne found herself moving to catch his arm when he sat up to reach for his boxers.

“You can stay tonight,” she said, and turned back into bed with a stretch reminiscent of a cat who’d found an agreeable spot of sunlight. “If anything, I’d like you to. Figured we’re going to be doing this a while, might as well get to know each other.”    //   @copiesofme.

[freedomhasfangsa]

Anne had planned her entire life around that house. She had thought about what she had wanted to do with the garden ( a gentle tease towards a field of wildflowers, vibrant and beautiful in the Spring ), of the children she would have and raise in the many rooms. At least ten, Ekganit had joked. Anne had laughed at that as he’d traced his finger over her swelling belly and with a little wiggle of her eyebrows had suggested they aim for fifteen. She never knew if they were serious or not, for that one night? All of that possibility was stolen from her. Grief was a terrible thing, and the house in which she had plotted out her lifelong happiness now felt like a cavernous belly of a beast, and if she hadn’t escaped it, she would not survive it. 

She felt guilty for needing to say goodbye to it and everything she’d had planned for their futures, but everything she looked at ( everything she touched ) was seeped in him in a way that hurt from the minute she opened her to eyes to the second the crying made way for sleep. 

Their new home was a fresh start. Same town, opposite ends; smaller. Just enough for a mother and her son to start afresh and live out however long it took to begin to heal. Grief, she had been warned, held no concrete timeline, and it would take anything from the nine months he had been gone, to the nine years that followed it. Anne had taken her eyes off of Sean for a single moment, and with the open back door rushed out into the somewhat overgrown garden just in time to see the slip of a white nappy disappearing through a hole in the fence.

“Shit,” she hissed, and stepped out into the garden. The fence was low enough that she could clamber over, just in time to watch her son ( oh, she loved him so, but that adventurous nature would be the death of her ! ) elbow drop onto the unsuspecting stomach of who she assumed was her neighbour with a loud squeal of delight.

“Sean, for God’s sake-!” Anne said exasperatedly, and rushed forward to lift her still-squealing and squirming boy from the belly of the stranger in question, and hoisted him onto her hip. “Hi, uh- sorry- you take your eyes off’a them for a second and suddenly they’re off plotting world domination and adventures.”           //      @copiesofme​.

[freedomhasfangsa]

3 of 3.

[freedomhasfangsa]

𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅.     //     @tobeblamed​.

Anne wished that she could remember her college days. The ones where she hadn’t spent her days with her nose deep in books, she had been drinking, and had often run to lectures still half-cut and scraping by on the skin of her teeth. They were lighter times, where a busy workload hadn’t been running her into the ground and the monotony of her days wasn’t wearing her thing already. Anne took a sip of her coffee, and pointed to the poor student in question, tied to a lampost in nothing but his underwear, with a big blue willy painted on his chest. Anne snickered.

“Probably,” Anne admitted, “But wouldn’t it be good sportsmanship to offer him a wee hand so he can go home with his pride in tact?”

[freedomhasfangsa]

She had a thing for attention seekers. Those loud voices that tend to carry across entire rooms, and better when they came from cute guys. First day at a new school was nothing to write home about; transferring at the beginning of the senior year had drawn enough attention that she had found herself swarmed by the brightest and the best to the point where if she had to answer one more fucking question about herself, she was going to keel over and die. In the privacy of her own car and soaked, courtesy of the rain, she let out a deep breath. As most piled into their cars, she found that her eyes settled on him. Troublemaker. Supposed quarterback. Anne pulled out and pulled over, and leant across to roll the passenger side window down.

“Need a ride? It’s pissin’ down and I don’t know if you have a dry way home.”  //   @aworldofyou​

[freedomhasfangsa]

Anne wasn’t the type to take her work home with her. Whenever she hung up her badge, she made the shift from cop to civilian quite seamlessly, and unless imminent danger and casualties were a high possibility, she chose to mind her business. This particular afternoon was another of those turn a blind eye sort of days, where she watched the shake and drag of spray paint over the brick wall to her left. She found it fascinating, really, how it could something something that was otherwise quite ordinary, quite extraordinary. As he paused, Anne lifted her coffee to her mouth sand said, “You missed a bit on the far left.”    //   @karmabcmb​.

[freedomhasfangsa]

“You’ve been nursin’ that coffee a brave while, miss. You got something on your mind? Or d’you want something sweet to go with it? Reckon we’ve a bunch of lemon tarts ready to come out of the oven if you fancy it.”    //    @firehcart​.