@draftpicked sent [ ice pack ] sender wraps an ice pack in a towel and presses it gently where it hurts. ( for annalise )

she'd caught a toe pick on a deep divot in the ice right at the end of her freestyle session. she knew full well when she'd come in that she'd had to book the rink after the morning junior league hockey practice, but she didn't think that children would leave divots in the ice to the same degree adults did. and yet, she'd landed her flying camel right in the divot and fallen directly on her wrist and stomach. deep breathes, pick herself up and wipe the snow off her leggings and pray no one saw. turn around...someone had seen. she'd known as soon as she'd put a little weight on the wrist to put on her skate guards that she'd actually done some damage.

she was still riding the high of competing earlier in the day, even after she'd showered and changed into comfortable clothes. as annalise rode the elevator downstairs to where they'd decided to meet, she realized was starving. she saw ronan waiting by the door, and picked up her pace to come up behind him and loop her arm through his. "ready to go explore?" she asked.

It  was  these  quiet  moments  with  friends  that  already  made  coming  here  worth  it.  Of  course  he  wanted  the  gold,  of  course  he  wanted  to  put  every  second  of  his  day  into  training  with  the  American  team  …  but  if  he  did  that,  he’d  push  himself  too  hard  and  spin  out.  Rest  was  important.  For  the  mind  and  the  body.  He  needed  some  time  to  just  be  a  twenty  something  with  his  friends  in  Italy. 

"and so, subduction is when one plate slides underneath the other and goes like this-" emma set down her cup to demonstrate the two tectonic plates meeting and one going underneath the other with her hands. "right, and that makes underwater volcanos and underwater vents and around these hydrothermal vents at the bottom of the ocean we get crazy life that starts to form because it's so hot down there. there's crabs and there's the tube worms and-" she was rambling and she couldn't really tell if her companion was interested or not. "i'll shut up, i'm not at work and you probably didn't actually want to know about plate tectonics. you can tell me if i'm being boring, you know."

❝ Tell  me  about  the  worms  and  crabs,  please.  ❞   He  pushed  the  little  bits  of  paper  into  a  pile,  then  split  the  pile  into  two,  then  four,  then  pushed  them  all  back  together.  They  were  sitting  in  a  booth  in  a  corner,  their  friends’  winter  jackets  piled  up  next  to  them  while  they  were  off  somewhere  else  in  the  bar.    ❝ I’m  a  really  good  listener,  I  promise.  ❞   

this is not going to remove the functionality of this weird feature, but it will remove the ugliness that comes with it, as you'll see in the screenshots provided below .

to make the required changes, you will need to get the stylus extension that you can grab at the following links : chrome , firefox , opera , github .

firstly, you must write a new style by clicking on the plus sign . name it tumblr or something similar, just so you know what it's for . then, change the code 1 dropdown to urls on the domain - in the box type : tumblr.com .

copy & paste the following code into the big box below & then click on save next to the beautify button on the left-hand side .

._Krz6 { display: none!important; }

once you've done that, refresh your tumblr & you should see that the weird separators are now gone .

"Was  that  your  hand,  or  did  I  imagine  it?"

"You  didn’t  pull  away."

"That  wasn’t  just  a  glance."

"You  felt  that  too,  didn’t  you?"

"Your  breath  just  hitched."

“Are  you  alright?”

“You  look  out  of  breath”

“You  were  looking  for  me?”

"I  noticed  the  way  you  said  my  name."

"That’s  the  first  time  you’ve  touched  me  like  that."

"Don’t  pretend  you  didn’t  lean  in."

"You’re  closer  than  you  were  a  minute  ago."

"Say  it’s  not  just  me  feeling  this."

"Your  fingers  just  brushed  mine."

"We’ve  never  stood  this  close  before."

“This  is  new  territory.” 

"I  felt  your  hand  pause  there."

"Your  voice  changes  when  you're  near  me."

"That  smile…  it  wasn’t  friendly."

“Are  we  pretending  that  didn’t  just  happen?”

"That  wasn’t  part  of  the  plan,  was  it?"

"I’m  not  imagining  this  anymore,  am  I?"

"You  touched  my  arm  and  stayed  there."

"When  did  the  way  you  say  my  name  start  sounding  like  that?"

"Your  lips  are  a  lot  closer  than  they  should  be."

"You  didn’t  have  to  whisper  it  like  that."

"That  was  the  first  time  you  hesitated."

"You’re  not  hiding  it  very  well."

"You  looked  at  me  like  you  wanted  to  say  something  else."

"We  crossed  a  line  just  now,  didn’t  we?"

"You  leaned  into  the  silence."

"I  caught  the  way  you  looked  at  my  mouth."

"You  blinked  like  I  surprised  you."

"You  didn't  let  go."

"That  wasn’t  how  friends  touch."

“You  moved  closer,  not  away.”

"We’re  not  just  standing  here,  are  we?"

"You  tilted  your  head  like  you  wanted  more."

"Something  just  changed,  didn’t  it?"

"That  was  the  first  time  you  didn’t  avoid  my  eyes."

"You’re  looking  at  me  like  I’m  already  yours."

"Your  hand  brushed  mine,  and  everything  stopped."

“I  felt  your  hesitation…”

"You’re  not  pretending  anymore."

"That  silence  said  more  than  anything  else  could."

"That  look,  what  does  it  mean?"

"You  almost  kissed  me  just  now."

"Tell  me  that  wasn’t  nothing."

"You  were  going  to  say  something,  weren’t  you?"

you really don't hear yourself when you talk, do you?

i don't know who you think you are, but it's not impressive.

you love playing the victim when it's convenient.

don't look at me like that. you made this choice.

you always say that, and it's never true.

i'm tired of pretending you don't know exactly what you're doing.

funny how it's always someone else's fault.

you don't get credit for almost doing the right thing.

i trusted you, and that was my mistake.

you don't listen, you just wait for your turn to talk.

say it again, slower this time, maybe you'll hear how stupid it sounds.

you don't get to rewrite what happened just because it hurts.

you're not misunderstood, you're just wrong.

i don't owe you patience.

you love control more than you love honesty.

stop acting so surprised, this was always coming.

you really think that excuses what you did?

you don't get to be angry about consequences.

i expected better from you, and that's on me.

you're exhausting, and it's not charming anymore.

every apology you give sounds rehearsed.

you only care when it affects you.

you don't actually want the truth, you want validation.

don't pretend this is about concern.

you cross lines and call it curiosity.

you never ask how i feel, you just assume.

you're cruel when you're cornered.

i see right through the act.

you confuse confidence with arrogance.

you just don't know when to stop.

you keep pushing until something breaks.

you don't get to play innocent here.

you really thought i wouldn't notice?

you always need an audience.

i don't recognize you when you're like this.

you're not brave, you're reckless.

you say you're honest, but you're just mean.

you enjoy this more than you admit.

don't flatter yourself, i stopped believing you a long time ago.

you don't fight fair, you fight to win.

you're not protecting yourself, you're attacking me.

you keep confusing silence for forgiveness.

why do you make everything a competition?

you don't get to decide what hurts me.

you act like being hurt gives you permission.

you only hear what supports your narrative.

you don't respect boundaries, you tolerate them.

you always push until i snap.

is this the part where i'm supposed to feel sorry for you?

you keep calling it honesty like that makes it noble.

you enjoy being cruel when you think you're justified.

you've been waiting to say that, haven't you?

i know you always choose pride over people.

you don't know how to back down.

you don't listen when the answer isn't what you want.

you treat everyone like they're disposable.

after what you did, you don't get to talk about loyalty.

you always take more than you give.

you never stop to think who gets hurt.

you only care when you're exposed.

you don't know how to sit with discomfort.

you poke until something bleeds.

you love being right more than being kind.

you don't know when enough is enough.

you keep digging and wonder why you're alone.

you don't see people, you see leverage.

no, you don't get to speak for me.

you twist everything until it suits you.

you don't actually care about the truth.

you always need the last word.

you don't know how to be gentle.

you don't care who you hurt if it proves a point.

stop calling it honesty like it absolves you of anything.

you don't know how to lose gracefully.

you don't fight fair, you fight dirty.

you make everything personal.

you don't know how to let things go.

the truth is, you just enjoy tearing people down.

you don't care how this affects anyone else.

how convenient, you only show empathy when it benefits you.

you don't see how far you've crossed the line.

you always think you're justified.

you don't know how to stop hurting people.

don't act like you actually want answers.

you always think you're the smartest one in the room.

you care about winning.

IN THIS WAN LIGHT, RONAN APPEARS SO UNBEARABLY FRAGILE THAT HE COUNTS IT AS A SMALL MIRACLE THE BOY DOESN’T SPLINTER IN TWO. that look in his eyes, the blunt edge of expectation smothering out hopeful boyishness, is one marcos knows far too well. he could map it blind, trace every frantic thought skittering through ronan’s head as he tries to outrun disappointment in himself before it can settle into his bones. he was his mirror in this way, wasn’t he? always the first to shoulder blame, to gather responsibility into his own hands so no one else would have to carry it.  it’s not a feeling that he wants for him, especially so young. marcos had taken on such a mantle so early that he’d forgotten for a long time that playing hockey at the level that they did was no small miracle. meant to be exhilarating as much as it was exhausting, joyful even in its frustration.

it was easy to forget that they were all boys who grew up to live their greatest dreams and it was marcos’ responsibility to remind him of it. 

“ hey, now, ” the voice that leaves him is delicate and threadbare, accompanied by him pausing in the parking garage leading up to their penthouse, his car locking shut behind them. “ c’mere. ” he takes his rookie by the nape and draws him in against his side, beneath his arm draped around his shoulders. instinctively, his long fingers furl into the soft strands of dark blonde hair as he tucks ronan under his chin in a warm embrace, one he doesn’t have any inclination to let go of until the boy is ready for it. “ i know it weighs on you, ” he continues, LOW AND EVEN, giving ronan a gentle but grounding squeeze. “ having this many people believe and say such big things about you as a player. ” a pause. “ and for what it’s worth — i more than believe them to be right. ” he shifts him in his arms, leaning back just enough to make sure ronan is listening with a meaningful look. “ but it is not only your responsibility when we lose. ” 

there is a distant memory tied to the moment, an echo that rattles through his skull. marcos remembers, dimly at first, then all at once, another parking garage, another long night, his own captain’s hands firm on his shoulders as those same words were given shape and weight. THE VOICE HAD BEEN STEADY THEN, TOO. patient and unshakable. wisdom passed down not in empty platitudes, but lived experience. marcos hadn’t understood at the time how much of leadership lived in that quiet moment. how captaincy wasn’t always about authority or accolades, but about knowing when to hold someone upright until they remembered how to stand on their own. HE CARRIES THAT UNDERSTANDING WITH HIM NOW, worn smooth from use, and offers it forward without hesitation. one day, he knows, ronan will stand exactly where he is now. will recognize that same hollow look in a young player’s eyes and reach out without thinking. one day, his hands will settle on another rookie’s shoulders and he’ll speak these same truths like they were his own — because by then, they will be. that is how it goes. nothing lost, only carried forward to the next generation. it was a lineage not of titles or trophies, but of care — passed down quietly, and meant to endure till it reached the next pair of ears that needed them the most. 

He looked over at Marcos with tears in his eyes, the water clogging up vision.  And the next thing he felt was a warm arm around him, pulling him in close. He relaxes into the man who doesn't seem to mind that they will be staying like those for a while. He takes deep breaths, trying to steady himself, to stop tears that are determined to fall. He is moderately successful. He nuzzles his face into Marcos' beard, loving the way the rough stubble feels against his skin. He used to do the same thing to his dad when he was kid.   ❝   Thank you,   ❞   he whispers back, or maybe he just thinks it. He can't tell. 

He hopes that Marcos' words stick in head, that he can replay this moment over and over again until he believes it. 

#BEADDIT   :   hell  is  empty  and  the  devils  are  here.   a  multi-muse  of  various  media  and  original  works.   horror  and  thriller  based.