holidays with the tumblies!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, my fellow Locklyle trash :)

“Lockwood!” Lucy gasped, tumbling slightly as she rushed forward towards him. Her hair was a mess on top of her head, and she smelled like she’d been using the River Thames to wash up everyday since she was born. There was a long rip on her leggings that started from her ankle to her knee. She had a small gash on her cheek that had just stopped bleeding. “Thank god I found you! You wouldn’t believe - What’s the matter? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Anthony Lockwood stood just a few metres aways from her, hair as dishevelled as always, the ends of his long coat dipped in the dark water of the sewers. Before Lucy could say anything else, he gave her a huge, playful grin that took her by surprise, but sent warmth flooding in her chest. All was right in the world again because Lockwood was here and everything is possible and nothing can stop them now, not really. And so Lucy found his next words confusing. “Remember that Annabel Ward case that we did? The one where we burned the client’s house down?” he asked pleasantly.

Lucy felt a bit wary. Something’s wrong. Is he trying to send her a coded message? Is there someone with them here in the sewers? “Yeah…?” she said slowly. “What about it?”

“Remember what you said,” he continued, and Lucy felt cold wrap around her like an oppressing blanket, “about the necklace?”

“Lockwood, what’s wrong?” Lucy asked, her chest constricting because suddenly she knows what this is all about but she wants to un-know. Maybe it was in the way he just stood there. Without his rapier. Without any injuries despite the explosion that had sent them sprawling in the safe confines of the London Sewage System. The murky water around his ‘submerged feet’ not rippling at all. How his chest stayed dormant, neither rising nor falling. How his hair, always so windswept, is ruffling along with a breeze that does not exist.

Anthony Lockwood smiled at her, waiting still for her answer.

With shaking hands, Lucy reached for the torch in her workbelt, pointed it at him and -

The light passed his chest. Almost as if he was just mist. Almost as if he was not really there.

“Oh my god,” Lucy whispered, the torch falling from her hands and they were once again plunged in darkness. “Oh my god,” she repeated over and over as Lockwood flickered in and out of her sight. Just like a ghost.

“What you said, Lucy,” Anthony continued patiently, seemingly oblivious to the river of tears Lucy is making for herself, “is that people wear necklaces with inscription on them so they can have their loved one’s messages next to their hearts.”

A sob wanted to escape from the deep recesses of her soul, but Lucy swallows it. And held her rapier in front of her. “Where is it, Lockwood?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly at his name. They’d talked about this, Lockwood, George and her, that if one of them had died, the others would take care of the Source. Immediately. No matter what.

Lockwood walked - no, floated - closer to her, one hand outstretched. His fingers pointed at the little slip of jewellery around Lucy’s neck. “Did you believe what you said, Lucy?” he asked quietly, and around them the air grew colder still.

Lucy didn’t say anything as tears fell silently down her cheeks and she backed away. Lockwood did not follow.

“Because I did,” he continued, quieter than before.

“Where’s the Source, Anthony?” Lucy asked, a bit firmer this time. They were an arm’s breadth apart.

Anthony Lockwood smiled at her. Sadly. Regretfully. Wistfully. “I don’t have one, Luce,” he whispered - or maybe he’d spoken aloud but was just starting to slip away.

“What -”

“I just came to say goodbye.”

plasmacandle  asked:

i haven't said it on tumbl yet so HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

THANK!!! <3

FACT: There exists a festival in Japan, observed on March 3rd, called Hinamatsuri–also known as Girls’ Day or Doll’s Day. On this day, families pray for happy futures for their daughters. One of the most prominent parts of the celebration is the display of a set of hina-ningyo–a specific variety of ornamental dolls representing the royal family of the Heian period, organized and displayed in a very specific tiering system.


Touched down in KL city, Malaysia yesterday… Hope to do some painting and drawing on this jaunt and also finding some inspiration… Here’s some flicks so far…

The long weekend of Martin Luther King Jr. Day helped “Hamilton” hit the number one spot at the Broadway box office in a week that saw overall sales hold steady following the post-holiday tumble posted last week.

“Hamilton,” of course, has been the hottest ticket on Broadway since it opened over the summer, but that doesn’t guarantee a No. 1 perch on the Top 10. For one thing, “Hamilton” plays in a theater (the Richard Rodgers, at about 1,300 seats) that’s on the low end of mid-size for a musical house, so even at top capacity and sky-high demand, it can be tough to compete against longrunning titles with family-friendly tourist appeal and heftier ticket inventories (such as “Wicked” and “The Lion King”).

But as the buzziest show in town, “Hamilton” ($1,769,360) has retained its heat even in the chill of January, when every single show on the boards, even the most successful, weathers an annual dip in demand. So the founding-father hip-hop musical managed to outpace longer-running successes such as “Lion King” ($1,660,171), “Wicked” ($1,590,318) and “The Book of Mormon” ($1,496,509). (It marks the second time “Hamilton” stood at the head of the class, following a week in November when an extra benefit performance, complete with an appearance by President Obama, helped push the show to the top of the chart.)

Chicago Marathon, Hansons Plan: Week 14/18, Mid-Week Check In

Firstly: I’m sorry I was totally MIA last week. Work has never been quite as crazy as it was. September 1 hit and all of a sudden the phone wouldn’t stop ringing. I stayed late all week except Friday and that’s only because I refused to work past 5 on a holiday weekend. So, sorry kids. I just had no brain capacity to tumbl.

Blarghy blargh blargh. I hate everything. I mean, that’s obviously a lie because at least I am running right now. But the quality of said running has been…lacking to say the least.

A recap: Three weeks ago I took off about a week from running, including my first 16 miler. Then I ran a sort of easy week, going for quantity as opposed to quality–aka miles but no speed. I spent all of last week feeling really really SORE, especially my quads. Which was annoying in and of itself.

So this past weekend was my first 16 miler of the Hansons plan. You know, the longest run I’ll do. The one where I feel like I shouldn’t be hating everything. Spoiler alert: hated everything and questioned my entire reasoning for running marathons.

I mean, it was FINE. Except for the last half which felt like everything was falling apart. This is nothing new though: my long run route takes me downhill into Rosslyn, along the Potomac river and then the return trends uphill. It’s a pain in the ass, literally. I spent a significant time after this run in bed because I felt awful.

Monday I was feeling hopeful about the speed/strength workout: 2x3 miles at 7:50 pace with a 1 mile recovery between the two 3 milers. It looked totally doable on paper. However, I decided to sleep in on Monday and by the time I got going we were closing in on 80 degrees and humid with the sun beating down on me.

I nailed the first 3 mile interval (split 2) but I spent all my energy on it. After my one mile recovery I had nothing left in the tank. As I said, I ended up walking portions of it (which is why the split times and distances are super wonky because I kept hitting lap to try to get going again). If I thought my long run sent me into a crisis, it had NOTHING on the self doubt that flooded my brain after this run. I also spent a lot of time lying on the couch afterwards, again.

Tuesday was my rest day but I swam some easy laps at the pool. I feel like I needed it, it’s so soothing.

Today, Wednesday, is tempo run day: 9 miles with an extra mile for the  warm up and cool down. Tempo runs for Hansons, remember, are actually marathon pace runs. Another reason why I feel like these shouldn’t suck quite as hard as they do for me.

So…I walked that one unhighlighted portion. I KNOW. I just couldn’t anymore. I needed a break. And then afterwards I just focused on “doing my best” instead of necessarily hitting 8 minute miles.

Okay, real talk: it shouldn’t be this hard, right? I mean, I’m doing easy miles most of the time which is why I should be able to hit the tempo and speed runs. How am I supposed to run 26.2 miles at this pace when just NINE is killing me? And let’s not even talk about the doubt about this whole 16 mile long run thing. That’s a good ten miles short of a marathon. HOW, Hansons.

I’m grumpy with running right now. I am trying to tell myself that this is totally normal self doubt creeping in with a month to go. Right? Right.