#House Designs Liverpool

[pacifichomesnsw]

How to Plan and Design your dream home with help of experienced home builders

Designing and building your dream home is an exciting journey that requires careful planning and collaboration with experienced home builders. With the right approach, you can create a home that not only meets your needs but also reflects your style and personality. Here’s a detailed guide on how to plan and design your dream home with the help of experienced home builders like Pacific Homes NSW:

Define Your Vision

Defining your vision for your dream home is the crucial first step in the planning process. Consider how you envision living in your new space—what features are essential to your lifestyle, and what aesthetic elements reflect your personality? Think about the layout, size, and flow of the home, as well as any specific design styles or architectural features you prefer. Your vision will serve as a guiding light throughout the design and construction process, ensuring that your dream home becomes a reality.

Set a Realistic Budget

Setting a realistic budget is essential for your dream home project. Consider all costs, including land, design, construction, and furnishings. Be honest about what you can afford and prioritize your needs and wants accordingly. A well-defined budget will help you make informed decisions and avoid overspending during the planning and construction phases.

Research Experienced Home Builders

Researching experienced Custom home builders is crucial for a successful project. Look for builders with a solid reputation and a portfolio that aligns with your vision. Read reviews, ask for recommendations, and check their credentials and certifications. A builder’s experience and track record can give you confidence in their ability to deliver your dream home. Take the time to find the right builder who understands your vision and can bring it to life.

Collaborate on Design

Collaborating on the design with your home builders is key to achieving your dream home. Work closely with their design team to incorporate your ideas and preferences. Consider aspects like layout, finishes, and energy efficiency. Open communication and collaboration will ensure that the design reflects your vision and meets your needs.

Consider Sustainable Design

Incorporating sustainable design into your dream home can reduce its environmental impact and operating costs. Discuss green building options with your builders, such as energy-efficient appliances, solar panels, and passive heating and cooling strategies. Sustainable design not only benefits the environment but also creates a healthier and more comfortable living space for you and your family.

Obtain Permits and Approvals

Before construction begins, ensure all necessary permits and approvals are obtained. Your home builders should assist with this process, ensuring compliance with local building codes and regulations. Obtaining permits and approvals upfront helps prevent delays and ensures your dream home is built according to the required standards and regulations.

Monitor Construction Progress

Stay involved in the construction process by regularly visiting the site and communicating with your builders. Monitor progress, address any concerns promptly, and ensure that the construction is proceeding according to plan. Being proactive in monitoring the construction progress helps ensure that your dream home is built to your specifications and standards.

Final Inspections and Completion

Once construction is complete, conduct a final inspection with your builders to ensure everything meets your expectations. Check for any defects or issues and have them addressed before finalizing the project. Make any necessary final payments and obtain the keys to your new home, ready to move in and enjoy.

Final Words

Designing and building your dream home with the help of experienced house builders is a rewarding process that requires careful planning and collaboration. By defining your vision, setting a realistic budget, and working closely with your builders, you can create a home that not only meets your needs but also reflects your style and personality. Incorporating sustainable design elements and obtaining necessary permits and approvals are crucial steps to ensure your dream home is built to the highest standards. Monitoring the construction progress and conducting final inspections will help ensure that your vision is realized. Finally, moving into your dream home and enjoying the fruits of your labor is a fulfilling experience that marks the beginning of a new chapter in your life.

[the-home]

[plathfiles]

hii, could you do something where reader is family friend and visits every summer so she’s there when Ollie is too, and he senses reader and felix’s tension and tries to ruin it or come between them? And like some angst, drama, tension and just pent up frustration between Felix and reader

ooh yes! angst and drama, this is perfect

i hope you enjoy and thank you for the request!

☙☙☙☙

pairing: felix catton x fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n, angst, toxic relationships, manipulation, ollie being ollie, jealous!felix, possessive!felix, language.

a/n: I’m really proud of this

☙☙☙☙

You had spent every summer with the Cattons since you were 15 years old. Your father, Henry Roy was best friends with Sir James Catton. Once you met the Catton siblings— Venetia and Felix you came to Saltburn every summer.

Felix Catton. How would someone describe the human embodiment of the Greek god Apollo? That was Felix. He was tall and lanky. When his brown eyes fixed on you, it was like he was staring into your soul.

You couldn’t help but feel attracted to Felix. There was a spark between you two, that burned every summer.

When you turned 18, the Catton sibling’s cousin Farleigh joined in your summer adventures.

The four of you would run through that maze, figuring out its intricate design. Drinking every night and running naked through the tall grass that grew around the castle’s edge.

The summer before you went off to college, Felix and you shared your first kiss. It was a hot sunny day, Farleigh and Venetia were drinking by the pool. Felix had taken you off into maze for a walk.

When you came upon the statue in the middle of the maze, you and Felix were laughing. He leaned in and kissed you. Surprised at first, you pulled away. Then you planted your lips to his and kissed him until dark.

Then the summer ended and you had to go to University in Paris. You told the family you would come back every summer. And you kept your promise.

Now after your first year at college, you came to Saltburn for the summer. Hoping to see Felix. Neither of you had talked about your kiss last summer. It was a moment of passion and you doubted Felix would want to be with someone like you.

You’d heard from Elsbeth that Felix was bringing home a friend. You dreaded the thought of it being a girl, until Elsbeth clarified it was a poor boy from Liverpool.

The day before Oliver arrived you came to the house. Elsbeth was overjoyed to see you, giving you a hug and her usual kind compliment. Venetia said hi and pulled you aside, letting you know that would be staying on her side of the castle.

Farleigh and you exchanged jokes, although really happy to see eachother. Sir James asked you about your father and told you that he planned on inviting your family for dinner one night.

But you wondered where Felix was.

“Where’s Felix?” You asked Venetia, she was like a sister to you. You knew to trust her and she would always have your best interest at heart.

“He’s hiding and also preparing for his new friend Ollie to come over tomorrow. It’s annoying, he won’t stop talking about him. And you, christ, Felix is so nervous to see you,”

You blushed when she said this. But as if he heard his own name, Felix was walking into the room. You looked up at him, a smile spreading on your face.

You walked to him and he pulled you into a hug. Felix had missed you and he wanted to tell you how he felt. After he kissed you last summer he realized how in love with you he was. Felix spent the entire school year pining after you, figuring out a way to tell you.

When he became friends with Oliver, he always talked about you. How you were a friend but could definitely become something more.

Oliver was jealous. He was madly obsessed with Felix and had plans of his own this summer.

“I’m so glad you’re here, y/n,” Felix smiled charmingly at you.

“I’m glad too,” you replied, looking up at him with heart eyes. Venetia gave Farleigh a ‘let’s hope they get together this summer’ look.

After a night of pleasantries, you went to your room excited for what the summer had to bring. Little did you know, this was the calm before the storm.

☙☙☙☙

Oliver arrived the next day. You met him and heard all about his sad backstory. He was nice to you. Felix introduced you to him and immediately Oliver saw how much he loved you.

It made him sick with jealousy. So he planned to tear you two apart.

Later that day, you walked back to your room to change for dinner when you stumbled across a note.

‘Meet me in the garden tonight after everyone goes to bed — Felix ♡︎’

You blushed, closing up the note and planning to meet him. When you got to the garden, you waited. You didn’t see Felix anywhere. You sighed in frustration and confusion. You were cold.

But then you heard foot steps and in the dark you could see a figure. But it wasn’t Felix, it was Oliver.

“What are you doing out here Ollie?” You asked, your arms wrapped around yourself.

“I saw you, from my window. I wanted to know if your okay,” he said.

“Thanks, Ollie but I’m fine. I’m waiting for Felix. I thought—never mind,” You said.

“What?” Oliver asked, his plan unfolding just as he imagined.

“Felix asked me to be here. I thought he was going to tell me he wanted me, after last year,” you explained vaguely.

“Ah well. I don’t want to hurt your feelings but Felix has someone. Well multiple girls. He can’t keep his hands off them at Oxford. It’s ridiculous,” Oliver lied straight to your face. And you believed him.

Tears came to your face. Felix wasn’t interested in you and he already had someone, someone that wasn’t you. “No it’s alright. Thank you for telling me,” you said, wiping away a tear.

“I’m cold, so I should return to the house,” you said, walking past Oliver. He grabbed your hand and pulled you close.

Leaning in, he kissed you softly. You pulled away from him.

“Ollie no,” you said, looking into with eyes with warning. He let your hand go and you walked back into the house.

As you walked back into the house, you didn’t know that Felix saw you and Oliver kiss. As soon as he saw it, his heart broke and he turned away from the window. He didn’t see you pull away and leave.

The next morning, breakfast was awkward to say the least.

You were mad at Felix for not telling you he was involved and for standing you up. Felix thought you’d gotten with Oliver and was extremely jealous.

He was also angry with Oliver, as he knew how Felix felt about you.

Later that day, Oliver tried to find Felix. He was sulking in the sun.

“Felix? Is everything alright?” Ollie asked innocently. Felix just huffed in response.

“What do you think?” Felix asked passive aggressively.

“I’m not sure. I want to know what’s made you so upset?” Ollie asked innocently.

“How could you get with Y/n? I saw you two last night in the garden. You kissed her,” Felix said, sounding hurt.

Oliver frowned. “She wanted me to kiss her. I didn’t know what else to do. She left me a note to meet me and I was going to turn her down because I know how much you like her,” he said.

Felix’s face softened but his heart was breaking. Did you not like him? Obviously not if you wanted Oliver to kiss you, he thought.

“I’m sorry Felix,” Oliver apologized.

Felix turned to his friend, “It’s alright mate, it’s not your fault.” He reassured.

☙☙☙☙

You and Felix were not speaking to each other. Just glaring at each other across the room. Venetia was confused and Farleigh was too busy worrying about his own situation to notice.

“What happened between you and Felix?” Venetia asked, one night before bed.

You huffed, “Nothing, I guess. We kissed last summer and now, well he doesn’t want me anymore.” You explained.

“I find that very hard to believe. He talks about you all the time when you aren’t here. And Farleigh said he couldn’t stop thinking about you during school,” she laughed.

This confused you. You wanted to confront Felix. Angry, you took the note. “Right, I’ll be back,” you told Venetia.

You practically stomped to Felix’s room that night, banging on the wooden door. Felix opened the door, his hair disheveled and only wearing his boxers and maroon robe.

“What do you want?” He asked coolly, leaning against the door.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Don’t take that tone with me. You have been nothing but aggressive towards me this entire week. You won’t look at me, except when you glare. As if I’ve hurt you in some way,” you ranted.

Felix looked at you confused as you continued to speak. “Which is ridiculous, because you invited me to the garden. Not the other way around. I know you have loads of woman just lining up to fuck you. So I will do you the favor of fucking off,” you said, pushing the note into his hands.

You left in a huff and Felix was utterly quiet. He opened up the note and recognized the hand writing immediately.

Why would Oliver lie? He thought. Why did he pretend to be me and write you a note?

Felix walked next door and into Ollie’s bedroom. “Hey mate, I have a question.” He said, shortly.

Oliver looked up from his book, “Yes Felix?”

“That note that Y/n gave you. Did it look anything like this?” Felix said angry.

Oliver looked at the paper that he’d written and slipped under your door. He gulped. “I can explain,” Oliver said, albeit timidly.

“I don’t need an explanation Ollie, you’re a fucking liar. You took advantage of our feelings. Why would you do that?” Felix said.

Oliver couldn’t respond and when he didn’t, Felix left the room going out to try and find you.

You were crying on the bottom of the staircase, drinking a bottle of champagne that you’d snagged from the kitchen.

Coming down the stairs, Felix heard you and came to you quietly.

“Y/n, don’t cry,” Felix said. Hearing his voice, you stood up and turned around.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, wiping away your tears.

Felix walked towards you. His thumb landed on your cheek and wiped away a fallen tear. “I’m sorry about Ollie, he manipulated us. Told me that you wanted him. It made me jealous, because well…because I love you.”

You looked at him in surprise. Felix loved you. “You love me?” You asked, to which Felix nodded, a soft smile on his face. “And you aren’t seeing anyone?” You wanted clarification.

Felix furrowed his eyebrows in worry, “No, no im not. I only want to see you,” he said, leaning in incredibly close.

You nodded, “I love you too, very much,” you smiled softly, looking up into him.

In a heartbeat, Felix kissed you. At first it was soft and sweet. It became heated as you kissed him back. Felix moved his hand around your waist, to hold you up and close to him.

When you pulled away for air, Felix smiled softly. “I’ve been wanting to do that again since last summer. I don’t like it when you’re away. You’re mine, you know.” Felix smirked, pulling you into his hips.

“Am I now?” you grinned, liking the sound of him calling you his. Felix nodded, leaning into kiss you.

“Felix….” You heard Oliver say from the top of the stairs. Felix’s grasp on your waist tightened protectively. You both turned to Oliver.

“Go away Oliver,” Felix said warningly. You gave Oliver an angry look. You wished he would leave.

“I need to talk to you, Felix. We need to sort this out,” Ollie practically whined.

Felix shook his head, “I can’t have you here mate, it was a mistake inviting you.” He said.

☙☙☙☙

The next morning in a dramatic fashion Sir James and Elsbeth led Oliver out of the grounds. You, Felix, Venetia and Farleigh watched from the top of the staircase as it happened.

When the door closed, Sir James clapped his hands together. “Alright. The Henry’s are coming to dinner tonight, everything must be perfect.” He said.

[lover-222]

Angel Baby (D.S)

warning: smut 18+

...

it was known that dominik was a playboy, liverpool's finest man on the field loved having different girls on him. he was one of liverpool's best players right now. the hungarian man loved partying and living the football dream. he was a heartbreaker, he loved how women desired him. today was nothing different.

liverpool had just won their last game of the season, and the boys were going to celebrate just how they always did.

"you ready for today dom?, i wonder who'll be your next victim" trent chuckled as he looked at his teammate.

dom wore an all black outfit with his silver chain and a diamond bracelet. he made a simple outfit look extravagant. he put on lotion, styled his brown hair, and sprayed some of his favorite cologne.

the club they frequently went to was busy. the flickering colored lights danced all over the building, the dance floor was filled with many couples dancing. the alcoholic beverages were being served to many different tables.

dominik talked and laughed with his teammates slowly but surely getting tipsy. the boys one by one started leaving the table to go dance and talk to pretty girls. trent and dominik were the only ones left.

that was until he spotted her, she looked angelic. she wore a tight white dress, her long black hair was waist level. she was there with another friend who had caught trent's attention.

the boys went up to them and offered them a drink. the couples separated into other tables just to be more comfortable with their dates.

"you're very beautiful i just had to talk to you, i'm domi-" he was cut off by the pretty girl.

"i know exactly who you are, dominik szoboszlai" she smiled.

she was innocent, sweet, and delicate. nothing like he's ever had before. all the girls he would fuck were all over him, she was different. y/n wanted him even if it was just for the night. she didn't want to look desperate but one night with dominik szoboszlai would be amazing.

the drinks were coming and coming, the alcohol burned her throat. although by the fifth shot it felt like they were drinking water. the tension started to rise, they couldn't help it.

they ended up at dominik's house, she knew how he was. he didn't want commitment or something stable, he just wanted a good time.

the couple was inside of the house, neither of them disconnected from the heated kiss. dom kissed and sucked on her exposed neck, leaving hickeys on her skin. she felt pure bliss, his lips felt so good on her skin.

he lead her upstairs to his room, he was eager. he needed her badly. dominik laid her gracefully on his bed, she looked truly angelic as she laid on top of his white sheets. he got on top of her, not doing anything yet. he just looked at her facial features, admiring every detail of her frame.

"i just wanted to let you know that i don't want a relationship or any commitment since of football-" he stated.

"i know, i just want to be one of your girls tonight dom. so is liverpool's best man going to fuck me or not?" she said seductively.

he had pure lust in his eyes, his brown eyes turned into a darker shade and were blown out. dominik took off her dress, leaving her in her matching lacy set.

dominik thought he had died and gone to heaven. her matching white lacy bra and underwear were making him hard by every second.

"not fair you still have your clothes on" she said and sat up properly.

he laughed at her, y/n's hands traveled to the hem of his black shirt tucking on it. as soon as she took it off she kissed his muscular chest, while her hands explored his abs. she saw more of his tattoos that were scattered all over both of his arms.

they were perfectly detailed and the shading gave them more depth. the way each design wrapped around and covered his arms made her wet. the thought of being manhandled by him made her dizzy.

dom kissed her tan body, gently unclasping her white lacy bra. she looked ethereal, a true angel was laying down right in front of him. the lust and sexual tension filled the room, and the heated make out session didn't stop. not until he pulled down her panties, and she reached out for his boxers.

"no angel you first i want to see how much of a good girl you are" he smirked as he planted kisses on her stomach.

he kissed her thighs, she was melting from his touch. the combination of his lips on her and his manly scent was intoxicating but in the best way possible. he wrapped his hands around her soft thighs to keep her from moving. as he kissed her thighs, she'd sigh in pleasure. his beard would rub against her flesh making her squirm.

dom licked her inner folds, he gently sucked and licked every part of her sex. she couldn't stop moaning his name. he was so good at what he was doing, his tongue felt like pure bliss against her core.

"god i don't think i'll last very long" she said following up with a moan.

it was heaven for dominik, her angelic voice saying dirty things made him smirk.

"god's not here baby, it's just me" he replied as he pulled her into him and harshly sucked on her clit.

her mouth made an o-shape, y/n grasped a handful of his hair making him groan. she had felt the vibration right in her core, there was no way she could hold her orgasm in. his tongue circled around her clit making her pulsate against him.

she was so wet against him, although she was getting frustrated because he wouldn't let her cum. to the point where she started riding his face, which he quickly made her stop and pulled away.

"no what are you doing my love?" he asked playfully, knowing exactly what she wanted.

she would do anything to reach her orgasm, she craved him so badly.

he had a playful yet sinful smile, "i want to be inside you when you cum".

he teased her entrance with his cock, moving it gently up and down. he was a good size, way bigger than her ex boyfriend. she felt him deep inside of her, every thrust was pleasurebale. the couple moaned loudly, his thrusts were fast and then slow. he would thrust into her at a fast pace, then would slow down, teasing her.

"fuck dom please i'm so close" she whined, tears building up making her eyes water.

"such a pretty angel begging me to let her cum, are you really going to cry?" he teased her as he grabbed her face with his hand gently squeeze her cheeks, yet not stopping his rhythm.

tears ran down her face, the pleasure was too much to handle. she would bite her lip to stop herself from cumming. she'd bit to hard and was now bleeding a bit, the metallic taste wondered her mouth.

he was reaching his high, his thrust became faster and more precise. his chain dangled from his neck, she hooked her pointer finger on the chain making him come closer to her. their lips crashed against each other, he tasted like mint. he was hitting her g-spot in every thrust which made her claw his back.

"you feel so fucking good, i'm going to cum" he said as his thrust became sloppy.

"me too, fuck i can't hold it anymore" she moaned out.

"cum with me angel" he said as he quickened up his pace.

his cock thrusted deep into her, making her shiver. she felt on top of the world, her orgasm building up in her core. he kissed her hashly, then swiftly put her on top making her ride him.

she moved desperately on his thick cock, nothing stopped her from riding him. it felt incredibly good. her perfect body was on display just for him, he held on to her waist. he followed her rhythm and would thrust into her occasionally. y/n looked down at him, he was a mess under her.

his hair was a mess, and his cheeks were scarlet red. even with his hair all over the place, he looked fucking beautiful. he looked like he was sculpted by greek gods, every single one of his curves were perfectly defined.

dom thought she was angelic, her doe like eyes attracted him. she was a sweet angel, her lips tasted like cherries. her dainty hands would messily pick up her hair, although her head tilted back due to her pleasure.

he snaked his hand up her chest and rested it on her neck. she loved it, he maintained a firm grasp around her. she felt euphoric, she held on to his arm as she felt her orgasm building up.

"i'm close angel" he told her as he thrusted into her yet again but deeper.

her eyebrows scrunched up, "me too fuck dom please".

the sensation built up as he thrusted into her, she managed to reach down and circled around her clit fast. dom quickly replaced her hand with his. his fingers played with her clit moving his digits fast around it.

finally reaching their climax, he whined and grunted while thrusting into her one last time. she moaned loudly and shuddered while she laid on top of him.

"fuck you're so good" she sighed as she breathed heavily.

"me? angel you were perfect. see you can be a good girl" he said while he smirked at her.

he pulled out and laid her next to him, dom got up and went to grab a warm cloth. he helped her get cleaned up and got back into bed.

the brunette boy caressed her face and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"i think i want to see you again angel" he said softly.

"am i going to be dominik szoboszlai's fuck buddy?" y/n replied playfully.

"i mean if you want, but i mean more like maybe go on a date with me?" he asked her, his puppy dog eyes glistened.

"i'd love that" she smiled, dom excitingly kissed her and wrapped his tattooed arms around her. she felt safe in his strong embrace. maybe she's the one that takes him out of the playboy lifestyle.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── a/n: i took like three days writing this and i'm not even sure if i like it lmaoooo

give me feedback plss anyways i hope y'all enjoyed it!!

d<3

[mrepstein]

The Flat That Epstein Bought - Liverpool Echo - July 11, 1964

HOME - with the man behind the Beatles, Gerry and the Pacemakers, Cilla Black, Billy J. Kramer, etc, etc.

Reported by Barbara Anne Taylor

---

I don’t want to brag or cause any jealousy, but I used to queue for the Saturday matinee at a cinema that was next to a furniture shop that was called Epstein and Son and that Epstein’s other son manages the Beatles.

And that is as exciting as dancing with a man who danced with a girl who danced with the Prince of Wales.

The other son is Brian, who has in his time pursued many careers until he found his present crock of gold. He did originally embark, with no lack of enthusiasm, on a career in his family’s furniture business.

CRAFTY CHERUB

“I was 21 at the time,” said Mr. Epstein, who looks like a sharp-clothed, crafty cherub, “and extremely interested in design and interior decorating - still am. I served,” he added stoically, “my apprenticeship with the Times Furnishing Company in Liverpool.

“I was fanatically keen on what I regarded as contemporary at the time. I felt quite a missionary zeal about it, so I wasn’t fired with enthusiasm about the furniture in my father’s shop. It all looked to me like greasy great walnut bedroom suites.

“I was full of notions about the customers really wanting the sort of furniture I wanted them to have. I overlooked the fact that my father is a successful business man because he knows what his customers want. However, I persuaded him to stock some of the furniture of my choice.”

When I asked Mr. Epstein if his chosen furniture sold, he received the question a trifle incredulously: “I saw to it,” he said stonily, “that it did” - and having subsequently witnessed something of his adroitness as a salesman, who can fail to believe him?

Mr. Epstein is clever at picking people; he picked his parents very wisely, for his indulgent father then set him up in his own furniture shop in Hoylake.

He was able to revel in the furniture of his choice and provide an interior decorating service to boot. “It was the interior decorating side I enjoyed most, I had lots of ideas and I love experimenting with colour.”

When I asked Mr. Epstein if he was able to submit his clients to his ideas he replied: “The customer is always right.”

Mr. Epstein inhabits the top floor and the roof, where he has potted plants and wrought iron furniture, and swinging chintz hammocks and a splendid view.

He has two bedrooms and a study and one large, long combined living and dining room, which is decorated in white, grapish green and amber and is inspiringly tidy.

“I can’t bear clutter, I’m obsessive about plainness and simplicity, in fact, this room looks cluttered to me,” he said, eyeing with some distaste this positive precedent for orderliness.

The Buyer of Antiques

“I like buying antiques, although I have no knowledge of them. I don’t care about their period or their history. I just care about their shape. I couldn’t live with only modern furniture now, you grow out of such utter devotion. It’s rather sad really.”

“I find it completely absorbing searching for exactly what I want but there’s really not much choice, is there? I mean, there appears to be a lot but when you get down to it there is really very little.

“And isn’t it sad when finally you’ve found exactly what you want, then you discover that it’s exactly what hundreds of other people want too. It sort of spoils the specialness of it.

“I found it an exciting experience furnishing my first home, it takes a lot of time and thought, because you are imprinting something of yourself there. I think there is something of me in this flat, though it’s not exactly right. I long to have a separate dining room... well, what I really long for is a house.

Knows What He Wants

“I know exactly what I want. I can’t describe it to you, I could perhaps draw it. It is certainly nothing like the castles and follies I keep being offered. It’s a house I’ve had in my head for ages, I’ll know it the moment I see it.

“Till then I’m happy here. I look forward to coming home, that’s the big test, and my friends seem to like it and that’s also important because I love entertaining.

“Yes the Beatles approve - at least they approve of most of the furniture: they were a bit scornful about the antiques. Paul is very fond of the rocking chair, but what they all approved of most was the way I had their photographs framed. Cilla thinks it is all fab.”

[script-a-world]

Submitted via Google Form:

How much can a city get away with not actually giving streets a specific name? As in all the streets are like First Street, or First Street West, etc... Any names are descriptive and the only thing available like if there is one hospital the street it's on might be called Hospital Street, and the road that leads to the only train station is called Train Street, the street with the only university is called University Street. Even when they have actual names, the street is still just descriptive. I think this might make a place very easy to navigate? The only thing is you've got to know where those unique descriptors are. Something like this has got to be planned right? Because if things get changed, it can go awry. The streets will have to fairly straight in a grid layout right so streets can't crisscross every which way or be too curvy.

Licorice: In my town, which was founded in Roman times, we do indeed have streets called “Street of the Hospital”, “Street of the Train Station”, “Street of the Cathedral”, “Street of the Cliffs”, “Street of the Windmills” and so on. Most UK towns have streets called “Station Road”, “Church Road”, and of course the ubiquitous “High Street” where all the shops are congregated, which in every town is always known as the High Street even when its official name is something else. It’s the equivalent of Main Street in the USA.

Does one need to know the location of the landmarks after which these streets are named? I don’t see why one should. Once you find a road called “Street of the Train Station”, you can be pretty sure it’s going to lead you to the train station. 

A lot depends on whether your city is a planned city or one that has grown up organically over the centuries. 

Street names in older, organic cities tend to derive from one of the following sources

A landmark on the street, e.g. Church Street. The landmark doesn’t have to be man-made. Fleet Street in London was, in the middle ages, a street that ran along the river Fleet, which no longer exists.

The place the road leads to, e.g. Oxford Street, Liverpool Street

The occupation of the people who lived and worked on that street, e.g. Threadneedle Street

Streets in planned cities or planned subdivisions are named by the planners and often follow some kind of theme. In the UK, new housing developments in Victorian times might commemorate famous battles (Alma Terrace, Lucknow Terrace), places in the colonies (Canberra Drive), historic figures (Wellington Road), and so on. In my European town, one of the main streets is named after the date on which we were liberated from occupation by Napoleon. 

In Hamilton, Ontario, which was constructed on a grid system in the 19th century, the main streets are (if I recall correctly) named after the family of the founder, George Hamilton, or the family of Sir Allan Napier McNab, a local bigwig - they’re called John Street, James Street, Mary Street and so on.

Trees are a perennially popular naming theme for street planners in North America. Chestnut Street, Elm Street, Mulberry Street….

The Romans built a lot of new towns. The grid system was widely used by the Romans and was based on the layout of their army camps. You might find it interesting to look up Roman city planning and see how they named their roads. It sounds like you want your city to be a practical city, and the Romans were eminently practical people. They knew how to design a town that people would find it easy to live in. 

Utuabzu: A lot, really. Kyōto has gotten away with it for over a thousand years in its historic core. Venice has street names, but few signs or indicators of what street one is on or what address a building has, and it has also been functional for over a thousand years. In a lot of older cities, people navigate more by landmarks than by street addresses, which makes sense, because any urban environment older than about 150 years was built to be navigated on foot, and likely has a bunch of little alleyways and shortcuts that wouldn’t show up on a street map but which all the locals know and use constantly. Pre-internet and without a car, getting directions in the form of landmarks was generally going to be more useful than a street address, particularly because, as Licorice pointed out, most streets in older, organic cities were named for landmarks or some visible characteristic (like who lived and worked there). 

Even when the landmark is lost or moved, the name often still endures as a fossilised bit of urban history. The hospital might move, but the street it was on would still get called Old Hospital Street, because everyone was used to it being Hospital Street and it’d be annoying to have to learn a new name for the place, while the new location would either keep it’s pre-existing name (eg. the new hospital is on Station Street, so they call it the Station Street Hospital) or it would get called something like New Hospital Street. 

Oftentimes old cities are very dense and have narrow, winding street networks with names that seem to change arbitrarily, but this isn’t always the case. Almost all Roman cities were founded with a grid, and the Roman foundation is roughly square or rectangular (eg. The City of London, Jerusalem’s Old City*, Florence), although these grids all break down very quickly outside the original Roman walls. Cities in the Sinosphere (the region of the world historically under heavy Chinese cultural influence) were also often initially built on a grid, such as Kyōto, which I referenced earlier. And like Kyōto, many don’t have regularly used street names. Grids are also common in Spanish colonial cities, because almost all of them were laid out following the regulations in the ley de los indes, a Spanish law that (among other things) governed how and where new colonies were to be established. Consequently, almost all Spanish colonial cities have a very similar layout in their historic cores, with a central square and a grid radiating out from there. 

Prior to the late 19th Century and the creation of the suburbs, most of the time these grids broke down because of unplanned informal development outside the area covered by the initial city plan. In a lot of the world this still happens frequently. And oftentimes these informal settlements become officially part of the urban fabric simply because it would be too much work to remove them.

[wjhik]

I'm Not Going Anywhere (Trent Alexander-Arnold) *Smut*

A/N: just so this doenst get too confusing. Y/N has a younger twin and an older brother. She is 25. She has a 24 year old and a 21 year old brother.

Y/N's POV:

Trent and I's families have known each other forever. Our parents got to know each other in college and have been friends ever since. They made it a point to always stay together, moving into the same neighborhood and eventually raising their kids together. I have been able to get on with the Alexander-Arnolds relatively well, but we've never been too close. My brothers are very close with them, having similar interests and being similar ages to all 3 boys. Being around all 7 boys, 4 being my brothers, was a hard environment to grow up in, so when I went away to uni, I was able to really find myself.

I haven't seen my family in a little over a few years. With quarantine and getting stuck in the U.S., far away from my home in LIverpool, and also getting stuck in finals and whatnot, I haven't been able to come back home. I just graduated from law school after getting my bachelors, and my family traveled to come see me for my ceremony. I finally got to go back home, just to find out that my family has a trip to Southern France with Trent and his family. I don't mind, but I was quite looking forward to going back to my hometown.

"Y/N, cheer up. You'll have fun." My mum tries to console me. "Mama, I'm fine. I just don't exactly want to spend my summer with 7 boys who tortured me my entire childhood." I tell her. "Oh, please. I didn't push YOU down the stairs." My little brother says. "You took my KitKat! You deserved it." I tell him. He scrunches my face and sticks his tongue out like a kid, despite being 24, only a year younger than me.

I walk into the beach chalet that my parents AirBNBed for the month. I set my very heavy bags down at the door and sit down on the large couch. I reach for the remote and turn on the T.V. and log into my Netflix account. "Y/N, go pick a room." My dad tells me, walking into the house with his many bags. I quickly walk to him and take his bags from him. I set them down. "Let the boys choose first. I'm sure all of them are fine." I tell him. "Just go choose before Michael and his family arrive" He tells me. I walk upstairs to take a look at the bedrooms. I choose the one that is quite small, but has a large balcony, giving me a chance to smoke in peace. It has ceiling to floor windows and an amazing view. Once I choose, I walk downstairs. "Max, can you help me with my bags?" I ask my twin. "Fuck no. Help yourself." He says. Why do these guys insist on being so difficult?

"I got them." I see Trent standing there, smiling at me. I walk down the stairs and give Trent a big hug. "How've you been?" He asks me. "I've been alright. Missed you lot." I say, hugging the rest of his family. I chat with his mum and dad a little bit, catching up with them and updating them. I'm interrupted by Trent asking me where I'm staying. I grab the bags I can and he grabs the rest and I guide him to my room. "Didn't you get first choice?"  Trent asks, looking at the small room I'm staying in. "It's got a balcony." I say, shrugging my shoulders. "Hmm. You're still smoking? Thought you would grow out of it, to be honest." He says. Trent was well aware of my 'wild' lifestyle as a teenager. There had been countless times that I had called Trent after getting far too high or drunk, too afraid of receiving a lecture from my parents or brothers. I laugh at Trent's statement and thank him for helping me with my bags.

Trent and I go downstairs and help our siblings and parents settle in. Evening time rolls around and we're all chilling in our designated rooms. Knock. Knock. Knock. "Yeah?" I say, laying on my stomach on my bed. My door creaks open. "Hey. Dinner's gonna be here in a little." Trent tells me. "Oh. Yeah, alright." We ordered some pizza, all too tired to cook. "You wanna come in?" I ask, getting up. Trent walks in and shuts the door behind him. I grab a pack from my side table along with a lighter. I walk out to the balcony, Trent following behind me.

I cup the cigarette with my hand and light it. I take a puff from it and blow it, in the opposite direction of Trent. "So, where've you been lately?" Trent asks me. I give Trent an update on my life. Him and I spent a lot of time, chatting the sun away. "Hey! Food's been here for a while! C'mon then." Marcell interrupts our conversation. Trent gives me his hand and helps me up. We walk, side by side, to the kitchen table, where our families are taking their fair share of food.

"I am stuffed. I think we're going to call it a night." My dad says, rubbing his stomach. He helps my mom up and they go upstairs, to their designated bedroom. "I think I'm quite tired as well. Goodnight, kids." Mr. Arnold says. His wife follows after him shortly after. "Finally, we can do something fun." My youngest brother who is 21 says. He walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge. He takes out a very suspicious looking brown paper bag. "So, who's down to get shit faced?" He says, taking a smuggled, in secret from our parents, bottle of tequila. "And you guys think I'm the bad one." I say.

"Listen, I'm just saying. Who's to say that Gargamel isn't actually the good guy?" My very intoxicated brother slurs his words. "He killed the smurfs!!" Marcell adds. "What? No one killed anyone. It's a kids movie." Trent says. "But, he has a point! Maybe he's just misunderstood." I chime in. "What is with you and thinking people are misunderstood? First Captain Hook. Now Gargamel." Trent replies, taking a sip of his beer. "Hey, some people just need a little slack sometimes." I say, shrugging my shoulders.

"Alright, I'm going to call it a night." Tyler says, following Marcell and 2 out of 4 of my brothers. "Yeah, I'm pretty tired, too. And I think this one has had enough as well." Max says, grabbing my brother and taking him to bed, leaving me alone with Trent. I pick up the bottle off the table and take a large swig out of it. "I've missed you, Mr. Hotshot." I say, being slightly hostile and breaking our silence. "Hey, I didn't leave to go to New York, did I?" He tells me. I ignore him and grab a cig and lighter. "Your mum's not gonna be too happy, you know." He jokes, trying to lighten the mood a little. "You could've called." I tell him, reopening the subject. "Could say the same for you." He tells me, bitterly. "I did! But all I could reach was 'please try again later' or your assistant telling me that you're too busy for me. That shit hurt, Trent." I tell him, the alcohol and tobacco in my system making me open up. "Let me make it up to you." Trent says. "How?"

~

"Fuck, Trent. That feels amazing." I moan very quietly, struggling to keep my voice down. Whether it was the alcohol in my system or my lack of dick, I let Trent in. I refused to let anyone in after my ex, but I let him in. I've always had a thing for Trent, but I convinced myself it was wrong. I felt as though I didn't know him well enough, or at least that's what I tried to convince myself. I know him well enough to let him eat me out of our family home for the month.

Trent stops his teasing on me, hearing a noise from upstairs. "Let's go to your room." He tells me. I sit up and he helps me put my panties on. Trent is sharing a room with Marcell. I'm the only one that has a room all to myself. Trent quickly shuts the door behind me and presses me against the door. He kisses me and I kiss him back. He moans into my mouth and puts his hands on my waist. He guides me through the room and lays me down on the bed. I take off my clothes as he impatiently unbuckles his jeans. "I can't wait anymore." He says, taking off his underwear. His hard dick springs out and hits his lower stomach. I knew he was big, but never did I think he was THAT big.

I lightly stroke over his tip, collecting some of his precum in my hand, and stroke him. He pushes my hand away and grabs his own dick. He reaches for a condom in his jean's pocket and rolls it on himself. He puts his dick at the entrance of my pussy. "Ready?" He asks me, leaning down for one more kiss. I nod and push up into him. He fully pushes into me and starts moving in and out. "You feel fucking amazing, princess." I feel butterflies in my stomach. Whether that is from the nickname or my nearing orgasm, I don't know, but It feels  good regardless. Trent continues fucking me. I wrap my arms around his neck and start kissing his neck. I move his hands away from the headboard and put them on my lower stomach, he pushed down and my eyes roll to the back of my head, my pleasure increasing. "Wait. Hold on." He says, coming to a complete stop. He grabs a pillow and puts it behind the headboard, muting the sound.

He continues fucking and giving me praises. I suck and lick and bite on his neck as I feel my orgasm approach. I bite down on his shoulder as I cum. He cums into the condom and pulls out. He takes it off and ties it up. He throws it into the garbage and grabs a tissue from the side table. He cleans me up and lays down next to me. I'm laying down, facing away from him. He slings his arm over me. Within a matter of minutes I hear snoring from behind me. I nuzzle back into him and close my eyes.

~

I open my eyes to see Trent at the foot of my bed, putting on his pants. I blink a few times and rub my eyes. I see him get up and walk towards the door. Is he leaving? "Trent?" I ask him. He looks back at me, nothing in his eyes. "Where are you going?" I ask him. "Y/N, you and I both know you mean nothing to me." How could he say that? After everything we spoke about yesterday. "What?" I say, unable to process this. "You were a good fuck, but nothing more. Besides, why would I want to be with someone like you?" He says. Someone like me. I feel unable to say anything as he walks out of the door.

~

I wake up in a fit of my tears to see Trent asleep next to me. Unable to calm my breathing, I stand up and walk outside the balcony. I grab my box of cigarettes and lighter I left out here yesterday and struggle to light it due to my shaking hands. I eventually get it lit and take a deep breath of the smoke into my lungs. Trying to stop my tears, I look back at Trent who is supposed to be laying in my bed, but isn't anymore. My eyes go wide as I start crying more. "Hey. Hey. I'm here. What's wrong?" Trent says. He was standing right behind me. He comes up to me and gives me a hug and a kiss on my forehead. "I mean something to you, right?" I ask him. He wipes the tears from my eyes and says, "Of course you do. I wouldn't have done this if you didn't mean anything to me." He's crouching down on the floor in front of me. I let out a sigh of relief and pull him into another hug. "What happened?" He asks me, rubbing my back. "Don't worry, I'm alright. Just stay with me." I tell him. "I'm not going anywhere, princess."

Wattpad: funkyfishfeet

DM for requests

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

A Domestic Dinner Date (John Price x Escort!Reader)

Part of the "Purchase Your Time" Universe

Summary: You both eager and jittery as your ordered cab approaches John's house, bringing you closer to an evening of his cooking and your attempts to open up to you.

Content warning: Reader is an escort (Minors DNI, 18+ only!), references to sex, 2.5k words

Masterlist // AO3 Version

John was stood at the cerulean open front door of a delightful detached house in the middle nowhere when you arrived. His dark jumper’s sleeves were rolled up, much to your glee, and he was wearing a navy apron that seemed fresh out of its package, creases straight up the centre in line with the angled slats and paneling of the house’s exterior.

You thanked the driver as you exited, hitting send on the text to your friend whilst passing by John’s black truck that was parked on the expansive drive.

“Hello, love.”

“Hello, John.” You kissed his cheek as you passed, noting how his cheek creased while he preened under your greeting.

Taking your cue from the shoe rack, you toed your own off to add to the collection. John showed you the ground floor of his home, leading the way amongst simple décor. Mounted art that was fresh out the plastic, a settee with cushions that had never felt the weight of a person, unchipped granite counter-tops, you poorly hid the chill it all gave you. A show room in IKEA had more of a soul than this.

At least, in the kitchen, there was some proof of residence in the various utensils scattered around. Pinches of salt and pepper scattered on a wooden chopping board

“What are we making then?” You met John’s raised eyebrow with your own. “What, you want me at the breakfast bar, sitting pretty, sipping wine? No! Show me.”

Somewhat of a calculated risk on your part, but really? John didn’t seem the type to force you into submission, and the smirk on his face tipped you off that he was rather hoping you’d help him cook before he even retrieved a spare apron for you to wear. You’d bet on yourself if you could.

Tied around your waist at the front, like you’d seen on The Bear, you brushed the front of the apron off before washing your hands. Glass dishware cradled steaks already soaked in seasoning and soy sauce, positioned out of the way on the draining board beside you.

You observed the bag of vegetables he unloaded, “This feels like a ‘we’re having guests over’ type of meal.”

“Well, you are my guest.”

“Aww, how early did you get to the farmer’s market to get all this?”

Your teasing was met by John confidently taking your wrists and manipulating them to have your palms open and up. Next thing you knew, he had plopped a beef tomato into both of them.

“Chop these please,” and, not even attempting to hide his amusement, he placed a recently sharpened knife on your designated chopping board.

Recovering from whatever that was, you placed the fruits down, “Fine, keep your secrets. Any preference for size of slice?”

“Diced, thank you.”

You hid the urge to bellow “behind!” well as you scooted around him to reach the sink. A quick wash later, you were carefully wheeled the knife over the tomatoes flesh.

“How was work?”

“Usual. Yourself?”

“Usual.” Shallow remarks, and your conversation recovered faster than last time when you asked, “Did you watch the Liverpool game the other night?”

John chuckled, “Working late, I had to look up the results after.”

“Maybe, when you can, even if we can’t meet up, we could do a watch along. You know, you watch where you are, I watch where I am and we chat on the phone in between the good bits.”

“I’d like that,” Then he went back to trimming his potatoes into slim sticks, his face still lit up from the idea. “Be like having you in my office.”

Ah, so he worked late and had an office. Okay, it wasn’t the big breakthrough that you were hoping for. It was something though.

That was when you realised what he was doing with the potatoes. “Making your own chips too? You’re going all out for me.

“Nothing you don’t deserve.”

“How often do you get to cook?”

“Not often at all.”

“Then I feel honoured.” And you leant up against John’s side as he finished dunking the slices in the saucepan of salted water. When you kissed his shoulder through the fabric of his cashmere jumper – the jumper he was filling out so very nicely, by the way - he didn’t stiffen like he had before. Rather, John got a dopey sort of smile that made all the lines by the corners of his eyes and mouth creased into being, creating more evidence of his happiness. You refused to tease him about anything around that, out of principle. Instead, you were pleased that your work was bringing more chances to make that expression appear.

“You wanna watch a show after dinner?”

“You have another recommendation?”

“I do have something in mind. It’s quite apropos.”

John hummed in approval whilst he set the saucepan to parboil the potatoes. Leaning against the countertop, you against the island, sipping away coyly as you spoke about some future plans.

“I’m good from here. Go sit down.”

He’d even set the table all romantic, gotten out some unburned candles to light and offered some wine, which you refused on principle of being in his house for the first time and technically on the clock. You didn’t tell him that, of course. You sat beside him at the long solid wood dining table though. Enough opposites on date nights, he craved domesticity, so you adjusted your placing beside him and looked as innocent was you could when he placed your dish in front of you first.

A cut of the steak was what you ate first, immediately covering your mouth with your hand as it sizzled on your tongue, the flavour’s power catching you off guard.

John raised an eyebrow, barely hiding his grin as he prepared to take his inaugural bite, “Good?”

Shaking your head, you revealed your smile, “Don’t look at me.”

Instead of laughing like he was clearly trying not to, John offered a toast and your glasses sang together as you gave cheers to the success of the meal. It was almost embarrassing how fast you polished your meal off, which you countered by singing John’s praises to get him a matching shade of shyness. He paired it nicely with his pride and ensuring you knew you were an excellent colleague in the kitchen, allowing you neatly to introduce:

“The Bear?”

“It’s so good. I’m only four episodes in - hooked.”

Like show, like play-pretend boyfriend, it seemed, although you and John barely reached the same intensity Carmy experienced during your own cooking experience.

It was time to test the waters again. The approach was like John was a rescue that needed to be reminded that soft touch was normal and to be expected around you.

It mainly involved resting your hand on his heart. But your position allowed you to press completely against him, your arm resting upon his full belly hidden beneath a layer of muscle, fat and fabric. This wasn’t just for John’s benefit; taking stock of how large he was, a man built from marble and conviction, kept you grounded in the reason why he’d hired you. Surely, someone had to be this man’s type, someone who would not mind the months apart and loved his mutton chops. His solitude dismayed you, as did the fact that he hadn’t yet made any advances on your spooning. You let out a sigh, aiming to present it as one of relief, and shifted your position in an act of getting comfortable (you were already more than satisfied with this spot).

When John let his cheek rest on your crown, you closed your eyes. Hopefully, this fit what he was after: couch cuddles after a nice meal. You hoped, even when he hadn’t asked you to stay.

“I’m sorry, this is meant to be a comedy?” He asked incredulously after the second episode’s cold open. You only shrugged before settling back down in his side, feeling a tingle in your spine as his finger idly traced along the left side of it.

What affirmed your suspicions was you know he wanted to ask you to stay anyway. But he never did. He caught up with your episodes, denied help with washing up the dishes and offered to walk you to the car, even if it was just fifteen steps down the gravel driveway.

“I’ll have to cook for you something next time,” You said, looping your arm through his.

“Just tell me what you need from the farmer’s market.”

“Thank you for tonight.” You pecked his cheek, taking your time when moving away. The result: John lurked equally close to you, his hand falling to your knee as if to stop you from fitting into the back seat properly. “You want me to stay, don’t you?”

Genuinely hesitant, John maintained his gentleman act even as he admitted: “I do.”

So it was delightful to see his micro-expressions shift when you said, as easy as breathing, “Let me go grab my pyjamas; I’ll be right back.”

“I could drive you?”

“You’ve got that washing up that you wouldn’t let me do,” You replied, keeping a balance of light-hearted in front of the cabby and firm enough to dissuade John from pushing further. Per your privacy clause in your agreement, you told John to link you up with the secure car service he wanted to use, so that he wouldn’t have your address. You did not want him to see where you lived.

Thankfully, he agreed to your conditions and he released the car door for you to close.

“Back in a flash!”

---------------

“I’m gonna change. Maybe we can watch more once I’m ready?”

He was still in his attempt at casual get-up – unless he just genuinely wore cashmere as a casual garment. Leading you upstairs, he showed you to his room that was just as straight laced and dust-free as the rest of the house. A cream en-suite was offered as your changing room. Taking note of how his bed was pressed firmly against the wall and window, you locked yourself into the en-suite.

You couldn’t help but explore. Beard care products in wicker baskets, plus a few bottles and tubes that were half-used sat inside sparse overhead cupboards. Upon the top shelf, a handful of toiletries from the hotels you met him in sat untouched and unused. Nothing outside of a typical bachelor bathroom, except you did pause to smell his cologne, even spray some in the space ahead to walk through on your way out.

Thank fuck you’d completed your laundry day yesterday. Matching and adorable pyjamas had been waiting for you on the chair pile when you’d arrived home earlier and now dressed you to perfection. You fired off another text, updating and assuring your safety despite being in a remote house.

Every step down to the sitting room revealed more of John, who was already staring at you from his spot on the couch, his wine almost absent from the glass in his hand. There was a careful smile on his face, well-constructed like every part of him. But over the banister, you could see what he couldn’t hide in the glint in his eyes.Maybe this was a kink: the apron, the cooking, the sleepwear. But if it was a kink, where was the sex he seemed so excited about during that initial dinner?

Still not a bad gig.

As you rejoined him on the couch, John held up his phone, “I transferred you the money whilst you were out.”

“I saw, thank you.” And you snuggled into his side once again.

As he eased back into the couch cushions, you felt John pull you into him and take a deep breath, his nose pressed into your scalp. A half second later, he drew away his head and you waited on his suddenly still chest to see what he did next.

His arms constricted around you for just a moment. Then they slacked into a lax grip around you, his thumb rubbing back and forth where it met your arm. He took another deep breath before letting loose a throaty three-note chuckle that had disastrous effects on your composure, prickling in your neck as you felt that glorious sound wash down your back. It would take the entire next episode of The Bear for you to feel semi-alright with giving it your whole attention, but that only meant, when you began to doze, that you were expected to tune back in whenever John teased you about it – and he teased mercilessly with a squeeze down on your hip.

“You recommend a show, then you fall asleep during it. How am I meant to trust your judgement?”

“Not my fault you’re like a hot water bottle.”

 “Ah, so you’re the victim here.”

“Mm-hmm.”

At the sight of the end credits, John was the one to suggest going to bed. He was also the first to get in, lodging himself up against the wall after clearing his items from his bedside table into the drawer. The mattress slanted towards the middle as you folded yourself into bed, a rabbit in its warren, just avoiding the spot where John would usually recover from his day.

Sometimes, you did things without completely thinking them through. Never had you done it on the job though, so it was a shock to your system when you found yourself touching John’s arm to get his attention, words out of your voice box before your could turn it off:

“When we met, you told me that you would be lying if you weren’t interested in having sex. I’m interested in knowing what’s holding you back from asking for that.”

John paused his descent beneath the duvet and let his eyes drift down to where your hands gripped the bed sheets as he mulled over an answer.

When he looked back up, he spoke simply, “Nothing’s holding me back. I just don’t want that at the moment.”

That was all he offered, so it was what you accepted, kissing his lips quick as you wished him: “Goodnight, John.”

You slept with your hand under the pillow, holding onto your phone - silenced. But the night was as restless as you, waking you up to his arm around your waist at half two in the morning, the wind tap-tapping on the window. John’s radiator of a chest, hidden in his sleep shirt, was pulsing soporific warmth against your back. In the dark, you could make out something on his bicep where his shirt sleeve had rolled up. A tattoo but of what, you could barely decipher. You didn’t attempt to, flipping your pillow over before drifting off. 

Roused once more, you did not bothering to check the time as you slid out of bed on auto-pilot, your legs carrying you to the bathroom blearily. You didn’t want to wake John or draw yourself too far from sleep, so you left the light off. Feeling around the chilled tiles you hadn’t yet committed to memory brought you to the toilet, the roll and then the sink, only the soapy water making an effort to bring your consciousness forward.

Eyes adjusting to the dull wash of darkness as your feet found carpet again, you were greeted by a new shadow.John was looking up at you with alert eyes, pushed up on his front like he was Ariel at a rock pool. One of his hands, fingers fanned out, was in the space you’d vacated.

“Did I wake you?” You whispered as you approached him.

His voice was gruffer as he denied, “No, no.”

When he let you back into the bed, he tucked you under the duvet and (to your mild surprise) pulled you into his chest. It was quite unceremonious, how he scooped you up and rubbed his cheek on the back of your head, like you were his cat. Content to play the part, you hummed and curled in his burly arms. You had no choice, really, but it was a nice little trap he laid for you, even if he wasn’t completely awake when he set it.

“Don’t worry. I’m fine,” John said in a growl before he seemed to drop back into sleep, his hand burrowing under your pyjama shirt to grasp your belly. And, in your subconscious effort to return to slumber, you believed him. 

--------------

AN: Time for the interaction aspect! Vote on what you'd like to see me post next! Here's some short summaries:

Bubble Baths and Blisters (Pre-relationship/Fluff and Angst): Reader and John meet at another hotel at short notice. The reader offers to help John with his bath since he's injured (but he couldn't stay in the hospital any longer; he needed to see you).

First time (Pre-relationship/Angst and Smut): John calls the reader over last minute to his house. He's desperate for something to take his mind off things, but he's still holding out on getting over that first hurdle, still not quite taking what he wants. So you convince him to.

A “Moving-in” Present (Pre-relationship/Fluff and Some Smut): John buys something for the reader to welcome them into his home properly - with one little caveat.

[big-barn-bed]

Top 5 Paul boyfriends

omg marry me

(these are in no particular order)

-Robert Fraser aka Groovy Bob aka Paul’s emotional support art dealer/drug dealer/fag :’) Most interesting man of the swinging London era! There’s something so special and soft about how Paul always talks about Robert. “I expect people to die so I don't feel a loss but there's a vacuum where he used to be.” And in a letter sent from Paul to Robert when Robert was in prison from The Rolling Stones drug bust, “Jane sends her love, love, and is baking a file cake. I send mine.” aughhh <\3

-Tara Browne… I wish there was more written about him! We know he was very important to Paul. He was the person Paul first took acid with and was with Paul in the Great Liverpool Moped Accident of ‘65! I always wondered why Paul invited him to Liverpool for his family holiday asdkskj. Paul describes him as “a nice Irish guy, very sensitive bloke. I’d see him from time to time, and enjoyed being around him.” which is basically a declaration of passionate love in paul-speak.

-Peter Asher! Underrated Paul boyfriend. I’m not saying Paul only stayed with Jane as long as he did because he had a whole thing for her family… but I’m not NOT saying that. The songs he gave him! The wrapping paper he designed and kept secret as a gift to Peter and the Indica gallery!

(I’ll also just mention Paul’s never ending kink for high society types. He loved hearing Robert talk about his time at Eton, specifically the ‘fagging system’. Tara was heir to the Guinness fortune, not to mention son of a member of the House of Lords. The whole Asher family was a wet dream come true.)

-Denny Laine (is in my ears and in my eyes..🎶) listen. LISTEN. Look at any picture of Paul, Linda, and Denny in the wings era and tell me they weren’t a god’s honest throuple. You can’t. I know it in my life’s blood they got it on down and dirty for YEARS. Linda especially is allll over him in so many pictures and I don’t blame her! He’s a cutie! But they all had fuck-nasty sex.

-John Lennon. Yes, the world’s greatest and most tragic love story etc etc. fanfic tropes galore! Meet cute, mutual pining, only one bed, father doesn’t approve, found family, let’s run away together etc etc

Me: so anyway John had mommy issues and Paul had daddy issues. And John was sort of daddy and Paul was sort of mommy but they just weren’t enough for each other. They were somehow the most and least compatible people on the planet but the love was there and it changed everything.

My mom: 👁️👄👁️

[pacifichomesnsw]

A Guide for First-Time Land Buyers

Buying land for the first time involves a unique set of considerations compared to purchasing a home. Here’s a comprehensive guide to help first-time land buyers navigate the process:

1. Define Your Purpose:

Clarify why you want to buy land (e.g., building a home, investment, agriculture).

Consider the location, size, and features you need for your intended use.

2. Financial Preparation:

Determine your budget, considering the cost of the land, potential development costs, and ongoing expenses.

Explore financing options, such as land loans or owner financing.

3. Research Zoning and Restrictions:

Understand local zoning regulations and land use restrictions.

Check if there are any limitations on building, land improvements, or agricultural activities.

4. Environmental Considerations:

Assess the land for environmental factors like soil quality, water sources, and potential hazards.

Research any environmental regulations or restrictions on the property.

5. Survey and Boundary Check:

Conduct a land survey to verify property boundaries and easements.

Ensure the survey is up-to-date and accurate.

6. Access and Infrastructure:

Confirm access to the land and check road conditions.

Evaluate the availability of utilities (water, electricity, gas) and the cost of connecting them.

7. Land Inspection:

Walk the property to assess its topography, drainage, and any existing structures.

Identify any potential issues that may affect your intended use.

8. Land Use Restrictions:

Check for any restrictions on land use imposed by homeowners’ associations or government entities.

9. Land Title Investigation:

Obtain a title report to ensure there are no liens, encumbrances, or ownership disputes.

Verify the seller’s legal right to sell the property.

10. Negotiate the Purchase:

Work with the seller to negotiate the purchase price and any terms.

Consider contingencies, such as a due diligence period.

11. Legal Assistance:

Engage with a real estate attorney experienced in land transactions.

Ensure all legal documents are reviewed and understood.

12. Closing Process:

Finalize the purchase agreement and complete the closing process.

Transfer ownership and obtain the necessary legal documents.

13. Insurance:

Consider purchasing title insurance to protect against unforeseen title issues.

Explore liability insurance for personal or business-related activities on the land.

14. Future Planning:

Develop a long-term plan for the land, whether it’s for building, agriculture, or investment.

Stay informed about local development plans that may impact the area.

15. Be Patient and Thorough:

Take your time throughout the process and don’t rush decisions.

Seek professional advice and conduct thorough due diligence.

Conclusion:

Buying land requires careful research, due diligence, and consideration of your long-term goals. Surround yourself with experienced professionals, including real estate agents, attorneys, and surveyors, to guide you through the process. Being well-informed and patient will contribute to a successful and satisfying land-buying experience.

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

MONKEYBONE

Here are some pre-production drawings done for MONKEYBONE, a film directed by Henry Selick. I worked on the film very briefly, perhaps only a week or two, helping with story beat boards. It was a fun gig, in part due to the location in The Presidio.

Nowadays The Presidio is one of the jewels of San Francisco - a truly beautiful parkland for residents to play in - but when I first arrived in San Francisco, it was still a functioning military base. It was already known that it would soon close, however. So discussion about what was next for the site bubbled for the first few years that I lived here. Would it become low income housing? Or yet another swanky property development, as seemed likely. Who else but big money could pay for the cleanup required after the military had left so many toxic cooties (asbestos etc) behind? 

Anyway, while such things were being decided, some of the abandoned buildings would be rented out for short term projects, one being an animated/live action comedy, that was in pre-production circa 1998 (adapted from a graphic novel - DARKTOWN  by Kaja Blackley & Vanessa Chong). I worked on MONKEYBONE in the early, eager, happy, anything-is-possible phase. It may have been so early that our work was merely a proposal, before a ‘green light’. 

Henry himself was in a great spirits, now that he was out of the shadow of Tim Burton, and Chris Columbus was his exec producer. Many of the crew were Henry’s old cronies from Nightmare Before Christmas, such as production designer Bill Boes. He’d already built models of some of the sets & locations, and these were great reference. With a tiny lipstick camera we could shoot the models from all kinds of angles, and this was enormously helpful, allowing myself & Lawrence Marvitt to bang out panels relatively quickly, under the guidance of Mike Cachuela.

Many things had not yet been decided on, such as casting. The protagonist in my sketches here was based on Nicolas Cage, but of course Brendan Fraser got the role of of Stu. Other roles were played by Rose McGowan, Dave Foley, Bob Odenkirk, John Turturro, Whoopi Goldberg, Chris Kattan and even Breaking Bad’s Giancarlo Esposito. The final film really had an amazing cast.

The Presidio was not yet full of dining options, but our workspace wasn’t far from the Presidio gates, where we’d have lunch at Liverpool Lil’s, a great little pub (that has recently burned down, sadly). I also remember a really fun swanky dinner (I forget now where) with the entire tiny pre-pro crew, where Henry was in a jovial mood and writer Sam Hamm was too. Both hilariously regaling us with their Hollywood horror stories (and comparing their scars inflicted by Tim Burton). Best of all, someone else picked up the exorbitant check! (I think it was Sam Hamm?)

Years after my brief stint on MONKEYBONE I got an invite to a preview screening in early 2001. The film was madcap, weird, & even disturbing at times. Much of what I’d thought would be animated was actually handled with costumed humans in the final film, surprisingly. But it was exciting to have worked on a feature film that actually got made. This was a period where I worked on many great projects that collapsed before making it to the screen. I remember enjoying it until the very end, when I saw that I hadn't got a credit (I hadn't worked on it long enough apparently). In the lobby after the screening, there were a lot of concerned/worried/disappointed faces. Whereas I was bummed that my name was was not in the credits, many people seemed unhappy that their names were.

Ha ha!

Sure enough, the film was a financial & critical flop and has low score to this very day (despite a tiny subset of viewers who still love it, and look back on it fondly). I learned that there had been much tussling along the way to the screen. Perhaps the guy who'd done Home Alone was not the right choice to ‘mentor’ Henry? Did things go sideways after Rupert Murdoch fired Bill Mechanic? Or was it merely typical studio meddling? My guess is it was another case of AOTA: all of the above.

Henry himself sums up MONKEYBONE this way:

"I have two thoughts: it never would have been a big hit. It certainly would have done better if they advertised it a little... I would still like to do a Director's Cut because there's a lot of cool stuff that was removed... my main lesson learned is, I don't really do well in the live-action universe... I love my world of stop-motion... I went down a slippery slope to make Monkeybone, but the film that came out it's not my vision of what the film could've been, and I just don't thrive in that.”

Not long after I worked there, the fate of The Presidio was finally decided when George Lucas’ proposal to develop The Letterman hospital into a media centre was accepted in 1999. And it became the mixed-use space SF residents play in today.

----

Just last weekend, we spent a day in The Presidio, enjoying its restaurants & bars and exploring the new Tunnel Tops park. As we strolled around, I tried to figure out which of The Presidio's many buildings we worked in in 1998, but couldn't pin it down (of course, the Letterman hospital complex was levelled to build what became ILM/Lucasfilm, so perhaps the buildings we worked in are gone).

[crepesuzette2023]

Paul McCartney, Celia Mortimer, Iris & Vi Caldwell & Mike McCartney: Sketches for a Coming-of-Age Novel.

All quotes from TUNE IN by Mark Lewisohn, except the last one.

[Paul] had two main girlfriends in the last weeks of 1962 and neither knew of the other. One was Celia Mortimer, 17, the strikingly attractive redhead from art school who designed her own clothes and was a big Beatles fan at the Cavern.

'In my first year at art College everyone was wild about trad jazz, but then word came up the hill that ‘things were happening’ at the Cavern; a few of us went down one lunchtime to have a look—and there were the Beatles. […] It was the first time anyone in Britain had the black polo neck, black corduroy, existentialist look. I instantly took their lead and started to make hip black corduroy things to wear.'

‘[…] Paul was attractive, intelligent, arty, all the things that appealed to me, plus he was good to be with: a genuine, gentle person who wanted to please. He was the complete opposite of John, who was snarly and grumpy and incredibly, incisively funny. Paul was the nice one. We started to go out, but things were still quite innocent. Because I lived some way out of Liverpool there weren’t many places we could go, except to sit in his dad’s front room or my friend’s front room, or the cinema—we saw the first James Bond film.’ EXOTIC NIGHTMARES

Paul’s other girlfriend was Iris Caldwell—Rory Storm’s witty, pretty, blonde sister; George’s first love; the 18-year-old daughter of Ma Storm, whose house, Hurricaneville at 54 Broad Green Road, was central to the Beatles’ late-night social scene.

‘He had a beautiful voice and puppy-dog eyes,’ Iris says, ‘and he was much more interested in me than I was in him. I wanted more than a tuppence-ha’penny guitarist of a Liverpool group.’ Iris’s professional dancing career had taken off: she was as busy as Paul, working summer seasons and London shows and touring around the country; they could only see each other when their diaries dovetailed, and just as Paul was with Celia when Iris was out of town, she was secretly going out with Frank Ifield. […]

Iris always knew that a big part of the attraction for anyone going out with her or Rory was the chance of extended time at Hurricaneville, to hang longer around her dad Ernie and especially her mum, Vi. […] ‘Mum never chucked anyone out,’ Iris says. ‘We were all late-night people apart from me dad, who the Beatles called the Crusher because he had exotic nightmares and ate household objects.’ […]

Mary had been gone for six years this October, and Vi Caldwell was one of the women who tried to fill the breach. ‘I was practically a mother to Paul,’ she said without boasting. She made him food and drink, took his stage-soaked shirts and washed and ironed them, and shared easy intimacies. ‘Paul used to like her combing his legs,’ Iris says. ‘He had really hairy legs and he’d come in from the Cavern all tired, roll up his trousers and she used to comb his legs. How ridiculous can you get? But he adored my mum and my mum adored him.’

Vi recalls: ‘Paul was very temperamental. He would come on occasions and would be terrifically friendly and down-to-earth, and on other occasions he would come and be rather aloof and we wondered if we had offended him, as if he was thinking ‘I’m being too friendly so I’ll keep you in your place.’ That was our impression.’

THRILLING IN A DIFFERENT WAY

[Paul] was without the others, but with Celia Mortimer…and a new song. It was Tuesday/Wednesday 23/24 October [1962], the Beatles’ sole two-day break of the year, and Paul decided to leave his car at home and have an adventure: he and Celia hitch-hiked to London to see Ivan Vaughan. Paul loved hitching: he enjoyed chatting to strangers and seeing himself in an observational role, but he’d only done it with George or John, never with a girl. Celia—intelligent, chic, a pretty redhead—made it thrilling in a different way. And it was to see the brilliant Ivy, his Institute mate and John’s boyhood pal. […]

The new song was I Saw Her Standing There, though it had no title as yet. Its melody and structure skidded into Paul’s head late on Monday as he drove back from a Nems Enterprises Showdance in Widness. This was a sophistication of delivery had never experienced, inspiration so excitingly hot that when he got to Hurricaneville he grabbed an acoustic guitar and started working it out. […] It was truly a magical moment for Rory Storm, who’d never seen anyone write a song before. Vi and Iris would always maintain that he asked Paul if he could have it, exclusively, and Paul said yes—but as Rory didn’t have a record contract it’s unclear why he asked and Paul may have said yes only to regain some necessary peace and quiet.

Celia: ‘We had an amazing time, just wandering the streets in the sunshine, looking at London, holding hands and having fun, and Paul had the melody of what became I Saw Her Standing There going round his head all day, humming and singing it and fleshing out the words. […] He said, ‘What rhymes with “We danced through the night?” and I came up with ‘We held each other tight’, which was really quite naff, but he used it.’ BACK TO McCARTNEY-LENNON

However, the song was completed only when he had a front parlour session with John at 20Forthlin Road. They tried out little bits on Jim Macs Nems piano but mostly used guitars, working ‘eyeball to eyeball’ just like when they’d first written together here as schoolboys. Mike took photographs of them sitting by the little tiled fireplace—important historic images, the only such photos ever taken—so here we see these two sharp ambitious tuned-in young man looking down at an old Liverpool Institute exercise book in which Paul has written the words, complete with plenty of crossings-out. John is wearing his black horn-rim glasses and playing his Jumbo Gibson, Paul is playing a cheap Spanish acoustic of unknown history. Another original, a McCartney-Lennon one, is taking shape right here, right now. BIG PLAYER CELIA AND THE OTHER McCARTNEY BOY

Celia Mortimer’s relationship with Paul ended in the last weeks of 1962. ‘As the Beatles spent more time in London, Paul was there and not in Liverpool so much, and our situation just fizzled out. There was no time for it.’ She went on to become a big player on the London fashion scene, with her own label and studio on Great Portland Street, just a long from where she spent a few hours with Paul in 1962. In between times, she went out for a long time with Mike McCartney and was part of the Liverpool poetry scene.

Mike (a Ladies’ hairdresser at the time): MY FIRST LOVE AND BOB 'FOLK RUBBISH' DYLAN (from The Macs, 1981)

One day my first real love, after mum, walked into the salon; she was one of a group of models posing for the Daily Post and Echo. I was brushing up the hair as it cascaded endlessly down on to the floor. I wasn't exactly the brushing up which excited her, it was the way I did it (isn't it always?). The brush was balanced, she later recalled, on the end of my index finger, the furthest point from my body and, with absolute disdain, I followed it across the shop floor.

Not being a Post and Echo model at all, but in truth a hungry student plying her body for money, she returned for the free evening classes where she became my model, and I discovered that her name was Celia. From a model customer she became a model model, and from a model model we became a model couple.

She was the first woman I gave myself to, and she gave herself in return. In her Husky Street flat we got lost in each other's body and mind; we swam together through many Liverpool 8 late nights and often into the morning, when she would get up to cook breakfast and put on records. I would just lie there, male chauv-like. One morning she kept playing a particular album which didn't impress me.

'Who's that Ceel?'

'Someone they keep playing at college . . . Bob Dylan.'

'Never heard of him.'

'Neither had I, but after a while he's quite good.'

"Ceel—my first real love (after Mum)." Photo by Mike McCartney.

[myhouseidea]

Restaurant @thefloristuk in Liverpool, Photo by @lewisombler

Get Inspired, visit www.myhouseidea.com

#myhouseidea #interiordesign #interior #interiors #house #home #design #architecture #decor #homedecor #casa #archdaily #beautifuldestinations

[kimberly40]

The John Rutherford Jr. House in McDowell County, North Carolina in Bridgewater. Bridgewater was the name given to the plantation of John Rutherford, Sr. (1755-1841) and his son, John Rutherford, Jr. (1809-1889). Their plantation was on the Catawba River near the mouth of Muddy Creek. The name "Bridgewater" came from Francis Egerton, 3rd Duke of Bridgewater (1736-1803). Francis Egerton was a famous designer of canals, one of which was called the Bridgewater Canal. This canal linked his mines in Worsley, England with Manchester and Liverpool. He was a friend of John Rutherford Sr. and Peter Rust (1762-1828), who moved their families "to this place of many waters" in 1781.

The Rutherford family had come from Scotland and the Rust's were originally from Suffolk, England, however both families were natives of Bedford County, Virginia. Peter Rust was married to Elizabeth Ballew sister of John Rutherford Sr's wife, Susannah Ballew Rutherford. Peter and Elizabeth Rust had a daughter Cynthia who married a John Rutherford Walker in the early 1800's. They had a son John Rutherford Walker Jr. b. 30 Dec 1829.

Read more at https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/112607705/john-rutherford

[batnbreakfast]

@kindworldsword asked me what I'd recommend for someone visiting London for the first time.

This has gotten quite long, so I'm putting everything under a break. Nevertheless I've likely have forgotten something I love doing while in London.**

Honestly though, most of the times I just walk around the city, go to the theatre, and eat lots of food, so the most important recommendation is: Take a good pair of shoes and an appetite. (If you would like restaurant recommendations, message me.)

Have a great time!

Things to do in and around London

Take a walk along the river

This is my go-to walk. I do this when I'm back in the city. I do this when I'm stressed out and need to clear my head. I do this when I've got some time left before leaving.

Start at Embankment, cross the river on the right bridge to get a view of the House of Parliament and the London Eye. Continue to walk eastwards along the river - you'll see quite a few famous landmarks like the National Theater*, the Tate Modern, the Globe Theatre. Take a break at the Tate (the perks of free entry) and have a look at the Rothko room or join a free guided tour. Continue along the river - you can take a detour along Borough's Market for food and drink or skip that part and just walk until you're at Tower Bridge. Is it a touristy spot? Yes, it sure is. It's also a great spot for some people watching and catching a bit of sun sitting on the lawn in front of Bridge Theatre.

*National Theatre

There's a viewing gallery at the Dorfman Theatre, so if you're around there before their matinee show: Go along the left side of the building, walk past the stage door, up to the Dorfman entrance. The indoor walkway will take you past the costume designer's working space - which is well worth the detour.

Book a free ticket for the Horizon22

Not as touristy as the Shard or Sky Gardens, and even better: It's free. The Horizon has the highest viewing platform in the city right now and you'll have a spectacular view of the city. Most people working there are up for a chat about the view and really knowledgeable. It's near Liverpool Station and you can also try and book a ticket via QR Code at the entrance door.

Buy a theatre ticket

Go online or visit the TKTS boot at Leicester Square. If you're lucky you can get fringe theatre tickets or seats further back in the more famous theatres for little money. The Globe theatre offers standing room tickets for 5 GBP. If a play is sold out lots of theatres offer last minute tickets in the morning, but you might have to queue. (Cate Blanchett's play came with queueing from 3am until they opened at 9am.) You can message me about theatre recommendations during your stay if you like. 

Covent Garden

While I don't care for the actual shops in the market building, I like watching the buskers in front of St. Paul's. If you need a break from all the hustle and bustle, take a side entrance to the church yard on Henrietta or King Street. The actor's church offers free lunch concerts and benches to sit out in the sun. There's a church cat - wouldn't recommend trying to pet him though. 

Walk along the small courts and yards north-west of Covent Garden. Find the house were the Phytons lived together on Neals Yard and the Bambi Mary Poppins stencil. 

Museums

Yes! Most of them are free and there's plenty of them. I love the Wallace Collection, I'd recommend the National Gallery, I already mentioned Tate Modern, and of course there's the V&A (soooooooo good), the National History Museum, the Wellcome Collection, the British Museum, the Museum of Home, the...

I often sit on the stairs of Hintze Hall at the National History Museum next to Hope their whale skeleton. I love the ceramics at the V&A. I have three favourite paintings at the National Gallery. Often you can take part in a free tour, and if you don't want to spend a whole day at a museum: Don't. Just pop in, have a look around, and go your merry way.

Thames walk towards Rotherhite:

Start at the Tower Bridge and just follow the walking way along the river. At one point you'll have to take a detour around a huge industrial estate, but you'll be able to return to the river quickly. Time your walk to have either lunch or dinner at The Mayflower in Rotherhite - one of the oldest existing river pubs with excellent pies & mash and a superb sticky toffee pudding. Take the underground train to the other side of the river or a bus back to London Bridge.

Richmond

Go to Richmond (by train from Waterloo Station) and walk along the little streets south of the Green. The Sandman and Ted Lasso have been filmed here (among others), so if you watched either one of these shows, you'll recognise the area. You can go down to the river and then either walk or take an ebike to Kew Bridge.

Trafalgar Square/Chinatown/Soho

Go, sit on the edge of one of the Trafalgar Square fountains. Watch people from all over the world, hear the buskers in front of the National Gallery. If you need food, Chinatown isn't far away (Cafe TPT or Misato are my go to places) or you could go for cake & tea in the crypt of St Martin-in-the-Fields. Walk along the streets in Chinatown, cross over to Soho, walk along there. If you need coffee, go into the Algerian Coffee Shop on Old Compton Street, they are doing a great espresso. London's only queer women's club She Soho is also on Old Compton Street. 

Markets

Are they touristy? Sure, but I love them. Portobello Road on Saturdays and Brick Lane on Sundays are my favourites. I don't care about Columbia Road too much, because it's always way too busy. 

Street Art around Brick Lane

Go and have a look around Brick Lane if you like street art. Walk around the area and explore, there's always something new to see. Look out for broccoli and eggs.

Book a London Walk

The original London Walk company has already been around when I first came to the city around 1990. They offer a wide range of walks - I can recommend their street art tours in Whitechapel or their ghosts walk. If you do an evening tour, the walk will likely end up in a pub, so you can have a drink with the other attendees.

Walk along the canals

You can walk either from Paddington or King's Cross to Camden - you'll see a lot of houseboats, the London Zoo, and end up in Camden, where you'll have plenty of food stalls available. I feel like Camden Market as such is a bit overrated these days.

Barbican & Barbican Conservatory:

If you like Brutalism and history, this is the place to be. You can see remains of the London Wall, sit by the artificial ponds, and visit he botanical gardens. It looks like something straight out of a end-of-the-world film with huge plants covering concrete. You might have to book a ticket, even though it's free. It only opens on Friday & Sunday as far as I remember.

And if you need a break from London:

Take a day trip to Brighton

I just love the city. If you like to be by the sea - the train from London Bridge only takes about 90 minutes. Walk along the Northern Lain area for lots of lovely shops, great food, and drinks. Go visit the pier and eat some donuts. Watch the sea. Visit the Royal Pavillion.

[officiallordvetinari]

Below are 10 articles randomly chosen from Wikipedia's Featured Articles list. Brief descriptions and links are below the cut.

Bride of Frankenstein is a 1935 American science fiction horror film, and the first sequel to Universal Pictures' 1931 film Frankenstein. As with the first film, Bride of Frankenstein was directed by James Whale starring Boris Karloff as the Monster and Colin Clive as Dr. Frankenstein. The sequel features Elsa Lanchester in the dual role of Mary Shelley and the bride.

Chew Stoke is a small village and civil parish in the affluent Chew Valley, in Somerset, England, about 8 miles (13 km) south of Bristol and 10 miles north of Wells. It is at the northern edge of the Mendip Hills, a region designated by the United Kingdom as an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, and is within the Bristol and Bath green belt.

David Hillhouse Buel Jr. (July 19, 1862 – May 23, 1923) was an American priest who served as the president of Georgetown University. A Catholic priest and Jesuit for much of his life, he later left the Jesuit order to marry, and subsequently left the Catholic Church to become an Episcopal priest.

Denbies is a large estate to the northwest of Dorking in Surrey, England. A farmhouse and surrounding land originally owned by John Denby was purchased in 1734 by Jonathan Tyers, the proprietor of Vauxhall Gardens in London, and converted into a weekend retreat. The house he built appears to have been of little architectural significance, but the Gothic garden he developed in the grounds on the theme of death achieved some notoriety, despite being short-lived.

Courbet was the lead ship of her class of four dreadnought battleships, the first ones built for the French Navy. She was completed shortly before the start of World War I in August 1914.

The ketogenic diet is a high-fat, adequate-protein, low-carbohydrate dietary therapy that in conventional medicine is used mainly to treat hard-to-control (refractory) epilepsy in children. The diet forces the body to burn fats rather than carbohydrates.

The football match between Manchester United and Ipswich Town played at Old Trafford, Manchester, on 4 March 1995 as part of the 1994–95 FA Premier League finished in a 9–0 victory for the home team. The result stands as the joint record, with Southampton having subsequently lost by the same scoreline at home to Leicester City in 2019 and away at Manchester United in 2021, while Bournemouth also lost 9–0 to Liverpool in 2022.

M-185 is a state trunkline highway in the U.S. state of Michigan that circles Mackinac Island, a popular tourist destination on the Lake Huron side of the Straits of Mackinac, along the island's shoreline. A narrow paved road of 8.004 miles (12.881 km), it offers scenic views of the straits that divide the Upper and the Lower peninsulas of Michigan and Lakes Huron and Michigan.

Santa María de Óvila is a former Cistercian monastery built in Spain beginning in 1181 on the Tagus River near Trillo, Guadalajara, about 90 miles (140 km) northeast of Madrid. During prosperous times over the next four centuries, construction projects expanded and improved the small monastery. Its fortunes declined significantly in the 18th century, and in 1835 it was confiscated by the Spanish government and sold to private owners who used its buildings to shelter farm animals.

Sarcoscypha coccinea, commonly known as the scarlet elf cup, or the scarlet cup, is a species of fungus in the family Sarcoscyphaceae of the order Pezizales. The fungus, widely distributed in the Northern Hemisphere, has been found in Africa, Asia, Europe, North and South America, and Australia.